The first and second floors of the Dungeon were almost entirely filled with Goblins. But while both layers spawned the same kind of monster, the difference in strength between the two was significant. Once you reached the second floor, the number of Goblins increased noticeably as well.
If the first floor was where one or two Adventurers could safely group up and fight together, then the second was where two experienced Adventurers had to cooperate just to move forward without risk.
Beyond the third floor, things grew far more complicated—different ecologies, stronger monsters, and more dangerous territory.
For Tsuna, though, this first trip into the Dungeon wasn't about progress or conquest. It was about learning the environment. As a first-time Adventurer, there was far too much he needed to understand. His goal today wasn't clearing the Dungeon—it was adaptation.
"The spawn rate's even crazier than I expected."
Now he finally understood why low-level Adventurers hated coming here so much. Experiencing it firsthand, Tsuna realized the truth of it—the Dungeon really was a man-eating tomb. One careless moment, and the Dungeon itself would devour you.
"Finn, is the monster spawn rate in the Dungeon always like this?"
"No," Finn Deimne replied, shaking his head. "Today, the Dungeon's acting unusually lively. Normally, monsters don't spawn this fast—it's not natural."
Finn's tone made it clear this wasn't a normal occurrence. The first and second floors were supposed to be the safest zones. For monsters to appear this rapidly was far outside the usual pattern.
"It doesn't seem like a Monster Parade. The upper floors shouldn't have this kind of situation that only happens in the middle floors, but… this is definitely unusual."
Finn instinctively rubbed his thumb, a habit he'd developed whenever his intuition warned him of danger. This time, there was no pain—but a dull headache throbbed behind his eyes.
"This kind of thing showing up now… definitely not good news."
The timing couldn't have been worse. They were in the middle of preparing for a major Dungeon expedition, and this sudden anomaly felt like an omen. Even if it wasn't directed at them specifically, Finn couldn't shake a growing sense of unease.
"Yeah. It doesn't feel like good news at all," Tsuna agreed, frowning. There was a distinct malice in the air—a presence he could feel rather than see. It wasn't targeting him, but it still left an unpleasant chill crawling down his spine.
"Finn, you might want to start gathering information—carefully."
"Oh? You noticed something?"
"Not exactly. I just… feel it. The malice is huge. It's not aimed at us, but even the fallout is reaching the upper floors. I doubt this is some small, isolated anomaly."
Finn's expression hardened. "Agreed."
If the Dungeon itself was acting up, it almost always meant trouble. The upper floors shouldn't be affected like this unless something much worse was happening deeper below.
"Can we postpone the expedition?" Tsuna asked.
"I wish we could," Finn sighed. "The Familia already declined once last year at the Guild's request. Doing it again would raise too many issues. Preparations are already underway, and without solid proof of an anomaly, suddenly halting everything would cause chaos. It's also been three years since anyone's advanced a floor. The Guild's desperate for results."
As much as Finn wanted to agree with Tsuna's suggestion, he knew they couldn't. Pausing the expedition again wasn't an option—not without evidence.
"Guess we're stuck in the middle of a storm," Tsuna murmured. He understood perfectly. Even if trouble lay ahead, they couldn't turn back now.
"Finn, you'd better be ready for things to get messy. I feel this time the good news the Guild wants probably won't be obtained."
"Don't jinx it," Finn groaned, rubbing his temple. Just thinking about it gave him a headache. After all the time and resources they'd spent preparing for this expedition, now the Dungeon decided to go berserk? Anyone would feel like tearing their hair out.
"For now, shift our long-term supplies. Make half of them emergency stockpiles—just in case the Dungeon throws more surprises at us."
"Yeah… we'll have to tell Miss Loki about this."
"Of course. There's no hiding it from her anyway. Riveria and Gareth need to know too—they're handling supply management. We'll have to rework the logistics completely."
"Looks like you guys are in for a long night," Tsuna said sympathetically, patting Finn's shoulder. "What a bad luck."
"Still," he added, "even if the Guild doesn't get their good news, at least we've confirmed something's wrong with the Dungeon. Better to prepare than to be caught off guard."
"You've got a point there," Finn admitted with a weary smile. He had no choice but to accept it.
But the thought of how much money the Familia had already poured into this expedition made his headache return tenfold. He knew exactly how thin their operating funds were. Every extra day a large-scale expedition ran meant more coin burning away—and with the Dungeon acting up, the costs could skyrocket.
Facing trouble without preparation and expecting trouble with preparation were very different things. Finn could only keep telling himself that.
He no longer had the mood to stay in the Dungeon. It was time to head back and make backup plans.
"Tsuna, how about you?"
"I'm fine. I've gotten used to the Dungeon's environment, learned a bit about its monsters, and my Status has grown a little. That's enough for today."
"Then let's head back."
Once Finn was sure Tsuna was unharmed, he decided without hesitation to return to the surface.
By the time the two emerged from the Dungeon, the sky was bathed in the glow of the setting sun. The entrance was bustling with Adventurers heading out for the day.
The taverns along Main Street were already lit, their laughter and shouting spilling into the streets. The air was thick with the smell of stew and grilled meat drifting from open doors.
But neither Tsuna nor Finn stopped. Their destination was clear—they headed straight for the Twilight Manor.