Morning Orario buzzed like a disturbed hive, but Raine and Bell barely noticed the bustle around them. They walked purposefully toward the Tower, standing out in the crowd with their brand-new, mismatched gear.
"Raine, I have a bad feeling about this," Bell muttered, nervously tugging at a buckle on his new armor. "Eina is going to be furious. She explicitly said: 'No Dungeon without a Falna.'"
"Don't worry about it so much, Bell," Raine replied calmly, not slowing his pace. His gaze slid over the faces of passing adventurers, assessing their equipment. "She'll be furious, maybe shout a bit, maybe even make us write an explanation. But she won't kill us."
"She's an elf, Raine!" Bell whispered with round eyes. "Grandpa's books said that elven wrath is worse than dragon fire! If she finds out we violated her direct order on the very first day..."
Raine sighed and stopped, turning to his friend.
"Bell, listen. Miss Eina is a good employee. But she sees us as children. To her, we're two village idiots who will perish in the first meter. Words won't convince her. Only results will."
He nodded toward the gaping passage ahead.
"We'll return alive, with pockets full of stones. Anger will turn to surprise, and then respect. We aren't here to sit at a desk and cram theory. We came to work."
Bell hesitated a bit, but then that same spark of excitement that Raine valued so much lit up in his ruby eyes again.
"You're right. We trained for this."
The entrance to the Tower was a wide archway through which people flowed in a continuous stream. Groups of adventurers laden with supplies, loners with grim faces, porters with huge backpacks—all of them strove inward, into the belly of the earth.
Inside, a businesslike bustle reigned. Raine headed confidently toward the checkpoint for newcomers. Behind a high counter sat a human male with a tired face and dark circles under his eyes. A stack of parchments lay before him, and he was stamping them with mechanical resignation.
"Guild cards," he threw out, not even raising his head.
Raine and Bell placed their plates on the counter.
The administrator took them, scanned them with a habitual glance, and froze. His eyebrows crept up when he reached the "Familia" line. It was empty.
He finally looked up. A mixture of fatigue, irritation, and cynicism could be read in his eyes.
"No Falna?" he asked again. His voice was dry as parchment. "Decided to play with death, boys? Or tired of living?"
"We just want to look around. First floor, no further," Raine replied calmly, withstanding the clerk's heavy gaze.
The administrator huffed, shook his head, but didn't argue. Apparently, over years of work, he had realized the futility of lecturing those with the fever of adventure burning in their eyes. He silently reached into a desk drawer and pulled out two sheets of thick paper covered in fine print.
"Standard procedure for 'free' and unregistered persons," he pushed the sheets toward them. "Sign. It's a waiver of claims. The Guild bears no responsibility for your death, injury, loss of sanity, or property. No rescue expeditions will be sent for you. If you croak, we'll bury you at the city's expense in a common pit, if anything is left of you."
Bell swallowed nervously, his eyes running over the lines where dry legal language described the possible horrors of their demise. Raine, however, unflinching, took the quill and put down a quick, clear signature.
"Fair enough," he said, pushing the sheet away.
Bell, hesitating for a second, signed after him.
"Go on," the administrator took the papers and waved a hand toward the wide passage. "And... try not to become a statistic in my report by evening. Too much paperwork with corpses."
Passing the control, they found themselves in a huge circular atrium hall. And in its center gaped a hole.
A huge spiral staircase, hewn directly into the bedrock, went down into the darkness. Cool air rose from the depths, carrying the smell of dampness, dust, and something elusively predatory. It was the breath of the Dungeon itself.
"Whoa..." Bell exhaled, approaching the edge and looking into the abyss, where rare magic lanterns flickered.
"Well then, hero," Raine adjusted the sword on his back, feeling the familiar, blood-stirring tension before a fight. "Shall we go?"
They began the descent.
Floor 1
The transition was abrupt. As soon as they stepped off the last stair and onto the uneven floor of the cave, the sounds of the city above were cut off as if by a knife. Silence enveloped them, broken only by a distant, rhythmic hum—the heartbeat of the labyrinth.
The walls of the first floor glowed with a pale blue phosphorescent light. It wasn't quite stone; the surface seemed alive, bumpy. The corridor was wide but winding, disappearing into the darkness.
"Keep to the right side," Raine commanded quietly. "Weapons ready."
They walked about fifty meters. Bell walked gripping his dagger so hard his knuckles turned white. He was tense as a bowstring. Raine moved more softly, scanning the space.
Suddenly, the wall in front of them "inhaled."
A section of blue rock cracked, bulged, and with a wet, unpleasant sound, a creature fell out of the stone.
A goblin.
It fell on all fours, shaking off stone crumbs. An ugly creature the size of a child, with green skin and a disproportionately large head. Its bloodshot eyes immediately found the intruders.
"Gyaa-a-a!" a shrill scream echoed off the walls.
The monster didn't bother assessing its opponents. It simply rushed forward, swinging clawed paws. No tactics, no caution—just pure, distilled aggression.
"Don't rush," Raine's voice was calm. "Observe."
Raine narrowed his eyes. He was looking for differences. The goblins in the forest were cunning. They hid, surrounded, used sticks and stones. This one charged straight ahead like a mad berserker, driven by a single program—to kill.
"Go on, Bell," Raine commanded. "He's yours."
Bell exploded from his spot. His movements were a blur—the result of thousands of hours of training in the forest clearing. He didn't wait for the monster to approach. He closed the distance himself.
The goblin thrust a clawed paw forward, aiming for the face. Bell didn't even blink. A slight dodge to the left—his body shifted just enough for the claws to slice the air a millimeter from his ear.
In that same instant, his right hand with the new dagger flew up.
"Ha!"
A short, whistling sound of slicing flesh. Bell used the momentum of his own movement and the enemy's. The blade entered the goblin's neck under the jaw and came out the other side, cleanly separating the head from the body.
The monster's body ran another couple of steps on inertia and collapsed. The head rolled to the wall.
And then happened what they had read about, but never seen.
The corpse didn't start bleeding. It burst into black smoke and crumbled into gray ash. Only a tiny purple crystal, the size of a pinky nail, remained lying on the stone.
Silence returned to the corridor.
Bell stood over the handful of ash, still holding the dagger in a combat position. He blinked, then looked at Raine.
"And... that's it?" he asked in confusion.
Raine walked over, picked up the stone, and tossed it on his palm.
"Apparently so."
"He was... slow," Bell frowned, sheathing his weapon. "The ones in the forest were faster. And angrier. This one just... just ran to the slaughter."
"This is the first floor, Bell. A warm-up," Raine replied, but gears of analysis were turning in his head too. "But you're right. They are different. The ones above are living creatures raised in the struggle for survival. These are creations of magic. Dolls. They have no instinct for self-preservation."
Before he could finish speaking, the wall a little further down the corridor cracked again.
This time, a goblin fell out with a piece of rusty iron in its hand, vaguely resembling a knife.
"My turn," Raine said, stepping forward.
He didn't draw his sword with the same speed as Bell. He did it slowly, relishing the sound of metal leaving the scabbard. The black blade lay in his hand with a familiar weight.
The goblin, seeing a new target, squealed happily and rushed to attack, raising its iron for a blow.
Raine stood motionless, in a relaxed stance, sword lowered. He waited.
Three meters. Two. One.
The goblin jumped.
The moment the creature left the ground, Raine took a step forward and to the side. It was a sparing, economical movement. His body twisted like a spring, and then uncoiled.
The sword described a wide arc from bottom to top.
There was no sound of impact as such. Only the hollow whistle of the heavy blade cutting the air. The black iron, though not razor-sharp, but possessing monstrous inertia and force, smashed into the goblin's body in mid-flight.
Crunch. The wet sound of tearing matter.
The monster was simply torn in half. The upper part of the body flew one way, the lower collapsed at Raine's feet.
A second later, both halves dissolved into smoke, leaving another mana stone on the floor.
Raine shook non-existent blood from the blade and returned the sword to its scabbard.
"Too simple," he stated. "They are predictable. The same attack pattern: saw—screamed—ran in a straight line. No feints, no attempts to surround."
Bell walked over and picked up the second stone.
"And a stone drops from every one," he noted, examining the loot. "In the forest, we had to kill a dozen to find one like this. And here—a guaranteed chance."
"That changes things," Raine nodded. "The economy of this place is built on quantity. If they fall this easily, then we can take them by numbers."
Bell, however, looked a little upset.
"It feels somehow... wrong," Bell frowned, looking at the handful of ash. "I learned so much about skinning, butchering, so as not to damage the stone... And here they just drop out like a prize. Don't even have to get your hands dirty."
Raine couldn't suppress a smile.
"Don't grumble. Be glad you don't have to mess around in guts elbow-deep in blood. But don't relax, Bell. Eina wouldn't scare us for no reason. This ease is deceptive. These two were loners. Further on, there will be more."
They moved deeper into the floor.
Floors 2-3
They passed the first floor without even noticing it. The stairs to the second level were just as wide.
On the second, and later on the third floor, the walls became slightly darker, and the corridors narrower. Kobolds were added to the goblins—dog-headed creatures that were slightly faster and more aggressive.
But for the duo who had gone through a harsh school of survival, this still resembled a warm-up.
"Right!" Raine threw out shortly, noticing movement with his peripheral vision.
Bell, without stopping, slipped under the swing of a kobold's club, cut the tendons in its leg, forcing it to fall, and finished it with a blow to the back of the head.
"Done!"
Next, three goblins jumped out at them.
"I'll take them," Raine stepped forward, becoming a living shield.
He didn't hack each one individually. Waiting until they huddled in the narrow passage, he delivered a wide horizontal strike. The heavy sword swept away two at once, throwing their bodies against the wall with such force that they crumbled into dust before they even touched the floor. The third he simply kicked in the chest with his boot, breaking ribs, and allowed Bell to finish off the disoriented enemy.
They worked as a single mechanism. Raine—a heavy hammer crushing defenses and controlling space. Bell—a sharp scalpel delivering lethal stabs to vulnerable points.
By the middle of the third floor, their initial caution had been replaced by an excitement bordering on "farming."
The frequency of monster spawns here was frightening. As soon as a corridor was cleared, new creatures were already climbing out of the walls. The Dungeon did not tolerate emptiness.
"Two more behind!" shouted Bell, rolling away from an attack.
"Got it."
Raine spun around. The sword described a figure-eight, deflecting a kobold's clawed paw. Raine used the momentum of the heavy blade to continue the movement and bring it down on the enemy's head.
Crunch. Smoke. Stone.
It turned into a rhythm. Strike—dodge—strike—loot collection.
"They rely on numbers," Raine exhaled, shaking his shoulders. "Don't let them surround. Watch your back."
Suddenly, they emerged into a spacious hall with a high ceiling. And immediately froze.
The room was teeming with monsters. About a dozen kobolds and goblins, noticing the adventurers, turned their heads toward them. A red fire of aggression flared in their eyes.
"Now this is much more interesting," Raine smirked grimly. "Let's break in, Bell!"
This wasn't a duel, but rather a meat grinder.
Raine slammed into the center of the crowd like an icebreaker. His sword hummed, slicing the air. He didn't try to kill everyone with one blow—his task was to break the formation, knock back, disorient. The black iron took blows from clubs and claws, ringing with tension, but Raine stood firm as a rock.
Bell was the wind. He circled around Raine, taking advantage of the chaos his friend created. He appeared where the enemy opened up, delivered a lethal stab, and disappeared before the monster had time to realize it was killed. His white and red armor flickered in the gloom as a blurred spot.
"Ha!"
Bell slipped between the legs of a tall kobold, cutting its tendons, and immediately, pushing off the wall, fell upon a goblin trying to get to Raine's rear.
Raine, feeling his back covered, went on the offensive. A powerful kick knocked back the nearest enemy, clearing space for a swing. The sword flashed in the light of the phosphorescent walls, taking off two heads at once.
In a minute, it was all over.
Silence reigned in the hall, broken only by their heavy breathing. The floor was strewn with purple crystals of various sizes. Here and there lay items: fangs, fragments of claws, pieces of hide.
Bell slid down the wall to the floor, greedily gulping air.
"We... we cleared everything," he rasped, but a wide, wild smile shone on his face.
Raine scanned the battlefield.
"Looks like it."
He walked over to Bell and handed him a flask of water.
"Here, drink. And let's start harvesting."
They began crawling on the floor, picking up stones. Their belt pouches filled quickly, pulling pleasantly at their hips. Jacket pockets and even free space in their backpacks went into use.
"I can't carry anymore," Bell complained, trying to shove another kobold fang into an overflowing backpack. "There's absolutely no room."
Raine weighed his bag of stones in his hand. It was heavy. Pleasantly heavy.
"Then that's all for today," he decided. "We passed three floors, cleared a nest. For the first time without a Falna—more than enough. Greed kills faster than monsters here. We leave while we still have strength."
Bell nodded in agreement.
"How much did we earn, do you think?" Bell asked as they headed for the exit of the hall.
"Enough to buy normal food, pay for lodging, and maybe even save for the future," Raine estimated. "And certainly enough to shut the mouth of one skeptic in the Guild."
The climb up was harder than the descent. Legs buzzed, adrenaline receded, leaving a pleasant fatigue. But when they emerged from the spiral staircase back into the atrium of the Tower of Babel, their faces, though smeared with dust and soot, were shining.
They had done it. They had stepped into the Abyss and returned with loot.
The administrator at the checkpoint, seeing them alive, only silently raised an eyebrow and returned to his papers. But Raine noticed the corner of his mouth twitch.
"The first step is taken," Raine said, stepping out onto the sun-drenched street. "Now to Eina. Time to file a report."
"She's definitely going to kill us," Bell sighed, but there was no longer fear in his voice, only anticipation.