A Devotee's first dungeon completion often marked a turning point. Like a true graduation of some sort, as experiencing the horrors and trials and wickedness of a dungeon was the mark of their paths anew.
Just as much as it would be hard, it would be the salvation in the pursuit of strength.
Grace sighed, feeling the fatigue wash over him as he made his way through the forest.
He had put on the tattered black cloak that Irene wore over herself, now claiming it as his own.
Not too long after, a large black scroll interface appeared above him, unraveling and unveiling the contents of the scroll.
[Dungeon: The Guardian Clowngel, Complete]
[Ending: Basic]
[Grade: B-]
Grace let out a shallow sigh. He leaned back into a tree, his body sliding down the bark before he fell on his butt.
Around him, many bodies lay.
Soon, however, everything around him slowly began dispersing. The bodies separated into sparkling mana.
Everything was disappearing just like that.
A chuckle escaped Grace's lips. There was a sense of ease, like a burden unraveling itself, and the knots coming undone. As his body slowly trickled into playful particles, Grace let out a small, content smile. Having been thrusted into such a perilous situation, becoming hostages to the dungeon's whims, there was not a moment where he could truly relax.
But, as everything was slowly reduced to that of a make-believe, all he could do was let out a small laugh.
And, eventually, he too disappeared into the ether.
~~~
Grace found himself in an unfamiliar place. He stood directly outside of a dilapidated structure, completely reduced to ruins.
However, Grace could feel it—the leftover vestige of mana that once echoed of a dungeon.
So this is what became of Gabe's headquarters. Surprisingly, the structure seemed to be quite large from the looks of what remained.
Grace made way, walking over the pebbles and then over the rubble that blocked his way. As he walked closer to the epicenter, Grace could hear something.
Thwack!
Thwack!
Thwack!
The sound of a fist hitting flesh. Closer, the sound got louder, and the echo lasted for a beat longer.
Turning the corner, Grace could see David standing not too far away from Miller, who was straddled on top of the bleeding out Gabe.
Thwack!
Thwack!
His knuckles were bloody, too bloody to the point his pale skin was dyed with the sight of the crimson liquid.
Grace stood back, watching the scene unfold.
He made no move to stop it.
Just as David did not move to stop it.
Because just as much as they had suffered under Gabe's palms, they could recognize this endeavor was personal for Miller. As Miller's eyes let out those crystalline tears, they knew for certain that Gabe had inflicted a horrific pain onto him.
Gabe could say nothing, for life had already been drawn out from his eyes. The pulse that had weakly lingered had dispersed into oblivion.
And what remained was a mere corpse.
And it was only then did Miller stop. The punches had come to a complete halt, only the occasional hiccups being heard.
Grace looked above, seeing the moon hung high.
A long, quiet night was all that was promised.
~~~
Ergo Continent, Central City.
In the bustling heart of Central City, carriages and citizens ran the streets amok.
Ivan, unlike these citizens, was inside of a brick building. He sat in an office quietly, his eyes darting towards a handsome red-haired man — who looked to be the same age as himself — that sat on the main office chair.
Rufus Weaver.
A member of the Weaver family, the cousins of one of the Great Families in the Ergo Continent—the White Family.
As the blinds swayed gently from the morning wind, the light seeped into the room, radiating brilliance onto the papers that settled on Rufus' desk as well as his hair of fire.
Ivan felt a bit unnerved.
Rufus lifted his eyes off of the paper, his eyes — deep, black — felt like an endless abyss. Ivan's eyes did not waver despite it.
"What did you call for me for exactly?" Ivan asked, curious. Rufus smiled softly, akin to that of the sun.
"I'd like for you to help me with something," Rufus responded swiftly, his voice like threads of silk woven together.
"I'm sure you heard that Grace Walker has been missing for a little over a month now."
Ivan nodded. Slowly, almost confused. Yes, he has heard that Grace had been missing for quite some time now—it surprised him, since it hadn't even been 4 months since their graduating class had graduated from Central Academy.
"…What does this have to do with me?"
Rufus smiled.
"A few days ago, rumors regarding a temple on a nearby island — Serene Harbor — had reached Ergo. Of course, the existence of this temple is common knowledge, but what really struck me was that there was sightings of a guy who coincidentally has the striking appearance of Grace."
Ivan couldn't help but gather an internal feeling of foreboding. Rufus, watching Ivan's expression turn strained, let out a quiet smile. Thin. Soft.
This company — Weaver Consortium — was freshly conjured by Rufus himself directly after their graduation from academy months ago. It was small, almost insignificant. Despite this, Rufus knew that handling this business was a responsibility—one that he could not squander.
To build it further, their names had to unravel over the heads of others.
"Let's go save our Prince Charming, Ivan."
What else would be a good starting point with the saving of Grace Walker?
Within the moment, however, they could have never fully understood the true nature of their escapade.
~~~
The night was indeed a quiet one. For the entirety of the duration, only a few words were spoke, with only the occasional utters of where they needed to go.
When they got out of the forest the sun was slowly revealing itself from behind, the light penetrating the minuscule windows that the leaves offered. Still, the three remained in their hypnotized silence, walking along the dirt road that manifested itself.
The grassy hills, the fields, surrounding them as the wind lightly brushed against the shrubs and the short lush.
He — Grace — had to admit, despite the atmosphere that surrounded the three of them — the nauseating silence — there was this sense of tranquility that was echoing in his bones.
Clip-clop!
Clip-clop!
The sound of hooves pressing against the dirt, and the grindings of wooden wheels clattering not too far behind. They looked behind, their eyes catching a carriage drawing close by.
The person at the helm was a woman—she wasn't elderly, but she also wasn't young like them. From what they could see from where they, she was was at least in her early thirties, possibly in her middles.
As she arrived next to them, they gained a clearer view of her face.
Her hair was a silky brown, but underneath the warm light of the sun, the brown was washed over, transforming into something like hazel. Much like her hair, her eyes shone a radiant brown.
She looked down on them from above, seated at the helm of the carriage. The edges of her nose had pronounced smile lines. And her cheeks slightly sunk while her eyes were cast down onto their figures
"Need some help?"
Her voice soft, cool.