"Rivira." Leon nodded. That tracked. The lawless town on Floor 18, rebuilt hundreds of times and still standing. Black market, information brokers, no Guild oversight. If intel about Evilus activity was going to surface anywhere, it'd be there. "Then there's probably something to it."
Dormul let out a heavy sigh and cursed under his breath.
"Can't those Evilus lunatics just crawl off and die quietly? Causing havoc on the surface is bad enough, but at least that's someone else's problem. The big familias can handle it. But sticking their fingers into the Dungeon? That's... goddamn unforgivable."
Countless adventurers made their living down there. If Evilus stirred up enough trouble, the whole situation would spiral. The Guild, Ganesha Familia's military police, Astraea Familia, the Order Faction... none of them could afford to look the other way. Once the crackdown came, Dungeon access would tighten, and nobody knew how many livelihoods would get strangled in the process.
There was an old saying: cut off a man's income and you might as well cut his throat. Small wonder that the vast majority of adventurers despised Evilus with a passion.
Leon speared a clove of garlic confit on his fork and popped it into his mouth, chasing it with a sip of cold ale. He squinted. "Evilus just has to keep causing chaos. They've always got someone bankrolling the fallout. The smuggling cartels, the noble houses moving goods in the shadows... they're the ready-made patrons."
Dormul's mug stopped halfway to his lips. He went quiet. He understood.
It was the oldest trick in the book. Evilus drew fire, the smuggling cartels moved product while no one was looking. Orario's monopoly on Magic Stones and Dungeon goods meant the tariff money alone was astronomical. Add contraband and slaves, and the profit margins were enough to make funding a terrorist organization look like a rounding error.
The top familias knew. Everyone knew. But Evilus was the knife at the throat. You dealt with the blade first, then worried about who was holding the handle.
"Just when things had finally settled down, here we go again." Dormul wasn't smiling anymore. He took one long pull of ale after another, grim-faced. "How many days has it even been since the last incident?"
Leon wasn't particularly worried on his own account. He was a nobody grinding floors seven and above. Who'd bother with him? Still, he made a mental note to keep a lower profile in the Dungeon for a while. Better safe than sorry.
"If Evilus is making moves, the top brass won't just sit on their hands. Any of the big familias mobilizing?"
"Yeah, when it involves the city and the Dungeon both, the Guild actually moves fast for once." Dormul wiped the foam from his beard. "Word is Astraea Familia, Ganesha Familia, and Loki Familia have already put together a joint investigation team. They headed out earlier today."
Leon's fingers tightened around his mug. Alise. Finn. Shakti. Three captains who could solo most of Evilus's roster. On paper, it should've been reassuring.
It wasn't.
He knew how this story ended for Astraea Familia. The names, the faces, the timeline. Alise Lovell wouldn't survive what was coming. Most of them wouldn't. And here they were, marching straight toward it.
"...Yeah," he said, forcing his voice level. "Should be fine."
Dormul cracked a grin, oblivious, his ale-damp brown beard quivering. "That little shorty Braver still knows what he's doing. Had those lunatics running scared for a while now, apparently taken out a fair number of their officers and key players."
Leon said nothing. He drank.
"Oh, and one more thing. I'm telling you this for your own good. Stop spending every single day alone in the Dungeon like some hermit. Get out, talk to people. Being out of the loop is a liability." Dormul jabbed a thick finger at him. "Case in point, here's the big news you missed. Ais Wallenstein from Loki Familia just hit Lv. 2."
Leon set down his mug. He'd known this was coming. The Sword Princess was always going to be a monster. But knowing the plot and living next to it were different things entirely.
"How long?" he asked, keeping his voice level.
Dormul flashed a grin and held up three fingers.
"Eleven and a half months."
Eleven and a half. He'd known she was fast. He hadn't known it would feel like this. A month in the Dungeon had taught him exactly how brutal leveling up was. The daily grind, the incremental gains, the walls you hit over and over. And this girl had blown past all of it in under a year. No amount of "well, she had senior familia members helping her" could explain that away.
He'd read about her. He'd expected to be impressed. What he hadn't expected was the gut-punch of seeing his own rate of progress, even with cheats, measured against genuine talent.
"The gap between people is wider than the gap between species," Leon muttered into his mug.
Dormul nodded with deep, emphatic agreement.
"Come on!" The dwarf hoisted his mug high, voice booming across the tavern. "To the Order Faction growing stronger! Cheers!"
Leon smiled and raised his own mug to meet it.
"Cheers!"
...
...
A crescent moon hung overhead, draping the city in darkness.
"Safe travels! Please come again!" Syr stood at the entrance, her smile professionally perfect.
Leon watched the performance and felt a flicker of absurdity. Natural-born actress. He could only shake his head.
"Goodnight, miss. No need to see me off."
Stepping out of the Hostess of Fertility, the cool night air hit him and chased away most of the lingering buzz.
Dormul, with the practiced ease of a veteran, had stuck Luvis with the tab. He swung the dead-asleep elf onto his back and turned to Leon. "Watch yourself on the way home. I'm hauling this idiot back first."
"Yeah. You two be careful."
Dormul waved over his shoulder, and the dwarf carrying an elf on his back melted into the far end of the street.
Leon watched until they disappeared, then stretched, rolling his shoulders, and drew a deep breath of night air.
"Home."
...
The next morning.
Dawn was barely a pale line on the horizon when Leon's eyes opened.
A glance at the clock. Four-thirty.
He kicked free of the blankets, padded out in his sleep clothes, and pushed open the door to the small courtyard. Cool, clean air filled his lungs. He stretched, loosening joints and muscles, then picked up the watering can out of habit and began his slow rounds, tending the potted plants along the windowsill and the corners of the yard.
"This knack for plants... it's like it was hardwired into me." A quiet smile played on his lips as his fingertips brushed a tender leaf. "Grow well, little ones. Don't let all my effort go to waste."
Once the greenery was taken care of, he headed back inside to fix breakfast and pack his lunch for the Dungeon.
Breakfast: three thick-cut strips of bacon, two fried eggs, a slice of toast, two small dishes of crisp pickled vegetables from Demeter's produce shop, and a glass of milk.
For the Dungeon, he shaped leftover rice into onigiri, pressed strips of dried seaweed around them, and wrapped them up.