Fun Dungeon Exploration! (2)

Ding, ding, ding—

In the distance, the bell from the watchtower announced the time.

At the same moment, a group of seven men, their identities obscured by the nondescript attire of harbour workers, moved quietly. 

Fishing boats heading out for the night were departing, while ships that had set sail earlier in the day were returning, making the docks bustling and chaotic. The heavy bags carried on the backs of the seven men were nothing unusual in the crowded harbour, and they attracted no attention at all.

They soon turned down a narrow alley, twisting this way and that. The alley, adjacent to the underground sewer, occasionally had puddles that gave off a foul smell. On rainy days, when the sewers flooded, the stench of decay would rise, driving everyone to avoid the area.

As they passed between the gloomy buildings, the noise from the docks faded into the distance. Only then did the men straighten their postures, adjusting their shoulders and properly securing the handles of their sickles and spades.

Once they confirmed there were no signs of activity from Lopez' agent, they glanced at each other, the group of tomb robbers exchanging looks.

"Two more are joining us today."

The tomb robbers exchanged confused looks.

"All of a sudden?" 

A sour expression crept across their faces. This was understandable. The more people involved in the job, the more the spoils would have to be divided among them.

While they had already received the initial payment, the real prize was still the armour and sword of Leovald. The group had already made plans among themselves about how to divide it, so the idea of more people joining was unwelcome.

Lopez' agent, noticing their greedy discomfort, chuckled. After all, once the job was done, they were all meant to be silenced permanently, so they wouldn't get to take anything at all.

"Don't worry. They are collaborators brought by my employer. They've come to help speed up the work."

"Ah."

Only after hearing the explanation did the robbers nod, seemingly unconcerned. This was all just business to them, and as long as their share of the loot didn't shrink, they were fine with it.

One of the robbers, adjusting his heavy bag filled with pickaxes, looked puzzled.

"How exactly are they going to help? Did your employer hire some professional tomb robbers?"

Another robber scratched his head and joked, "Yeah, unless they've got some kind of expert on hand, it seems odd."

"Maybe it's a legendary tomb robber who's raided a king's tomb before."

But the answer didn't come from Lopez' agent—it came from elsewhere.

"Here comes the legendary tomb robber you were expecting~!"

A voice, laced with humour, split the night air. The robbers jumped in surprise, all looking up at once.

There, perched on a building long abandoned and now crumbling, sat a man draped entirely in black, his legs crossed as he leisurely looked down at them.

Half of his face was obscured by a mask, but that only made the mischievous gleam in his fox-like eyes stand out more.

"Who are you?!"

Lopez' agent flinched and reflexively drew a dagger, hurling it with lightning speed. The pointed throwing knife shot through the air like a streak of light. But even faster, a long silver streak of motion met it in midair.

Clang!

Steel met steel with a sharp clash, sending the dagger spinning away, useless. It wasn't just a defense—it was a masterful display of skill. Inside the simple trajectory of the strike lay intricate techniques, blending both offense and defense in an expert's move.

Lopez' agent rubbed his cheek. The dagger, deflected by the expert strike, had returned and grazed his cheek, leaving a thin line of blood. Red trickled down, staining his face. In that brief moment, his opponent had even completed a counterattack.

A formidable opponent!

The agent tensed, his vigilance sharpening.

The man who had displayed such incredible skill stepped gracefully out from behind the crumbling wall of the building. The second man was also draped entirely in black, meticulously concealing his identity to the point of obsession. The only distinguishing feature was a crude moonstone pendant hanging from his neck.

The puddles of stagnant water on the alley floor reflected the moonlight, casting the two figures in a soft glow, like eerie spotlights. Their shadows stretched over the rough walls of the crumbling buildings.

The man who had displayed the flawless technique seemed unfazed by the brief, intense exchange. With a playful grin, he rested his chin on his hand and waved casually.

"Thank you for the warm welcome. Still, let's not wear ourselves out on first impressions, yeah? We're temporary partners, after all. We should get along."

"…You're the collaborators?"

"That's right."

Snap!

With a dramatic flick of his hand, the man extended his limbs with a smooth, theatrical motion, his fingers snapping joyfully. At the same time, the tall swordsman who had been standing silently beside him dropped down from the building, landing with a soft thud.

The black cloak fluttered and stretched out, only to settle smoothly as the swordsman landed. The splash from the shallow puddle on the alley floor created ripples, and the sharp, steel-gray pupils of the swordsman gleamed through the edges of his cloak, like a hawk descending on its prey, sharp and dangerous.

The group of tomb raiders hesitated, retreating a step. Lopez' agent, too, tensed, almost reaching for his weapon instinctively, but managed to stop himself just in time.

Although no one was openly pointing weapons at each other, the alley was thick with a silent tension, the standoff between the warriors already taking shape.

'Tch, what kind of murderous intent is this…!'

Lopez' subordinate sweated coldly. Swordsmanship, in its essence, was simply the act of wielding a tool. But killing was something more—it carried meaning far beyond mere action. It was a practice, an art, built up over time, sharpening the will, hardening the spirit.

For seasoned warriors or those who had reached a high level of mastery, this was clear in their presence—their aura. And from the swordsman before him, the subordinate could sense something he had never encountered before—an overwhelming, twisted sharpness.

It was the wild ferocity of someone who had walked the line of death thousands, no—millions of times. Instead of a flurry of aggression, it was heavy and pressing, like a mountain looming over everything. To build such an aura, one would have to be near mad, consumed by battle.

Viscount Lopez' subordinate gritted his teeth, recalling his master's words.

[Be careful not to antagonize them during the course of this task! Especially, especially that man…]

However, the swordsman suddenly eased his sharp demeanour.

He then sheathed his sword and took a few steps back, spreading his arms. Before anyone could even guess the meaning behind the gesture, a dark shadow dropped swiftly from the air.

"—Oops. Wasn't too heavy, was it?"

The swordsman caught the man with fox-like eyes in a stable embrace and nodded silently. He gently lowered the arm that had firmly wrapped around the man's waist, making it easier for him to come down. The man, as if praising the swordsman, gave a light pat on his shoulder before stepping confidently onto the ground and walking forward.

Unlike the swordsman, this man moved lightly and did not exude any intimidating presence. On the contrary, he seemed like someone who could blend in effortlessly anywhere, with a hazy sense of existence.

After a casual conversation and mingling, he would leave without a care, and only later would someone wonder, 'Who was that?'

He walked over lightly, pulled the dagger embedded in the wall, and handed it back to the owner with a polite gesture.

"Well, well, let's ease up on the tension. In similar circumstances, where we have to scrape through tunnels, we shouldn't be at odds but rather get along well."

The man's gaze slowly swept over the group of tomb raiders. His voice, soft and admonishing, contrasted sharply with the fearful, hunched figures before him—almost laughable in their terror.

"Cooperation has to be good for the results to be satisfying, but it's pointless to say it out loud. We don't want to waste time staring at each other and playing games, do we? You understand, don't you?"

His narrow eyes traced a crescent-like curve, the smile on his lips a thin veil of politeness. But beneath that, there was something else—a sense of boredom seeping through, a strange gap between his words and the look in his eyes, almost as if he found this entire situation tedious.

"Well then, I'll be counting on you from now on."

"..."

Viscount Lopez' subordinate swallowed dryly.

[Especially… be careful when dealing with the man who smiles.]

'Right. It's not the swordsman, but that man who is more…'

***

[Scenario weight: 9.06%]

Damn it. I almost died!

I never thought I'd feel that threat to my life again after the first scenario note. I only took one shot at a scene, and somehow, whether it was a dagger or a needle, I thought it pierced through and made a hole in my lung.

It's a miracle I didn't collapse from the shock. Honestly, I was rattled. Is this how things go in this world? Throwing knives at someone upon first meeting? Is this the Warring States period or what? Bring Confucius over, you bastards.

Realizing again just how difficult it is to play the villain, I tried to calm my still pounding heart.

After the standoff with Leonardo, Lopez' subordinate—the tomb raider leader—led the group of tomb raiders toward the underground sewer entrance. We followed behind, keeping a reasonable distance.

The gap between us was wide enough that it seemed like a private conversation with Leonardo was possible. I subtly moved closer and lightly tapped the back of Leonardo's hand. It was a simple signal we had set up.

Leonardo tapped my hand back twice, signaling that it would be fine to speak since they wouldn't be able to hear us. He lowered his voice and whispered.

"See? It works, right? The attitude is completely different now."

"Yeah."

Leonardo agreed in a low voice.

Hmm, hmm. This isn't really my thing. This whole villain act has a deeper meaning to it. 

That's the message here.

With a satisfied feeling, I reviewed the results, but suddenly, the memory of that dagger attack that nearly made my heart skip a beat flashed back. I whispered to Leonardo.

"By the way, your skills were pretty good. I thought you were hopeless with a sword, but in that brief moment, you managed to use the dagger for a counterattack. Thanks to that, the atmosphere was well controlled."

Bringing Leonardo along had been a stroke of luck. It was like having an army of ten thousand.

"..."

But Leonardo only groaned in response, not answering. His face was hidden by his mask, but he suspiciously avoided eye contact, like a dog that had chewed up something it wasn't supposed to and was trying to subtly look away.

Hey. You didn't, did you?

"I never thought the dagger would fly in that direction…"

Was it a mistake?

It wasn't an intentional move?

What kind of pathetic protagonist is this!