Reverse Dungeon

As the massive doors swung open, an enormous chamber revealed itself.

Unlike the dark corridor outside, the room was brilliantly illuminated. Candles burned along the walls, while ornate ceiling lights cast warm golden light across the space, creating an atmosphere so cozy it almost felt out of place.

But that was not the only thing that made the room feel strange.

Towering bookshelves filled the circular chamber, each one taller than a person and arranged irregularly enough to resemble a maze. And yet, despite the cluttered layout, the path leading from the entrance to the ‘Book of Wishes’ remained perfectly straight.

Nothing obstructed the view.

The spellbook floated alone above a stone altar at the center of the room.

It emitted a faint radiance of its own. Bound in deep violet leather, with pages fashioned entirely from gold, the book looked so impossibly mystical that anyone who saw it would immediately believe it capable of granting wishes.

Keith lowered his gaze toward Ian.

Permission?

Ian nodded once.

Keith stepped forward cautiously.

Even after crossing halfway through the chamber, nothing happened.

No attacks came. No magic activated.

“......”

Without stopping, Keith approached the ‘Book of Wishes.’

Then a voice suddenly spoke beside him.

“Child, have you come to make a wish?”

Keith instantly drew his sword and leveled it at the speaker’s throat. His eyes widened sharply.

‘I didn’t sense anything.’

How?

The figure before him was translucent.

A hunched old man leaning heavily on a cane. The bookshelves behind him remained clearly visible through his body.

“A ghost,” Keith said coldly.

“Child, have you come to make a wish?”

Receiving no response, the ghost slowly turned toward Ian.

If you answer the ‘Tower Keeper Ghost,’ the battle begins.

Naturally, there was no way to bypass the ghost and purify the Life Vessel directly. The altar beneath the ‘Book of Wishes’ would only open after the ghost was defeated.

The Life Vessel was hidden underneath it.

And until the ghost died, the altar would never open.

‘Though maybe the Book of Wishes could force it open.’

But using that method would fail the hidden quest from... no, not the Thieving Village.

Oasis Village.

Honestly, even after completing it, the rewards were mediocre at best. But Ian had never skipped a quest in his life.

A real gamer collected everything—XP, rewards, achievements. Every last scrap.

“Child, have you come to make a wish?” the ghost repeated.

“Yes.”

The ghost peered at Ian through clouded, wrinkled eyes.

“You lie.”

‘How the hell can you tell?’

Ian had, admittedly, wondered whether the ‘Book of Wishes’ could truly return him to reality. He simply did not believe it could, which made the temptation weak.

“You entered this library with impure intentions.”

It was not especially important, but clearing the ‘Tower of the Desert’ quest would later change the location’s name on the world map to ‘Collapsed Library Tower.’

The Tower Keeper Ghost became enraged.

“My precious books are not meant for swine like you to touch! Leave at once!”

The books lining the shelves suddenly burst free all at once.

They rose into the air, pages fluttering violently as razor-sharp magical energy radiated from them.

Pararararack!

Even someone completely lacking intuition would immediately recognize that getting hit by those things meant death.

Ian shouted immediately.

“Watch the shelves! Not the ✧ NоvеIight ✧ (Original source) big ones—the paper ones!”

“Lord Ian, step back.”

‘Is he even listening?’

Probably not.

Ian cut straight to the point.

“You can’t see the ghost’s attacks!”

“What?”

“The bookshelves turn transparent!”

“......!”

Slash!

Ian intercepted the first strike with his sword.

A transparent bookshelf abruptly materialized in midair before being split cleanly in half, its severed pages scattering downward like dead leaves.

“This way!”

‘The first attack is always frontal.’

It had to be.

That ghost had an awful fixation on eyes. Probably because of the whole librarian concept.

And once it drew blood, the paper monsters accelerated.

Bloodstained books flying wildly through the air while shrieking around you was not exactly ideal for mental stability during a boss fight.

“Pull aggro,” Ian ordered. “Can you make sure the ghost only targets you?”

“Of course.”

Keith answered without hesitation.

Ian nodded.

But another voice was missing.

“Dorian? Where the hell did you go?!”

“I’m... fine... don’t worry...” a distant voice echoed weakly from somewhere far away.

Ian felt his blood pressure spike instantly.

“Hey! Get back here and fight!”

“I’m... okay...”

“Who asked if you were okay?! Don’t you want to live?! What happened to all that crap about your greatest wish?! You little bastar—”

Slash! Shhk!

Keith carved through the airborne bookshelves in rapid succession before calling out sharply.

“Lord Ian! Your orders!”

Ian forced himself to calm down.

“...You’re handling aggro alone. Don’t overdo it.”

“Please don’t concern yourself over me.”

Keith smoothly sheathed his sword and met Ian’s gaze directly. There was not the slightest trace of agitation in his blue eyes. The elf’s disappearance seemed utterly insignificant to him.

“Simply command me, Lord Ian. Carrying out your will is the duty of your follower.”

‘Ha...’

Ian nearly stopped breathing for a second.

Those words, overflowing with absolute loyalty, sounded absurdly moving coming from a holy knight practically glowing with divine radiance.

Even Ian, who instinctively distrusted weak humans, felt shaken.

Of course, Keith was not human.

Humans were never this unwavering. Never this dependable.

Ian was strangely relieved by that fact.

Relieved that Keith was someone he could trust.

A character.

Someone who genuinely wanted to protect him because he truly believed Ian was an agent of God.

Something in Ian’s chest tightened painfully.

He ignored it. His HP had not decreased, so it was probably irrelevant.

More importantly, thanks to Dorian chickening out, elemental magic support was no longer an option.

Ian ground his teeth.

Considering the Tower Keeper Ghost’s poltergeist abilities, Dorian’s affinity would have been incredibly useful here. Even small things—changing the wind direction, warning them about incoming attacks—would have dramatically improved Keith’s ability to deal with the boss.

Useless bastard.

If he was going to run, he should have done it earlier instead of entering the boss room just to leech experience.

‘Is this guy secretly a developer spy sent to sabotage me?’

Paranoid thoughts briefly crossed Ian’s mind.

Eventually, he chose to see the positive side instead.

If Dorian participated, experience points would inevitably be divided. But if he completely avoided combat, the system’s evaluation of him would tank so badly that he would barely receive any XP at all.

Meaning Ian could still proceed with his original plan of funneling everything into Keith.

At this point, there was no alternative.

Ian just had to stay sharp until the battle ended.

“Pull the aggro!”

The instant the command left his mouth, Keith charged.

Holy power erupted from his body as he raised his sword defensively, cleaving through the airborne paper blades with chilling precision.

Shiiik!

Pfshh!

One of the severed pages veered off unexpectedly and sliced beneath Keith’s eye.

A sharp sting followed.

Blood trickled down beneath his helmet.

The sudden pain made his vision blur with tears, and Keith grimaced faintly as he tried to clear his sight.

At the same time, the Tower Keeper Ghost vanished.

Teleportation.

The ghost skipped rapidly from floating book to floating book, fleeing again and again through the air.

“It’s heading toward the center!”

“Nice call!” Ian shouted back while hanging from a ceiling light.

The moment Keith had rushed the ghost, Ian had immediately started climbing the bookshelves.

With several rows now partially emptied, scaling them was not particularly difficult for someone whose body had already been adjusted by and .

From the top shelf, Ian measured the distance carefully.

The room’s violent poltergeist effect had turned the air turbulent. Books spiraled wildly overhead while gusts of wind shook the hanging lights.

The antique chandelier creaked ominously, swaying from its metal chains. Above it, golden candles flickered dangerously.

Ian briefly wondered whether the wax was hot.

Then dismissed the thought entirely.

Why should I care? A little fire won’t kill me. I can just put it out afterward.

This was the optimal damage position.

Other elevated spots—like the tops of the shelves—had poor visibility. But since the ghost’s entire combat pattern revolved around constant movement...

As long as Keith maintained aggro, the ghost would never have time to focus on Ian.

And from this wide-open vantage point, Ian could unload damage without restraint.

Because Ian trusted Keith.

Keith would do exactly what Ian had asked of him.