Reverse Dungeon

Dwarves were naturally sturdy creatures.

Their inability to use magic was a crippling weakness, but they compensated for it with overwhelming physical resilience, high magical resistance, immense stamina, and monstrous strength.

Because of that, the forest dwarf Ian had kicked didn’t lose consciousness even after taking a direct blow to the solar plexus.

Instead, he bit through his tongue and began vomiting blood.

Before the dwarf could recover from the shock, Ian drew his sword and repeatedly drove the blade into his back, carefully avoiding every vital point.

“Gah—! Ack!”

The dwarf collapsed face-first onto the ground, convulsing violently as blood poured from both his mouth and nose.

“Lord Ian. I’ve subdued mine.”

“Same here.”

Keith and Louise reported almost simultaneously.

Only after everything had already ended did Sema emerge belatedly from the rustling bushes.

“So they enslave humans, elves, monsters... they really don’t discriminate, huh? Truly disgusting slave traders.”

“Is there such a thing as a non-disgusting slave trader?”

Ian pressed his knee into the dwarf’s spine and slapped him across the cheek hard enough to twist his head sideways.

A strangled cry escaped him.

“Intruders!”

“Correct. And you’re a slave trader. I have a few questions for you.”

“I-I don’t know anything! I never attacked anyone! I’m just a low-ranking guard—”

“Ugh! Ngh—!”

BANG! BANG!

The imprisoned slaves slammed themselves desperately against the bars.

Muffled cries leaked through their gags.

“You’re denying it?”

“T-Those things—!”

SMACK!

Ian struck the back of the dwarf’s head.

The dwarf immediately seemed to realize this was not the time to complain about slaves.

“The human slaves! I’ll release the human slaves! I know where the keys are! If I’d known they were under a hero’s protection, I never would’ve touched them!”

“You want to die? Then how exactly are we supposed to get those keys?”

Another dwarf—currently pinned down by Louise—hurriedly shouted.

Louise calmly pressed the tip of a poison-coated arrow against the dwarf’s throat.

Honestly, it was a remarkably courageous sight.

“Lord Ian,” Louise asked quietly, “should I stab him? It’s a neurotoxin. He won’t die from it.”

A pause.

“...Assuming he’s lucky.”

“Go ahead. No need to count to three.”

THUD!

The arrow pierced the dwarf’s neck instantly.

Foam bubbled from his mouth as he collapsed twitching to the ground.

Louise immediately rolled him over, sat on his back, and pinned both his arms beneath him with his own body weight.

As a hunter, Louise originally wasn’t accustomed to taking prey alive.

But Lord Ian had taught him many things.

He was still learning.

‘This really is a convenient way to restrain prisoners.’

Under those brutal yet practical lessons, the young hunter continued to grow.

“I-I’ll tell you! I’ll tell you!”

The dwarf Keith had subdued spoke up in panic.

Both his arms had been cleanly broken.

Ironically, that still made him the least injured out of the three.

‘What the hell are these people?’

That was the dwarf’s first thought.

Demons?

No—that made no sense. They were clearly human.

Well... one of them had gray skin.

Was he from one of the traitor clans?

But why would humans travel alongside traitor clansmen—

The dwarf suddenly froze as an old rumor surfaced in his memory.

“L-Lord Ian...?”

His entire body trembled.

“Are you perhaps... the ‘Tyrant’ Ian?”

Ian’s expression darkened instantly.

“Yes. The very same infamous tyrant.”

“Then... then the one who subdued me... is the ‘Agent of God,’ Sir Keith?”

“You know me?”

The knight who had broken both his arms answered calmly.

‘Shit. Shit!’

The dwarf nearly wanted to smash his own head against the ground.

Why hadn’t he recognized them immediately?

That irritatingly handsome elf.

The black-haired human.

The boy carrying a bow.

And a gray-skinned clansman beside the Agent of God himself—

If those people were traveling together, there could only be one explanation.

The moment he’d been captured, he should’ve thrown himself face-down and begged for mercy.

He should’ve screamed at the other guards to shut their mouths and play dead.

‘Why didn’t ➤ NоvеⅠight ➤ (Read more on our source) they warn us?’

Tyrant Ian had returned.

Rumors already claimed his base existed somewhere within this region.

At some point, the Southern Demon Archduke’s movements had abruptly ceased, and the demon tribes that once obeyed him had begun tearing each other apart over territory.

Anyone could see the Archduke’s control was gone.

And it was unthinkable that a Demon Archduke would simply abandon his domain voluntarily.

Which meant something must have happened to him.

Had another demon overthrown him?

Impossible.

If the demon race had gone to war internally, everyone would’ve known.

Whoever defeated the Archduke would’ve declared themselves the new ruler of the South immediately.

So if it wasn’t another demon—

Then among the other races, only one force remained capable of something so terrifying.

Tyrant Ian’s faction.

The rumor spreading among the dwarves was simple:

Tyrant Ian had conquered the southern territories.

His forces operated somewhere within the Southern Continent itself.

Nobody knew exactly where.

The Dark Forest had always been dangerous, but recently the demon race had become even more unstable.

Still, that had never mattered much to the dwarves serving ‘them.’

As long as they didn’t provoke demons first, the protective charms given to them by ‘those people’ kept them safe.

And according to the rumors—

Tyrant Ian and his loyal hound, the Agent of God, were supposed to be on another continent entirely.

That was why the dwarf had continued capturing slaves without fleeing south.

If he’d known Tyrant Ian had returned, he would’ve abandoned everything and run immediately.

After all, his own life mattered most.

‘A tyrant would never spare people associated with demons.’

And honestly, Ian’s reputation fit perfectly.

Otherwise nobody would call him a tyrant.

Dwarves were already despised by most races as servants of demonkind.

Slave traders among them were even worse—reviled for thousands of years throughout Middle-earth.

Normally, insults like that barely bothered them.

But the sword hovering before his face now was a very different matter.

The dwarf’s thoughts raced frantically.

Barely breathing, he hastily fabricated a lie.

“We... we were threatened too! Forced into this work! Who would willingly enslave fellow races of Middle-earth? My wife—gentle as a rabbit—and my daughter—cunning as a fox—are being held hostage! Ah, no—I mean my wife is cunning as a fox, and my daughter is gentle as a rabbit—”

“Who asked?”

“Silence.”

At the tyrant’s cold command, the knight tightened his grip around the dwarf’s throat.

Despite their short stature, dwarves possessed powerful physiques and tremendous raw strength.

Normally they weren’t easily overpowered.

But once Keith seized him, the dwarf couldn’t even draw breath.

“Answer only what you’re asked.”

The knight loosened his grip slightly.

“Cough! Hrk! Y-Yes... yes!”

Tears and mucus streamed down the dwarf’s face as he answered.

Sitting casually atop him, the tyrant spoke.

“Have you seen any demon worshippers around here?”

“Cough! Cough!”

The dwarf convulsed violently.

In his panic, he forgot he was supposed to be pretending to be an innocent civilian.

Ian rubbed his forehead slowly.

“So you have seen them.”

“N-No! We don’t know anyth—”

“Quiet.”

“Ghk—!”

Keith immediately choked him silent again.

The tyrant shifted his gaze toward the bloodied dwarf beneath him.

“What’s your name?”

“...What? M-My name? Why—”

“You don’t want to answer?”

“Fobo!”

The dwarf blurted it out instantly.

Ian fell silent for a moment.

The dwarves, naturally, had no idea he was checking the status window.

That silence terrified Fobo far more than shouting would have.

“...Alright, Fobo.”

Ian smiled faintly.

“You’re quick on your feet, aren’t you?”

“Yes? Ah... yes...”

Fobo’s eyes darted nervously around.

The blood coating his mouth clung sticky against his skin, leaving a bitter metallic taste every time he breathed.

He feared the tyrant who had stabbed him.

He feared the monsters serving beneath him.

But above all—

He feared the demon worshippers.

‘Them.’

What was he supposed to do now?

Ian gave him no time to think.

“I’ll continue searching this region until I find the demon worshippers.”

His voice remained calm.

“And you’re coming with us.”

“W-Why me...? I don’t know anything... Ah— demon worshippers? Why would terrifying people like that be here...?”

“Because they are here. There’s no other possibility.”

“N-No...”

Fobo’s mind went blank.

What could he possibly do if the tyrant had already decided?

“If you refuse to tell me where they are, then we’ll simply search for them ourselves.”

Ian’s smile deepened slightly.

“And every hardship we suffer while searching... you’ll suffer alongside us.”

“...And if I tell you?”

The question slipped out before Fobo could stop himself.

“Then we’ll confirm the location.”

Ian’s smile curved beautifully.

The face was annoyingly handsome for a human—almost elven.

Even Fobo, a dwarf craftsman with an eye for aesthetics, had to admit it.

“And afterward, we’ll let you go.”

Fobo slowly nodded.

He had no choice anymore.