Reverse Dungeon

It felt as though his body were burning apart.

Purification was the natural enemy of demonic power. An ordinary demon would have been screaming in agony by now, but Dorian endured it.

Still, the fact that his eyes remained wide open without even blinking made Ian realize something was wrong.

“What the hell is this? You said you weren’t cursed!”

“I’m not.”

“Then why are you reacting like this?! I almost ruined the entire plan trying to save you!”

Ian sounded genuinely furious.

Dorian found himself wondering again whether this was really how a hero was supposed to act. If someone was truly loved by the gods, shouldn’t they be more compassionate? More understanding?

Shouldn’t they be kinder than this?

“I didn’t need saving. Even after all this, I’m not going to become your subordinate.”

Dorian spoke sincerely.

He had already searched the continent for hero candidates. He had prepared trials suited to each one and watched them grow.

And among them, Ian—his “number one regular”—had a particular habit of gathering talented people around himself.

Dorian wished Ian would stop wasting his efforts trying to make him swear loyalty.

Of course, perhaps that wasted effort itself was part of what made someone heroic.

Ian let out an irritated breath.

“Would you shut up already? If you’ve got strength left to talk, then go catch those bastards!”

‘...He doesn’t want my loyalty?’

Dorian was confused.

From what he had observed so far, Ian’s attitude toward him wasn’t exactly warm. Plenty of rulers used violence to force loyalty from others, but Ian didn’t seem like the type to govern through fear.

Whenever he kicked Dorian around, it felt less like discipline and more like simple irritation.

‘...Wait. Hitting someone because you’re annoyed—that’s tyranny, isn’t it?’

Dorian was startled that he was only realizing this now.

Ian’s actions had seemed so overwhelmingly heroic that Dorian had completely overlooked the possibility that, as a ruler, Ian might actually be a tyrant.

“Keith! The demon worshippers first!”

“I know! Archer!”

In the middle of the chaos, master and servant communicated flawlessly.

From atop the cliff, Louise—the ‘spawn of a traitor’—shouted down.

“I released the poison! They can’t escape!”

“Catch them!”

The moment the order was given, the ‘Agent of God,’ Keith, scaled the cliff face.

His hands punched into solid rock as though it were soft tofu. The cloaked demon worshippers recoiled in horror at the absurd sight.

“Lord Fitzmoff...!”

“T-That’s Keith! The Vatican’s monster!”

“Fall back! We’ll handle {N•o•v•e•l•i•g•h•t} him!”

One of the cloaked figures stepped forward.

He muttered a short incantation before shouting loudly,

“You, slave of greed, Gorea! By the authority of your master, I command you—kill Keith!”

“What...?”

“That Keith?!”

Even the dwarves guarding Gorea reacted in shock. Keith’s reputation had spread so far that even they knew his name.

Had their leader truly lost his mind enough to fight him?

Then Gorea’s body suddenly swelled.

A beastly howl erupted from him.

— Auuuuuu!

“L-Leader?!”

The enormous creature, now more monster than dwarf, lunged forward and swallowed one of the guards whole.

“AHHHH!”

“Run!”

“The chief’s gone mad! He turned into a monster!”

The dwarves fled screaming without a shred of hesitation.

Gorea paid them no attention.

Blood dripping from his jaws, the massive fur-covered beast lifted its head and fixed its gaze on Keith before charging up the cliff on all fours.

Keith, hanging against the cliff face, confronted the monstrous Gorea head-on.

His sword—still sheathed—slammed into Gorea’s jaw.

BOOM!

The impact exploded with a deafening roar.

Keith’s weapon was the Holy Sword, a divine armament forged by his own hands. Even the scabbard overflowed with holy power. Against giant beasts, few weapons in existence could rival it.

The blow rattled Gorea’s skull hard enough to briefly knock him unconscious.

That split-second opening was all Keith needed.

He dug his feet into the cliff face with impossible precision and stabilized himself. The instant his balance returned, he drew the Holy Sword.

The naked blade gleamed beneath the moonlight with terrifying sharpness.

— KRAAAH!

Recovering from the shock, Gorea clawed his way back up the cliff.

The massive beast lunged downward, trying to crush Keith beneath its enormous weight.

Keith swung upward to intercept the attack, struggling to keep from being knocked off the cliffside.

He didn’t actually need to defeat the monster.

He only needed to throw it off the cliff.

Ian’s order had been clear: capture the demon worshippers.

Ignoring everything else, Keith focused solely on securing the primary target.

But Gorea, transformed into a monster, seemed to have completely abandoned all instinct for survival. Rather than fall, he clung desperately to the Holy Sword itself.

Sssssss—

The blood dripping from Gorea’s jaws evaporated before it even reached the ground, releasing a nauseating stench.

The holy power saturating the air violently rejected demonic beings.

But Gorea ignored it.

Even as the flesh of his face began to melt away, he refused to release the sword.

Keith changed tactics.

He would kill the monster first.

Instead of trying to pull the sword free, he planted both hands firmly on the hilt and drove the blade deeper into Gorea’s body.

The beast’s overwhelming weight made it feel as though the entire cliff might collapse beneath them.

Keith never looked down.

He maintained his footing through instinct alone.

Gorea’s hide was incredibly thick, but the roof of its mouth remained vulnerable. Slowly, steadily, the Holy Sword pushed deeper inside.

Gorea’s body convulsed violently from the unbearable agony.

A horrifying growl leaked through clenched fangs.

Sweat poured down Keith’s body. His muscles screamed as though they were about to tear apart.

Still, as long as he did not fall, the advantage remained his.

The beast’s own immense size made it difficult for it to resist Keith’s relentless thrust.

In the contest of pure strength—

the Holy Knight prevailed.

FWOOOM!

The Holy Sword pierced through Gorea’s upper jaw and into its brain.

With a monstrous shriek, the creature that had once been Gorea tumbled backward off the cliff.

“Lord Fitzmoff, hurry!”

SCREEECH!

The leader of the demon worshippers, Fitzmoff, blew sharply into a flute.

The piercing sound split the dark sky apart and summoned a horde of monsters.

“G-Giant spider-deer! There’s a whole herd of giant spider-deer! Run!”

“GYAAAAAH!”

The prisoners, forgetting they were still tied together, tried to flee at once and immediately collapsed in a heap.

The spider-legged beasts surged up the cliffside.

Following their usual paths, they charged directly into the poison traps Louise had prepared.

— KIIIEEEEK!

One of the deer-headed creatures shrieked as it collapsed.

But the rest did not stop.

Having completely lost all sense of direction, the monsters trampled over the corpses of their fallen kin and continued charging toward the demon worshippers.

Fitzmoff raised his staff.

“You, seeds of darkness—block the enemy!”

Sinister light burst from the tip of the staff.

Creeeeak—

The forest stirred like something awakening from deep sleep.

An enormous flock of black crows took to the sky, razor-sharp beaks glinting as they descended upon the cliff.

“Keith!”

Rather than retrieving the bow he had discarded earlier, Ian pulled a new one from his inventory.

‘Momisia isn’t proficient with weapons.’

That had its advantages.

He didn’t need to worry about maintaining the bow carefully.

The downside, naturally, was the lack of any meaningful bonus effects.

‘At this rate, I’m going to need to restock arrows soon.’

He wanted to finish preparing his final equipment setup.

But there were more immediate priorities.

Ian was the textbook example of a late-game “returned royal” type character.

His skill tree had always been designed that way.

His unique skill, Purification, gained exponentially stronger critical damage against demons as it leveled. Humans lacked the overwhelming physical gifts and elemental affinities possessed by other races, but in exchange, they suffered no penalties when learning skills.

By ignoring every unnecessary ability and focusing exclusively on Purification, Archery, and Swordsmanship, Ian had maximized his damage output against great beasts while also benefiting from martial skill bonuses.

He had neglected skills like Martial Arts, Shield Defense, Physical Resistance, and Magical Resistance, leaving his durability and health painfully low—

but that was how proper character builds worked.

Specialization.

Concentration.

Because of that, even mediocre equipment could produce overwhelming results in his hands.

Ian concentrated Purification into the arrowhead.

Brilliant light spiraled around him as wind gathered violently at his back.

Divine radiance condensed at the tip of the arrow.

“Block him!”

Fitzmoff shouted.

The black crows overhead and the spider-deer climbing the cliff launched themselves at Keith simultaneously.

The spider-deer charged recklessly forward.

Without the slightest instinct for self-preservation, they continued straight over the edge of the cliff.

Hundreds of spider-like legs latched onto Keith at once.

The tangled limbs spread across the cliff face like a living net.

For a moment, it looked as though even Keith would finally lose his footing.

Then—

the entire herd dropped.

At nearly the same instant, Keith withdrew his sword, severing hundreds of legs in one motion as the creatures fell into the darkness below.

Ian had never once believed Keith would die.

From the very beginning, his aim had been fixed solely on Fitzmoff.

The summoned crows descended in a frenzy, indiscriminately devouring prisoners and dwarves alike.

Screams erupted everywhere.

“We’re not the targets! Attack those things instead!”

“Ahhh! Save me!”

Demons were creatures of instinct.

They would never refuse an opportunity to feast on blood.

It was absurd that the demon worshippers thought the monsters would conveniently spare the dwarves.

While magical control and artifacts could direct beasts temporarily, such control required concentration.

And in the middle of this chaos, desperately trying to protect their leader, none of the demon worshippers had the focus to maintain that control.

Nor did they particularly care to.

Ian remained perfectly still.

With enemies flooding in from every direction, protecting civilians without preparation was impossible.

The fastest way to minimize casualties was simple:

Kill the demon worshippers.

Once the magic binding the monsters collapsed, fear would reclaim their instincts.

Ian focused entirely on stacking Purification into the arrow.

Louise and Sema were handling the prisoners.

‘No... still not enough.’

Ian kicked an elf toward them.

“Protect the civilians!”

“I-I’m tied up too!”

“You’re fine, aren’t you?!”

“Urgh...”

Still grumbling, the elf summoned a spirit.

A razor-sharp gale tore through the battlefield, slicing monsters apart. Severed torsos and sprays of blood rained onto the ground.

Ian never even looked.

His attention never left the target.

Two stacks.

Three.

Four.

Climbing the cliff at terrifying speed, Keith closed the distance to Fitzmoff in an instant.

As Keith yanked back the hood covering his face, Fitzmoff gasped violently—but he never stopped resisting.

A barrage of curses exploded from his hands.

Keith evaded the red curses with precise movements and avoided the black ones entirely.

He made instant judgments about which attacks he could endure and which he absolutely could not.

Pain-inducing curses and movement restrictions could be resisted through sheer durability.

The truly dangerous ones carried demonic corruption.

Keith was already heavily cursed.

He could not afford further contamination.

“Ian-nim.”

He called for his master.

At close range, a mage could never defeat a knight.

The giant crows and spider-deer swarmed Keith, pecking and tearing at him, but he endured everything while steadily forcing Fitzmoff closer and closer to the cliff’s edge.

The fluttering black cloak exposed a clear opening.

Ian released the bowstring.

TWANG!

The arrow exploded forward.

A beam of blinding light pierced straight through its target.