Reverse Dungeon

The status window remained silent after that. A few words clearly weren’t enough to resolve Louise’s condition.

Ian abandoned the idea of finding an easy fix.

‘I’ll have to figure this out properly.’

“There are still prisoners in the village. We free them first, then we leave.”

He tapped Louise lightly on the back and pressed down on his head. Even without much force, Louise lowered his head deeply. His lashes trembled, wet with tears.

Ian stared at him in confusion.

‘Why is he crying?’

Louise had never been this fragile in the game. Maybe it was because he was younger now. Or maybe the status abnormality had softened him somehow. Either way, Ian awkwardly tried to comfort him.

‘[Purification].’

He used the skill discreetly.

Nothing happened.

Normally, a high-level [Purification] could remove almost any status abnormality, but this one seemed rooted far deeper than that. After all, this was the protagonist’s core trauma.

In Louise’s route, he could also develop a status abnormality from hallucinatory curses. Strangely enough, it would only disappear after he learned the truth about his parents.

Now Ian finally understood why.

‘So the hallucinations were tied to trauma involving his parents?’

What an unnecessarily detailed game.

At that moment, Dorian spoke.

“So we’re just leaving the demon worshippers like this?”

“You want to bury them?”

There was no reason to waste effort Purifying demon worshippers. They weren’t demons.

“We’re not doing it?” Dorian sounded oddly disappointed.

‘Does this guy seriously want to bury the people who tried to sacrifice him?’

His personality really was impossible to predict. There had to be some kind of bug in his character settings.

“We don’t have time for that. Who knows what the ones left behind in the village might do to their ‘slaves’?”

In the game, once you conquered a slave village, several outcomes could follow depending on the player’s choices. If the prisoners weren’t freed afterward, the dwarves retreating from the rear would either drag them away or slaughter them before fleeing.

Ian knew that from the Nameita route. Since Nameita was a good-aligned character, the aftermath left him depressed for quite a while.

Ian, however, had a much simpler reason for saving them.

‘Manpower.’

Now that he had expanded the dungeon, he needed to refill the population cap.

“We save the living first.”

“Right.” Dorian smiled faintly at Ian’s casual response.

He still wanted to understand Ian’s standards.

Perhaps bandits could be forgiven if their circumstances were pitiable, but demon worshippers were different.

Anyone connected to demons seemed beyond sympathy in Ian’s eyes.

That was Dorian’s interpretation, anyway.

Ian himself was thinking something entirely different.

‘It’s blinding.’

Yeah.

Now he understood why he had never managed to attract the gods’ attention. Just looking at people like this was enough to make his eyes ache.

Meanwhile, those so-called heroes who made his stomach churn with discomfort all seemed to carry some kind of radiant light within them.

This long, exhausting life—

Ian intended to end it spectacularly.

They hurried back to the slave village.

The dwarves attempting to flee with the village’s valuables scattered in panic the moment Ian’s group arrived.

Ian headed straight for the building where the slaves were confined. It resembled a massive warehouse, packed /N_o_v_e_l_i_g_h_t/ wall-to-wall with people.

Most of the dwarves had gone to attend the ‘ritual’, leaving only a handful of supervisors behind to guard the slaves. They had locked everyone inside before leaving.

Clang!

There was no need to search for a key.

Keith shattered the lock with a single strike of his sword.

The prisoners, still shackled and forced to work only moments ago, trembled in fear after being abruptly locked away.

“Please come out. You’re free now.”

“Free...?”

The cramped interior had been suffocatingly hot. As soon as the doors opened, cool night air poured inside, washing over sweat-soaked skin and burning lungs.

Standing with the moonlight at his back, a knight cut through their chains one by one.

The prisoners stumbled out in confusion.

Then realization dawned.

The terrifying overseers who ruled the village were gone.

“Th-thank you, Sir Knight.”

“What is the name of our benefactor?” someone asked emotionally.

“It’s Sir Keith Moore,” Ian answered at the exact same moment Keith said,

“It’s Lord Ian.”

“...?”

Their voices overlapped.

The two men slowly turned to look at each other.

“Sir Keith?!”

“Lord Ian!”

The freed prisoners cried out the names of their saviors with gratitude.

Ding!

[People think of you as a hero!]

Ding!

[People believe you are a sage!]

‘This is driving me insane.’

“Next time, just say your own name. You’re the one who freed them.”

Ian broke the awkward silence first.

Keith’s loyalty hadn’t decreased, but this kind of relationship really wasn’t healthy for gameplay.

And somehow... it bothered him more than it should have.

“How could a mere tool claim credit? I am simply an extension of your hand.”

Keith answered calmly.

Ian had no rebuttal.

After all, those were essentially Ian’s own words being thrown back at him.

Granted, Ian had never gone as far as saying, ‘Since when do tools speak?’

Keith had always been difficult for him to understand.

“W-Wait... Lord Ian? The Lord Ian?”

“The hero who killed a demon?!”

“And Sir Keith Moore—the Vatican’s ‘Agent of God’—is with him. It’s real!”

A completely unwanted title effect had activated.

The prisoners began murmuring excitedly among themselves.

“Is it really Lord Ian?”

“Please take us with you, Lord Ian! We were on our way to find your kingdom before we were captured...”

As though on cue, rustling leaves sounded nearby.

More prisoners emerged from hiding.

They had escaped during the chaos surrounding the ritual and secretly followed Ian’s group here.

Apparently, they hadn’t fled very far.

Ian had already sensed them trailing behind thanks to his enhanced perception skills.

What he hadn’t realized was just how many there were.

‘Wow.’

Was this actually an easy way to increase population during ritual events?

What an incredible exploit.

This would make the Nameita route so much easier. If only he could post this information online, it would save beginners so much suffering...

While regretting that he couldn’t share the tip, Ian found the prisoners suddenly clinging to him.

They threw themselves at his feet, reaching desperately for his robes.

Naturally, none of them managed to touch him.

“Please save us, Lord Ian—?!”

Ian stepped back, and the prisoner’s hand grasped empty air. Honestly, he probably wouldn’t have been touched even if he had stood still.

Keith moved in front of Ian.

Kneeling down, he helped the fallen prisoner back to his feet.

“Do not be afraid. Lord Ian does not abandon lost lambs.”

“Ah...!”

Just looking at the knight filled the prisoner’s heart with reverence.

‘Why are you advertising me like this?’

Ian was utterly dumbfounded.

But Keith continued.

“...for He is merciful to the weak.”

“Of course. There are still people who need protection. Don’t worry.”

Ian accepted the situation immediately.

“Hooray!”

“Long live Lord Ian! Long live Sir Keith!”

Relief spread through the crowd.

Originally, Ian had intended to act reluctant and say something like, ‘I’m not interested, but if Keith insists that much, I guess I have no choice.’

But—

“Keith.”

“Yes.”

“We need to talk.”

Ian abandoned the idea of indulging Keith’s bizarre reputation-building and pulled him aside.

Something about his words had felt strangely significant.

Under the night sky, Keith’s expression looked faintly troubled.

By now, Ian had learned to distinguish even the subtle shifts in his expression.

Despite looking—and genuinely being—a zealot, Keith wasn’t nearly as emotionally detached as he appeared.

He thought deeply. He worried deeply.

Once they stepped into deeper shadow, Keith’s troubled expression became unmistakable. He didn’t even bother concealing it.

“What’s wrong?” Ian asked bluntly.

He wasn’t the type to dance around a subject. If his social skills had been any better, maybe his life wouldn’t have ended up such a disaster.

‘I know you’re suspicious about Louise’s past. I can explain everything,’ Ian was just about to say.

After all, the best defense was often a good offense.

But Keith reacted strangely.

He looked away.

‘...Huh?’

Then Keith met his eyes again.

For a moment, Ian’s heart had sunk when Keith averted his gaze. Strangely enough, the instant their eyes met again, his pulse steadied.

“Lord Ian, may I offer you some advice? Please do not misunderstand me and hear me out.”

Keith spoke with complete sincerity.

“When have I ever scolded you?”

‘And would you even listen if I did?’

Ian stared at him in disbelief.

Still, this kind of nonsense was very typical of Keith.

Oddly enough, Ian found that reassuring.

“What is it?”

“Please... do not pity me too much.”

“...Did you eat something bad?”

Ian could swear he had never pitied Keith even once.