Reverse Dungeon

The dwarf scholar Nameita returned to helping at the temple as soon as he recovered from his injuries.

The Hero's dungeon that he followed possessed an unusual temple.

For one thing, the priests here bestowed divine power equally regardless of race.

There was another difference as well.

"This herb is poisonous if used normally, but if you dry only the roots and boil them thoroughly, it helps with insomnia."

"Oh! So Hari Grass has medicinal properties like that..."

"As expected of Lord Nameita."

"Ahem. It's nothing special. Lately, many people have been complaining of sleeplessness, so I thought it might help. I happen to have some stored away as tea leaves for personal use..."

"Surely you don't mean to share them with us?"

"Oh!"

The monks in brown robes clasped their hands together in admiration.

Weren't human temples supposed to be closed-off places?

Nameita was bewildered.

This wasn't the first time he had shared his knowledge with humans.

During past wars, the comrades who fought beside him had practically treated him like a physician. The rumors had spread far enough to reach military priests dispatched from the temple.

The medical corps, short on manpower, had summoned Nameita.

But he would never forget the expression on the priest's face the moment he arrived and they saw his short, sturdy frame.

"You may go. However, please refrain from performing any medical treatment that has not been authorized."

Nameita had tried to at least share information he had read in old texts regarding major mamool.

The temple had not listened.

The helplessness he felt then had been terrible.

Nameita did not hate them.

He merely lamented the deep-rooted distrust and disregard that existed between races.

"Lord Nameita, you've worked hard. Those monks certainly ask a lot of questions, don't they? Care for a drink?"

After gifting away the Hari Grass and entering the temple, a priest in white robes lifted a bottle.

His face was already flushed, as if he had started drinking beforehand.

"Priest Yurian."

Come to think of it, this man is strange too.

But this dungeon was filled with strange people.

The wine-loving head priest was no exception.

Ordinary people didn't consider dwarves suitable drinking companions.

"Gladly."

Nameita accepted in good spirits.

There was no such thing as a dwarf who refused alcohol.

"I thought you might say that, so I prepared in advance."

"Oh! Isn't that Lord Nameita? Come in, come in."

"Ah, Lord Nameita is here. Isn't a drink after work one of the comforts granted to us by God?"

"To the One above, who has bestowed this precious drink upon us. Cheers."

The head priest's office was already lively.

The priests who had begun drinking before his arrival welcomed him enthusiastically.

"A toast to the warriors."

When Nameita raised his cup, the others solemnly lifted theirs as well before emptying them in a single swallow.

The solemn mood didn't last long.

Mamool had come to this land, and death had become commonplace.

The practical and enterprising nature of Ian, the master of the dungeon, had influenced those beneath him.

Rather than drowning in grief, they sought ways to move forward.

A middle-aged priest spoke.

"Regarding the matter you mentioned. We've selected thirty monks."

"Thirty? Isn't that too many?"

Nameita was surprised.

He knew that this temple housed an unusually large number of priests and monks for its size.

Apparently, they had all once belonged to the Vatican, though he didn't know why they were here now.

Did they follow Sir Keith?

Even so, the number was excessive.

He had specifically requested, 'Even a small group is fine. I only want those who are courageous and willing to accept sacrifice.'

"I said I would only accept volunteers. It's a dangerous mission. If you've pressured them into this, I won't allow it."

"Of course not. Why would I do something worthy of being struck down? Every one of them volunteered."

"Even after hearing they would have to pass through the Dark Forest and infiltrate another demon territory?"

"I explained everything. If you don't believe me, ask them yourself."

The middle-aged priest laughed heartily.

Setting down his cup, Nameita asked again with careful seriousness.

"The sea dwarves are cunning. They may refuse to be persuaded. Did you explain that the entire journey might amount to nothing?"

"I did."

"They've all lost their minds!"

Why were they willing to go this far?

The sea dwarf clans known as the White Dwarves and Black Dwarves had long ago sided with the demons to preserve their own survival.

Even if their status was only marginally better than slaves, the fact remained that they had turned their backs on the other races of the Middle Realm.

They had ignored the suffering of others and cared only for their own safety.

And yet they were still dwarves.

Natives of the Middle Realm.

Born warriors and craftsmen.

How can I help this dungeon?

Nameita had pondered that question for a long time.

What could he do for the Hero who was building ⊛ Nоvеlιght ⊛ (Read the full story) his ideal world?

Eventually, he had reached a conclusion.

Let's gather the other dwarves.

His own race had always been the greatest obstacle to inter-racial cooperation.

But couldn't that also become an advantage?

At least when dealing with fellow dwarves.

Granted, dwarves were all stubborn beyond reason...

"But isn't that exactly what Ian has done?"

The middle-aged priest spoke.

Yurian and the other priests nodded.

Their expressions resembled those of the monks Nameita had seen earlier.

They shone with pure passion.

That's right.

Emotion swelled within Nameita's chest.

His own decision had arisen for the same reason.

He had always spoken of harmony among all races as an ideal.

Yet after suffering several setbacks, he had been the one who retreated into his workshop and buried himself in research instead of continuing to try.

Ian's actions had forced him to reflect upon himself.

"And I would like to accompany you as well."

The middle-aged priest added.

Nameita's eyes widened.

"You too?"

"Yes. When Ian first came to the Vatican to clear Sir Keith's name, I resented him."

Nameita wasn't accustomed to humans confiding personal stories in him.

Yet he seemed to be the only one who found the situation awkward.

He was one of them now.

I see.

For the first time, Nameita felt ready to hear about the pasts of people he had intentionally avoided questioning.

"Clear Sir Keith's name?"

"The former Pope excommunicated Sir Keith, claiming he had joined hands with demons."

"Absurd! And people believed that?"

The image of Sir Keith fighting demons was that of an executioner incarnate.

The middle-aged priest shook his head.

"I think everyone had their doubts. But His Holiness the Pope said it was true, and those above us agreed, so we remained silent. We bear guilt for that."

The surrounding priests rolled prayer beads through their fingers and murmured prayers.

"Though we have eyes, we did not look toward the light. Though we have mouths, we did not speak the truth. Though we have hands and feet, we did not act for what was right. Then for what purpose do these bodies exist?"

"Truthfully, I wanted to go myself, but Lord Moore was quite determined."

Priest Yurian added.

Nameita realized that these people were also walking the path of a greater cause.

They were people like him.

"Then let's go together."

Originally, he had intended to refuse.

You're too old. The journey will be hard on you.

That was what he had planned to say.

Instead, Nameita grasped the middle-aged priest's hand firmly.

A wrinkled smile spread across the priest's face.

At that moment, someone knocked on the door.

"Head Priest! Head Priest! The mamool are—!"

They exchanged looks and immediately rose from their seats.

By the time Nameita arrived, panting for breath, the entire leadership of the dungeon had already assembled.

Louise, who had grown remarkably tall but still retained traces of boyhood.

Contacca, with his mane-like hair and beastly physique.

Momisia, whose cheeks were as red as the robe she wore.

Jenea, dressed in a skin-tight ranger outfit.

And Sema, standing with his mouth hanging open.

At the head of the long table sat Ian and the holy knight.

The black-haired Hero did not even look at Nameita as he spoke.

"Sit."

His eyes remained fixed on the map spread before him.

"Assume the elves, the dwarves, and we each hold one front. The enemy approaching from the south. Position and arrival time?"

"They're advancing north along the river. Heading directly toward the dungeon. One hour at the shortest. No more than an hour and a half at the latest."

Jenea answered.

"The wounded?"

Nameita realized the question was directed at him.

"Their bodies have recovered."

"Their bodies?"

Ian lifted his eyes and glanced at him.

Nameita ended up saying what he had been holding back.

"...There still seem to be many who cannot sleep."

"It's fine."

"...?"

"After one battle, they'll sleep like they've been knocked unconscious."

"No, that's not—"

Ian didn't listen to the objection.

His mind was already racing.

We'll stop the first wave here.

With our own strength.

After that...

An elemental sent by the elves burst through the wall.

"Ian! News from the alliance!"

Right.

It was time.