Reverse Dungeon

The remaining half fled in panic.

They screamed, tripping over one another and stepping on the backs of the mamool ahead of them in their desperate rush to escape.

The tangled mass of fur shot through the narrow passageway.

The moment they entered the second room, the archers waiting there aimed for their heads and released their arrows.

PAPAPAPAK!

Louise had already explained that shooting their bodies would be ineffective.

Their bodies were large and covered in thick fur, while their heads were comparatively small. Because of that, the archers had focused their training entirely on headshots.

And since they knew where the enemy would enter, they could predict the Miryam’s speed and direction.

Some of the archers hit their targets and clenched their fists in triumph.

“Nice!”

Meeeeee!

The Miryam let out mournful cries as they passed through the second room.

Half of them were taken down by arrows and removed from the battle.

The remaining half—now only a quarter of the Miryam that had originally entered the dungeon—faced another formidable challenge in the third room.

A pack of wolf mamool rushed at them.

Meeeeee!

Naturally, sheep’s natural predators included wolves and foxes.

That hierarchy remained true even in the ecosystem of mamool, and most of the Miryam were devoured.

“At least we fed them.”

Even maintaining mamool cost money.

Consider it a security expense.

Still, Ian clicked his tongue, thinking he might have overfed the wolves.

It would have been better to capture more Miryam alive, but this was good enough for now.

Ian personally entered the dungeon and registered the surviving Miryam.

Ding!

[56 Miryam have been registered on the waiting list.]

[Dungeon level increased.]

[Dungeon LV.17 → LV.18]

Then Ian suddenly remembered something and asked Louise, “Hey, about that fur. If we shear it and make clothes, wouldn’t it help us get through winter?”

Louise’s eyes widened.

“That’s a great idea! I can’t remember how often Miryam regrow their fur, but... should we stop using them for security and turn them into livestock instead?”

Furless Miryam were essentially just sheep.

Their pitiful appearance might lure people in, but leaving defenseless security sheep out in the open seemed cruel.

“Let’s set a few aside and experiment.”

“Understood. I’ll call the farmers.”

Louise left with an excited expression.

Ding!

[Louise considers you a benevolent ruler!]

Of course I am.

Raise that reputation.

Ian nodded in satisfaction.

A ruler who prepared for winter?

What else could he be but a benevolent lord?

Of course, most people still thought of him as a tyrant, but that was another matter entirely.

Sema, Louise, and Contacca returned, bringing with them the pack of mamool that had been chasing the Miryam.

They were Hawkros—beasts with hawk heads, bear paws, and lion bodies.

Sema’s magic faltered midway through, and the Hawkros at the front nearly swallowed him whole.

Contacca intervened and stopped it.

SCREEEE!

A Hawkros shrieked as it bit into Contacca’s scruff.

Contacca let out a roar of his own and shook the beast off.

Hawkros were powerful mamool.

They were not strong enough to overwhelm Contacca, but dealing with them required a more specialized approach.

Ian did not personally step in.

If he used that skill, most mamool would die instantly because of its high level.

I need them alive for security.

Even when the Hawkros were caught in traps, they did not die easily.

Their thick hides and incredible physical abilities allowed them to struggle and climb out.

They endured showers of arrows and, even battered as they were, still managed to kill several wolf mamool.

Watching through Sema’s magic, Ian called out.

“Keith.”

“Yes, Lord Ian.”

Keith Moore, the Holy Knight, answered with a devout expression.

“Can you capture them alive? No killing.”

“I have never tried, but yes. I believe it is possible.”

Keith spoke calmly.

Facing more than a hundred powerful mamool, he showed neither arrogance nor exaggerated confidence.

He would simply make it happen.

Ian sent him off.

“Will he be all right?” Contacca asked.

As a half-werewolf, he knew that among mamool, Keith’s name was synonymous with the Angel of Death.

However, facing an entire pack alone was another matter.

Keith was also the commander of the Vatican’s Holy Knights.

His achievements had been made alongside his comrades.

How strong could he truly be without them?

“Just watch.”

Ian was not worried.

Keith’s greatest challenges had always been humans.

Mamool were no match for him.

In his route during the game, as long as Keith survived into the late stages, he almost always slew the Demon King.

After all, he was the natural enemy of all demons.

The Hawkros that entered the passageway found themselves in the fourth room, facing a single pristine knight.

Compared to everything they had faced so far, he seemed like a minor obstacle.

Instinctively, however, they felt something was wrong.

This human was strange.

Ominous.

Keith drew the sword Ian had imbued with power.

It was not an exceptional blade, but thanks to Ian’s enhancement, it had survived even the slaying of a Demon Archduke.

It is a bit shabby.

Keith held the worn sword.

But even with a blade like this, killing these mamool would not be an issue.

Light shimmered from his sword, layering over the blade like a newly forged edge.

As if sensing something, the mamool hesitated and did not dare approach him.

In that case, he would go to them.

Keith leapt into the center of the pack and struck the neck of ✧ NоvеIight ✧ (Original source) the nearest mamool.

The long neck connecting the hawk head to the beast’s body was severed in a single blow, blood gushing from the clean cut.

Before it could splatter onto him, Keith moved again.

His movements were fluid, like a dancer’s.

He cleaved through an attacking mamool with one swing, then pierced the heart of another closing in from behind.

Each movement flowed into the next as though he were drawing a single continuous line.

Dodging a strike from above, Keith slipped beneath the mamool’s chest and thrust upward, piercing its skull.

The hawk head jerked, and its cry scattered into the air.

That was one breath.

Keith inhaled and exhaled, then moved again.

Within five breaths, every mamool in the room had fallen.

Only a handful had been killed outright.

After seeing how quickly their comrades fell, the mamool realized they could not win against this overwhelming opponent.

The Hawkros were not unintelligent.

They had enough judgment to flee when they encountered a superior foe.

But the dungeon room did not allow retreat.

They clawed desperately at the sealed doors, shrieking.

Keith dismantled them systematically, severing their limbs.

He followed Ian’s order and did not kill the mamool outright.

Ian had expected Keith to handle the mamool with ease, but this level of dominance was beyond even his imagination.

With a slightly dazed expression, he descended into the fourth room and placed his hand on the writhing mamool.

“Register.”

Ding!

[101 Hawkros have been registered on the waiting list.]

[Dungeon level increased.]

[Dungeon LV.18 → LV.20]

Ding!

[Dungeon level has reached 20. New buildings are now available for construction.]

Ian looked at Keith.

The dungeon level had leapt all the way to 20 after a single battle.

His heart raced.

Keith seemed more precious than ever.

At that moment, Keith sheathed his sword and spoke.

“This is how one purifies the world.”

This lunatic is spouting nonsense again.

But now, even Keith’s absurd remarks seemed endearing to Ian.

For someone who was betrayed and still sees beauty in the world... he must be a good guy. Just a little unhinged. Poor thing...

“Think of it as clearing a path,” Ian replied.

It was not far from the truth.

He was simply reorganizing the ecosystem he had disrupted by killing the Demon Archduke who once ruled this land.

If Sema gets kidnapped again, it’ll be a hassle...

Of course, leveling up the dungeon was the real priority.

Keith, looking more handsome than usual, spoke again.

“And so humble as well.”

“That’s me,” Ian replied modestly.

Praise me more.

He needed a better reputation.

“......”

[Keith wonders if you are truly the ‘Savior.’]