Reverse Dungeon

Still, to Ian, it felt like stealing, so he put the book back on the shelf.

Not that the morality of it really mattered to him. The real problem was that the item was useless. Inventory space was limited, and Ian had no intention of wasting it on dead weight.

“Ah...”

Why do you sound disappointed?

In any case, the raid event was over. There was nothing left to do in this village.

“For now, let’s rest.”

Ian glanced toward the darkened window as he spoke. Thanks to the uproar in the next room, he hadn’t been able to experiment properly, much less carry out purification in peace.

“We’ll leave at dawn.”

“Where are we supposed to rest?”

“In the next room.”

Ian answered the elf’s obvious question without hesitation. Naturally, he had no intention of attempting purification in front of the elf.

“There’s a couch downstairs. Sleep there.”

“That couch is basically made of stone.”

“Then sleep here.”

“......”

The elf wasn’t especially eager to sleep on a bed that smelled strongly of urine.

And honestly, could this even be called resting? The villagers were tied up right beside them. Wouldn’t ordinary raiders have fled the scene by now?

The elf had several such questions prepared, but in the end, he decided not to ask them.

Ian already looked exhausted from having his sleep interrupted. Humans tended to grow irritable when deprived of rest.

They left the chief’s house shortly after dawn.

The raiders, drugged unconscious, remained dead asleep.

They’ll probably stay down for a few more days.

That should {N•o•v•e•l•i•g•h•t} be enough to ensure none of them died from exposure or dehydration.

Ian led the group toward the center of the village. A handful of early risers carrying water glanced at them curiously, but Ian ignored the attention and continued straight toward the oasis.

After refilling their water supplies, they immediately departed the village.

That marked the end of their preparations.

If they waited until noon, they could probably trade for dried meat or additional supplies, but it would only waste time. Worse, they risked triggering an event where the villagers noticed the disappearance of their men.

“We’re leaving the camels behind.”

“Why?”

As always, the elf immediately questioned him.

“Are you good with camels?”

“I’m good at everything except failure.”

“Can you navigate through a sandstorm while riding one?”

“If I kill the camel first, probably.”

“Then we’re leaving them.”

And just like that, the three camels were abandoned at the chief’s house.

So they walked instead, dry sand filling their mouths with every breath.

“Is the Demon King’s Life Vessel really inside the Desert Tower?”

“Yeah. Top floor. The Life Vessel grants wishes from there.”

“You’re saying the Life Vessel possesses its own will and can cast magic independently?”

Keith sounded genuinely astonished.

Among the relics recognized by the Vatican, there were several said to choose their own masters. Even the Holy Sword Keith wielded was one such relic. In the hands of someone unworthy, it refused to reveal its true power.

That alone was enough for people to claim such relics possessed a will of their own.

But now Ian was describing something far beyond that.

A vessel containing the Demon King’s life force that could wield magic independently?

“To be precise, the Life Vessel only supplies the power. The actual spellcasting is done by the grimoire on the top floor.”

“You’re telling me a book casts spells?”

“I don’t know. Maybe it has a will of its own, like you said.”

Ian felt slightly uncomfortable at how seriously Keith was analyzing the game’s lore.

He obviously couldn’t say, The developers probably just thought it would make a cool boss fight.

He has no idea how terrifying what he’s saying actually sounds.

Keith fell into deep thought.

That would mean the Demon Realm possessed artifacts capable of rivaling holy relics.

According to scripture, God had cast evil into the Demon Realm while gifting humanity the Middle Realm—a world founded upon virtue and morality.

The holy relics sanctioned by the Vatican were considered blessings granted directly by God.

But if the Demon King had hidden away an artifact like this—something capable of granting wishes through its own power—then who could possibly have created it?

As commander of the Holy Knights, Keith also served as an inquisitor responsible for rooting out heresy.

Among all heretics, demon worshippers were considered the most dangerous. They believed the world needed to return to the ancient age when gods and demons coexisted within the Middle Realm, claiming only then could true balance be restored.

According to them, every injustice in the world stemmed from the order imposed by God.

Originally, God and Demon had been one existence. But God had severed part of himself and cast it beneath the earth, leaving himself incomplete. Because of that division, the world itself had become flawed and unstable.

Keith had never once been swayed by such heretical doctrines.

God was omniscient and omnipotent.

He guided humanity and protected them from evil. He bestowed holy relics upon mankind precisely because human bodies and minds were fragile.

But a grimoire capable of granting wishes...

That belonged in fairy tales.

God did not tempt humanity.

Demons did.

When Keith first heard rumors that the Desert Tower granted wishes, he had assumed it was either the work of an extraordinary wizard or simply a misunderstanding exaggerated by villagers.

But Ian would not lie about something like this.

If Ian said it existed, then it existed.

A grimoire capable of manipulating human desire. A thing that tested temptation itself and drove people toward ruin.

...Had God created such a thing?

Or had it been made by demons?

And if demons possessed power equal to this...

Wouldn’t that place them on equal footing with God?

But such thoughts were heresy.

According to scripture, no demon could ever rival God.

I’m doubting again.

Disappointment flickered through Keith briefly.

Yet unlike before, he no longer sank into self-reproach. Doubt itself was a gift granted by God—a tool humanity used to discern truth and carry out righteousness.

Remembering Ian’s words, Keith gradually steadied his thoughts.

Beside him, Ian shielded his eyes from the glaring sunlight despite the hood draped over his head. He looked exhausted.

His hands must be burning.

Traveling at night alone had already drained Ian. Crossing the desert during the day would be even harsher.

“Is there a particular reason we have to travel during daylight?”

Keith asked carefully.

Normally, he wasn’t someone who questioned others. He followed; he did not seek.

But with Ian, he found himself able to ask anything freely. Ian would never condemn his doubts as impious.

Though to be fair, Ian says far more blasphemous things than I ever do...

Keith quietly discarded the thought.

Ian was someone who would abandon holy scripture for the sake of a thief’s child.

Of course, Keith also knew Ian had left the book behind simply because he didn’t want to read it.

But that was acceptable.

Ian was someone who taught through actions rather than words.

While Keith continued rationalizing Ian’s behavior internally, Ian finally answered.

“There is. You heard it too.”

“Heard what?”

“The sandstorm.”

Ian glanced briefly toward the sky, as though observing something invisible to everyone else.

“From this point on, we’re entering the danger zone. Sandstorm territory. If one heads our way, we won’t be able to outrun it, so we’ll have to use those sand pillars as cover.”

“Those sand pillars...? You mean those?”

The elf gestured vaguely into the distance.

Even through the haze of drifting sand, Keith could make out dozens of strange pillars scattered throughout the desert like weathered statues.

They were shaped like people.

Some appeared to be running. Others crouched low to the ground. A few resembled figures embracing one another.

No explanation was necessary.

They were the remains of those who had failed to reach the tower.

“Yeah. If we don’t avoid the storm properly, we’ll end up like them.”

Ian’s warning was calm and matter-of-fact.

“My second-in-command doesn’t exactly look small enough to hide behind those.”

“That’s fine. You’ll fit.”

Because originally, this entire sequence had been designed as a mini-game.

When the sandstorm approached, the objective was simple: hide behind cover before the timer ran out or get eliminated.

Character size didn’t actually matter.

As long as the player reached cover in time and survived long enough to reach the tower, they cleared the stage.

“It’s better to cross this area during the day,” Ian continued. “Visibility gets much worse at night.”

Ian had invested an enormous amount of hard-earned experience into raising his archery skill to Level 8.

At this point, his eyesight and precision surpassed even expert marksmen and ranked among the best in the human realm.

Combined with the physical enhancements granted by his skills, he could already see the sandstorm forming far off in the distance.

“Run.”

Ian moved first.

His Level 4 swordsmanship skill reinforced his body, while the added agility prevented his feet from sinking deeply into the sand.

Without resistance slowing him down, he accelerated rapidly across the desert.

Then the sandstorm descended.

Whoooooosh—!

The world vanished beneath roaring sand.

Even so, Keith never lost sight of Ian.

His role was to protect him.

There was no reason he should ever let Ian leave his sight—not even for a moment.

And if his size truly wasn’t a problem, then there was even less reason not to remain at Ian’s side.

After all, Ian fit perfectly within his arms.

Keith pulled Ian against him.

At the same time, the two of them pressed close together behind a sand pillar shaped like a pair of lovers embracing one another.