Clang—clang—clang—
The dull rhythm of pickaxes echoed through the dim cavern of the fifth floor.
Each strike sent out weak sparks, illuminating Gremm’s lifeless face.
His eyes were vacant, as though his soul had long been stripped away, leaving only a body mindlessly repeating the act of digging.
Dwarves were stout by nature, but now Gremm looked shrunken. His legs—gone in the explosion.
Only emergency treatment, and the precious healing potions Torin had bartered from Horn’s party, had kept him alive at all.
But survival had brought no salvation. The Pujis had dragged him into the cavern and forced him into mining labor.
From heaven to hell in an instant. Numb, Gremm swung his pick only when the Pujis prodded him on.
“Can’t we do something? I’ll pay! Just help me get Gremm out of there!” Torin pleaded, disheveled and battered, standing just outside the cavern.
Though Gremm had been his hired mercenary, without him Torin would’ve died back in the Strawman Abyss. Now, with even a slim chance, Torin couldn’t just abandon him.But Horn and the others shook their heads so hard they looked like rattles. “This isn’t about money—it’s suicide!”
“So we just watch him rot in there?” Torin’s face sank.
Noah hesitated, then suggested, “Maybe… go to the Adventurers’ Guild aboveground and post an official request?”
“Adventurers’ Guild!” Torin’s eyes lit up.
…
“Guildmaster,” Mirabelle entered the newly refurbished office, “there’s a dwarf in the hall seeking the Guild’s aid. He claims he’s from the Deepforge Clan.”
Fahl, hunched over the latest mushroom field growth report, looked up in surprise. “Deepforge Clan? I don’t recall any dwarf smiths registered in this town. And this isn’t exactly a mining region…”
“Not a smith, Guildmaster,” Mirabelle clarified. “He says he’s an adventurer.”
“An adventurer?” Fahl looked even more bewildered. From all he knew, nearly every Deepforge dwarf lived at the forge. Adventurers among them were rare indeed.
Soon, Torin stumbled in—face caked in dirt and blood. Under Fahl’s incredulous gaze, he wept and stammered out the whole story. At the end, he pulled out a small pouch, hoping to buy Gremm’s rescue from the Pujis.
The pouch was shabby, but the gems inside glittered with real worth.
“Sir Torin, calm yourself. We sympathize deeply with your plight. The Guild will do all it can to assist. Liliane!” Fahl turned to the maid standing nearby. “Take this Deepforge gentleman to the infirmary and see to his wounds.”
“Yes, Guildmaster.” Liliane led the battered dwarf away.
Only after the door closed did Fahl’s gentle expression harden back into businesslike form. “Mirabelle, verify Torin Deepforge’s background at once.”
Within the span of a tea’s steeping, his identity was confirmed: a branch member of the Deepforge Clan.
Among dwarves, it was the equivalent of a human baron’s second son. Not particularly exalted, but still an ally of humanity—and worth the Guild’s aid, especially in these times. The gems only sealed the matter.
But rescuing someone from the Pujis’ grasp…
And so, the problem ended up tossed onto Inanna’s shoulders.
She was sprawled lazily in her quarters, letting a few round Pujis tread across her back like masseurs.
“Why should I rescue some idiot who attacked Pujis?” she grumbled, squeezing her knight plush in annoyance.
“Miss Inanna,” the Guild messenger coaxed, “the Guildmaster said dwarves are our allies, and we must honor the Deepforge Clan’s request. Besides… only you can handle this matter.”
Inanna rolled her eyes, turning the idea over. It irked her, but… this was a good excuse to head into the Dungeon openly.
Still, she asked first.
Through the Spore Network, she called: “Boss, there’s a dwarf outside bawling for us to release his buddy who attacked the Pujis. Do we let him go?”
“If they want him, let them take him. Keeping him wastes mushrooms.” Lin Jun replied indifferently.
With permission, Inanna hugged her knight plush and followed the Guild staff to the fifth floor.
As usual, she gave a little ceremonial shake of the plush.
Before Torin’s desperate gaze, the Pujis released a delirious Gremm. Torin rushed to carry him onto his back.
Watching the scene, Inanna curled her lip, then waved dismissively. “Alright, take them and leave. I need to stay here and comfort these poor, frightened little ones.”
“…Frightened…”
…
Lin Jun hadn’t cared much. A golden-ranked dwarf wasn’t worth fussing over. He’d already stripped them of valuables.
What did interest him was the information they’d let slip about the rift beyond.
Though he had guides from Inanna and Aedin about other Dungeons, hearing firsthand accounts to cross-check was still valuable.
Originally, Lin Jun had intended to explore the great forest next. But the dwarves’ sudden intrusion disrupted his plans.
He usually kept rifts hidden in inconspicuous spots, like the one nestled inside this giant glowing mushroom-tree.
It wouldn’t do for Pujis to stroll freely through rifts as if entering their living room. That drew too much human suspicion.
Though he now controlled the Dungeon Core and was skilled in wielding “Thunder Punishment,” it was still better to keep cards close.
Since there was more than one rift to the Strawman Abyss, perhaps this exposed one should be sealed.
But first, he sent a scout Puji through.
What if something valuable lay beyond?
Even before it crossed, the Puji was hit with [Corrosion Curse]. Inside, it also gained [Falling Curse].
The first was familiar—typical of that place, though weaker than the slime-choked rift on floor six. His [Corrosion Resistance LV8] easily nullified it.
The second, by name, suggested flight restriction. Yet the Puji’s wings still beat without hindrance. The effect remained unclear.
Flapping clumsily, it rose from the deep gorge, finally hovering where the dwarves had once fallen.
The cliff-top was empty; the scarecrows gone. But curiously, within the Puji’s perception, there was no “edge zone” the dwarves had spoken of—only an endless wheatfield farm.
Across the chasm stretched the blurred outline of a forest.
Lin Jun guided the Puji toward it, but halfway through, the creature emerged instead from the opposite side of the wheatfield.
A loop.
The farm could repeat itself, but rifts could not.
This space was twisted.
It felt… advanced. Very advanced.
Considering his own Dungeon’s structure, Lin Jun realized: all Dungeons were masters of spatial tricks.
If no edge could be found, he’d simply explore the “farm” further.
And come to think of it… there was no moon here.
…
“Caw—caw—”
A rasping cry pierced the night sky. A dull-feathered crow perched on a crooked, rotting frame in the wheatfield. Once, perhaps, the frame had held a scarecrow. Now it was bare.
Beside it came a clumsy flapping, wholly unlike the crow’s smooth wingbeats.
The crow tilted its head curiously.
A Puji, huge and snowy white, landed on the other end of the frame.
Crow and Puji faced one another in silence, separated by only a short span of wood.