Unnatirajya's defenses were solid now — great walls covered in glowing runes, towers thrumming with mana, and the recently-trained guard corps at last good enough not to shoot themselves in the feet. For the first time, the lands seemed safe. Sharath was not so calm, though.
The fortress stood firm. The villagers were settling in. The economy was thriving. And in the recesses of his mind, however, the dungeon beckoned him, an itch that could not be scratched.
"Time to see how everything holds together," he announced one morning, buckling his magic Uzi to his belt and throwing the enchanted M416 over his shoulder.
"Wait," Thermo meowed from the window, cocking his head like a veteran warhorse.
"Don't worry, I'm not taking the entire town with me this time," Sharath told him. "I'll speed run the dungeon solo. The rest of you can concentrate on gathering and transporting resources. I'll deal with the bosses."
🐧NeuroBoop whirred to life from his wrist.
"Oh sure, nothing conveys the image of a responsible leader like sticking your citizens with dragging barrels of goo while you get to do 'solo carry' in a dungeon. Very motivational."
Sharath grinned. "Exactly. I'll be the dungeon janitor. They'll be the garbage collectors."
Refining Defenses Before Departure
Before heading underground, Sharath tightened the last bolts on the defensive constructs he'd been working on. A new grid of mana-lanterns now lit the streets at night, powered by small rune stones that recharged passively. Barracks were stocked with food, supplies, and first-aid kits.
He even installed alarm crystals that glowed red if monsters were near the outer edge. During testing, a stray goat had gotten through and set off the alarms, sending the guard corps into a panic and almost arresting the poor creature for spying.
Sharath chuckled at the recollection. "Still an improvement on the first week, when they nearly gunned each other during roll call."
Contented, he passed control on to Lord Basanna and Lord Varundar Darsha as he plunged back down into the dungeon.
Speed Run Starts
The first three floors were a haze. Slimes burst like soap bubbles under salvoes from the magic Uzi. Ice boars attempted to charge but dropped in precision rows, like pigs in a shooting gallery. The wolf packs had no chance against his bullet-burst accuracy.
It was less of a dungeon crawl and more of a choreographed action montage: monsters bounding, Sharath shooting without even glancing, 🐧NeuroBoop tossing in derisive comments every time they reloaded.
By the time he cleaned out the third-floor boss room, the other teams were still dragging barrels of slime sludge back up to the surface.
"Remind me again," 🐧NeuroBoop sighed, "why do you even pretend this is teamwork?"
"Because someone is going to have to pick up the loot," Sharath said, dropping yet another ice-core into his inventory. "And I'm not lugging barrels up stairs like a pack mule."
Entering the Fourth Floor
The air shifted as he made his way down to the fourth floor. A cold breeze cut through the cavern, the rustling of wings following it.
"Great," Sharath grumbled. "Flying enemies. Just what I needed."
Out of the darkness flew magical bats, glowing red eyes, crackling wings with soft sparks of lightning. They swooped and shrieked in unison, a savage choir.
Sharath did not wait. He swung the M416 around and fired, bullets flashing with earth runes. The bats burst apart in mid-air with feathers and mana sparks.
"Bat soup, anyone?" he said, stepping over the dead creatures.
🐧NeuroBoop groaned.
"Congratulations, you've now ruined Chinese cuisine, vampire lore, and dungeon ecology in one sentence. Impressive efficiency."
Despite the sarcasm, Sharath moved smoothly, his guns tearing through wave after wave of winged pests. The fourth floor seemed endless, but his pace never faltered. Hours blurred as he carved a path, his mind laser-focused on the looming boss door.
Boss Room: Anti-Climactic Comedy
At last, following what seemed like twelve hours of indefatigable grinding, Sharath approached the fourth-floor boss chamber. The thick stone door emanated mana, runic inscriptions glowing dimly.
He sat cross-legged and took a two-hour break, snacking on dried boar jerky and buffing his guns. 🐧NeuroBoop kept silent as he chattered about his caloric intake and deplorable snack selection.
Finally, Sharath stood up, cracked his knuckles, and opened the door.
The room on the other side was huge and dark. A huge shadow moved at the far end — the boss monster. Its growl reverberated, causing the cavern to shudder.
Sharath didn't even get up. He brought up his Uzi and fired off a whole magazine into the darkness. The rapid-fire shots boomed around the room.
The outline bellowed, lurched forward — before Sharath switched to his M416 and kept firing uninterrupted.
By the time the beast fully materialized into the light, it was already riddled with dozens of green holes, mana oozing from wounds like leaking gasoline. It took one further unsteady step, then fell face-first onto the stone pavement.
There was silence afterward.
Sharath exhaled imaginary smoke from his Uzi. "Boss defeated. Speed run complete."
🐧NeuroBoop let out a sigh of frustration.
"Indeed, the height of heroism: killing a boss without even showing it the decency of an introduction monologue."
"Hey," Sharath shrugged, "if bad guys in films taught me one thing, it's that dramatic speeches kill you."
The Rewards
When the corpse disintegrated, a chest emitting a radiance materialized in the middle of the chamber. Sharath opened it greedily, and inside rested:
2 pairs of Magic Gloves (enchanted for grip and accuracy)
3 pieces of Defensive Jewelry (simple amulets that enhanced resistance)
1 Spatial Protection Ring (a ring that not only carried items but also emitted a protective shield around its wearer)
10 Low-Level Healing Potions
Sharath whistled. "Not too bad. This ring alone is worth the trip."
He slipped the spatial ring onto his finger, feeling the protective shield flare faintly before fading. Compared to his bulky spatial bag from the first dungeon clearance, this was sleek, stylish, and battle-ready.
"Finally," he muttered, admiring it, "a proper accessory. My fashion sense is saved."
🐧NeuroBoop snickered.
"Yes, truly the battlefield runway is yours. Next, you'll accessorize with slime earrings and bat-feather boas."
Sharath dismissed the jab, meticulously storing the remainder of the spoils.
Back to the Estate
When he came up from the dungeon, the transport crews were still offloading resources in long processions of tricycles and carts. Slathered in slime goo, weary and gasping, they gazed up as Sharath walked by with a self-satisfied smile.
"Boss cleared," he called out nonchalantly.
The soldiers groaned. One muttered, "We're still on barrel twenty-seven, and he's already killed a floor boss…"
Back at his estate, Sharath handed off the wolf and boar corpses to the warehouse and stored the magical bats for research. But his eyes lingered on the spatial ring, the prize of the run.
With its defensive ability, he could advance even further into the dungeon — perhaps even tackle the fifth floor in the near future. But that was all for later; he had defenses to complete, villagers to drill, and babies in the manor who were hell-bent on crying in perfect harmony at three o'clock in the morning.
In his workshop, Sharath beat on the ring and grinned. "Phase two starts."
From his wrist, 🐧NeuroBoop piped up:
"Phase two: see your lovingly-built economy disintegrate because you left the slime-barrel unions unattended. Can't wait."
Sharath sighed. Dungeon bosses were a cakewalk. Unguiding Unnatirajya… that was the tricky part.