[Note: I Changed the Energy to Mana]
(***)
Jack had never imagined that one day, he would be called the "Leader" of the team.
Yet here he was—leading a vanguard squad of black market smugglers that had, under his guidance, lit every beacon along the way with smooth, almost flawless progress. Only two people had died so far—a grim but impressive achievement.
"Nice work, Jack. Without you, we'd never have made it here."
Standing before the looming fortress gates, the smugglers clapped and cheered, showering him with praise.
Jack knew why they'd stopped here. As long as no one crossed the threshold, the double gargoyle boss fight wouldn't trigger. Clearly, these men understood the dungeon's rules.
"Heh… you're making me blush." Jack scratched the back of his head, his weathered face reddening. "So… you all remember the route, right? Should we head back the same way?"
"Hmm…"
An older smuggler stroked his chin, thinking. "The original plan was for you to guide us once, let us memorize the route, and then each of us would lead our own teams inside. In theory, if two or three of us made it here alive, that would count as a win. But now…"
Another smuggler cut in, eyes glinting. "Now there are eight of us, all strong enough to keep going. Why not push deeper and try our luck?"
A murmur of agreement swept through the group, greed flashing in their eyes.
"You can't be serious." Jack's mouth twitched. "You saw how dangerous it was. If I didn't know the way, even eight hundred lives wouldn't be enough."
In his mind, he retraced their journey—skeletons lurking in the swamp fog, the basilisk striking without warning, scarecrows posing as shrubs. He had steered them clear of all of it. Having never faced those dangers, they had convinced themselves the dungeon wasn't so bad.
One man snorted. "If even you could make it here on your first run, doesn't that prove this place isn't that scary?"
"Hah, don't make it sound like skill. Jack's just lucky, that's all. We got here thanks to luck."
"…Huh?"
The faint, almost casual disdain in their voices hit harder than an insult. It was pure, effortless—like breathing or drinking water.
Somehow, that hurt more.
"Grab your weapons! It's just two gargoyles inside!" someone barked.
In an instant, the smugglers surged forward, blades flashing as they charged into the fortress without a backward glance.
Jack drew his dagger and lingered at the doorway for a long moment. Then, with a sigh, he stepped back. Let them have their glory.
Out of sight, out of mind.
From inside came the sounds of battle:
"Ahaha! There it is—it's the weakest kind of gargoyle!"
"I'll keep it busy—Mage, curse it!"
"Ahh! I'm hit!"
"Yes! Its arm's gone—finish it!"
"Last strike—watch me crush its skull!"
Jack could already tell they'd won. Forcing a smile against the bitter taste in his mouth, he prepared to congratulate them.
Inside, a smuggler sat on the floor, wrapping a bandage around his arm. At his feet lay the shattered remains of the gargoyle—common stone, brittle and weak, the kind of low-level mob found early in dungeons.
"Didn't think it'd be this weak. What a jackpot." He chuckled darkly, already imagining the fortune they could strip from the dungeon's resources.
Then, in a quieter voice: "Hey… should we get rid of him?"
Another man raised an eyebrow. "Who, Jack?"
"Yeah. He's useless now. And if he leaks the location…" He drew a finger across his throat.
The knowing smiles said it all.
"Jack, come here for a sec."
"What is it?" Jack asked, stepping forward.
The white flash came without warning—steel slashing across his chest, warm blood spraying the air.
He stared at the gash, then at their grinning faces, and understood.
"You…"
The world tilted. Jack collapsed, blood pooling beneath him. A smuggler crouched to strip his teleport crystal from his belt—without it, death here would be permanent.
Life drained away quickly. There was no sadness now, only the dull ache of betrayal.
Next year, he would have turned fifty. In adventuring terms, he should have retired years ago. Why was he still risking his life? Even he couldn't answer that. Maybe he just couldn't give up the rush. After half a lifetime chasing danger, how could he settle for a quiet life?
He had lied, cheated, teamed up with the wrong people—anything to keep going. When money was short, the black market had always been an option.
"…Guess this is my karma."
His gaze shifted to the gargoyle's broken remains—wait. There was only one.
A shadow fell over the group.
"Huh?"
They looked up.
Clinging to the ceiling was a massive figure, eyes glowing in the dim light.
"A gargoyle?"
"Why's it so big?!"
"Oh no—run!"[Valiant Gargoyle]
[Mana Cost per Unit: 600]
[HP: C | Strength: C | Intelligence: D | Endurance: C- | Speed: C-]
[Overall Combat Power: C-]
Blood sprayed across Jack's face as the gargoyle descended, swatting smugglers aside like toys. It didn't kill, but left them writhing and groaning on the floor.
Jack braced for the killing blow—only for the gargoyle to… raise two fingers in a peace sign.
For a moment, reality felt wrong.
Monsters in dungeons have more restrained emotions than those outside, acting primarily on a killer's instinct.
For example, while goblins outside would eat, sleep, reproduce, and form villages, their dungeon counterparts only know to fight, feel good about it, and sometimes reproduce.
Despite this, they are not without desires. Place a tied-up female knight before dungeon goblins, and you might find the area swarming with goblin children later on.
That's why adventurers were shocked to find monsters in this Dungeon capable of using tactics.
And making a peace sign? That was something only intelligent beings should understand.
The gargoyle poured potion over Jack's wound. The gash writhed, closing, strength flooding back into his limbs.
"Roar."
It handed him a dagger, then pointed at the smugglers lying on the ground.
"You… want me to kill them?" Jack asked.
The gargoyle nodded.
"Hurry up and finish me, it hurts!" one of the smugglers groaned.
They thought death here was better than lying in pain. A priest could resurrect them after they die. None of them understood why the gargoyle wanted Jack to do it.
What bothered them most was who had been chosen. Jack—the fool they'd just betrayed—had been saved by a monster.
Well, whatever. Once they revived, they'd hunt him down.
Wait… his teleport crystal was gone. He'd die to the dungeon soon enough.
"…"
Jack stayed silent. He could read their thoughts from their faces. His grip on the dagger trembled.
"What are you waiting for? Do it!"
Jack raised the dagger—then reached down and took their teleport crystals, one by one.
Silence fell.
"…Pfft."
A low laugh escaped him. The dagger felt good in his hand.
"No, no—Jack, don't!"
"Weren't you the ones telling me to hurry?"
The dagger plunged—not to kill, but to hurt. Another stab. And another. Their screams filled the air, each one vibrating through his bones. Blood splattered across his face; he licked his lips.
Rusty. And a little sweet.
A faint smile spread across his face.
He didn't know how many times he stabbed, only that when the silence came, the floor was slick with blood.
The gargoyle scooped him up like a toy and carried him out of the fortress, into the reeking swamp. The air was thick with the stench of rot; skeletal husks and bloated corpses stirred in the water. Other monsters kept their distance. Only the traps still triggered beneath them.
Jack drifted between awareness and haze, the landscape—both familiar and strange—burning itself into his memory.
Then he realized: the gargoyle was showing him the dungeon's map.
Main paths. Side routes. Shortcuts. Hidden doors. Ambush points.
Why? Wasn't it afraid he'd talk?
At the journey's end, the gargoyle unrolled a parchment—a slave contract.
Jack understood immediately and pressed his hand onto it without hesitation, becoming the gargoyle's slave.
The gargoyle seemed… pleased.
It dug into the ground, unearthing several glowing treasures. Among the white lights was one deep purple.
It laid them before him, letting him choose freely.
"What do you want me to do?" Jack asked, head bowed. If he wanted to live, obedience was the only option.
"Heh… heh…"
The gargoyle's laugh rasped like stone grinding against stone. Then, in a voice that seemed to crawl out of hell, it whispered:
"Bring more people."
(*****)
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