Wade stared at the crystal ball, his expression the perfect embodiment of disbelief—like a meme come to life.
He couldn't be blamed for overreacting; what he was seeing right now was utterly absurd.
After yesterday's blood-soaked disaster, he'd thought Count Philip would at least rein himself in a little. But instead... the number of workers pouring into the dungeon had increased!?
Are these people addicted to dying? Even those who'd barely escaped with their lives yesterday were being herded back in like ducks on a chopping block. Did none of them fear the aftereffects?
"Because yesterday's team got wiped out, he's planning to double the manpower for better returns?" he muttered, incredulous.
But no matter how many workers Philip threw in, without anyone strong enough to protect them, they were nothing but cannon fodder.
Something was wrong. Count Philip wasn't usually this shortsighted.
Frowning, Wade focused on the scene again, studying the workers' movements in search of their true purpose.
Events unfolded almost identically to yesterday's massacre: the moment the workers stepped into the marshes, they were swarmed by raging monsters. Casualties mounted within moments, and their already disorganized ranks scattered in panic.
Without someone like Roger to protect them, they had no hope of reaching the ore veins alive. Even if by some miracle they did, an Onix's tail would still swat them into paste—it made no difference whether they died sooner or later.
But after a while, Wade noticed something different.
A large group of workers split away from the rest. Unlike the panicked masses, these ones clearly had training. They moved with purpose, heading toward a very specific treasure chest.
Wade recognized it instantly. That chest was a teleport trap. Anyone who opened it would be sent straight into the lower mining tunnels, right into a monster ambush—typically dogs and ranged attackers.
As expected, the split group lost a few people in the teleportation ambush, and more when they blundered into the Crucible Knight's boss chamber by mistake. By the time the survivors stumbled onto the correct path, only a pitiful handful remained.
At last, they reached their destination—the prize of their dreams.
The Bloodcrystal Vein.
A vast mass of Bloodcrystal shimmered in the darkness, casting the cavern in a surreal, blood-red glow. Among them, one radiant violet crystal gleamed with otherworldly brilliance, instantly drawing the eye.
Wade's expression hardened. So that's it—the Purple Bloodcrystal.
He quickly pieced it together. Count Philip must have somehow learned of the Purple Bloodcrystal's existence and charted this route specifically to reach it.
"As far as I know, barely anyone even knows about this place. The last ones here were…"
He paused. The Exploration Party.
That explained everything. They must have sold the information to Count Philip.
"Heh. In the past, I'd have applauded them for it—more fools drawn in meant more traffic for me. But now? They're just causing trouble."
With a wave of his hand, Wade summoned two gargoyles into the cavern. The stone creatures immediately descended upon the luckless workers who had just reached the vein, tearing them apart before they could even begin mining.
Until the dungeon closed, he couldn't alter the terrain or change building placements—treasure chests counted as buildings—so monsters were his only option.
"Tonight, I'll remove that teleport chest," he muttered.
Count Philip needed to bleed again today. If the fool insisted on his madness, Wade would make sure he lost everything. No sane man would keep investing in a losing venture forever.
Satisfied, Wade withdrew his consciousness from the dungeon and returned to the outside world.
His avatar awoke inside his shop. Business at the item store had been dead these past two days—not because people refused to come, but because everyone had gathered near the dungeon to watch the ongoing spectacle.
He'd have liked to join them—to see firsthand how the adventurers were mocking the count—but he had more pressing concerns.
Simply raising the dungeon's difficulty wouldn't be enough to crush Count Philip. He needed outside pressure—a coordinated strike from both sides.
How do you pressure a noble?
The answer: either rally the common folk, enlist someone stronger than the noble, or strike directly with overwhelming force.
The Magic Association. The Adventurers' Guild. The Holy Light Church...
The upper echelons of these organizations all outranked a mere count.
Back when Jack was still alive, Wade had sent them a few "trinkets" meant to spark their interest. And now, finally, the replies had arrived.
The Magic Association's letter was a masterpiece—elegant handwriting, ornate wax seal, every line dripping with flattery. Even between the words, he could feel their excitement.
"Honored Sir, We apologize for the delay in our response. It was never our intent to neglect your correspondence.
Your theory of 'Star Magic' is nothing short of revolutionary. The professors at the Astrological Institute debated it at length, and just yesterday one of them succeeded in reproducing the 'Radiant Stone Dust' spell based on your principles.
Your insight is extraordinary—deriving entirely new magic from the stars themselves is a feat reserved for geniuses.
Should you develop a complete Star Magic system, the Association would establish a lecture hall in your name. The last scholar so honored is our current president himself. Your achievements would even merit a statue in our grand halls.
By the time you receive this letter, several professors from the Institute will already be en route to meet you. They cannot wait to speak with the pioneer of a new age of magic!
Furthermore, we are deeply intrigued by the 'force field' theory proposed by one 'Mr. Tops.' Could you elaborate upon meeting our professors?"
Wade nodded slowly. "Looks like they've taken the bait."
A single professor might not rival a count—but several of them, backed by their institutional influence? That was another story. As long as he kept feeding them something genuinely fascinating, their support would be invaluable.
With the Magic Association effectively in hand, he turned his thoughts to the Adventurers' Guild.
In truth, their response had already come—in the form of Sid's arrival. Why else would a branch president abandon the comforts of the royal capital to take charge here, if not because the guild saw potential in this place?
The guild's leaders were all once adventurers themselves. Deep down, they were still driven by the thrill of discovery. No true adventurer could resist a legendary tale—or the promise of hidden treasure.
So Wade had spun them a few stories, backed by a handful of artifacts as proof—claiming they'd been unearthed from Sein Dungeon.
Stories of the bonfire images. The Sun's Eldest Son. Abyssal wanderers...
That intrigue had sparked Sid's curiosity and led him to form the Exploration Party to verify the claims. No seasoned adventurer would act on rumor alone—they needed evidence.
And they'd found it. Their discoveries had proven the tales true and hinted at an even greater world beyond.
Sid was bound to act again soon.
As for the Holy Light Church—still no reply. Likely not with good news, either.
Finally, Wade picked up the last letter. This one came from the Shadow Brotherhood, the most troublesome of the bunch.
Given their reputation as gossip-obsessed pranksters, Wade had written them a playful message describing Sein Dungeon's traps as "too entertaining to keep secret." He'd urged them to share the fun with the world, and even included notes about the bonfire upgrade system.
But when he opened their reply, his expression froze.
It contained only a single line:
"Someone already told us all that stuff. You're too slow, idiot! Don't send us outdated gossip! Bye forever!"
"...Someone already told them?"
Wade blinked, utterly confused. Who the hell could've beaten me to it?
Somewhere, a certain member of Team Stella—Dany—flashed a smug peace sign.
At that very moment, a thunderous boom shook the skies. The entire city looked up in alarm.
Hovering above Bedford Castle was a massive, black, magic-powered airship—its hull emblazoned with a grinning skull.
The insignia of the Shadow Brotherhood.
"Hey, hey, hey! Can you all hear me down there? This is your most beloved, most admired Shadow Brotherhood—and we've got big news for you!"
A flippant, mocking voice rang out from a magical loudspeaker. The moment people recognized who it was, laughter erupted across the city.
Even the weary nuns and priests, exhausted from resurrecting the dead, paused in their work, eager to see what kind of chaos this bunch would cause.
At the Adventurers' Guild, Sid stood by the window, watching the airship hover over the castle. He chuckled and shook his head, turning to his assistant, Gina.
"These reckless idiots always have perfect timing. They show up just when things need stirring."
At the lord's mansion, Count Philip was grim-faced, listening to reports of yet another disastrous day. The moment he heard the voice booming outside, his eyelids twitched violently. Ignoring the confusion of his servants, he stormed out into the courtyard and glared up at the airship.
His instincts screamed that these bastards were here for him.
"Ahem! Tell me, good citizens—why has the old lord suddenly gone mad overnight? What secret guilt gnaws at his heart? What drives him to embrace the hatred of the entire city? And that pretty-boy third son of his—could he truly be his child, or the result of some exotic pastime known as 'Star Fury'? Now then, lend me your ears as I tell you my tale—"
The voice paused, then scoffed.
"Eh, too much trouble. Just read the flyers."
"Whrrrrr—!"
The airship began scattering leaflets across the sky like a blizzard. By the time the papers hit the ground, janitors across Bedford were already fainting at the thought of cleaning it all up.
Wade bent down and picked one up. The bold title read:
"My Twenty-Six-Year-Old Noble Lord."