Yanor Kingdom, Royal Capital.
A shifty-looking man blocked a passerby in a dark alley, chuckling slyly.
"Mister, want to see some good stuff?"
Before the passerby could answer, the man suddenly flashed open his coat!
"Pervert!" The passerby quickly covered his eyes. But the man said helplessly,
"What pervert? Look properly, I'm selling memory stones."
Memory stones were magical stones that had been specially treated to record and replicate moving images, an indispensable source of entertainment in daily life.
"Straight from Bedford City—these are the real deal. They've been selling like crazy lately, and I barely managed to get my hands on this batch."
With a tone dripping with temptation, the man continued,
"Products of the Shadow Brotherhood—guaranteed quality!"
The passerby suddenly realized, and his eyes lit up in excitement.
"Wait—are these the recordings of dungeon rampage?"
The man grinned and nodded.
"This is a forbidden film in the kingdom. Miss this chance, and you'll never get to see it in your whole life."
"I'll take it, I'll take it! I have to see this!"
Within half a month, news of Sein Dungeon's berserk had spread across the entire continent—not just because a rampage had killed a count, but also because of a recording—
The towering Dragonslayer Armour and the Storm Dragon walking across the land, dark clouds swirling, gales roaring, thunder crashing down. The grand spectacle was like gods descending to earth, smiting the defilers of the dungeon with lightning, while the innocents who followed behind them remained unharmed.
The recording began with the Dragonslayer entering the city, and ended with endless lightning swallowing the entire Count estate.
It was a sensation.
People had to see such a rare scene with their own eyes!
The Storm Dragon and the Dragonslayer stirred heated debates in the Yanor Kingdom. Everyone wanted to know who they were, what kind of past they had, and what story Sein Dungeon had recorded about them.
More and more people began to revere the dungeon. Long years of peace had made them forget—when angered, a dungeon could berserk.
Unease brewed among the populace. But then, someone stood up and declared:
"Sein Dungeon does not kill the innocent! Watch the recording!"
That speaker laid out in detail the actions of Count Philip and the Mercenaries, and backed it with history, proving that it was precisely their provocation that caused the dungeon to Berserk. After all, in the past, someone had done exactly the same as Count Philip—and met the exact same end!
And indeed, the dungeon had killed only those people, while innocent civilians and adventurers had come out unscathed.
This argument spread like wildfire, almost as if orchestrated. Overnight, the fear people had just begun to feel toward the dungeon was flipped on its head.
Since the dead were a despised noble and bloodthirsty mercenaries, Sein Dungeon even earned the favor of the common folk.
Bards seized the opportunity, composing a hit ballad "Sain, Defender of the People" and profiting greatly—just like the hit song about Count Philip that one had written before.
Unfortunately, the recordings had only been on sale for a few days before a royal decree banned them across the entire kingdom.
After all, a noble had died. To the rulers, this was a direct challenge to their authority.
People thought the king would impose strict measures to control Sein Dungeon. Yet, apart from banning the recordings, he did nothing—leaving everyone puzzled.
He delegated the matter entirely to the newly appointed Count of Bedford, Philip's eldest son—Charon.
So, how would the man who inherited his father's grudge deal with Sein Dungeon?
Bedford City, Outskirts.
Charon, dressed in new finery, stood silently before Count Philip's grave.
As the new count, he had dismissed his guards and come here alone.
The guards watched from afar, whispering to one another:
"With Lord Philip gone, the young count must be deeply grieving."
When they saw Charon kneel on one knee before the grave, their suspicion seemed confirmed.
But then, stroking the tombstone, Charon said softly:
"Father, your death is a blessing."
He smiled in relief.
"Too bad you died too early, leaving me with such a mess to clean up."
"To fix your disasters, I had to give away half the family's assets—including our most profitable industries. It pained me to do it, but if I hadn't, soldiers from other cities would've marched in."
"The city repairs fell to our family's coffers. The Light Eagle is still pressuring me for compensation. The king is breathing down my neck. The people of City despise our house more and more each day..."
He rambled on for quite a while, as if venting every frustration aloud.
"But I'm stronger than you, father." Charon rose, looking down at the tombstone. "I'll do far better."
"Not just to prove it to you—but to prove it to all those bastards who abandoned me."
His fists clenched, knuckles cracking, though his expression barely changed.
Once, Charon had been abandoned by a gold-ranked adventuring party for not being strong enough.
That rejection became his obsession. His father favored Sali, too, as if preparing to leave the family inheritance to that illegitimate son.
It tore Charon apart. He wanted to prove to everyone he was not inferior. In pursuit of that goal, he strayed—allying with people he never should have.
When away from Bedford, he lied about running business ventures, but in truth he was working for "those people." When Sein rampaged and Count Philip died, he hurried back—bringing with him a band of mysterious but powerful mercenaries.
Since then, he had shown a ruthless decisiveness, quickly stabilizing the chaos Philip had left behind, determined to rebuild the weakened house into greatness.
As for Sali and his "hero" companions—they were driven out. Perhaps "driven out" isn't the best phrase, but in any case, they left, their whereabouts unknown.
And Vilde, who redeemed himself by sacrificing to save his father—though Philip deserved death—now lived happily with Pikachu by his side.
Many were astonished he could tame a monster, and visitors came in droves to see him. He was so overwhelmed he hardly dared step outside anymore.
"Sein... the power it displayed surpasses even that of my current allies."
Charon suddenly looked toward a distant tree. Hanging upside-down from its branches was a bat. In broad daylight, instead of resting, it was staring intently at him.
"I need to think carefully—which side is truly worth my trust... perhaps even my loyalty."
He brushed dirt from his knee and turned away without hesitation.
The guards quickly followed, forming a protective escort around him.
The family's reputation was in tatters. Though no civilians had died when the monsters entered the city, many homes were destroyed.
People vented their anger on their family, blaming Count Philip for provoking the dungeon. If Charon went out alone, he might very well be pelted with rotten eggs.
And so, regarding Dungeon—the very one with his father's blood on its hands—Charon made this decision:
He abolished Philip's decree. Everything would return to normal.
Not only that, but the family would even subsidize teleport crystals and resurrections, actively supporting adventurers in exploring the dungeon. Of course, the condition was that any new discoveries had to be reported to the house—though adventurers could keep whatever items they obtained.
Was this... a gesture of goodwill toward Sein Dungeon?
The dungeon's master saw all this, but had no time to bother.
At that moment, Wade sat staring blankly at the world map before him.
It was still full of colors, but the green that represented him had spread significantly, even across the entire continent.
Though only in "dots" rather than "areas," it still proved his influence had grown.
The region around Bedford was completely covered in his color, a refreshing green to the eye.
Letters appeared on the altar from time to time.
A gray one read:
"Well done! Love from Boulder Dungeon!"
A sea-blue one was filled with gentle concern, and even hinted at a request for a meeting. Surely the writer must be a kind and gentle young girl.
Wave tossed those aside. Ever since the rampage, letters came every day.
But only the deep-blue ones mattered now.
They came from the Asta Alliance.
"Thank you for joining. The Alliance is more glorious with you—for the purity of the bloodline!"
"Regarding the Hive Nest Dungeon, ruled by mongrel demons, the Alliance has gathered some intelligence for you. Surely, you'll find it useful."