Sein Dungeon, Lower Levels – Mining Zone
This was the final challenge.
Whoever conquered it would earn a rare honor—
The First Clear of Sein Dungeon (Post-Mutation).
Every dungeon's first conqueror had their name forever etched into the stone stele beside the portal, where countless travelers could see it and envy it.
That was the reason Leon and his companions had formed a raiding party in the first place—
To carve their names into history itself.
"…"
But right now, Leon had no energy left for such lofty dreams.
His mind was still filled with the image of Gwyn—the Lord of Cinder sacrificing himself to rekindle the fire. His hands unconsciously cupped the air, as if cradling that same flame.
Maru glanced at him twice, then whispered to Terl,
"Has the boss gone stupid, nya?"
"Uh…" Terl shot Leon a nervous look but wisely held his tongue.
Everyone else had more or less recovered from the shock of the vision and were focused on navigating the tunnels. Only Leon still looked lost—his body walking, his spirit still before the bonfire.
Terl half-expected him to suddenly raise his sword and shout about "linking the fire."
The mine itself was a labyrinth—endless intersecting tunnels twisting in every direction until even seasoned explorers began muttering, "Wait, didn't we already come this way?"
And the confusion wasn't just from the layout. The tunnels had another classic feature—
Hidden doors.
Not all of them required striking walls to reveal. Some hid behind broken crates, others behind fragile crystal clusters or cracked stone statues.
But one thing was always true: hidden doors tended to cluster around dead ends.
Adventurers would hit a wall, feel despair creeping in, rack their brains for another route—then a casual kick at some rubble would suddenly open the way forward.
That kind of "light at the end of the tunnel" design turned exploration into an emotional rollercoaster. The surge of release and discovery sent their spiritual energy soaring.
"Think this one's a hidden door?" Stella asked, staring at yet another bare rock wall—they'd hit their third dead end so far.
They'd already found three secret paths. By now, instinct told them to test anything remotely suspicious.
Stella drew her blade in a flourish and slashed the wall. Sparks crackled—
—but nothing. Just ordinary stone.
"Tch." She clicked her tongue and inspected her weapon with a wince. Thankfully, no chips.
"Next time, I'll just kick it instead of showing off."
Of course, no dungeon would be complete without traps.
Rolling boulders, spike pits, dart traps, clouds of poisonous mist…
Designer Wade had borrowed heavily from Dark Souls, but also sprinkled in Elder Scrolls-style traps. The result?
Unpredictable chaos.
The raiding party, long accustomed to Dark Souls logic, grew paranoid when faced with Elder Scrolls' bluntly obvious mechanisms.
"Normally, you'd just pull that lever to disable the trap, right?" Maru asked hesitantly, eyeing a handle on the wall.
Drew finished for her. "But since when are traps here ever that simple?"
"What if pulling it drops us into a spike pit—or triggers some giant iron ball from above?" Stella added grimly.
After a long debate, Roger finally extended his hand and cast Mage Hand, tugging the lever from a safe distance.
They all held their breath.
The moment it moved—
Thwip-thwip-thwip!
A volley of arrows rained from above. Anyone standing directly under the lever would've been skewered.
"…"
The group exchanged looks.
"That's it?" someone muttered.
Their spiritual power flared wildly—the absurdity of it made them burn with secondhand shame.
"So the traps here play mind games," Roger grumbled, flipping open his notebook.
The pages were filled with strange runes and rough sketches. In truth, he'd been drawing a map all along—marking landmarks, choke points, and potential respawn zones.
For someone who looked like a disheveled mess, Roger was unexpectedly reliable.
As he scribbled, something purple flickered at the edge of his vision.
A narrow vein of violet-red crystal gleamed faintly within the stone wall, no thicker than a finger.
"This is… Purple Bloodstone?!"
He immediately spent mana, pried it loose, and turned it over in his hand. "No doubt about it—this is Purple Bloodstone. Count Philip's been looking for this stuff."
It was well known: Count Philip had forced miners into the dungeon, ignoring public outrage, in search of Bloodstone.
Eighty percent of those conscripted were miners, sent into the swamps to harvest ordinary Bloodstone for the king's healing potions.
Those potions had earned the count royal favor, secured him control over Sein Dungeon, and won him immense rewards.
But Purple Bloodstone—that was rarer still. It could produce potions of unmatched potency—
Potions that could delight the king even further, perhaps enough to elevate a noble's rank.
"With this, I'll never run out of research funding again," Roger chuckled, slipping the gem into his pocket. He took a long look around, committing the location to memory.
As they pressed deeper, the plain rock walls gave way to clusters of Bloodstone crystals. The tunnels glowed crimson, bathed in eerie light.
Aboveground, Purple Bloodstone was nearly impossible to find.
But here, it appeared more frequently—not common, but they stumbled upon a vein roughly every half hour.
"With this kind of yield…" Roger inhaled sharply.
"No wonder the count's gone mad."
This wasn't just a gold mine—Purple Bloodstone was worth far more than gold.
Any lord who discovered such a trove would lose himself to greed.
Roger's resolve hardened. He wouldn't just sell the intel to Count Philip—he'd report it to the Mage Association too.
This dungeon could not be allowed to become Philip's private property.
Just then, Stella—who had been leading the way—halted abruptly and raised a hand for silence.
Before her stood a fog gate, woven from pale mist. A bead of sweat trickled down her temple.
From beyond the fog seeped a familiar aura—one she could never mistake.
Her nightmare made manifest.
The Crucible Knight.
"Everyone, prepare yourselves," she ordered, uncorking a vial and swallowing a calming draught to steady her nerves.
The others caught on immediately, expressions hardening.
Stella glanced around at each of them, her voice trembling slightly with a mix of tension, excitement, and pride.
"Our names… are about to be carved into history."
For beyond this fog—
lay the final boss.