[Bazelgeuse(Monster Hunter)]
[Mana Required per Unit: ?]
[Overall Combat Power: C++]
A dragon—beautiful and terrifying in equal measure.
Everything about it radiated perfection: mystery, ruthlessness, majesty. Dragonfire that burned all creation. Bonfires that stood as proof the ancient dragons once ruled the world.
Roger couldn't help but drift back to his childhood.
That year, he'd read a fairy tale with his childhood friend. In it, an evil dragon kidnapped a princess, and at the king's plea, a hero fought through countless trials to save her.
The story was terribly cliché. What stuck with him most wasn't the plot but how absurdly long and awkward the names were—yet when spoken aloud, they carried a strange, musical rhythm.
After finishing, his friend had asked, blushing,
"If I were kidnapped by a dragon, would you come save me?"
Roger remembered answering, "Of course I would!" But deep down, his heart had whispered something else—something he could no longer recall.
Now, under a storm of explosions, he was forced to chain one Flash step after another. The Bazelgeuse's bombardment was relentless—massive, rapid, merciless. His mana was draining fast; fatigue gnawed at his limbs.
By rights, he could summon his Rathian to fight by his side. But what good would that do? Even together, they couldn't win. Even if his entire party were here, victory would still be uncertain.
The workers were long gone—annihilated. The battlefield now held only one man and one dragon.
At last, his Flash faltered. His body froze. And with a thunderous roar, the Explosive Scale Dragon dove from the sky like a living cannonball.
Roger didn't dodge. Didn't resist. Instead, he opened his arms as if to embrace it. Dying by a dragon's claws—wasn't that the coolest end imaginable?
Right… I remember now.
Back then, what I'd really thought was—
If you were ever taken by a dragon, I'd set out… not to rescue you, but to befriend the dragon you'd charmed, and go on adventures together!
Ha… my intelligence was really that bad, huh?
His consciousness slipped into darkness.
When Roger opened his eyes again, he was—unsurprisingly—back in the Resurrection House.
"What's with all this noise?"
Holding his throbbing head, he sat up, only to find the place in utter chaos. Voices shouted from every direction.
"What the hell's going on?" he muttered.
"Hurry! Another ten just came in!" a nun shouted.
"I can't keep up—I'm out of mana!" groaned an exhausted old priest.
"Why are so many dying today?!" the Resurrection House staff cried out in unison.
"Sir," a sweating nun turned to Roger, "since you're awake, please get off the bed right away. We're completely full—the number of dead today is overwhelming!"
"O-oh…"
He quickly vacated his bed as she laid a body riddled with jagged stone shards onto it, then rushed off to fetch another. But before she could even move the next corpse, the teleport crystal flared again—delivering yet another heap of bodies. Even magic couldn't keep up.
The entire building was pandemonium. Corpses spilled into the hallways, and the air stank of blood and mana. Outside, crowds gathered, gossiping about what could have caused such a massacre.
Since the Sein Dungeon's mutation, the Resurrection House had been busy—busier than ever before. But today's carnage was on another level. Dozens, maybe hundreds, had died all at once, clogging the teleport system like rush-hour traffic.
The priests and nuns had thought themselves hardened to chaos—but this… this was true pressure.
Rubbing his temples, Roger forced aside his headache—then froze. Every corpse bore the same mark: workers of the Count.
Some had been crushed flat, others impaled by rocks, some blown apart, and a few burned black.
Each death bore the unmistakable signature of the Onix and the Bazelgeuse.
He understood instantly. The workers must have gone to the mines as usual—only to be wiped out by the new dungeon monsters.
Morally speaking, it was tragic… but Roger couldn't suppress a faint smirk.
No, no, don't laugh. The workers were innocent. Heh. But Philip Bedford was definitely in deep trouble now.
To ease his guilt, Roger joined the frantic staff as a volunteer, helping where he could.
The nobles were the true culprits; the workers were just trying to survive. The least he could do was help get these poor souls revived and rested.
Before long, word spread like wildfire: a new monster had appeared in the Sein Dungeon—slaughtering workers by the dozens.
At the teleport gate, adventurers queued to enter. When they heard the news, their reactions were unanimous:
"Good! Good! GOOD!"
Finally, justice! Nothing felt more satisfying than seeing a hated noble bleed gold.
As the rumor raced through the city, hundreds of workers still waited to enter. But when they learned the previous shifts had been completely wiped out—every last one—they froze in terror.
No one dared step forward, no matter how the guards shouted or threatened. Only a few, gritting their teeth, forced themselves through the portal.
They reappeared shortly after… back in the Resurrection House.
"I quit! Who'd keep working a job that guarantees death?!"
"I just died two days ago, and they dragged me back here today! One more death and I'll be sick for sure!"
"Damn it, I have to go in—my family's drowning in debt!"
Chaos erupted. The guards couldn't control the panic.
Who would risk certain death? Even resurrection left scars—and lingering side effects.
And with miners' pay so low—barely a base wage plus whatever ore they found—dying before earning anything meant total loss.
Among the Light Eagle Mercenary Corps, the captain who'd noticed Roger earlier sneered.
"A rabble of weaklings."
The guards clenched their fists but said nothing. Everyone knew the Corps' reputation—battle-hardened veterans, undefeated in countless wars. Their leaders were monsters in human form. Rumor had it their commander had slain, single-handedly, a beast that usually required a Gold-ranked adventurer team. Several captains even bore the title Hundred Beast Slayer.
The greater the chaos, the more thrilled the adventurers became.
"If all the workers are dying, does that mean we—"
"So what if we die? Just seeing such a powerful monster is worth it!"
"Exactly! On the surface, death's the end. Here, resurrection's cheap!"
One adventurer laughed at the guards.
"Hey, soldiers! Why don't you go in there and kill the monsters yourselves? Prove your lord's honor! Hahaha!"
"Cowards! How can you compare to us brave adventurers?"
The guards' captain, enraged and desperate, turned to the Light Eagle Captain.
"Sir Gelka, please—we can't control the situation. Help us!"
Gelka gave him a single cold glance. That look alone made the man's knees tremble.
Then, at last, Gelka stepped forward. Raising one arm, he pressed his palm downward.
"Quiet."
Just one casual word.
And instantly—
The entire square fell into an eerie, absolute silence.
Like the world itself had been muted.