"Hey—why are you back already?"
Outside Bedford City, at Darrick's farmhouse.
Several members of the Farron Exploration Team who hadn't been selected to enter the dungeon were resting there.
They had been enthusiastically discussing what kind of heavyweight intelligence Darrick and the others might bring back, brimming with anticipation—when, all of a sudden, they saw the group that had entered the dungeon return.
After a brief moment of confusion, everyone hurried over to ask what had happened, only to receive an answer no one expected.
"Only Darrick was sucked into the painting?"
"Yes. When the light faded, Darrick was gone. Only the painting was left behind. We tried to take it out, but we couldn't lift it at all—it suddenly became heavier than a mountain."
"You just left Darrick in there?" someone asked after counting heads and realizing that exactly nine people had returned, with no one missing.
"No—wait," the person said, suddenly freezing mid-count. "What time is it right now?"
The stars and moon hung high in the sky. It was already time for the dungeon to close. These people hadn't left voluntarily—they had stayed behind to guard the painting until the dungeon shut down.
"We thought Darrick would be teleported out as well," someone said grimly. "But he wasn't near the portal. We didn't see him anywhere, so we came back to look for him. You haven't seen him either?"
The people at the farmhouse slowly shook their heads.
They exchanged glances, all seeing the same deep confusion reflected in each other's eyes.
"Then… where did Darrick go?"
At this very moment, Darrick was still suffering.
Legendary tales claimed that surviving near-death experiences made one stronger.
Then true death should make one even stronger—especially when dying repeatedly in the same place within such a short span of time.
"Tap. Tap."
No one knew how many times he had already died.
Darrick moved with practiced precision, detouring through the back entrance. He smoothly lured monsters out of the small room, slipped through narrow gaps at the very edge of their aggro range, climbed the ladder, caught a firebomb at the top, and hurled it back to blow the monster apart—then sprinted through a monster-packed road, dodging attacks as he ran.
He completely ignored the elevator mechanism that looked like the only way upward, instead rolling into a specific section of the wall and opening a hidden door.
A staircase built along the outer wall of the fortress appeared before him.
And walking toward him—
A fully armored Darkwraith.
Darrick calculated the distance and stepped forward three paces. He deftly dodged the Darkwraith's slash, rolled twice diagonally backward, and successfully baited out a charge attack. The Darkwraith stepped onto the edge of the staircase—close to falling, but not quite.
Except that section of the stairs was designed to collapse.
With a thunderous crash, the wooden planks shattered, and the Darkwraith performed a spectacular crash landing.
This one was an elite. Unlike normal Darkwraiths, it seemed practically born for stairway combat—even capable of kicking people mid-fight.
Darrick had been kicked off three times by it already. That boot was even more precise and brutal than Patches's—there was no time to react at all.
Thankfully, he had a dash skill.
And thankfully, the staircase could collapse.
Darrick didn't dare linger. With a running jump, he cleared the broken section. The instant he landed, an Infested Barbarian's massive cleaver slammed down exactly where he had been a moment earlier.
Watching the obese monster fail to jump the gap due to its bulk, Darrick finally let out a breath.
He hadn't drawn his sword the entire way.
He knew this route inside and out by now.
Every corner was stained with his blood. Touch it, and you could watch The Hundred Ways Darrick Died.
At first, he'd worried that leaving bloodstains behind would make him a laughingstock to future adventurers. Now, he didn't care anymore.
Die. Get mocked. So be it.
If watching how he died helped someone else avoid a trap… then maybe it wasn't so bad.
Darrick utterly loathed this fortress that bore the name "Oolacile."
Right now, the only way he could describe it belonged exclusively in a toilet.
"If this fortress were outside," he muttered, "absolutely no one would come here. Absolutely no one."
But this was the painted world.
People chose to enter.
Grumbling, Darrick rubbed his shoulder and climbed to his feet, heading upward along the stairs. At the end was another small door—turning there would lead to the third level.
He'd entered this place to reach the fog gate.
Yet somehow, he was only climbing higher and higher.
It left him deeply confused.
From here, he stood atop the city walls. Bright sunlight poured down, warm and pleasant against his skin.
But the moment he remembered the dense mass of Abyssal monsters lurking below, that comfort vanished instantly.
Darrick stood at the entrance, taking deep breaths over and over before finally stepping forward.
The third level.
He had only died here twice.
Not because it was easy—but because he'd only managed to reach it alive twice.
The nonstop cycle of death and revival had begun to terrify him. Everyone knew that mass resurrection within a short time carried severe consequences.
And how many times had he died today?
Why did his body feel completely unchanged?
Don't tell me all the negative effects are going to stack up and explode at once after I get out…
The thought made his scalp tingle.
He didn't dare imagine such a scenario. Shaking his head, he forcibly pushed the thought aside and steadied himself.
He moved cautiously, deliberately minimizing his footsteps, mentally bracing himself before peeking around every corner.
At this rate, Darrick felt certain he was going to develop psychological issues.
Then—almost miraculously—after a grueling stretch of exploration, he found an elevator.
One that went straight to the second floor.
That meant that if he died again, he wouldn't have to run that disgusting route anymore!
Tears welled up in his eyes. He was so moved he almost cried.
But that emotional surge made him careless.
And so—
"Graaah!"
A pack of monsters charged him.
Darrick bolted forward, eyes sharp as he scanned for traps.
Although being chased due to carelessness was unfortunate, strangely enough, there were none.
Weird… this floor actually feels easier.
With the monsters refusing to relent, he was forced to find an escape route. Ahead lay a terrace, and near it stood a watchtower. If he could climb it, he might be able to jump to another building and shake them off.
This is where having knees really pays off!
As if sensing his intent, a nimble monster suddenly burst out, closing the distance in an instant.
And at that moment—
"Get down!"
A strange voice rang out—stern, yet gentle.
Darrick heard a crackling sound, felt a surge of heat from the front, and instinctively dove forward.
As he dropped, he saw what that heat truly was.
A lightning spear.
"Aaagh!"
A monster wailed behind him. More lightning spears followed, until the pack finally retreated in fear.
Darrick stared blankly at the charred corpses.
That power… it's incredible.
"Are you alright?"
He turned toward the voice and saw a stranger extending a hand toward him.
The man wore a bucket-like helmet, chainmail covered by leather, and on his chest was painted a sun—with a human face.
The sun's expression looked solemn, yet the longer one stared, the more abstract it felt.
Darrick froze for a moment. He hadn't expected to meet anyone here. Only after being pulled to his feet did he belatedly say, "Thank you."
"Hahaha! No need for thanks—that is the duty of a Warrior of Sunlight!" the stranger laughed heartily, pride filling his voice. "That said, daring to venture alone into such a dangerous place… your courage is admirable."
"Um… may I ask who you are?" Darrick asked cautiously. He could feel that this person was different from him.
"My name is Solaire. I am a Warrior of Sunlight!" Solaire stretched his arms upward in a broad, dramatic pose.
Was that some kind of greeting?
Darrick awkwardly mimicked the motion, though it looked anything but proper.
Solaire burst into laughter—not mocking, but genuinely delighted.
Standing on the terrace with sunlight streaming behind him, Solaire spoke in a troubled tone.
"It is embarrassing to admit, but I was pursuing the path of the sun. In the blink of an eye, I found myself here. I am still searching for a way out."
"Where did you enter from, Sir Solaire?" Darrick asked carefully.
He'd expected the name of some region within the Sein Dungeon.
Instead, Solaire replied, "The Undead Burg. Have you heard of it? I was on my way to ring the Bell of Awakening. Being trapped here is… quite the nuisance."
In that instant, Darrick understood.
He had encountered an Event—like the Warrior Jar.
This Warrior of Sunlight named Solaire was clearly a remnant of the past.
Other dungeons had similar phenomena. Darrick remembered one dungeon that told the tragic love story of two ancient nobles, where their projections assigned adventurers a series of tasks.
Solaire was the same kind of existence.
Their collective name was Remnants—echoes left behind in time.
When dealing with remnants, there was one absolute rule.
Never break their worldview.
"Do you know a way to leave this place?" Solaire asked. "I cannot feel the presence of the sun here."
Darrick put on a sincere expression. "I'm sorry. I also wandered in here by accident."
Solaire reacted exactly as expected. Not discouraged in the slightest, he laughed.
"Hahaha! Then we are both lost. What a peculiar experience."
He handed Darrick a piece of white stone.
[White Sign Soapstone]
[After use, allows you to see summon signs from other worlds]
[Usable only within the painted world]
Other worlds?
Darrick looked at him in surprise. Solaire was standing right here—why speak of other worlds?
Seeing his confusion, Solaire explained calmly,
"This is a place where time and space intertwine. Our meeting is a stroke of fortune. Here, a single step may separate us—yet paradoxically, that is what allows us to remain connected."
"If you see my summon sign, do not hesitate. Let us fight side by side."
His helmet hid his expression, but Darrick was certain he was smiling.
Though he knew Solaire was only a remnant, he was still deeply moved by the man's warmth. In such a short time, Darrick had already grown fond of him.
Remnant events always came to an end.
Darrick hoped this passionate man would receive a fitting conclusion.
"May the sun be with you!"
Solaire's energetic voice rang out once more. When Darrick looked up again, the figure had vanished.
So this was the effect of temporal distortion.
Meeting someone willing to extend a helping hand in the depths of despair—there was something profoundly moving about that.
Darrick bowed toward the spot where Solaire had disappeared, then turned and resumed exploring the fortress.
Perhaps Solaire had brought him luck.
From that point on, Darrick narrowly escaped danger again and again, his death count dropping significantly.
After who knew how long, he finally arrived before the fog gate.
Anticipation gleamed in his eyes as he used the white sign soapstone.
"Bzzz—"
With a strange sound effect, a brilliant golden summon sign appeared.