They never did reach a conclusion about the Dungeon's "malice." Without clues, even Sherlock Holmes wouldn't have managed much.
Still, they agreed on one course: keep moving and look for anomalies on the coming floors.
Everyone dispersed to their rooms—including Sawada Tsunayoshi.
In his sleep, a strange voice brushed his ear.
"Please… save my… child…"
"!?"
He snapped his eyes open and sat up, listening.
"Please… save…"
Confirmed—not an auditory hallucination.
He drew a long breath. Just as he tried to catch more, the whisper vanished.
No further content. But the voice belonged to a woman. In a world crawling with gods, a voice that could carry like that likely belonged to one. How had a goddess's plea reached his ear?
Unknown. With no more leads, he couldn't reason it out.
But one thing seemed clear: if a goddess's voice had reached him, it was likely because of his "special" nature—and because her children were nearby.
Could her plea be connected to the Dungeon's current abnormality?
He'd have to investigate to know.
Bring Finn and the others? He shook his head.
He couldn't tell if this was a true plea or a lure, so he wouldn't risk the Familia. Besides, his power made solo recon best—tucked inside the sub-dimension, even accidents were unlikely to touch him.
For safety, his "eyes" would go first. If the intel checked out, then he'd pull Finn in.
He raised a hand, and the puppet outside his rest-space appeared—then vanished as its hand brushed the medal at its chest.
Floor Twenty-Nine was the "Jungle Gorge"—humid, warm, like a tropical rainforest. Uncomfortable for normal living, perfect for "small creatures."
From the threshold the puppet peered down. The living ocean of leaves quivered—danger writ plain.
Not only dangerous—vast. The kind of vast that swallowed the horizon.
Just at the lower floors and it's already this large… How did Finn's team ever find a path to the fiftieth?
He couldn't help but admire them.
If he didn't ask Finn to guide… then he'd cheat a little.
For scouting, nothing better than a wind spirit.
A tiny, winged, elf-like creature—no larger than a palm—fluttered into being at the puppet's side.
She spread her hands. Winds laced the entire floor, and the view they gathered painted itself across Tsunayoshi's inner sight. The hole to the next floor soon appeared.
Found it.
The puppet surged forward at speed. The wind spirit kept pace, lifting her hand—wind-wings bloomed behind the puppet, letting it fly.
No hacking through brush. Just fly straight. Unfair—but efficient.
At the stair to the next floor, a problem.
The entrance to Floor Thirty had been buried.
He breathed out.
Man-made. Someone had crushed it shut—to trap those inside.
Which meant the goddess's call wasn't likely a trap; there'd be no point burying the passage if they wanted to lure victims in. The "trap" possibility dropped to zero. Time to see who had caused this—and what had driven the Dungeon into such a violent reaction.
A ripple unfurled behind the puppet; a massive black hand reached out from it and slammed a "blast punch" into the rock.
The stones choking the passage exploded away. The exit opened clear.
The puppet stepped through—and the whole floor glowed red.
The green jungle burned in sheets of flame. The ceiling seethed with black smoke. Who knew how long the forest had been on fire.
The damage to the floor was severe.
No guesswork; Tsunayoshi sent the wind spirit to search. With the air superheated and pressure high, even the wind struggled to comb the smoke.
"Found them!"
A band of figures in black garb and hoods—scarlet crystals hanging at their belts. At their head, a whip-wielding cat-person, face twisted with mania. Normal? Not remotely. Their identity, however, was clear.
Dark Faction.
Just as he suspected: either a god had gone below—or the Dark Faction had pulled something inside the Dungeon.
He frowned. A detail was off. The hooded group kept their distance from a cluster of young women nearby—women who were savaged, barely standing.
If the Dark Faction was the cause… why the gap? Who had done that to those women?
A moment later, the answer slithered into view.
A withered, skeletal drake—limbs thin, its body like a crawling dragon reduced to a frame of bone and hide.
Tsunayoshi blinked once—and understood.
So it's you.
(End of Chapter)
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