After the Adventurers gained some Rest Space, Tsuna's Puppet appeared soon after.
"Tsuna!"
Tione came bounding up to the Puppet with her usual energy.
"Is your real body all right?"
"I'm fine."
The Puppet's low, calm voice answered as it shook its head.
"The Enhanced Species didn't affect me much."
Its gaze flickered toward Tione, who froze for a moment before understanding immediately.
There was something more to the story—but clearly, this wasn't the place to talk about it.
Finn understood as well, so he simply cut in smoothly.
"First, open the entrance to the Rest Space. Let everyone rest. We all need time to recover. Weapons aside, there are plenty of wounds that still need treatment. This time, we'll rest an extra day."
"Captain! We don't need to rest an extra day!"
The Adventurers who were being told to rest were the first to object. They felt fine—still in top shape—and believed keeping their momentum was best. Resting longer might dull their edge.
"I'd let you continue if you want," Finn replied mildly, "but maybe look at your weapons before you say that."
At his words, everyone instinctively glanced down at the weapons and gear lying on the ground.
After an entire day of intense combat, the blades were etched with fine cracks, their condition dismal. Their armor was in even worse shape—battered and chipped after shielding them from countless monster attacks. The sight alone told how hard their gear had worked to keep them alive.
With equipment this damaged, continuing the expedition would be reckless. They'd be walking into the Dungeon just to feed the monsters.
"I know you're all still fired up," Finn said, his tone calm but firm. "But you need to think about the condition of both yourselves and your weapons. Your injuries can be healed with potions. But those weapons and armors? They need craftsmen to repair them. You should think about their workload, too."
That reminder instantly brought to mind the image of the craftsmen they'd seen that morning—dark circles under their eyes, looking like they were on the verge of collapse. If those poor souls saw the even more battered equipment they'd have to repair tonight, they'd probably drop dead on the spot.
A few Adventurers winced. They could almost see the craftsmen glaring at them, surrounded by a dark, murderous aura.
Indeed, no matter how excited they were, they had to consider whether the craftsmen could possibly restore all that broken equipment overnight.
Giving the smiths an extra day to repair everything wasn't unreasonable. After all, the deeper levels of the Dungeon—especially beyond the 40th floor—would demand far more from their weapons. Ordinary blades would struggle to harm the monsters there. Shields and bows would become essential, and the quantity needed would be significant.
That meant more forging, more work, and more strain for the craftsmen.
With that realization, the Adventurers abandoned the idea of diving back in tomorrow. It was better to give the craftsmen time—to prepare and to rest.
If they pushed the craftsmen too hard, the resulting burnout would only disrupt their entire expedition later.
"Yeah… better to rest another day. I don't even want to imagine what kind of look those smiths will give me after seeing what I did to my gear today."
"Same here… I can already feel their resentment from here."
Once the atmosphere had softened, Finn exchanged a look with the Puppet.
At his signal, the Puppet opened the entrance to the Rest Space.
The Adventurers picked up their weapons and stepped through one after another.
After a full day of battle, they needed the rest. And with the extended break to give the craftsmen time to recover, they could afford to relax a little. There was no need to waste expensive healing potions either—simple herbs would do for now. A day's rest would be enough for most of their wounds to close.
Adventurers were natural hoarders; they knew how to ration their supplies.
When the last of the party had entered the Rest Space, the strongest members of each Familia exchanged glances. The Puppet then shifted the remaining few into an Alternate Dimension.
Finn and the others turned their attention toward Tsuna, who now sat calmly within that separate space.
Bete spoke first.
"Tsuna, you mentioned before that someone was targeting you. What did you mean by that?"
…Targeted?
Finn's expression darkened, his gaze sharpening as it settled on Tsuna.
"The Dark Faction seems to have set their sights on me," Tsuna said bluntly. "Those bastards have started probing again."
"Again?"
Tiona's eyes widened, her voice rising in disbelief.
"Don't tell me those idiots didn't learn their lesson last time!?"
"No."
Tsuna shook his head slightly.
"This time, they did learn. They're not like Valletta—they won't come knocking on my door anymore. Until they understand my abilities—or can find a way to counter my spatial powers—they won't be stupid enough to approach me directly."
"They can't risk it," he continued. "They don't know the limits of my space manipulation. They can't afford to gamble."
"So instead," Tsuna said, his tone growing colder, "they sent an external Puppet—a fragment split from a Spirit embryo."
"A Spirit!?"
Everyone's voices rose in unison. Ais's eyes went wide.
"How could a Spirit end up working with the Dark Faction?"
Bete blurted out the question that was on everyone's mind.
In history and scripture alike, Spirits were known as extensions of the Gods—divine entities sent to aid mortals. How could one possibly associate with those seeking to overthrow the world?
"A proper Spirit wouldn't," Tsuna replied evenly. "But the one I'm talking about was corrupted. It was swallowed by a Dungeon monster—and then turned the tables, devouring the monster from within. What resulted was a Spirit Embryo tainted by the Dungeon's malice toward Gods and mortals alike—a Reversal of the Spirit's true nature. That kind of creature would align itself with the Dark Faction."
As he spoke, Tsuna projected an image before them—a vision of the Spirit Embryo.
It resembled an unformed human fetus, glowing faintly green. Its face was soft, almost peaceful—until its eyes suddenly snapped open.
Gone was any hint of serenity. The infant's gaze was filled only with loathing—pure, universal hatred for all creation.
The room fell silent. Everyone understood at once why such a being would side with the Dark Faction.
That thing was far too evil.