River hit the dirt hard.
Mud splashed across his priestly robes, staining the white fabric brown. His Bible slipped from his grasp but he quickly clutched it back to his chest.
Blonde hair fell over his crimson eyes as he slowly looked up.
His party stood above him.
No—
His former party.
They stared down at him with open disgust.
"Honestly, we don't need someone like you. A healer who can't even keep himself alive? You're dead weight," Alexander said with a scoff. The knight's polished armor gleamed even in the dim dungeon light.
"Please… don't do this," River pleaded, pushing himself up onto his elbows. "I'm still useful. I swear."
Alicia let out a sharp laugh, brushing her black hair over her shoulder. "Your healing magic is basic. Even I can do it better."
"Honestly, it was a pain protecting you from monsters all the time," Rose added flatly, resting her shield against her shoulder.
Each word felt heavier than the last.
River's grip tightened around his Bible.
"Hana… please," he called softly.
If anyone would stand up for him, it would be her.
His childhood friend.
Hana met his eyes for a brief moment.
Then she looked away.
She said nothing.
The silence hurt the most.
Alexander stepped closer and leaned down, his shadow falling over River's face.
"Tough break, loser," he whispered. "Not even the girl you've had a crush on wants you."
A sharp kick drove into River's stomach.
Air left his lungs in a painful gasp.
By the time he could breathe again, they were already walking away.
Their footsteps echoed through the dungeon corridor.
River lay there in the dirt, staring at the ceiling of cold stone.
Abandoned.
By his party.
By his friends.
Alone.
A little while later, River forced himself to stand.
His stomach still ached from the kick, but staying on the ground wouldn't help.
He brushed the dirt from his robes as best he could and began walking down the cold, empty corridor.
Each step echoed.
He didn't know where he was going.
He just hoped it would lead outside.
No one knew why.
No one knew how.
But one day, seventy-two dungeons appeared across the world.
They rose from empty fields, from mountainsides, from beneath cities. Each one overflowing with dangerous monsters and treasures beyond imagination.
Not a single one had ever been cleared.
Some scholars claimed it was impossible.
Others said the dungeons were alive.
This was one of them.
The Inverted Garden of Flesh.
A multi-layered dungeon with at least five known floors.
At least.
No one had ever reached the bottom.
Despite being a fantasy world of swords and sorcery, this dungeon looked like something from a different era entirely.
White tiled floors.
Long sterile hallways.
Metal doors with small glass windows.
It resembled a modern hospital.
If hospitals were abandoned, overgrown, and lit only by flickering torches bolted into the walls.
Vines crept along the ceiling like veins.
The air smelled faintly sweet.
And wrong.
Scattered throughout the halls were small plants rooted between the tiles.
At first glance, they looked like ordinary flowers.
Until you noticed the "blossoms."
Severed human heads.
Their eyes blinked.
Their mouths moved.
They could answer questions.
Many adventurers had used them for guidance.
But there was a price.
The moment you asked a head a question, it would begin to tremble violently.
Then it would release a thick, invisible pheromone into the air.
A scent that monsters loved.
Within minutes, the halls would flood with creatures.
River swallowed.
Even abandoned and alone, he still knew one thing.
He had to get out of here.
Without asking for help.
As River turned another corner—
Click.
Click.
Click.
The sound echoed through the corridor.
River froze.
He knew that sound.
Everyone did.
It was the floor guardian.
Each floor of a dungeon had one.
A monster far beyond the level of ordinary adventurers.
They weren't meant to be defeated.
They were meant to be avoided.
On the first floor, the guardian was known as—
The Decrepit Patient.
A grotesque, humanoid corpse stitched together from mismatched flesh. Thick black thread ran across its pale body in jagged lines. It wore a torn hospital gown that barely covered its massive frame.
It was as large as a troll.
The upper half of its skull was missing.
From the hollow cavity, roots spread outward like tangled veins. At their center bloomed a single twisted flower—
And from that flower, a brain pulsed slowly in the open air.
In its hand dragged a massive black sword.
A blade so oversized and heavy that even it seemed barely able to lift it.
The metal scraped against the tile.
Screeeeech.
River dropped to his knees instantly, clamping both hands over his mouth.
That monster was blind.
But if it heard you—
If it heard even your breathing—
It would cut you in half.
"No, no, no, no…" River repeated silently in his mind.
The Decrepit Patient stopped.
Right in front of him.
Its enormous body loomed only a few steps away.
The black sword dragged lazily across the floor—
Scrape.
Scrape.
River's lungs burned.
He didn't dare breathe.
He didn't dare move.
He didn't dare exist.
The Decrepit Patient suddenly lifted its sword.
River's instincts screamed.
He rolled to the side—
CRASH.
The blade slammed into the tile where he had been kneeling.
If he hadn't moved—
His arm would have been gone.
"Damn it… not like this…!"
River forced trembling mana into his fingertips.
"Light Arrow!"
A thin beam of pale light formed above his palm and shot forward.
It struck the Patient's torso—
A small burst of light.
A shallow burn across stitched flesh.
For a split second, hope flickered in River's chest.
Then the wound twitched.
The stitches tightened.
Flesh reconnected.
The damage vanished.
The Patient possessed a regeneration skill.
Of course it did.
"I don't want to die!" River shouted.
The guardian swung again.
He wasn't fast enough.
The massive blade tore clean through his arm.
There was no resistance.
No mercy.
His right arm fell to the floor.
For a moment, River didn't understand what had happened.
Then the pain came.
Hot.
Blinding.
Endless.
Blood poured from his shoulder.
His vision shook violently.
The Patient lifted its sword again.
River stumbled backward in pure survival instinct.
The blade crashed down.
The impact shattered the dungeon floor.
Cracks spidered across the tiles—
Then everything gave way.
The ground collapsed beneath him.
River fell.
Down into darkness.
The last thing he saw was the Decrepit Patient standing at the edge of the hole—
Its flower-brain pulsing quietly as he disappeared below.
River opened his eyes.
His arm was still missing.
Blood still flowed from the torn shoulder.
"…I'm alive?"
He had no idea how long he'd been unconscious.
He had no idea how he had survived the fall.
Slowly, he pushed himself up.
He wasn't in a hallway anymore.
He was in a vast chamber overflowing with treasure.
Golden coins covered the floor like sand.
Jeweled crowns and ancient artifacts lay scattered between piles of glittering gems.
At the center of the room—
Resting on a pedestal—
Was a single black book.
The cover was smooth. Unmarked.
Silent.
"Finally… a human has cleared my dungeon—"
The book paused.
"…Wait. Why is the door still closed?"
A shadow began to leak from between its pages.
It stretched upward, twisting into a tall, horned silhouette.
River's eyes widened.
"A demon?! N-No—get away from me!"
The shadow let out an amused chuckle.
"Yes, yes. I am the demon known as Buer. This is my dungeon, after all."
The silhouette grew clearer—long horns, a sharp smile, eyes glowing faintly in the dim torchlight.
River scrambled back and grabbed his Bible with shaking hands.
"As a cleric of the Church of the Sun God… I must exorcise you."
"Whoa, whoa. Calm down, little man," Buer said lazily. "I can offer you something far more interesting."
His smile widened.
"Power."
"Enough to get revenge on the party who abandoned you."
River's grip tightened.
"Demons offer false temptations. That is sin. I refuse."
"False?" Buer tilted his head. "Perhaps for lesser demons."
The shadow straightened proudly.
"But I am one of the Seventy-Two Demon Lords. My words are absolute."
"Watch."
Suddenly—
River felt warmth at his shoulder.
Bone formed.
Muscle stretched.
Flesh knit itself together before his eyes.
His arm regenerated completely.
River stared at his restored hand in disbelief.
"I cannot leave this dungeon until the boss is slain," Buer continued smoothly. "But if I lend you my power… you could return someday and free me."
His eyes gleamed.
"And I want you to use it."
"I want to see what you become when you stop pretending."
Buer's voice grew softer.
"Power reveals truth. Weakness is the chain that binds morality. When you realize nothing can stop you… what kind of man will you be?"
He laughed quietly.
River's crimson eyes hardened.
"Demons are mankind's enemy."
He stood, steady now.
"A creature like you cannot be allowed to escape."
He looked around the treasure room.
"These dungeons… they're traps, aren't they? A way to unleash monsters like you upon the world."
Buer shrugged.
"Who knows?"
His shadow flickered.
"I simply awoke one day, sealed inside this book."
The horned figure began to shrink.
Compress.
Flatten.
In an instant—
He transformed into a thin black bookmark.
And slipped neatly between the pages of River's Bible.
"Alright, little man. Let's get out of this miserable pit," Buer said. "I can't physically leave the dungeon, but my soul can follow you."
A purple light suddenly engulfed River.
For a moment, the world twisted.
Then—
He was standing outside the dungeon.
Before him rose a massive stone temple carved directly into the mountain wall. Ancient pillars framed the entrance, their surfaces worn by time. Torches burned along the steps leading down toward the nearby town of Stonehelm.
Fresh air filled River's lungs.
He had escaped.
"You demons grow stronger by manipulating humans into committing evil deeds," River said calmly.
The bookmark sticking out of his Bible twitched.
"But you just performed two good deeds for me."
"Wait—what?" Buer said, the bookmark shifting in confusion.
"First you healed me for free. Then you helped me escape the dungeon," River continued.
He smiled slightly.
"You can claim you're just using me. But there are plenty of stronger, more useful humans you could corrupt. If your goal was to trick someone, choosing me isn't very efficient."
River chuckled softly.
"Yet here you are helping me for free."
"No, no, no—bad human! That's the wrong conclusion!" Buer protested.
The bookmark wiggled wildly.
"I'm not kind! I'm a demon lord! You're supposed to go commit sins!"
River started walking down the mountain path.
"Come on!" Buer pleaded. "Kick a puppy! Brainwash beautiful girls into forming a harem! At least light a homeless man on fire!"
"Nope," River said simply.
"I'm going to use the power you offered me."
He adjusted the Bible under his arm.
"But we're going to help people."
The bookmark trembled in panic.
"Okay, but what about that childhood friend of yours? Or the guy who humiliated you?" Buer insisted.
His voice grew excited.
"Imagine using mind control magic on them! Brainwash your entire party into your personal harem! Turn Alexander into your punching bag!"
River stopped walking.
The bookmark froze.
"Another remark like that," River said calmly, "and I'm going to start folding you."
"…You wouldn't."
River slowly reached for the bookmark.
"WAIT WAIT WAIT—"
River resumed walking toward the town.
"Stupid kind human…" Buer grumbled.
And so began the story of a useless cleric…
And an evil demon…
Using their power to help people.