It’s deep, dark, and damp.
That was Soren’s first impression of the dungeon.
Having stepped out of the starting chamber, Soren carefully moved forward.
It felt like the darkness was beckoning him to come closer.
When he looked back, the starting chamber with its wide-open door was glowing faintly.
‘Let’s go.’
There was no way to go back through that thing anyway.
The starting chamber was one-way only, not a round trip.
As he walked forward for a while, the first thing that caught his eye were the vines and grass covering the walls.
[The upper levels of the dungeon are divided into four main areas: the Overgrown Den, the Parched Grotto, the Dismal Mire, and the Cave of Chill.]
If there’s greenery on the walls, this is the Overgrown Den.
The damp moisture clinging to the stone further confirmed it.
Relying on the light from his lantern, Soren carefully stepped forward.
Eventually, he arrived in an empty chamber.
There was nothing to scavenge, and no threatening monsters either.
It was what people call a “blank room.”
Ahead, the path split into three passages.
Each of those tunnels led to the next chamber.
That was the basic pattern of dungeon exploration.
Search the room, take anything worth taking, and once you’re done, move on to the next room.
If you encounter a monster during that process, you have to decide whether to fight or retreat.
‘Next room.’
Glancing around the blank chamber without much interest, Soren stood at the crossroads.
Three paths branched out before him.
He had no idea which path would lead to what kind of room.
The winding corridors were long and dark, making it hard to guess what lay ahead without actually walking them.
It was necessary to record the path he had taken so far.
Rummaging through his bag, Soren pulled out a map.
“Oh.”
The map, inscribed with magic, lit up the path Soren had traveled so far.
The unexplored areas remained completely blank.
Digging out a piece of charcoal, Soren drew lines across the map.
It was to mark his path.
The cheap magical map didn’t show his current location—only the route he had taken.
There was a real possibility he could lose track of his position while exploring, so marking the past route was essential.
After scribbling a rough arrow to record the direction, Soren once again looked at the forks ahead.
Three corridors shrouded in thick darkness.
A typical explorer would rely on their senses.
A mage would send out a ball of light.
A rogue would likely scout ahead with agile movements.
And for a shaman, there was a shaman’s way.
“Batarkan, Lord of Festival and Hunt, please look upon me.”
Soren muttered softly as he pulled a glass bottle from his robes.
He always carried a medium for his spells.
What he took out from inside the glass bottle was a hawk feather.
With a flick of his hand, he threw it into the air.
It drew an arc left and right before suddenly stopping in midair.
Soren looked at the direction the tip of the feather pointed.
The middle path.
That was the path Soren would take.
[Batarkan is the overseer of the beasts within the Overgrown Den. He delights in festivals and the hunt and favors those who respect the act of hunting. If you seek his aid, show proper reverence.]
Many ancient gods slumbered within the dungeon.
Some of them still exerted influence over the place, and a few even offered help to explorers.
Batarkan, god of festivals and hunts, and the lord of the Overgrown Den, was one such being.
Thanks to him, Soren arrived in a room where a couple of old chests had been left behind.
“Batarkan, thank you for your grace.”
***
After retrieving some usable items from the chests, Soren closed his eyes briefly and offered his thanks.
It wasn’t uncommon for shamans to borrow power from lofty beings.
After all, ‘wasn’t the role of a shaman to revere the highest order of nature?’
Even the ancient gods of the dungeon could not escape that natural order.
Moving between those who demanded worship and obedience, the shaman borrowed power in exchange for tribute.
It was a practice only possible for those attuned to the forces of nature.
Others, who served only one god, could not do it.
‘Let’s see…’
Having scored his first bit of loot, Soren rummaged through his bag.
A pewter goblet and two bronze bracelets were added to his inventory.
They were the only salvageable things from the mostly rotted chests.
Cheap stuff, but not bad.
The room he stayed in at the inn wasn’t exactly expensive either.
“Alright then.”
Checking his haul, Soren pulled out his map and charcoal once more.
Rooms like this, where you could pick up a few trinkets worth selling, were commonly called “scrap rooms.”
A blank room, followed by a scrap room.
Not a bad start.
‘If you defeated monsters, you could sell their materials—but if you were alone, it was better not to run into any.’
Stuffing the map back in, Soren once again stood before a dark corridor.
This time, there were two branching paths.
He couldn’t count on Batarkan’s help again.
The gods did offer aid when given offerings, but they weren’t so generous as to help every single time.
He had to save his chances and use them wisely.
Luck wouldn’t always be on his side.
‘Let’s try the right path this time.’
Soren chose the right path first.
Dungeon exits appeared randomly anyway.
There was no need to stick to one direction.
Even if he came across a room he didn’t want to enter, he could just turn around and try a different path.
The dim corridor was lit by his lantern, and before long, a new room came into view.
“Grrowrrr…”
This time, there was a monster.
It was the first monster Soren had encountered.
He crouched low and quietly watched the beast huddled in the middle of the room.
Its body was several times larger than Soren’s.
Its navy fur was streaked with blotchy black stripes.
‘A tiger?’
It looked just like a tiger.
At least within the Overgrown Den, it was a top-tier predator.
Soren’s gaze turned serious.
‘Could he take on a massive tiger like that all by himself?’
Only if he prepared thoroughly for the fight—but he quickly decided it wasn’t worth the risk.
Shaking his head, Soren dimmed his lantern and hid behind a rock wall, watching the tiger more closely.
Crunch! Crack!
The chilling sound of flesh tearing and bones snapping echoed.
The tiger was too absorbed in its meal to notice anything else.
Its fangs and mouth were soaked in blood.
As Soren’s eyes trailed down from the tiger’s mouth, he saw what it was eating.
‘A person?’
The tiger was eating a human.
Each time its fangs ripped off flesh, the leather boots on the body swayed weakly.
Skill, luck, and vigilance—when an explorer lacks two or more of these, their end is bound to be miserable.
That miserable end unfolded right before Soren’s eyes.
Soren’s gaze flickered around as he stared at the corpse being torn apart.
There were no signs of a struggle near the tiger, which meant that the poor soul who became its lunch likely had no companions.
Just like Soren.
For whatever reason, that person had entered the dungeon alone—and ended up like that.
“Talk about rotten luck.”
Clicking his tongue softly, Soren slowly backed away.
He had no reason to provoke a tiger in the middle of a joyful meal.
Sure, he might be able to ambush it while it was busy eating.
But Soren had no means to kill the tiger in a single strike.
Maybe if he could curse it and wear it down slowly, it would be another matter.
If he couldn’t kill or incapacitate it in one blow, the next turn would go to the tiger.
“No need to take that kind of risk.”
After all, there was still a left path he hadn’t taken yet.
He could just go that way.
Once the sound of bones being crushed faded into the distance, Soren, still slowly backing up, quickly turned and walked away.
On Soren’s map, the word “Tiger” was marked on the right-hand passage.
Getting back to the fork in the road wasn’t too difficult.
Without hesitation, Soren turned toward the left path.
‘If this one also turned out to be no good… then he’d have to make a decision.’
Either go back and search for another passage entirely, or force his way through one of the two paths.
But as soon as he stepped into the room connected to the left path, Soren realized he wouldn’t need to worry about that.
Clang!
“…Ah, damn it.”
The way back had been instantly sealed off with a solid iron grate.
The dungeon’s structure was downright malicious.
Sometimes a room that looked normal was actually a trap.
Sometimes a treasure chest vanished like an illusion.
“Ugh…”
And having the way back sealed off was considered a minor trap.
It was hardly even a trap, but it was infuriating enough to make one’s blood boil.
Soren shook the bars but eventually gave up trying to return.
Half the routes he’d drawn on his map were now useless.
That meant he had to start again from this room.
Letting go of the cold bars, Soren turned around.
As before, the room was filled with vines and overgrown plants.
But there was one thing different.
As he carefully moved forward, Soren’s eyes narrowed.
“A pillar.”
A collapsed pillar—and the massive ceiling it had been supporting, now partially fallen.
[A dungeon guide once said: Among dungeon rooms, there are Ruin Rooms and Relic Rooms. If there’s nothing inside, it’s just a ruin. If something is hidden, it’s a relic.]
That guide’s words came vaguely to mind.
Given the man-made structure, this was clearly either a ruin or a relic room.
‘If it was just a ruin, it’d be a waste of time.’
‘But if it was a relic room, there was a good chance something was hidden inside.’
And that usually meant a juicy reward.
Soren’s eyes sparkled.
“Maybe there’s treasure here.”
A treasure that could pay off a year’s worth of rent in one go—’how great would that be?’
Excitement naturally welled up in him, but Soren didn’t let his guard down.
Carefully, and especially wary of the overgrown thickets, he advanced.
There was no rustling.
No sign of movement.
At least, none that Soren could detect.
And that was what mattered most.
Because no matter how confident he felt, Soren was no thief or ranger.
There was no way he’d be better at sensing presence than them.
“Good. No one’s here.”
***
After reaching the center of the room and waiting a moment, Soren finally allowed himself to relax a bit.
Now it was time to search the room.
Staying alert was important, but grabbing what he could and getting out fast was just as important.
Soren began rummaging through the ruin diligently.
Behind the collapsed pillar, the slightly sunken stone floor, and the debris scattered across the ground…
“…Haa.”
After what felt like an hour of searching, Soren returned to the center of the room, looking visibly disheartened.
It was good that there were no monsters or people—but there wasn’t a single thing worth picking up either.
It felt disappointing, like finding a hair in your soup just as you’re about to enjoy it.
In short, the outcome didn’t justify the effort.
Naturally, his hand reached for his bag.
The cold, hard texture he felt was from a goblet and bracelet he’d picked up earlier.
Those were his only finds since entering the dungeon.
He’d invested so much money, and all he’d done so far was pick up some old junk and run away from a tiger.
At this rate, ending up broke and out on the street was just a matter of time.
“Just one more time.”
Stubborn pride flared in Soren’s eyes as he started searching the room again.
Becoming a beggar or slumming it in the sewers—his pride wouldn’t allow either.
That said, he didn’t waste time re-searching the same spots.
He wasn’t stupid.
If he’d focused on the building debris before, this time he focused on the dense thickets that covered nearly half the room.
Sweat beaded on his forehead from the growing heat.
There were a lot of bugs in the undergrowth too.
Still, driven by pure stubbornness, he thoroughly searched every corner.
Clunk!
“…?”
Soren looked down.
A protruding stone tile had caught the tip of his foot.
He almost ignored it—but something about it kept drawing his eyes back.
“I’m being ridiculous…”
Muttering under his breath, his hands were already prying the tile open.
It came up easily, and he shone his lantern into the gap below.
A glittering buckle.
Faded leather, faintly marked with elegant engravings.
It was the kind of belt explorers often used.
Hidden beneath the stone tile.
Attached to the belt were two fist-sized leather pouches.
Soren’s hands moved quickly.
The first pouch was a dud—only a bit of dirt landed on his palm.
Shaking it off, he opened the second pouch, his expectations already sinking.
He was already wondering how much the belt alone might sell for, when—
“…Oh?”
Unlike the empty first pouch, something rolled into his hand.
Roughly the size of a thumbnail, a brilliant green tetrahedron—like a jewel.
Recognizing it by touch, a faint smile rose to Soren’s lips.
“A rune.”
The name engraved on the map instantly changed.
No longer a Ruin Room—now, a Relic Room.