Chapter 434

GASP!

“Huff. Huff. Huff.”

A startled gasp accompanied by the sound of heavy breathing echoed through the desolate expanse.

Draco clutched his aching head, thick beads of sweat rolling down past his jawline and dripping off his chin.

His vision swam for a moment, the stone walls blurring together before snapping back into focus.

“When did I fall asleep, and for how long?” Draco muttered, his voice raspy and hoarse as he looked around in absolute confusion.

His joints felt like they had been ground together with coarse gravel.

Every fiber of his muscular frame shrieked in protest, but the agony was most concentrated around his tail, which was curled in a stiff, highly uncomfortable position beneath him.

One minute he had been sitting in deep meditation and the next, he had blacked out.

He took a slow, deliberate breath, noting the atmosphere.

The suffocating, oppressive heat that had plagued the surrounding had abated significantly.

The ambient temperature felt noticeably cooler, and a glance toward the hole revealed that the pools of molten magma had hardened into dark, jagged obsidian.

That physical change alone meant more than a few hours had passed at minimum…….perhaps a full day, or even longer.

It was hard to tell time as his pocket watch had been lost during the battle.

Instinct taking over, Draco closed his eyes and sent out a sharp, concentrated pulse of magic.

The invisible ripple washed across the cavernous floor, bouncing back with information regarding the surrounding.

Luckily, no opportunistic monsters had wandered onto the 49th floor……or rather, the 39th floor, his mind correcting the slip as he realized just how exhausted his body had been.

Relieved that he hadn't been digested in his sleep, Draco rose unsteadily to his feet.

He stretched his heavy limbs, wincing as a series of loud, satisfying popping sounds echoed through the quiet chamber.

However, that fleeting satisfaction instantly curdled into sharp regret.

The stretch had aggravated a cluster of ribs that he had forgotten were still fractured.

“Guh!”

Stifling a scream that threatened to tear free from his throat, Draco locked his jaw, standing rigid as he huffed and puffed through his nose until the blinding pain slowly subsided into a dull, manageable ache.

He cast a critical eye over his body, inspecting his bandaged areas.

The crude wraps were soaked in dried dark blood, but beneath them, his surface wounds had already closed over.

This came as no real surprise.

As a dragon-kin and a level seven adventurer, his regenerative and recovery rates were ridiculously, almost unfairly high.

Sadly, it wasn't quite high enough to fully heal severe internal trauma and shattered bones in just a few hours of unconsciousness.

Still, it was enough.

With this much mobility, light physical combat was entirely possible.

He could make it to the surface in one piece if he didn't do anything reckless.

Additionally, he had recovered a decent portion of his mind during his blackout, meaning magic was back on the table if he encountered trouble.

But his momentary joy evaporated the second a violent wave of dizziness washed over him, threatening to buckle his knees and send him crashing back to the stone.

“Ah, that’s right. I haven't eaten a damn thing yet,” Draco mused bitterly, pressing a large, calloused hand against his hollow, rumbling belly.

His stomach felt as though it were digesting itself.

But what could he possibly do?

There was no food out here in the deep floors.

Letting out a deep, weary sigh, Draco straightened his posture, gritting his teeth, and tightened his makeshift loin cloth around his waist.

He had to make it at least to the 18th floor to find proper sustenance and basic supplies.

But having lost all his valuables, he needed a way to pay for whatever he consumed……...which was going to be a lot……..perhaps every morsel of food they had.

The absolute last thing the proud dragon-kin wanted was to owe strangers anything, least of all a handout.

Fortunately, he was still traversing the deep floors.

Several deep floor magic stones or rare drop items would be more than enough to cover the exorbitant cost of supplies.

With his mind firmly made up, Draco kicked his lethargy aside and snapped into action.

First, he scavenged his discarded, blood-stiffened bandages, and washed away the worst of the grime.

Once wrung out, he tied them deftly together, weaving them into a crude, durable makeshift pouch to carry whatever spoils he might gather along the way.

There was only so much a man could carry with just his bare hands, after all.

With his meager preparations sorted, Draco sprouted his wings.

With a powerful sweep that kicked up a cloud of dust, he took off into the gloom.

His immediate destination: the 38th floor.

And from there, the long climb upward.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Around the same time, miles above, Orario still hummed with a tense, oppressive energy.

In the dimly lit guild meeting room, Finn’s eyes suddenly snapped open.

The captain of the Loki Familia had been sitting in deep contemplation, but the sudden prickle of his intuition pulled him from his thoughts.

Turning slowly to the left, he gazed out the tall stained-glass window at the setting sun, his mind a turbulent sea of conflicting theories and unanswered questions.

The scout teams dispatched had yet to return with any concrete information, and the various Familia leaders gathered in the city were growing increasingly restless and impatient.

In response to the seismic anomaly, Finn had proposed a strict lockdown on the dungeon entrances until the root cause could be identified and contained.

It was a necessary precaution.

If there was a structural shift or some unprecedented anomaly festering within the labyrinth, caution was the only path to survival.

Yet, a blockade of this magnitude could not be maintained indefinitely.

While the top-tier Familias……like Loki, Freya, Bahamut, Demeter and so on……could weather a temporary suspension of dungeon operations, the smaller familia’s relied on daily dives to scrape together enough Valis to make ends meet.

Dissatisfaction was brewing in the bustling streets.

The fact that the elite scouts had yet to report back, despite nearly an entire day passing, could mean several things.

But the most probable scenario, from Finn’s perspective, was that the epicenter of the tremor was located deep…….somewhere past the thirty-ward mark.

To travel from the surface to the 18th-floor safe zone took a few hours under optimal conditions, and that was with a top-tier adventurer team moving at a brisk pace.

To descend past the 24th floor and into the perilous depths took at least a full day for veterans. The fundamental nature of the dungeon dictated that the deeper one ventured, the exponentially larger each floor became, accompanied by increasingly hostile, territorial monsters.

The scout teams sent into the dark were composed of seasoned elites.

The fact that an entire day had vanished without a single runner returning meant they had likely encountered blocked corridors, massive cave-ins, or environmental hazards born from whatever cataclysm had shaken the earth.

‘Just what kind of monster could cause such an anomaly...? Or could you perhaps be the source of it all, Draco?’ Finn wondered, narrowing his eyes as he tapped a finger against the wooden armrest.

He had already received a thorough debriefing from both Riveria and Ais, who had coincidentally been within the dungeon when the tremor struck.

In their report, Riveria had mentioned a brief, chance encounter with Draco, who at the time was embarking on a solitary mission directed straight to the 45th floor.

Riveria had also noted that Ais had successfully eradicated Udaeus four days prior, meaning the tremor could not have been triggered by the awakening of a standard Monster Rex.

Finn had already quietly inquired about Draco’s current status.

When he learned that the dragon-kin adventurer had not returned, a highly plausible theory had already formed in the back of his mind.

Now, he was merely playing a waiting game, bidding his time until the Guild officially coughed up the details regarding the exact nature of the mission commissioned to Draco.

Once he possessed that missing puzzle piece, he could formulate a cohesive plan of action, brief the gods, and finally lift the infuriating dungeon lockdown.

Unfortunately, the bureaucratic gears of the guild moved with infuriating slowness.

Up until this very moment, they had offered nothing but vague platitudes, leaving Finn with no choice but to wait on the scouts.

Suddenly, Finn’s body tensed.

His senses picked up a faint, familiar presence nearby.

Without a word, Finn rose fluidly from his oversized seat, stretched his short limbs to shake off the stiffness, and walked calmly to the window.

He reached out and pushed the glass casement open, letting the cool evening breeze sweep into the stuffy room.

“Fels. It’s been a while,” Finn greeted smoothly, not showing an ounce of surprise.

A hooded figure stood rigidly upon the stone ledge outside, the deep shadows of the cloak entirely consuming its features.

“Hmm,” a hollow, voice echoed back.

Fels had no facial expressions to offer, being nothing more than a skeleton.

“So, what brings you here?” Finn asked, leaning casually against the window frame, his gaze sharp.

Fels rarely, moved of their own volition unless they were directly executing an errand or gathering intel on behalf of the god Ouranos.

“Lord Ouranos has performed a series of divinations,” Fels explained, the voice echoing like dry leaves scraping across pavement.

“Though several restrictions prevented him from peering too deeply into the lower levels, he could perceive one undeniable truth: the dungeon is deeply enraged. It appears several floors have sustained severe, structural damage. That was the extent of his sight.”

Finn’s expression darkened, the gears in his mind spinning rapidly to calculate the implications.

“Should I assume that this unprecedented devastation is directly tied to the specific mission Draco was assigned?” Finn asked, his eyes narrowing.

“We do not possess exact confirmation,” Fels replied evenly, neither confirming nor denying the accusation.

“However, we cannot logically dismiss the possibility that it is entirely unrelated. His task was straightforward: simply descend and retrieve a jewel fetus. Whatever transpired in the deep zones beyond that parameter is entirely outside our current knowledge.”

“I see,” Finn murmured, his thumb rubbing thoughtfully against his chin.

“Perhaps the jewel fetus had already absorbed enough energy to accelerate its maturation, shifting into a humanoid female body type and triggering a violent territorial battle. But even so.......to severely damage multiple floors just for a skirmish feels entirely too excessive, even for a high-level anomaly.”

“The exact situation remains shrouded in mystery,” Fels stated impassively.

“But all lingering questions will likely be resolved when Draco manages to return to the surface.”

“And what if he doesn’t?” Finn pressed, his voice dropping an octave.

“If the structural damage to the lower levels is as severe as lord Ouranos claims, then the spawning of a Juggernaut……..isn't out of the question. In fact, the conditions practically guaranteed.” Finn pressed.

For a moment, the cold wind whistled violently through the open window, carrying the distant sounds of Orario’s evening crowds, and the tell tale signs of impending rain.

“Do not underestimate that child’s potential,” Fels said, the raspy voice slowly waning, losing volume as their presence began to fade.

“He is an anomaly... one who has been blessed exceptionally by fate, for better or for worse.”

Before Finn could fire off a follow-up question regarding the logistics of lifting the city-wide blockade, he blinked, and the ledge was empty.

Fels was gone.

Finn stared at the sky which was quickly enveloped by dark clouds for a long, quiet moment before letting out a heavy, exhausted sigh.

“What a troublesome fellow,” Finn muttered to himself, rubbing his temples to stave off a developing migraine.

It seemed he was going to have to invent another remarkably convincing, politically sound fairy tale to buy more time……all while praying that Draco managed to crawl his way back out quickly.

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