“That’s how adventurers of old referred to that general area. I took you for a more cautious sort, though. Something happen?”
“I tried asking Lana about her role in the war, but she ignored—er, rather, refused to answer the question. So I went to King Remlia about it, and he told me he’d reveal the truth if I made it to the twentieth floor with my whole party intact.”
“Ahhh, right, right.” Pops nodded. “……And how did Princess Laualliuna look to you before that vile rabbit?”
“Perfectly calm. She told me she’s immune to that sort of thing.”
“That hare wields a mighty power no person—or any greater being, even—can ignore. What I mean to say is—”
“I know. No need to spell it out.” Lana always stifled her emotions and spoke much quicker than usual when she lied. Even I knew that much.
“Either way, a party can’t maintain itself for long if one of its members keeps secrets from the others. You made the right call.”
Afraid the conversation might go down the wrong rabbit hole, I moved on to the main topic. “I wanted to ask you about the monster you’ve been hunting.”
This mysterious foe had one of the most talented adventurers alive spend over thirty years chasing after it. That wouldn’t have bothered me if it was an enemy we could easily slip past. To be blunt, I didn’t give two shits about what happened to other people—I didn’t have the mental energy to waste on that. They could live and die however the hell they wanted for all I cared.
“So you’ve heard, have you? Well, I meant to tell you what I know in any case, seeing as you’re taking elves down there with you. But don’t get your hopes up, kid. I’ve spent more than thirty years chasing down that bastard, and I’ve got nothing to show for it.”
“What?” The father of adventurers has been after this thing for over thirty years, and even he’s still in the dark?
“First thing, it’s invisible, inaudible, and imperceptible. It silently snatches adventurers, leaving no footprints or traces behind. All it needs is a split second, a fraction of a beat, to spirit them away like some god—or demon. None of the adventurers kidnapped like that have ever been found. As far as I know, we’ve lost twenty-eight adventurers to it—a mere twenty-eight people in thirty years. Dungeon boars alone claim more than three hundred lives a year, and chochos, arguably the weakest monsters, kill close to a hundred. That’s why I’m the only one after it and why the Guild hasn’t intervened, either. When compared with the myriad of other dangers in the dungeon, this thing causes far too few casualties to require action.”
That made sense. The Adventurers Guild had their hands full; it was only logical for them to tackle the threats that endangered the most victims first.
Pops continued, “After one person goes missing, it usually takes about another year for the next to disappear. That said, we’ve never recovered any of the victims’ bodies, so we don’t know whether this means it preserves its prey long-term or goes into an extended hibernation after a meal. Most of these adventurers had exceptional skill with magic, though that doesn’t necessarily mean they have to be a mage to have great latent magic potential. Elves are, as a race, particularly adept at spellcraft. It’s safe to say virtually any elf is at elevated risk.”
I’d gotten a gut feeling to ask Freyja to come along. Good thing I’d listened to it.
“We do know without a shadow of a doubt that it lives somewhere on the nineteenth floor. I once blocked the stairs leading above and below that level to search for it.”
“Are there no other ways to get from floor to floor?”
“No. No secret passages lead into or out of that floor as far as I’ve been able to tell. Only, there is one section of the wall that stands out. It gives me an odd feeling. But never mind that; it’s hardly worth mentioning.”
“What about it?” This sounded interesting. The smallest details could sometimes lead to breakthroughs.
“Well, no harm in telling you, I suppose. Thing is, I found this section with odd markings. I had all sorts of people come to analyze them, but no one managed to decipher the text or its old, incomprehensible maplike diagram. More likely than not, it’s probably some graffiti left by an ancient predecessor. I tried excavating the stone wall with no luck; just like the rest of the dungeon, it returned to normal almost immediately. In the end, it had no connection to the snatcher.”
Countless civilizations had flourished and fallen over the ages in the Other Dimension. For one reason or another, relics of these lost societies could be found preserved in the dungeon. Still, the Tower of Legions had a long and storied history. Those markings could’ve also been the handiwork of a bored adventurer or perhaps remnants of a magical technique now lost. Aside from that, I couldn’t even guess.
“Once, years ago, we had another adventurer like you with abysmally low ryvius and magic levels. He was an eccentric collector, a noble who dreamed of following in Thurseauve’s footsteps, though in battle, he was pure deadweight. But this guy, he said he saw the ghoul. According to him, the snatcher has two long, thin curved claws and a glowering, skull-like face. It doesn’t have a lower body, and its upper body is all bones with loose, sagging skin draped over it like a cape. He only caught the slightest glimpse, but evidently, the thing disappeared into the darkness on the nineteenth floor. People at the time wrote it off as a bogus horror story concocted for attention, but………” Pops tapped his cigarette on a tray, dropping the ashes.
“I have a theory. That creature on the Deranged Stratum uses some kind of illusion that fools the average adventurer. That’s why this pampered noble couldn’t see it; he didn’t have what most of us do. But it’s been near impossible to test the theory, since hardly anyone who meets that criterion has ever made it that far. Except now I’ve got a perfect candidate staring me in the face, one who also coincidentally has an elven mage in his party. And it just so happens it’s been almost exactly a year since the last disappearance. If this isn’t a stroke of luck, I don’t know what is. Maybe it’s a sign I should ‘give up already.’”
“So what are you saying?” Maybe that stroke of luck would fall on me. Or maybe all the bad luck I’d had since I landed in this dimension was finally turning around.
“I’m going to lend you a hand. You said tomorrow, right? What time?”
“First thing, at the toll of the morning bell.”
“Aye, understood. That said, the so-called father of adventurers can’t exactly be seen privately escorting a party of initiates. I’ll meet you on the fifteenth floor.”
“Thanks a lot, Pops.”
“You can thank me once we make it through that dreadful level safely. I’ve told you before, and I’ll say it again, but I’m nothing special. Just a fool who abandoned his living friends to chase after the dead.”
Over three long decades, this adventurer had painstakingly hunted the same foe. But I had it on the highest authority that his tremendous skill hid behind that humility. I’d only caught glimpses of what he could do, but this haunted man was undoubtedly more powerful than any other adventurer I’d met in this entire dimension. Though strong, if push came to shove, he was also the only dispensable person I knew.
Arvin, did you ever think I’d use your killer to make it through the dungeon? The goddamn irony. Shit.