Chapter 180

Krys crossed his arms and spoke with a gleam in his eyes.

“The treasure map’s owner, a man named Dolph, built this dungeon in the past.”

I looked at him, wondering what nonsense he was spouting this time. Krys only gave a confident smirk.

It was irritating, but there was nothing to say in return, so I just stared at him.

“That means this method didn’t exist back then.”

Times changed, and as years passed, treasure hunters grew more cunning.

Among the perilous tasks of dismantling traps and venturing into dungeons to claim their spoils, they began to skip the grueling trap-disarming process and focused solely on the outcome.

The culmination of this shift was what they called the Christrown Dungeon Bypass Method.

“It’s called ‘Backdoor Digging.'”

A loophole, but a brilliant one if it worked. Even Encrid himself had employed a similar approach.

If taking down the gnoll leader was an insurmountable wall, why wait for the enemy, why sacrifice the village, why choose a disadvantageous battlefield? Instead, he had found another way to overcome it.

“This is it.”

Krys found a boulder about the size of a grown man and spoke.

“Rua, if you would.”

At his request, Frok stepped forward without hesitation.

She pushed against the boulder, and with a heavy thud, it toppled over.

Beneath it, an old, worn hole revealed itself.

Krys pulled a shovel from his backpack, dug a few times, and said,

“This is the entrance. So roughly—”

Then he strode forward. After circling the area for as long as a fingertip-sized candle would burn, he smiled again.

“This should be it.”

Krys took up the shovel and began digging.

Digging. Of course, doing it alone was out of the question.

“I’ll help.”

This time, it was Encrid. He grabbed a shovel and joined in.

The idea was to bypass all the traps and dig directly into the chamber where the treasure was hidden.

It wasn’t exactly a revolutionary concept, but back in the days when Dolph had built this dungeon, it was likely something no one had even considered.

A loophole, yes, but far more efficient than risking one’s life to disable traps.

Encrid agreed and lent a hand.

Esther prowled around, claws extended, but Encrid shook his head.

“Take a break.”

The panther clearly looked exhausted.

“Kyarr.”

She let out a satisfied purr, settled down, and curled up with her eyes closed.

She really did look exhausted.

She had been in his arms almost the entire journey, except during their sparring session.

She must have been drained.

Regardless, Krys had been right.

“We’re passing through anyway. Might as well pick up some treasure. Worst case, someone already took it, but that’s unlikely.”

This was the third time he had downplayed it.

As they dug, the earth crumbled inward, revealing a man-made passageway.

“See?”

Krys grinned. He and Encrid had dug the hole together.

A few scattered gold coins rolled inside, catching the light.

The passage beyond was shrouded in darkness, but surely, there was more than just a handful of coins.

As Krys had predicted, it was easy.

“Wow.”

Finn’s eyes sparkled. Krys had promised her a share of the Krong. She would be walking away with a few pouches of coins.

Rua and Esther weren’t interested, while Encrid simply thought Krong would be useful since his sword was in poor condition.

Go down, grab the treasure, come back up.

It was still an easy job.

It should have been.

It was supposed to be easy.

By the time the sun had set and the moon had risen, Krys glanced at the sky and spoke.

“Let’s all go down together. This place seems decent enough to spend the night. We might have more to carry out than we expect.”

There wasn’t any real danger.

No beasts prowling nearby.

They wouldn’t be stuck inside for more than a day.

Besides, the sun was already setting.

They needed to camp somewhere, and if the underground space was safe, spending the night there made sense.

Krys had weighed his options before making his suggestion.

Rather than endure insects and the chill of the open night, everyone agreed that staying underground was the better choice.

“That works.”

Encrid nodded in agreement, but his thoughts lingered on whether there might be something more than just coins down there.

Would there be anything worthwhile?

He had enough Krong, but his sword had suffered too much damage in the last battle.

Particularly, the Valerisan steel and Noir iron sword had lost too much of its edge.

Even if he sharpened it, the core was damaged.

I can’t use this anymore.

For a mercenary, a weapon was life itself. A swordsman who couldn’t recognize the value of his blade was already a failure.

Encrid knew well enough how to judge the state of his weapons.

After cutting down hundreds of beasts and monsters, it would have been stranger if his blade wasn’t in bad shape.

Both of his swords had their cores ruined.

His armor wasn’t in great condition either. The leather sections were torn, and even the chainmail beneath had punctures.

As he pondered this, he caught sight of Rua moving idly nearby.

“We’re going to be delayed returning, aren’t we?”

Encrid mused aloud.

Rua puffed her cheeks and answered.

“It’s fine. This is fun.”

The mood was light.

Encrid tossed a piece of spiced jerky to Esther.

Finn, in the meantime, secured a rope to a sturdy tree.

The Ranger’s Knot held firm.

“This won’t come undone unless someone takes a blade to it. And it’s not too steep to climb back up.”

A precaution, just in case.

As expected of a Ranger.

With the rope secured, they let it dangle down into the hole.

One by one, they descended—Encrid first, followed by Finn, then Krys.

Esther leaped down, digging her claws into the wall to slow her fall.

Rua was last, wrapping her legs around the rope and sliding down in controlled bursts.

Once everyone was down, the moon was high in the sky.

Must be around midnight, Encrid thought.

“We camp here and head up in the morning.”

Krys spoke from behind.

Encrid nodded. Just in case, he lit a torch and scanned the surroundings for any lingering dangers.

At the back, near the dungeon entrance Krys had uncovered, a long passage stretched ahead. However, it was so narrow that one would have to stoop just to get through.

If I go that way, my back’s going to give out.

That wouldn’t literally happen, but that’s how cramped it was. Fighting in such a space would be difficult, leaving little room to maneuver.

A bad place for swordplay.

Encrid came to that conclusion.

There weren’t any immediate dangers. Everyone seemed to agree.

There wasn’t as much dust as expected, and no traps that triggered upon stepping.

Esther let out a lazy yawn, her exhaustion evident. Noticing this, Encrid pulled her into his arms and handed the torch over to Krys.

Ruaagarne, scanning the surroundings, murmured,

“This place bears old traces.”

For a moment, Encrid wondered what she would be like as a scholar.

She knows ancient languages, and she’s a recognized talent appraiser under the kingdom.

Combat aside, Frok had many skills, making her worth far more than people probably realized.

Finn examined both ends of the passage, finding no immediate threats.

As a ranger, she wasn’t quite at the level of a treasure hunter, but she knew how to spot traps.

It’s clear.

If there were any traps she couldn’t detect, they were either magic-based or exceptionally sophisticated.

Not the usual tripwires or pressure plates that launched arrows, but something that could trigger just from brushing against it—something only a skilled treasure hunter would even notice.

A bit much for just one rich man to have set up.

Such traps were usually found in ancient tombs, most likely interwoven with magic.

Krys walked beside Finn, his eyes scanning the floor.

He picked up a few scattered gold coins and held them up to the torchlight for inspection.

Up to that point, everything was uneventful.

No danger, nothing out of the ordinary.

The passage was short, and soon they arrived at a rounded chamber.

It looked fitting as the final section of the dungeon, with a worn-out altar and an ancient-looking chest.

Resting atop the altar, buried under dust, was a sword.

It had an air of antiquity—dignified, yet undeniably old.

“We’re in the right place,” Krys said, unable to hide his excitement. They had dug in the right spot and found the correct path.

At this point, wasn’t he qualified to be called a treasure hunter?

Reading Christrown’s Dungeon Bypass Method had paid off.

Ever since he learned to read as a child, Krys had sought out various books.

Back then, he believed knowledge would be his escape from the depths of poverty.

He was right.

Now, here he was, discovering treasure.

“Does running a salon really require that much Krong?”

Encrid asked, half-mocking.

“Yes, absolutely,” Krys replied without hesitation.

Really? Encrid’s eyes questioned him.

For the first time in a while, Krys shared his dream.

“I’m going to build the most luxurious, extravagant salon in the capital—one that everyone will be dying to enter. There will be exclusive memberships. And that’s just the start. I’ll open branches all across the continent.”

The eyes of those who chase their dreams always burn with passion.

Encrid had no right to mock someone else’s ambitions. Besides, he found Krys’s determination rather admirable.

“Fine. Go for it.”

Aside from the old sword embedded in the altar, there were only two chests.

Considering the scattered gold coins in the passage, there had to be more treasure here.

With growing anticipation, Krys inspected the chests.

For all he knew, opening them could trigger poison darts or other deadly mechanisms.

He stepped carefully, wary of any hidden traps.

Meanwhile, behind him, Ruaagarne offered Encrid something more valuable than gold.

“Just learning the basics won’t be enough. Master proper swordsmanship—then you’ll be able to reach greater heights.”

“Like what?”

“You learned Northern swordsmanship from him, right?”

Frok’s eyes were sharp.

After watching Ragna, then observing Encrid, she had already deduced his origins.

Encrid nodded.

“If you could learn true Northern swordsmanship from that golden-haired, red-eyed friend of yours, it would be worthwhile.”

“You can’t teach me yourself?”

“I’m bound by an oath. Even being here is an exceptional leave of absence. I have to return.”

Ruaagarne spoke with genuine regret.

Oaths—Frok were easily swayed by desire and temptation. That’s why they made Heart Pledges.

They preferred not to use the word heart, instead reducing it to oath, but its weight remained the same.

For Frok, an oath was never something trivial.

It was an absolute rule—one that superseded personal desires.

Frok who disregarded their oaths were incredibly rare. Almost nonexistent.

This was why the term Naïve Frok’s Blade existed.

It referred to cases where an ignorant Frok, deceived by humans or other species, was tricked into selling their oath—forced to wield their blade for unintended massacres.

That’s grim.

Encrid realized, once again, that Ruaagarne’s earlier words about falling for him had not been spoken lightly.

Did she really have to go that far?

Swearing a Heart Pledge just to say she had fallen for him?

Why? What for?

Encrid couldn’t tell her to take it back.

No one was foolish enough to be ignorant of a Frok’s vow.

They also knew well that Frok enjoyed taking the heads of those who insulted their oaths.

Winning a fight and dishonoring someone were entirely different matters, so Encrid wisely kept his mouth shut.

Then—

“Kyah!”

A sudden, fierce cry rang out.

Esther, who had been curled up in exhaustion, abruptly let out a ferocious snarl.