Ryusei and Haku spent days trudging through the scorching desert, not a single drop of water in sight. Their exhausted faces, dripping with sweat, made that fact painfully clear. They kept heading west without pause, resting only at night to exchange what little information they'd uncovered about the dungeon.
Vazrothvra's name came up during one such rest, and Ryusei learned from Haku that the entity was once a king of a long-forgotten kingdom—one that vanished during a devastating war.
That was all Haku knew. The rest was lost to time. No one knew how or why Vazrothvra became a floor boss.
Still, they walked on. Step after step, the wind swept away their footprints in the sand.
They could have flown through the sky, but it would've wasted precious mana. Even with potions to replenish it, recklessly spending energy in a dungeon was unwise. Especially when they had no idea what to expect from the dungeon master.
They were just about to set up camp when lights flickered in the distance.
"Haku!"
"Yes, I see it."
Without needing to speak further, they headed toward the lights, abandoning their plan to make camp.
A few hours later, they arrived—and were stunned by what lay ahead.
A town. Small, silent, and completely deserted. Yet still, it was a town—the first one Ryusei had seen since arriving in this world.
Wooden houses lined cobblestone streets. But why was there a town in a desert? No, more importantly, why was there a town inside a dungeon?
Even Haku seemed confused.
"Haku, I think we should stay here tonight."
Haku nodded. He couldn't agree more. They'd gone days without proper sleep—ever since that sand-dwelling creature Ryusei had named Spiky began randomly attacking.
Now, with shelter in sight, they could finally rest.
They chose the last house at the far end of the street. That way, they'd know the moment Spiky arrived. The houses, though crumbling, would act as an alarm of sorts.
Inside, the place was cramped and wooden, but it would do. Haku lit the room with a simple spell and began cooking the same rotting meat they'd been eating for days. The smell no longer made Ryusei gag—but it was still awful.
He sighed and glanced at Haku. "So, that 'monster' under the sand... could it be a Spiked Worm?"
Haku lowered the meat slightly. "Yes. It could also be a Wormed Spike."
Ryusei raised an eyebrow. "Huh? What's the difference?"
Haku turned the meat, the juices hissing into the flames—just like Ryusei's will to live every time he had to eat it. A single tear rolled down his cheek.
"A Spiked Worm is basically a worm with spikes. A Wormed Spike is more like... a spiky iron worm."
Ryusei stared at him blankly. "So what's the difference?"
Haku only shrugged and handed him a skewer of the sizzling meat, which looked almost appetizing under the flickering firelight.
"That's just how they're made."
Ryusei took a large bite, chewing with a look of sheer misery.
Even if he was immortal, he still felt hunger—and being hungry was not fun.
So he ate. Even if it tasted terrible.
Once they were full, they lay down to sleep. They had already decided days ago that they would kill the creature under the sand. It seemed to be the key to clearing the floor. Ryusei would lure it out. Haku would observe from above.
Tonight... was their last chance to relax.
And so, they slept. Well, Ryusei did.
Haku, on the other hand, couldn't. He lay awake, tormented by Ryusei's snoring. As a snake, he never snored. But now, in human form, Ryusei seemed determined to unleash every sound his body could produce.
With an annoyed grunt, Haku surrounded himself in a dome of wind to block the noise. He fell asleep a second later.
One snored like a beast, the other passed out in silence. A strange pair indeed.
***
Morning arrived gently, the sun's rays slipping through cracks in the window. Ryusei yawned and stretched.
Haku was already up, sitting deep in thought. He wasn't too concerned about the creature in the sand. What weighed on his mind now was the final floor—and its dungeon master.
Lithaer, The Pentagon.
He only knew fragments of her myth.
Every dungeon master had one—a story that turned them into what they were. A myth needed to be believed by millions of souls to take form.
Some fools in history tried to forge their own myths. One man, for example, set fire to two villages in hopes of creating a legend. He was quickly caught and executed. A failure.
You can't just create a myth. There are conditions. Conditions not even dungeon masters fully understand.
This was something Haku had learned from his former companion.
It also gave him a hint of what to expect. Ryusei had once mentioned being wary of shadows.
If shadows were involved, then Lithaer's myth likely centered around them. It wasn't certain—but it was the best lead he had.
That was, until Ryusei suddenly called out.
"Haku, should we move now or wait for the sun to rise more?"
The sun... light... darkness...
Haku blinked. Then his eyes widened.
"Haku?"
He lunged, grabbing Ryusei by the shoulders. "Ryusei! That's it! I finally know who the floor master is!"
Ryusei blinked, startled. He'd never seen Haku this worked up before.
"Did you figure something out?" he asked, locking eyes with him.
Haku released him, coughed, then calmly explained.
"The floor master—Lithaer, The Pentagon—was the human who once plunged the world into darkness. She was also one of the Seven Legendary Heroes."