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Under the blue sky, a land of clouds blooming in clusters. A space where only the faint sound of a harp caresses the silence. Unlike the gathering place of the troops near the dungeon rift, where real-time sword winds and blizzards rage, this area feels strangely peaceful and serene, as if tranquility and comfort swirl in the empty void of this land.

Suddenly, something appeared out of nowhere, cutting through the empty void. Though “appeared” might not be the right word—it was more like an invisible mass emerged, and the only way to describe it was through the displaced flow of air.

Soon, a clear, melodious voice flowed from the invisible presence, forming human words.

“Whoa, this sensation is really weird…”

{Indeed, it’s an extremely peculiar sensation.}

{No matter how many times I see it, it’s a fascinating method of movement. Even in the Silver Age, there were hardly any spellcasters who thought of something like this. Following the normal theoretical approach to spell structure, such a thing couldn’t have been created. The phenomenon to be realized comes first, and the principles follow. Truly, dungeon artifacts are endlessly intriguing.}

As the hood of the cloak was removed, revealing a boy with a striking blend of maturity and youth, it was Conra, Sophia’s disciple and squire. Following Conra’s muttered impressions about the boots, the spirit Rugus-Artaeus agreed with the boy’s words.

And, as expected, another spirit, a former scholar spellcaster, was excitedly muttering about the mysterious form and principles at work in the boots. Conra, with a wry smile, glanced down at the boots on his feet.

“Anyway, without these boots, it would’ve taken forever to get here. So, targeting the boots first was definitely the right move.”

{The problem isn’t just the time it would’ve taken—the second tower’s gimmick was designed to be unsolvable without the boots’ effect.}

“Ugh, that was really unexpected. I’ve heard a lot about gimmicks, but I never imagined they’d be this intricately connected.”

Conra shuddered as he recalled the second tower, where the artifact was enshrined. Like the first tower, where the space was twisted and impossible to navigate without solving the gimmicks, the second tower also had its own unique obstacles.

To put it simply, the second tower, which housed the Cloak Quiness, was hidden from all perception and sight. One could only discover the tower by stepping on specific locations in the correct order.

The locations were spread far apart, requiring the boots’ ability to leap across space. If one stepped on the wrong spot or messed up the sequence, they had to start all over again.

The tower’s internal gimmicks were equally frustrating. The stairs were intermittently “broken,” not physically, but hidden by the tower’s invisibility effect. The problem was that if you stepped on an invisible stair, your foot wouldn’t “recognize” it, and you’d tumble down.

What made it even more maddening was that these “invisible” sections changed constantly. One moment, you’d be standing on a solid stair, and the next, it would vanish, sending you plummeting. For anyone climbing the tower, this was a major source of stress.

On top of all these gimmicks, the guardian protecting the artifact was no pushover either.

Unlike the first tower, where Conra had cleverly bypassed the gimmicks, the second tower’s guardian was a formidable opponent, its abilities closely resembling the artifact it guarded. The guardian’s stealth techniques were so cunning that even Conra, who prided himself on his experience in countless battles, struggled immensely.

If Conra hadn’t honed his Qi Sense, combined with his warrior’s spatial awareness, alchemist’s material sensitivity, and druid’s connection to nature and spirits—and without the assistance of the spirit Esras-Hermes—he would’ve been utterly toyed with by the guardian’s stealth.

Though he managed to defeat the guardian by eventually piercing through its stealth, the memory of that moment still made his heart race uncontrollably.

With a wry smile, Conra turned his gaze to the third tower before him.

{Fortunately, the third tower doesn’t seem to have the same tricky gimmicks as the first or second.}

Rugus-Artaeus, sensing the surroundings, spoke. He was right. The third tower wasn’t a tangled mess of space like the first, nor was it hidden like the second. However…

“Is that… a dragon?”

{Yes, it is. But look at its head.}

A massive body, a long tail, and countless scales of strange and beautiful colors covered its form. It had four legs, like those of a beast or bird of prey, and antler-like horns sprouted from its head.

If anyone saw it, they’d say, “That’s a dragon.” Conra thought the same. But Rugus-Artaeus pointed out something slightly different.

While the creature indeed took the form of a dragon, its head was unmistakably chicken-like. Where a snout should be, there was a sharp beak; where whiskers should be, there was a comb; and from its neck to the tip of its tail, a mane of red feathers ran down its back.

“So, that’s the Crow Dragon Haegis?”

{Ah, yes. In our time, it was just an ordinary active dragon. Though it wasn’t highly regarded among dragonkind, its strength was genuine. I heard it was sent as an emissary to the giants’ city to deliver knowledge of artifacts and spells, but after the apocalypse, it was suddenly said to have been slain by Jack O’Lantern. Seeing it like this, it seems the emissary role was just an excuse—it was more like a hostage or sacrifice.}

As Rugus-Artaeus sighed in resignation, Conra gazed at the tower and the massive dragon coiled around it, sleeping soundly.

“Since it’s wrapped around the tower, I can’t enter through the main gate, can I?”

Conra, squinting at the tower, suddenly noticed another entrance not at the base but midway up the tower. Coincidentally, the entrance was right above the dragon’s head, coiled around the tower. Conra immediately understood what he had to do.

“So, I have to climb the sleeping dragon’s body and enter through the midway entrance?”

{That seems to be the way.}

“At least this time, it seems a bit easier.”

{Hmm, I wonder.}

Ignoring Rugus-Artaeus’s ominous muttering, Conra began climbing the dragon’s body. Soon, he reached the midway point and entered the tower through the entrance near the dragon’s head.

Reaching the top floor without encountering any gimmicks, Conra found himself facing another boss room entrance, functioning differently from before.

“It’s closed again?”

{That’s how it’s supposed to be. The first tower only opened because you messed with the gimmicks.}

Though Rugus-Artaeus’s criticism of dungeon gimmicks stung, Conra had no regrets. He glanced at the ring on his left index finger.

In any case, without figuring out the new gimmick, he couldn’t enter the boss room. So, Conra began inspecting the entrance. After a while, the spirit Esras-Hermes stepped forward.

{It’s my turn now. Try sensing the spell. You’ll feel something.}

Following the spirit’s advice, Conra focused his senses.

Soon, his warrior senses detected a gaze from somewhere. The gaze, however, didn’t seem to have a clear source—it felt inorganic, devoid of emotion.

His alchemist senses then pinpointed the origin of the gaze. It wasn’t a gaze but more like a detection device. If Sophia were here, she might’ve compared it to a laser sensor on an automatic door rather than a surveillance camera or bug.

Conra’s druid senses deciphered the device’s operating algorithm.

“Wait, does this door close when it detects movement within a certain range?”

{Ho, your ‘reading’ ability has improved. Exactly.}

The spirit affirmed Conra’s discovery.

{Unlike before, this gimmick is quite simple. In fact, the technology is so ordinary it’s hardly a trick. Such automatic doors are common in well-equipped spell towers, even in my time. Essentially, whether someone is there or not isn’t the issue. What matters is…}

“Not being detected, right? Got it.”

Of course, the boss room’s entrance gimmick wasn’t as simple as the spirit made it seem. Unlike ordinary automatic doors in spell towers, the detection device here had a vastly superior range and spectrum.

Conra had generalized it as “movement,” but a person standing there emits countless signals proving their presence: body heat, shape, weight, hair, friction with air, sound resonance, color, chemical changes, scent, and more. The detection device read all these, even the unique spell wavelengths and spiritual presence of a person.

Moreover, the device had no subjectivity—it simply operated based on whether it detected presence. Thus, stealth techniques to deceive perception were useless.

Under normal circumstances, there would be no way to open this door. Ignoring the closed door wasn’t an option either, as the boss room was somehow impervious to the Seven-League Boots’ spatial movement.

“If I can’t deceive it, I’ll just disappear.”

With a smirk, Conra buttoned his cloak and pulled up the hood. In an instant, his form vanished without a trace.

True invisibility—light, sound, and objects passed through him. At this moment, Conra’s existence entered a realm where no physical evidence could detect him. Strangely, the entrance’s detection device, which could sense even the faintest ripples of spell activity, failed to detect the Cloak Quiness’s mysterious effect.

With the signals gone, the dungeon gimmick followed its algorithm, and the boss room’s entrance opened.

As the stone door creaked open, Conra stepped through, curiosity and anxiety swirling in his chest.

The moment he crossed the threshold, Conra felt a sudden dizziness. His limbs grew numb, and his eyelids heavy. In a daze, he swayed unsteadily.

{…! □□□ it!}

‘Huh?’

{Don’t □□!}

The spirits shouted something, but Conra, exhausted, couldn’t hear them. Swaying, swaying…

In his dazed state, Conra suddenly slapped his own cheeks.

*Smack!*

The sharp sound jolted him awake.

“Whew, what… what just happened?”

{It seems the guardian this time is a bard type. You were hit by a curse song. This one was likely a lullaby.}

Sure enough, what had struck Conra was the guardian’s voice, chanting a grand curse song against the backdrop of the harp’s melody. The moment the giant’s voice seeped into his ears, an overwhelming drowsiness had engulfed him.

Though Conra’s high mental strength allowed him to resist the sleep curse, the situation was far from over. The bard’s songs continued relentlessly, each with a different effect.

Emotions stirred, senses distorted, movement impaired, petrification curses, vocal and speech hindrances, weapon-hand weakening, and continuous stamina drain—all these curses flowed in real-time, accompanied by attacks and restraints that cornered Conra.

His innate sharp senses and genius sensitivity, which had always propelled him forward, now became his downfall. His keen ears picked up every sound, and his brilliant mind understood and empathized with each curse.

The very traits that had elevated him now turned against him, trapping him in a dire situation.

‘Crap, this is bad. I’ve never faced an enemy like this!’

Even Sophia, who had trained Conra, likely never anticipated an enemy who used music as a weapon. As Conra struggled, a glimmer of hope sparked in his eyes amidst the chaos.

 

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