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A familiar silhouette loomed beyond the brightly lit field of vision. Soon, Conra felt an unprecedented force enveloping him.

Surrounded by an immeasurably vast power that seemed impossible to resist, Conra felt no anxiety. Beyond that boundless expanse, a familiar and gentle warmth seeped through, unmistakably comforting him.

In the next moment, Conra felt a surge of main strength and inner energy, akin to an ocean, flooding his body inside and out. The holy and compassionate light-infused energy gently caressed and passed through every part of Conra’s body, meridians, ethereal muscles, and ethereal brain.

“Ugh.”

Conra suppressed a groan that threatened to escape. The sensation of his body’s accumulated fatigue rapidly healing was overwhelmingly stimulating. Unconsciously, Conra felt a loose pleasure, forcing himself to focus his consciousness, balancing tension and relaxation.

Thus, he realized. The unprecedented force enveloping him was, at some point, lifting him and preparing to send him far from the battlefield.

“Master!”

Conra reflexively shouted, but there was no response from Sophia, whose silhouette was only visible amidst the golden and jade radiance. She merely shook her head slightly, adding more force and speed to push Conra away from the battlefield.

Whether it was the telekinetic force of a telekinetic spell or the manipulation of the void, the precision of the force’s application was so refined that it was almost meaningless to distinguish. It swiftly distanced Conra from the battlefield without burdening his body.

As he watched his master’s retreating figure, a secret message reached Conra’s ears.

{Hurry. There isn’t much time left.}

Upon hearing Sophia’s message, Conra felt his muddled consciousness clear, as if sobering from a drunken state.

‘Right. My task is to clear the dungeon before the time limit expires.’

If the dungeon reset before they succeeded, all the efforts Sophia and he had made would be in vain. The giant army would once again invade the surface.

Conra recalled the scene he saw upon entering the dungeon. The countless giant troops gathered at the rally point. It was an army, an elite force that had survived the endless wars of the Bronze Age. Their numbers alone surpassed the surface’s military strength.

‘At least, the military strength of a single city like Plymouth wouldn’t stand a chance.’

The people of Plymouth, who were currently repelling the giants’ invasion, couldn’t possibly fathom such a disparity in power. If the fully prepared giant army were to descend upon the unprepared people of Plymouth, what kind of outcome would that lead to? Conra tightly shut his eyes at the vividly imagined scene of devastation.

Having realized this, there was no time to waste. Conra stopped resisting the force moving him and instead harmonized with it, adjusting his posture and steadying his breath and mind.

{A wise move. Your internal and external injuries have been healed by your master’s actions, but the experience of being pushed to your limits remains. To restore your body’s balance, you need to soothe and calm it.}

As Rugus-Artaeus began assisting with the healing, Conra’s actions progressed swiftly. Relaxing his body through breathing and meditating to restore the balance of his mind and body proceeded smoothly.

It didn’t take long. His tense ethereal muscles and brain relaxed, his stiff meridians softened, and the flow of energy became smooth again in just a few breaths.

Feeling the dissipating force, Conra nodded. It was time to move.

{With three of the four artifacts liberated, only one remains.}

“The Divine Sword, Catena…”

{Yes. The Divine Sword said to be capable of cutting anything in existence. To clear the dungeon, you must liberate it.}

Each time an artifact was liberated, the giant city in the clouds began to lose its support. Losing support meant the total amount of power that could leak from the dungeon to the outside decreased.

Though uncertain, each time Conra liberated an artifact, the number of giant troops that could emerge from the city to the surface likely decreased. If he succeeded in liberating the final artifact, the rift between the dungeon and the outside would close completely, preventing any further invasion.

But if he failed to liberate the final artifact before the dungeon reset, all the efforts of Sophia and Conra would be in vain. The giant army would pour out onto the surface once more.

So now was the time to act swiftly.

Conra adjusted his posture as the force dissipated. His body balanced between tension and relaxation, leaning forward to shift his center of gravity. His lower body was prepared to firmly step into the void using his boots’ function.

Ready to leap at any moment, his breathing remained steady and deep, perfectly balanced.

Prepared, Conra slowly began counting down from three.

‘Three.’

From his softly relaxed waist down to his thighs, calves, ankles, and toes, both his physical and ethereal muscles simultaneously tensed, distributing force appropriately. Rugus-Artaeus assisted in this.

‘Two.’

The auxiliary spells memorized in his ethereal brain’s spell sockets began to release, ready to be unleashed at any moment. Esras-Hermes assisted in this. Simultaneously, the internal energy flowing through his limbs began to align with the subtle principles of the martial arts.

“One!”

As the force completely dissipated, Conra used the inertia to leap into the air. The combined function of his boots, auxiliary spells, and the subtle principles of light-footedness propelled him forward like an arrow.

Conra’s shadow streaked across the sky like a bird. After five steps in mid-air, a spatial curtain appeared before him, a function of his boots allowing him to recognize and traverse space.

Conra plunged into the fluttering, mysterious scene. His figure, streaking across the sky, soon disappeared beyond the spatial curtain.

Shortly after Conra’s figure vanished beyond space, a blinding light, a supernatural roar, and a dragon’s cry that seemed to tear the air echoed from the place where Crow Dragon Haegis and Nun Knight Sophia de Chazel had been confronting each other.

+++++

“Good, let’s push them back!”

“Die, you oversized antiques!”

The decisive battle between humans and giant troops in Plymouth’s grand square, where a giant beanstalk had grown, was nearing its end.

Reinforcements from all over Plymouth, including citizen militias, adventurer guilds, city guilds’ private forces, spellcasters from the Spell Tower, and clergy from the Plymouth Monastery, had arrived to bolster the defense.

Meanwhile, the giant reinforcements, whose numbers and frequency had been decreasing, were almost depleted.

Though there had been casualties, most occurred during the initial chaos of the surprise attack. Once the situation stabilized, casualties became rare. The human forces gradually gained the upper hand by leveraging their numerical advantage.

But as the urgent situation calmed, thoughts naturally turned to what came next. Those who had gathered to protect the city’s daily life from sudden threats were no exception.

Before them stood the unrealistically massive beanstalk, towering into the sky. It was said to be the key to activating the Sky Dungeon and a bridge to reach it.

Seeing the beanstalk inevitably led to thoughts of the Sky Dungeon it could access. The beanstalk was so large that it could be seen from anywhere in Plymouth.

Out of sight, out of mind, but when something is always in sight, it naturally occupies the mind. The attention of various guilds, government offices, and influential figures in the city naturally turned to the beanstalk and the dungeon.

And then…

“Ugh!”

“Yah!”

Esiocles broke the neck of a two-headed giant officer with his thick thighs and arms, while Hildegard’s halberd split the chest of another giant officer, severing his life line.

When the last giant troop leaking from the dungeon was eliminated, what greeted the people of Plymouth was not a victory cheer but a strange, tense atmosphere as they eyed each other.

Though they had gathered to help the city in crisis, each belonged to their own organizations. The city’s public security, fire, and tax offices’ regular troops, the hastily assembled citizen militias, adventurer guilds, various city guilds, the Spell Tower, and the Dominican Order’s monastery.

Even within the same government offices, the public security, fire, and tax offices had complex relationships of competition, cooperation, and conflict. The relationships between the guilds, as interest groups, were even more complicated. The Spell Tower was no exception, as it had its own stakes in observing mysterious phenomena and securing resources for spellcasting.

The interests and losses of the groups they belonged to often took precedence over personal sympathies.

The monastery, relatively free from such interests, also had its own reasons for not backing down. After all, the beanstalk that appeared in the city center was due to a holy relic kept by the monastery.

For those with twisted minds, the unprecedented terrorist incident could easily be blamed on the monastery’s mismanagement.

Thus, the monastery needed to contribute to the swift resolution of the incident to later claim they had done everything possible.

In this moment, amidst the sharp conflicting interests surrounding the beanstalk and the dungeon, the reason they didn’t immediately step forward to loudly advocate their group’s interests was the sense of solidarity formed from their recent joint struggle and their reluctance to bear the brunt and damage their reputations.

‘It’s a bit awkward to raise one’s voice and say unpleasant things to someone you just fought alongside.’

‘Everyone is weighing their group’s gains and losses, but in this situation, the first to step forward loses the moral high ground. Not to mention damaging one’s personal reputation. It would be much easier if someone else stepped forward to take the hit.’

If someone stepped forward first, they could open fire without hesitation. The underlying intention was to subtly secure a share while attacking. In such a situation, who would dare to step forward first?

Hildegard and Esiocles soon noticed this微妙的气氛.

‘Oh no, I forgot.’

The dungeon was undoubtedly a great threat to the world, but it was also like a bottomless treasure trove. Naturally, the struggle for its benefits had always been a constant throughout history. Even the powerful adjudication authority granted to the Knight Templars and Nun Knights was largely due to the sensitivity of the dungeon’s interests.

Thus, originally, Hildegard should have stepped forward to mediate this situation, but…

‘This is bad. I can’t think of how to respond.’

Both Hildegard and Esiocles were more suited to fighting demons or enduring harsh environments alone, with their combative and patient natures. They weren’t particularly adept at mediating between people or groups.

Hildegard, as a paladin Nun Knight, had received some education on mediating between local influential figures, but she hadn’t had much opportunity to exercise her authority in such matters.

‘And recently, Sophia handled most of these matters. Ah, the more I think about it, the more I miss Sophia.’

Compared to Hildegard, Sophia had considerable experience mediating and coordinating between major groups. She was an expert not only in exercising her authority as a Nun Knight but also in handling the accompanying administrative aspects.

But what use was it to think of someone who wasn’t here now?

As Esiocles and Hildegard hesitated, unsure of how to act, an elderly priest emerged from the crowd of clergy. It was Father Owen Powell, the abbot of the Dominican Monastery of Plymouth.

“Esteemed guests! I am Father Owen Powell, a priest of the Dominican Order and the abbot of the Plymouth Monastery. If it’s not too much trouble, may I have the floor? I promise it won’t be a waste of your time.”

The Plymouth Monastery was more directly involved in this incident than other organizations. The responsibility and justification imposed on them were likely greater and heavier than any other group present.

Given the nature of the monastery, their likelihood of seeking profit from the dungeon was extremely low. Moreover, Father Owen Powell was a figure recognized for his reputation and virtue not only within the monastery but also throughout Plymouth and its outskirts.

His presence was enough to form a consensus among those present that ‘at least he won’t spout nonsense, so it’s fine to hear him out.’

After briefly assessing the atmosphere, Father Owen Powell moistened his dry lips with his tongue and slowly began to speak.

“It seems there’s no objection. Then, with your permission, I shall share my thoughts. First, brothers and sisters, do you know why the giants’ reinforcements have stopped coming?”

“We do.”

“It seems our companion has entered the dungeon ahead of us.”

As expected, Father Owen Powell’s first action was to confirm why no more giant troops were emerging from the dungeon.

After hearing the responses from Hildegard and Esiocles, the priest turned his gaze to the crowd. Those who heard the answers began to murmur among themselves, their expressions bewildered.

“Someone entered the dungeon first?”

“Does that mean the conquest is already underway?”

The benefits from the dungeon were primarily dominated by the conqueror, followed by contributions during the conquest. If someone had already entered the dungeon and was progressing, it meant the share of the Plymouth people present was diminishing. No wonder they were panicking.

Some even openly condemned those who had created such a situation.

“Why was that decided without consulting us!?”

A spellcaster from the Spell Tower, his face red, began to argue. Hildegard, who had been calmly observing, raised an eyebrow. In the next moment,

Whoosh!

In an instant, Hildegard’s light power and ethereal muscles swelled, creating an overwhelming pressure in the area.

The holy and oppressive aura, like a halo of light, made everyone feel as if a halberd’s blade was hanging before their throats. Faced with this chilling dominance, those who had been speaking freely naturally fell silent.

“Sorry, but do we have to take care of that too?”

“What do you mean…”

“I’ve never seen anyone talk like that after seeing my attire.”

Hildegard’s genuinely incredulous tone made people’s eyes fall on her attire. The plate armor revealing her knighthood, the monastic-style surcoat, the nun’s veil on her head, and the emblem of four intersecting lines in the center.

A clergy member or nun who also held the duties of a knight, officially recognized by the Church Order, was a unique existence on this continent.

“Gasp, a paladin!”

Soon, those who recognized her identity let out a breathless exclamation.

In terms of pure justification and authority, the paladin’s Knight Templars and Nun Knights were beyond the reach of others. The paladin’s authority was based on a treaty agreed upon by the world’s royalty and nobility under the Church Order’s influence. It wasn’t something a local influential figure could dare to challenge.

Moreover, every paladin Knight Templar and Nun Knight possessed the personal martial power to fulfill their duties and authority.

If they lacked power, the treaty would have been an empty promise. But in reality, paladin knights were superhumans at the pinnacle of humanity, and thus, the treaty’s provisions had never been violated.

The spellcaster who had spoken began to pale, his face turning blue. Regardless, Hildegard decided to assert her authority further, intending to subdue the crowd’s spirit. Though not the most refined approach, it was the best she could think of at the moment.

“It seems you’ve forgotten about the paladin knight’s authority and duties. Is this the Spell Tower’s official stance?”

Hildegard’s words were akin to a death sentence for the spellcaster. Seeing the situation unfold, Alexander Dean, the Spell Tower’s master, quickly stepped forward.

“How could that be? I understand your concerns, but ‘that person’s’ remarks do not represent our Spell Tower’s stance. I hope there’s no misunderstanding.”

Alexander Dean’s blatant disavowal made the spellcaster, now pale and staggering, glare with resentment. But Alexander Dean coldly ignored the look, repeatedly emphasizing the Spell Tower’s innocence.

 

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