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As they watched the Spell Tower master cut losses to avoid responsibility for a Spellcaster’s slip-up, others in different groups felt uneasy but secretly relieved. Even if their own issues weren’t as visible, the thoughts swirling inside them weren’t much different.

If they had messed up just a little, they might have ended up like that Spellcaster and the Spell Tower master. Thinking about that, it was impossible not to feel uneasy.

Still, despite the situation, nothing had been resolved. In front of them was a dungeon that held both unprecedented threats and benefits, and here, groups with differing understandings were gathered together.

Amidst the chaotic swirl of thoughts, ideas, and understandings, Priest Owen Powell stepped forward and raised his hand. The atmosphere in the room calmed, and everyone’s attention turned to the elderly clergyman.

Though he had spent most of his life secluded deep within the monastery, he was also the leader of the Dominican Order, a man who had honed himself to the limit. His robust yet gentle dignity was something even those who had weathered countless storms couldn’t easily dismiss.

For him, old age was merely a seasoning that further matured his innate qualities.

“Everyone, please listen to this old priest for a moment. As I mentioned earlier, I urged you to consider why the giants’ reinforcements haven’t arrived. Sister Knight Hildegard of the Paladins explained the reason.”

The priest’s words reminded everyone of his earlier statement, and they nodded. That was precisely why they had been so agitated moments ago. But what did that mean? Their attention, however, didn’t scatter but instead grew more focused.

Noticing the gathered attention, Priest Owen Powell got straight to the point.

“The reason I brought this up wasn’t to inform you of someone’s presence in the dungeon. My intention was to confirm that this dungeon outbreak isn’t over yet.”

“What do you mean?” asked Mr. Gordon Goodman, head of the Plymouth branch of the Adventurer’s Guild. Though unspoken, the same question was on everyone’s mind. They had defeated the escaped giants, so how could the situation not be over? Most in the room were baffled by the priest’s words.

While some, like Mr. Gordon Goodman and Alexander Dean, vaguely grasped the gist of what was coming, it was necessary to clarify. Mr. Gordon Goodman took on that role.

“Looking back at the current situation, the scale of the dungeon that opened in the sky is far larger than we expected. It might even be the size of a manor or city with a fortress. Am I right?”

Priest Owen Powell’s question made Mr. Gordon Goodman, as the guild branch head, ponder deeply.

The Adventurer’s Guild, after all, was the second most involved with dungeons on the continent, right after the Paladin Knights. Naturally, the guild’s community had accumulated a fair amount of data on measuring dungeon scales. As the branch head, he couldn’t possibly be unaware of this. He had just forgotten momentarily due to the urgency of the situation.

Soon, Mr. Gordon Goodman nodded in agreement. Typically, a dungeon’s scale was judged by the size of its entrance. Larger dungeons often had grand or ornate entrances, while smaller ones could be so unremarkable that they were hard to recognize as dungeons.

Considering that, the dungeon opened by the “Beanstalk reaching the sky” event couldn’t possibly be small.

At this scale, there might be a massive dungeon on the other side, equivalent to a manor or city, as Priest Owen Powell suggested. The thought sent a chill down Mr. Gordon Goodman’s spine.

Wait, if that’s the case…?

“You seem to have caught on. Compared to the expected dungeon scale, the scale of the outbreak was relatively small. What do you think that means?”

By now, others were starting to grasp the context.

In short, the giant army they faced in this dungeon outbreak should have been much larger under normal circumstances. Which means…

“Damn it, the situation isn’t over yet.”

Mr. Gordon Goodman’s muttered curse echoed everyone’s sentiments.

“Perhaps those who entered first are holding back the giant reinforcements, or they’re limiting the maximum extent of the dungeon outbreak by progressing through the dungeon.”

“If it’s the former, we need to worry about how many they can handle and for how long. If it’s the latter, that’s also problematic.”

Some dungeons naturally suppress outbreaks based on the progress of the dungeon’s conquest. So, in dungeons where outbreaks are a concern, dungeon conquest itself is sometimes considered a countermeasure.

However, such dungeons also share a particularly troublesome feature…

“Ah, a time limit.”

“Exactly.”

If all the dungeon’s gimmicks aren’t cleared within the set time, the dungeon’s progress resets, and everything returns to the initial state. The suppressed outbreak would then be released again, meaning another giant invasion would begin.

“To move toward a better outcome in this situation, we can’t focus on just one thing. We need both a team to enter the dungeon and assist in its conquest, and a team to stay on the ground and prepare for any unforeseen circumstances. Both must be given appropriate weight.”

At Priest Owen’s words, everyone swallowed hard. The problem had come full circle. Traditionally, the conquest team had the glory and priority in dungeons, while the standby team, if things went well, would have little to claim.

No one wanted to be in the latter group.

This would lead to factions competing to place more of their people in the conquest team, while internally dealing with those dissatisfied with being assigned to the standby team.

“It’s bound to be a complex issue with many intertwined interests… Yet, we must resolve this dungeon crisis as quickly as possible. Because we are Plymouth, and this city is Plymouth. So, what must we do to achieve that?”

A chilling pressure emanated from the usually gentle old priest.

“In an ideal world, everyone here would ‘sacrifice themselves for the public good, setting aside personal interests for the greater cause!’ But I doubt you can do that.”

The priest’s words both angered and made people reluctantly agree. Each of them had their own positions to consider.

Observing their reactions, Priest Owen Powell continued.

“So what we need now isn’t to watch each other or conflict, but compromise and agreement. What do you all think?”

In short, since self-sacrifice and humanitarian empathy couldn’t be expected, they should agree on a reasonable level of benefit to prevent greater losses.

It was a harsh statement, but highly persuasive. After all, didn’t they, as members of the community, have a duty to contribute to the community’s benefit and prevent losses? They were just caught in a dilemma due to their positions.

But there was no reason to blame them. As members of a community, they had an obligation to contribute to its benefit and prevent losses. Those who abandoned that duty were the ones who deserved blame.

“Indeed, even if we monopolize benefits, if the losses incurred are too great, it’s putting the cart before the horse.”

“Our guild is small, so taking on too much would be problematic. We might just end up overburdened.”

“If the situation unfolds like this, I might have a better case when reporting to the guild leader.”

The group’s reactions were quite favorable. After all, Priest Owen Powell’s statement provided a good justification for aligning their personal interests with their duties as community members.

The task at hand hadn’t changed. They still had to compete for a larger share in the conquest team. But at least a minimal guideline had been established to view the situation more rationally.

The atmosphere in the room had dramatically shifted. Those who had been wary and cautious now began discussing specific negotiation points. The heated debates progressed steadily, building momentum.

“The allocation of personnel for the dungeon entry team and the outbreak containment team…”

“We should also agree in advance on the distribution of benefits and safety guarantees in case of losses.”

“We need to form the entry team and send them in as soon as possible. The standby team’s formation shouldn’t be delayed either.”

As constructive discussions took place, the urgent formation of the entry and standby teams also began to progress swiftly. Watching this, Hildegard marveled.

“Wow, it’s resolving like this? He really knows how to move people’s hearts.”

“It’s less about moving hearts and more about creating an environment where existing sentiments can be expressed under a suitable pretext. If people didn’t share the sentiment of ‘protecting Plymouth,’ it wouldn’t have gone so smoothly. Of course, if that were the case, other methods would have been used.”

Esiocles, striking a peculiar pose with pronounced muscle contours and pelvic flexibility, explained Priest Owen Powell’s persuasive methods.

“Even so, experience makes a difference. The Dominican Order’s contemplative practices aim for universally applicable knowledge, but to sway public opinion so easily, he must have elevated that universality to an extraordinary level. His true prowess likely lies in spellcasting.”

As he spoke, Esiocles shifted his pose again, his muscles rippling. Hildegard averted her gaze from his muscles and said, “Still, I’m worried.”

Esiocles didn’t ask what she was worried about. His spiritual senses, heightened after his contract with the spirits, were also tingling.

His spiritual awareness, now sharp enough to sense distant events or even future occurrences, kept pointing toward the dungeon beyond the sky. Something was likely happening there.

“Both of them, I hope nothing happens.”

“Don’t worry. Sister Knight Sophia is there.”

“Hmm.”

Hildegard didn’t argue with Esiocles’ reassurance. Honestly, she couldn’t imagine Sophia being in danger recently. That left only Conra to worry about. Well, nothing should happen. Surely Sophia wouldn’t have given her disciple a trial too harsh to handle alone, right?

 

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