Chapter 19
[Written by Ian Impera himself: “I don’t care if I die.”]
“Will this do?”
“Uh… y-yes…”
“I’d rather you didn’t test my patience any further.
Curious what I look like when I’m angry?”
“S-sorry, sir! Then….”
The guards carefully accepted the note and opened the dungeon door.
Grrrrr…!
The two massive iron doors rumbled apart, revealing a pitch-black interior.
I started to step through, then paused.
“One favor.”
“Y-yes! Anything, my lord!”
“For the next week, don’t let anyone else inside.
I’ll be coming every morning.”
“A… a whole week?”
“…”
“…Understood!”
“Good. I’ll take that as a promise.”
Thud!
The thick doors closed behind me.
At once, the gloom lit up from within.
The scene inside was nothing like the dull, bowl-shaped mound I’d seen outside.
“Well now…”
Instead of a simple cavern, a narrow canyon stretched ahead.
Earthen walls rose so high I couldn’t see the tops.
Far at the other end stood another door, identical to the one behind me.
“So that’s the layout.”
It matched what I knew of dungeons—nearly identical to the ruined “Tower” of my previous world,
except that the Tower climbed upward while this dungeon led downward.
To clear the Baldeg Dungeon, you had to open that far door and descend.
“The more I see, the stranger it feels.”
Why was this world so similar to the one I used to live in?
Not just the Valhalla System, but even structures like this…
“…Not the time to worry about that.”
I shook the thoughts away. Rank-up came first.
I recalled the novel’s details:
Baldeg Dungeon.
These days, nothing but random weak monsters roamed it,
but it still hid that artifact.
A simple dungeon really—reach the opposite door and touch it.
Only problem: the monsters guarding the path.
“Krrrk…”
I’d entered unnoticed; they were too far away for now.
Mostly kobolds and goblins—weak, but for someone like me, a pure Rank 2.5,
facing more than three at once would be rough.
“That’s why I brought this.”
A ridiculously oversized shield.
I’m no blacksmith, so it wasn’t a proper artifact—
just a huge slab of thick wood with handles and a crude finish.
Anyone would wonder how it could even be used as a shield.
“Like this.”
Boom!
I slammed it into place along one side of the canyon.
The heavy thud echoed through the dungeon.
“Kerrrk?”
Perfect.
The noise drew every monster’s attention.
“Kiiieeek!”
They howled and charged.
“Come on, then!”
Like falling dominoes, even those at the far end turned and rushed toward me—
easily close to a hundred.
“Great… so many.”
Normally, a five-person party tackles this place.
Even for a noble’s coming-of-age trial, guards accompany them.
But more allies mean less experience.
Soloing meant five times the experience—if you knew the strategy.
Rumble…
Dozens of monsters flooded the narrow path,
but the shield sealed it even tighter,
leaving only a tiny gap—just enough for a kobold’s head.
“Kiiiek!”
One darted close but could only scratch uselessly at the barricade.
I’d reinforced the bottom and handles with iron spikes so a mass charge wouldn’t topple it.
“Kieek!”
A goblin poked its blood-red eyes through a small opening.
Thwack!
My blade pierced its forehead.
More followed, each meeting the same fate.
Still, the shield trembled under the sheer press of bodies.
It wouldn’t last forever.
“Then… time for this.”
From my pack I pulled bottles of poison gas I’d prepared.
At Rank-2, my magic wasn’t strong enough to cast on the spot,
so I’d stored the spell in glass.
I tied cloth over my mouth and tossed a bottle.
Crash!
Purple smoke spread instantly.
“Krrk?!”
The effect was immediate.
Monsters convulsed and wheezed.
“Kieeek!”
Claws scraped the shield, weaker and weaker.
Soon the first to breathe it staggered and—
Pop!
“Got them.”
The initial wave crumbled to dust.
The rest was easy: wait out the fumes,
stab any head that dared peek through,
and, when the poison faded, toss another bottle.
After hours of this slow rhythm,
the canyon lay silent and empty.
“Phew.”
Not a single scratch.
By my guess, about ten hours had passed.
“Good—finished before Selen’s influence kicked in.”
Once night fell, the moon-god Selen would strengthen the monsters;
my low-level poison wouldn’t have worked then.
Crunch!
I chewed the fruit I’d brought—sweet and juicy, perfect after the fight—
until my energy returned.
My shield was scarred and buried deep in the earth.
Dragging it back would be a pain… maybe I’d just leave it.
First things first: the real reward.
I gathered the meager loot.
No mana cores—these weaklings only left low-grade mana stones,
about two handfuls’ worth.
Enough for pocket money, nothing more.
“Figures. If they dropped mana cores, those wouldn’t be rare.”
I stuffed the stones into my pack.
But I hadn’t come here for pocket change.
This dungeon held one of the protagonist Dia’s fateful opportunities—
an artifact that would become my own curse:
Hecate’s Faceguard.
An artifact that boosts poison resistance…
and the one that would eventually kill me.
Meanwhile…
“Argh…!”
“Count Venere!”
Venere felt his blood boil.
The damned Impera family!
He’d been so close to fulfilling his lifelong ambition,
only to lose to some nameless knight.
“Ghh…!”
“Please, my lord—if you collapse again like last time it will be serious!”
“That… that wretched knight…!”
He wanted to grind Friana to dust.
Victory in the duel trial had seemed certain,
but the fool had lost—then vanished from Venere’s territory.
‘Hah! That idiot will starve to death somewhere. He must!’
Cursing was the only thing keeping Venere sane.
Finally, rage spent, he forced himself upright.
“…How long was I unconscious?”
“A little over a week, my lord.”
“A week…”
Too long for a head of house, especially now.
He steadied himself.
“Report. What happened while I was out?”
The butler’s news was a shock.
“What—what did you say?”
Ian Impera, the Impera heir,
had entered Baldeg Dungeon laden with strange artifacts,
clearly intending to clear it.
“Urgh…!”
The butler, Arberto, winced; he’d delayed reporting for this very reason.
“That knight Impera hired—did you learn who he was?”
“I tried, my lord, but there’s no record. Likely a wandering knight.”
“Of course he’s a wanderer!
As if any proper knight would help that family!”
“My apologies!”
“…”
“Count?”
“…Hah.”
Thankfully Venere didn’t faint again.
Instead, his eyes hardened with resolve.
A single name escaped his lips:
“Romulu.”
“…Pardon?”
Arberto thought he’d misheard.
Romulu? The mad black-magician?
Could it be…?
“I will meet Romulu.”
The butler swallowed hard but could not refuse.
If that was his lord’s will—even if it led to darkness—
he would obey.
“…Understood. I’ll make the arrangements.”
