CHAPTER 47: WELL... FUCK

Lucius turned to the three brothers standing beside him.

His eyes narrowed.

’Weren’t these fools supposed to be experienced with raids like this?’

The plaza’s air vibrated in a way that scraped against his senses, rippling faintly like distorted glass. The space that he felt in the air was unnatural, very much so and it put him on edge.

’This isn’t right... is the very space itself corrupted?’

He lifted his hand, fingers curling slightly as he tried to tug at the unseen threads around him.

Normally, the space particles — tiny motes interwoven with mana moved under his will like obedient dogs.

But here, they fought back, sluggish and uncooperative. Each attempt felt like dragging a boulder through mud.

His frown deepened.

’So this is the aftermath of a dungeon break.’

In a break, the collapse didn’t end with the rift’s closure. The magical energy, wild and tainted, exploded outward, seeping into the very air and ground. It didn’t vanish once the monsters were slain.

For ordinary people, breathing here was poison. Even awakeners risked corruption with prolonged exposure.

And the Guild thought it was fine to send these three circus clowns in here with him.

"Well, let’s go," Cyrus said, full of false confidence as he strutted forward through the crumbled gates of the plaza.

He tapped the metallic band strapped to his wrist, and a flickering hologram projected into the air.

A grid-like map shimmered, dotted with red specks.

"These are the active monster signatures," Cyrus explained with pride. "See? About twenty left inside."

Lucius arched a brow.

’So this is a dungeon scanner...’

He remembered it from the novel — mentioned in passing dozens of times but seeing it with his own eyes was different.

A curious piece of gear. It tracked ambient magical signatures in the air, extrapolating which belonged to living monsters.

Useful, yes... but unreliable.

The numbers were correct, the locations less so. Monsters moved constantly, and a single error could cost you your throat.

"There are twenty," Grimm said with an eager grin. He spun his spear, its tip catching the faint light. "This will be a breeze!"

He had just taken one cocky step forward when a screech split the air.

Something small and vicious launched itself from the ruins of a half-collapsed shop, diving straight for Grimm’s head.

Lucius’s eyes tracked it instantly: a goblin, skin green and mottled, eyes bloodshot, rusty sword raised for a killing blow.

Grimm reacted with an overblown flourish.

"Piercing Stab!" he cried, spinning his spear like some hero from a second-rate play.

The weapon flared faintly with energy as he thrust upward, skewering the goblin clean through its skull.

There was a wet crunch. The creature’s head burst like a melon, spraying blood and brain matter across Grimm’s face and tunic.

"My eyessss!" he wailed, dropping his spear to claw at the mess dripping down his cheeks.

He stumbled in circles, looking less like a warrior and more like a drunken jester.

Lucius dragged a hand down his face.

’The power behind that strike was decent... but the person using it? An absolute clown. And shouting the move name like a child pretending at heroics? What the hell?’

"Let’s continue forward," Cyrus said stiffly, pretending his brother hadn’t just humiliated himself.

He sheathed his sword, putting on the air of command. "Protect the newbie. He’s only here to observe."

Lucius gave him a flat look.

’So I’m a protected flower now? In that case... free money.’

He shrugged and fell into step behind them.

They walked for several minutes, boots crunching on fractured stone. The scanner pulsed quietly in Cyrus’s hand, red dots glowing faintly.

And yet... nothing.

No ambushes.

No rustling in the shadows.

Not a single growl or hiss.

The streets of Ashenridge Plaza were deathly silent, broken only by the distant creak of ruined wood and the occasional trickle of ash carried on the wind.

"Strange," Cyrus muttered, frowning at the scanner. "The signatures say they’re here..."

Grimm gripped his spear tighter, glancing at the dark windows above. "Then why aren’t they attacking?"

Felix chewed his lip, sweat forming on his brow. "Maybe they’re hiding? Or maybe the scanner’s broken—"

Cyrus cut him off with an annoyed bark. "The Guild doesn’t hand out broken equipment, idiot."

He turned to a nearby building and, perhaps out of frustration, kicked the crumbled stone at its base.

"Argh!" he yelped, staggering back and clutching his foot. "Who in the Nine Hells builds walls that hard?!"

Lucius sighed, resisting the urge to smack his own forehead.

’What kind of raid team is this? Toddlers with weapons?’

Enough was enough.

He bent his knees slightly and let his mana pool surge through him. Gravity thinned under his control, and his body rose, boots leaving the ground as he levitated upward.

The corrupted air pushed back against him, making every inch of ascent feel like dragging chains.

Still, he persisted, and steadily climbed above the ruins.

From this vantage, the plaza sprawled in fractured beauty.

There were crumbled shops, buildings, even a big pool was filled with blackened water.

And then he saw it.

At the far edge of the plaza, something flickered with angry light. A fire, burning unnaturally bright.

Lucius narrowed his eyes, focusing.

There.

A cluster of monsters, grouped together, their grotesque shapes outlined in the flames.

Goblins, a whole lot of goblins were all clustered like soldiers waiting for orders.

And they weren’t rushing the raid party at all.

No.

They were... busy.

Busy manning a weapon.

Lucius blinked. A crude slingshot. Enormous, built from collapsed beams and knotted ropes scavenged from the wreckage.

The monsters tugged at it with manic strength, aiming toward the center of the plaza.

"What in the..."

Then his eyes found the payload.

A burning rock, almost the size of his body, glowing with unnatural flame. They loaded it into the slingshot with a collective shriek, then let it fly.

Lucius’s pupils shrank. The projectile cut through the corrupted air, spinning with terrifying speed.

"Fucking monsters," he hissed.

The fireball streaked toward him, its glow illuminating the ruin in sickly orange.

And then it hit.

The rock slammed into him mid-air with a sound like thunder, detonating into a thousand flaming shards.

Heat and force engulfed him, swallowing the plaza in a bloom of fire.