Chapter 20: The Sunless Desert

Everything fell silent, as if a single question was echoing in everyone's mind: Who… is this person, really?

They all stared at Gen’s back—the man walking away, holding in his hand a treasure no one dared even dream of.

He was clad in pitch-black armor, encased like a living statue. Not a single gap, not a trace of skin.

From head to toe, he was covered in dark metal that shimmered with a faint, cold glow.

His helmet concealed his entire face.

No one knew who he was, and none dared to guess.

"So? Do you like this box?"

Gen’s voice was indifferent as he turned his head slightly, casting a cold glance at Mo Gang—

As if what he held was nothing more than a cheap toy.

Mo Gang flinched. His whole body stiffened.

“N-No... Not at all!” he stammered, waving his hands.

He forced a smile, but his eyes never left the box—not even for a breath.

Gen smirked faintly.

“Why not? It’s yours.”

And with that, he casually tossed the box toward Mo Gang as if throwing away some useless item.

Thud!

Mo Gang nearly collapsed as he caught it.

He clutched it as though afraid the dream he had just grasped would shatter the moment he let go.

“Y-You… L-Leader… Are you serious???”

His voice trembled, eyes filled with overwhelming emotion and disbelief.

Sweat beaded on his forehead. His hands shook violently as he gently raised the box, caressing it as though it were a thousand-year-old relic.

Behind him, Princess Charlotte and the knights fell utterly silent.

Time seemed to freeze for a moment.

Now, in the hands of a wandering assassin, was the very box that nobles, scholars, and even empires were willing to shed blood for.

“Hey, young man! Why don’t you open it?”

Fay was the first to break the silence. He narrowed his eyes, hand resting on his sword’s hilt, curiosity and desire gleaming in his gaze.

He, too, wanted to witness the miracle sealed inside that black box.

Perhaps a legendary skill, the power of an ancient hero…

Or something capable of changing the fate of an entire kingdom.

Mo Gang swallowed hard. But before he could open it—

“W-Wait!!! Please, listen… Would you consider selling it to me instead?”

Princess Charlotte suddenly stepped forward, her voice breaking with desperation.

Her eyes pleaded with Mo Gang, begging for one last chance to touch the dream that had slipped through her fingers.

Gen didn’t pay attention to anyone.

He walked quietly toward the glowing black stone in the corner of the room—its surface pulsing gently, as if breathing.

Before him, a translucent notification appeared:

[Notification: Confirm departure?]

[Accept] / [Decline]

Without hesitation, Gen reached out and touched the first option.

Dolly stepped up beside him.

Their figures were soon engulfed in a beam of light, fading…

And then, vanishing completely.

“L-Leader!!!”

Mo Gang snapped out of his trance and shouted as Gen disappeared.

But then, he hugged the box tightly to his chest, a grin spreading across his face.

To him, the box was worth more than any farewell.

“A-Alright everyone!!! Quick, let’s get out of here!!!”

He spun around, shouting with excitement.

Amar nodded.

“That’s right, Princess. We need to leave this place as soon as possible!”

He stepped closer to Charlotte, though his eyes lingered on the precious black box.

As for Princess Charlotte, she simply stood still, eyes fixed on the spot where Gen had vanished—

Her gaze filled with a quiet admiration that words could not describe.

“That man… He’s truly unlike anyone else.”

Once outside, Gen didn’t stop.

He kept walking toward the end of the third floor, his eyes unwavering—

As if everything that had just happened was nothing but a passing breeze.

Not long after, Mo Gang was also transported out—thanks to Fay’s reminder that magic power had to be channeled into the stone, the same way they had all entered by accident.

“Leader?!... Where are you going???”

Mo Gang called out when he saw Gen quietly leaving.

Gen didn’t turn around. He simply raised a hand and waved.

A simple gesture—

But to Mo Gang, it was a crystal-clear answer.

He stood frozen.

He knew that was a sign:

Gen didn’t want to be followed.

His path was one no one could walk with him.

Mo Gang didn’t call again.

He simply watched that black-armored figure fade into the distance—his long cloak fluttering in the wind.

From that moment on, Mo Gang had found a hero.

Not a king.

Not a general.

But a warrior—free and untamed.

“Goodbye… Leader,” he murmured, eyes glistening with tears.

Charlotte’s group had also exited the prison.

“Ah… What a powerful man. If only someone like him lived in the capital…”

Fay sighed, eyes still fixed on the now-vanished silhouette.

“Yeah! I hope one day, I’ll be that strong too!”

Amar said solemnly, clenching his fists.

“Haha! Of course! As long as you don’t give up… that day will come soon enough!”

Fay patted Amar on the shoulder and laughed heartily.

Only Princess Charlotte remained silent.

No one knew what was running through her mind.

Her gaze stayed fixed on where Gen had disappeared—deep and unreadable.

The seven loyal knights said nothing.

They merely stared quietly.

In their hearts, this mysterious figure in full armor now stood beside the legendary hero—Aaron.

Clack!

Suddenly, a small sound echoed—it was something falling to the ground.

Everyone turned and saw Mo Gang standing still, dazed.

The object that had dropped was… the skill box.

No one spoke.

But everyone understood.

There was no skill.

Just an empty box.

Mo Gang stood frozen.

A dream that had been granted… now shattered in an instant.

His body trembled.

A single tear slid down his cheek.

A heavy silence lingered, as if autumn itself had swept through Mo Gang’s heart in a single breath.

No one mocked him.

No one pitied him.

No one said a word.

Everyone remained silent—

As if even a single word would be too cruel in this moment.

Princess Charlotte sighed softly.

“That was… an ancient skill box…”

She spoke, her voice no louder than the twilight wind:

“It must have been sealed for a thousand years… Perhaps it simply can’t be activated anymore.”

“No…” Fay cut in sharply, his eyes gleaming like blades.

“You’re wrong, Princess.”

He stepped closer, picking up the box again—his gaze unable to hide his awe.

“If it were unusable… he wouldn’t have carried it.

If it were empty… a man like him wouldn’t bother with it.

The answer is simple—the skill has already been taken. ”

His words fell like a bell tolling across the silence.

Fay looked up in the direction Gen had gone.

“We’re just bystanders in the story of fate.

The one chosen… has already moved ahead.”

Now, everyone understood—even without saying it aloud.

If a skill truly had existed inside that box, it now belonged to him.

The man clad in black armor.

The one who never showed his face.

The one whose eyes they couldn’t even glimpse—

Yet whose mere presence made the nightmares of the Dungeon kneel.

And now… he had left.

Taking with him dreams, truths—

And a question no one could yet answer:

Just who… is he?

Dungeon – Floor Four

The Dead Desert.

According to ancient records and the common understanding among explorers, this is the final floor in the depths of the Dungeon.

An infinite land, where sand is the only thing stretching to the horizon—no trees, no rocks—like a world buried in the ashes of a long-forgotten age. An isolated desert sealed within the spatial barrier of the Dungeon, completely separated from natural laws.

This floor is geographically five times larger than Floor Three, making it the most expansive layer in the entire system.

Ironically...

No one wants to come here.

Most adventurers, whether rookie or veteran, choose to end their journey at Floor Three. Only two types of people dare to continue: those madly seeking death, and those with nothing left to lose.

Every person who steps into the Dungeon has one goal: to obtain items and resources to grow stronger. But here—on Floor Four—there are no monsters. How can anything drop without monsters?

No rewards. No battles. No hope.

That is why this place is called the Dead Desert.

And that is only half the truth.

The other half? Treacherous quicksand traps, unexplained disappearances. No signs. No warnings. A single misstep could mean a one-way journey into the depths below.

There is no sun on this floor, yet everything is illuminated as if it were noon. An artificial light, as if time itself was sealed at the brightest moment of day.

This is not the light of life—it is the searing, cruel light of a vast trap, where the very landscape seems to be burning itself away.

At this moment…

Beneath that unreal light, two figures trudged forward.

One in front, wearing a faded soldier's uniform, tall and lean, his black hair soaked in sweat. The other, smaller, walked silently, like a shadow bound to the first.

Gen and Dolly.

[Status Window]

Name: Gen | Age: 23 | Gender: Male

Race: Human

Title: None

Class: Soldier – Intermediate

Level: 223

HP: 1750/1806 +3200 | MP: 317/908

Strength: 1843 | Strength Resistance: 903

Magic Power: 908 | Magic Resistance: 450

Agility: 987

Unique Skills: [Regeneration], [Forge]

"Nearly four hundred MP just to regenerate a spinal cord?" Gen muttered as he glanced at the floating status window in front of him.

His unique skill—[Forge]—was the one he received after opening the box left by the Stone King. A blacksmithing ability, but it consumed as much energy as combat magic.

He wiped the streams of sweat pouring down his forehead. His skin was flushed red from the blistering heat.

An hour had passed, but Gen felt like he had walked a full day through hell.

"Is there seriously nothing here at all?" he grumbled.

His heavy armor had long been removed and handed over to Dolly. He now wore only his old tunic, soaked and stained with sweat and sand.

Finally, after more than an hour of enduring…

Gen dropped to one knee, pressed his hand into the sand, and whispered,

"[Walls Land]...!"

A low rumble echoed. Within three seconds, a solid wall of compacted sand rose before him.

A temporary defensive spell, used here simply to create shade.

But… where was the sun?

There was no sun. No light source. Just an unknown brilliance that scorched the skin like a crematory furnace.

"Damn it…" he muttered. "Even fake sunlight burns like the real thing?"

He turned to Dolly, who continued walking silently—no sweat, no expression.

"Being a doll's not too bad..."

Gen chuckled.

And then—it happened.

Just a few more steps forward…

Whoosh!

The sand within a three-meter radius around their feet suddenly collapsed. In less than a second, their legs were submerged up to their knees.

A quicksand trap.

Gen jolted. He instantly twisted his body, reaching back to grab Dolly, preparing to leap free.

But—

It was too late.

The real disaster struck the moment he moved.

The sand, already dangerous, turned even more terrifying. It began to liquefy and spread outward. No longer a mere three-meter circle, it expanded into a massive devouring field—like the open jaws of some ancient beast, ready to swallow all who dared enter.

Dolly was the first to vanish, swallowed whole, disappearing under the sand without a trace.

"...Damn it."

Those were the last words Gen managed before being completely engulfed by the Dead Desert.

Silence…

The entire space plunged into absolute stillness. Everything turned cold and suffocating, as if the whole of Floor Four had become a wordless graveyard, where life was buried and time ceased to move.

At the same time…

Somewhere else on Floor Four of the Dungeon—

An old man with a bald head, a long white beard cascading down to his chest, his face etched deep with the wrinkles of time.

His white mage robe had faded, stained with dust and sand. But on his left chest, a small badge shaped like an old oak tree remained pinned—worn but dignified. This was no ordinary insignia. It was the symbol of Nara Academy of Magic, one of the Empire's most prestigious institutions.

The school was named after a legend—Nara-sama, the Hero summoned from another world who once defeated the Demon King centuries ago. And this man—was the current Headmaster: Gerald.

Gerald, a Grandmaster Mage, once the pride of both Nara and the Empire. After graduating as the most outstanding student in history, he served the nation for decades before returning to his alma mater as its head. Even so, Gerald rarely involved himself in administration. His heart belonged to unexplored lands, historical mysteries, and ruins buried by time.

Years ago, Gerald had ventured into the Dead Desert. He had studied the underground mana structure, surveyed disturbance points, and measured thermal fluctuations. But… he had never encountered the mysterious quicksand phenomena spoken of in rumors.

He stopped.

The sand beneath his feet shifted.

As if… it were breathing.

"...No. There wasn’t quicksand here before," he muttered, eyes narrowing. The sand beneath him now bubbled faintly—something that had never occurred.

"The terrain’s structure has changed. So has the mana. What the hell is going on...?"

At that moment, a surge of underground mana flared in the distance—a faint tremor spreading like a shockwave. Gerald immediately sensed it: someone had interfered with the structure of the desert floor, a place once sealed by ancient spells.

What he didn’t know was that not long ago, the Stone King had removed the ground within the Black Prison to retrieve the memory stone of his predecessor. An action seemingly harmless, yet it triggered a thousand-year-old chain of mechanisms. The ancient seals were broken. The foundation destabilized. And the quicksand began to awaken—a self-regenerating labyrinth beneath the desert, hidden since before the Great War.

Before Gerald could fully grasp it, he called out,

"[Space Element]!"

Space Element—a form of instantaneous teleportation magic, fundamentally different from legendary teleportation gates. It didn’t allow for free destination choice but could send the caster up to 1500 meters in the direction of their gaze.

Limited—but invaluable in emergencies. Gerald had discovered it in a golden skill box buried within an ancient Beastkin ruin in the western continent.

A golden light spiraled under his feet, rotating like a reversed hourglass. Then—flash!—the light swallowed him whole.

He instantly warped forward.

Then again.

And again.

Each time diving deeper into the heart of Floor Four.

No map. No signs. Only instinct and intuition—two things Gerald had learned to trust since his student days.

"Something is wrong here," he thought.

Ahead of him stretched a flat expanse, unnaturally even. The sand showed no ripples, no wind marks—as if flattened by the hands of a god.

"If this were just a dead desert, the sand would ripple under ambient mana flow. But here… the mana seems drained."

His eyes narrowed. The air around him felt strange—a subtle pressure pressing against every pore.

Gerald extended a hand and whispered, "[Mana Detect]."

A pale, spherical mist spread from his palm—a basic spell to sense mana fluctuations.

But the mist vanished. No expansion. No spread. It was "devoured" after just one meter, as if the space ahead wasn’t air… but an artificial vacuum built to trap all energy.

"Impossible..."

Unease crept across Gerald’s aged face. He turned immediately, deciding to retreat and mark this place for future investigation.

"[Space Element]."

He whispered, eyes locked on a higher, clearer vantage point behind him.

Light flared once more, enveloping him.

But this time…

Shhhh-BOOM!

His body barely shifted halfway—before something pulled him back. An invisible force, like the colossal hand of a beast, grabbed Gerald mid-teleport and dragged him downward.

RIP—SPLASH!!

The space tore. His body jerked—then plunged. The sand beneath him liquefied just like the trap that had consumed Gen.

"—Damn it!"

Gerald roared, trying to adjust the spell—but it was too late. The space around him warped. His vision spiraled. The golden light shattered like broken mirrors. His body was pulled into the earth, the entire teleportation spell crumbling like crushed glass in unseen hands.

And then…

Darkness.

Completely buried.