Trials, Traps, and Enchanted Panties

After leaving the palace, we ran into that soldier again…
Yeah, the same one who made us climb five hundred damn steps.

“Did you enjoy the stairs?” he said with a laugh, wearing that face of I know exactly what I did to you.

Evelyn walked up to him.
She smiled.
Put on her good-girl face.
Sweet. Gentle. Harmless.

And then—
WHAM!
A direct kick to the family jewels.
The soldier collapsed to the floor with a tear in his eye and a shredded soul.

Vengeance executed.
Justice exists.
And it wears heels.

After that tiny settling of scores, we headed to the market. Time to buy supplies.

We went to Alastor’s magic shop—that weird guy who smells like incense, wears a robe that’s way too tight, and always looks at me a little too intensely.

“Ohhh, adventurers! Welcome, welcome!” he said, rubbing his hands like we were chickens ready to pluck.

“Hey, Alastor,” I greeted casually, trying to avoid eye contact.

“I waited for you the other night, Ren…” he murmured, sounding depressed.

…
I OBVIOUSLY DIDN’T GO.

Evelyn and Nymeris looked at me at once.

“We’re here to buy supplies!” I cut in quickly, trying to hop over the topic like it was a level-90 magic trap.

“Hey, Ren,” Evelyn chimed in out of nowhere. “I want a bikini.”

…
Excuse me?

She stared at me with those forbidden puppy eyes that unlock questionable decisions.

“What do you want a bikini for, Evelyn?”

“They say it gets really hot in dungeons.
Also… think about it, Ren.
I’d be in a bikini… and sweating.”

The way she said it shattered this story’s +16 rating limit like wet tissue.

…
“Hey, Alastor… do you have bikinis?”

I said it. Without thinking. Without hesitation.
I know what it looks like, okay? But this purchase is absolutely necessary.

While Evelyn negotiated her new bikini like it was a +10 legendary sword, I drifted over to Nymeris, who was examining magic staves with near-religious seriousness.

I cleared my throat and activated “protective knight” mode.
“Do you need any help, my sweet Nymeris?”

Bull’s-eye.
How did I know? Easy.
Her little elf ears trembled—and turned redder than an oven-roasted tomato full of embarrassment.

“M-Mister Ren… would it be alright if we bought this one?” she asked shyly, pointing at…
…a coat rack.

Yes.
A damn coat rack.

But it had sparkles. So, in her defense, it looked slightly magical if you squinted and were very desperate.

“Mmm, those are pretty expensive,” I replied, pretending I hadn’t noticed. “But you can take this one. How about it?”

I pointed to an actual staff. With runes, a magic aura… and not at all intended for hanging cloaks.

Nymeris lit up on the spot.
Didn’t take much to make her happy.
She cradled it carefully, with that tenderness you only have for objects you believe you chose with ancient, ancestral wisdom.

“Thank you, Mister Ren! I’ll take great care of it!” she exclaimed, hugging the staff to her chest.

…
My eyes drifted down by reflex.
Don’t judge me.
I’m weak.

If only she treated me like that staff…

Now it was my turn.
There I was, at the counter, with less money than dignity.

After the 500 argens for the staff and the 669 argens for the bikini…
Yes, 669 argens.
A damn bikini for a sexy demon-goddess who bathes in provocation.

Stupid.
A damn stupid… absolutely necessary purchase.

My face contorted for a second as I pictured Evelyn in bikini + sweat mode.
I returned to reality with a faint nosebleed and checked my little coin pouch.

Forty argens.

“Hey, Alastor… is there anything useful for me that isn’t too expensive?”

Alastor fell into thought, muttering to himself.
“I think I have something…” he said, and disappeared into the back room with the look of a mad alchemist.

…
Nothing good was going to come from this.

A moment later, Alastor returned from the back.
And he did not come back with just anything.
No.

He came out holding a demon sword.
The kind with flames along the blade. Ancient runes glowing.
The kind you only unlock in the post-game of an RPG after sacrificing your soul, your cat, and three weekends.

“What do you think?” Alastor said, showing it off like it was a baguette.

…
It had to be insanely expensive…

“How much is it?” I asked in the same tone you use when asking the price of a house.

Alastor paused.
One of those dramatic pauses that makes you think you’re about to sign a spiritual mortgage.

And then—
“Ten argens!” he exclaimed, lifting all ten fingers just in case the number wasn’t clear enough.

…
What?

What the…?

What is this guy’s deal? Why does he sell ridiculously powerful things so absurdly cheap?
And, more worrying… why is the ridiculous stuff so damn expensive?

After a few seconds of reflection, visually scanning the sword like I could detect hidden curses, I handed over the money.
And yes. He gave it to me.
The sword. Whole. No fine print.

“That sword’s called Destiny. I got it on one of my expeditions,” Alastor said proudly, like he was talking about a powerful, dangerous ex.

“What kind of expeditions do you go on…?” I muttered, unable to imagine anything legal.

“Right, that’s everything. Thanks, Alastor.”

I turned, new sword in hand, ready to bail with my loot… but then:

“Wait, adventurer…”

His deep voice froze me.

I turned back slowly.
Expectation: a sealed curse, a blood contract, a chained monster.
Reality:

“Our arrangement still stands,” he said, winking.

…
A shiver ran down my spine.
A damn shiver.

Without another word, I bolted out of there.

After fleeing Alastor’s magic shop—and his subtext-heavy stare—we set off across the kingdom of Virelthia.

The road was peaceful.
Too peaceful.
Green landscapes, clear skies, fluttering butterflies, and even a few smiling adventurers who passed by and greeted us enthusiastically.

Evelyn.
And Nymeris.

Me? Nothing.
Not a glance.
Not a “hey.”
Social invisibility: level 99.

After walking practically all day, we finally saw the silhouette of the ruins Zaroth had mentioned.

An ancient place, covered in ivy, a monumental stone entrance… and a strange energy lingering in the air.

“Finally,” Evelyn said, stretching like she’d just run a marathon in heels.

“These are the ruins Zaroth mentioned?” Nymeris asked, a little nervous.

But there I was.
The leader. The shield. The knight.

“Don’t worry, Nymeris. I’ll protect you,” I said, shooting her a seductive look. Level Brad Pitt fused with a dark elf.

Nymeris blushed instantly.
Victory!
The seduction worked!

…
For exactly three seconds.

Because right then, a bird flying overhead decided my head was the perfect place to unload its white, sticky legacy.

Plop.

Silence.

And then…
Evelyn burst out laughing.
As if the universe had told her the best joke of her life.
She literally fell to the ground laughing.
Nymeris tried to hold it in… and failed.

…
This was supposed to be my heroic moment. My epic scene before the ancient ruins.
And I got sabotaged by a cursed pigeon.

After that horrific incident…
I pulled myself together as always.
With a little less dignity each time.

We scouted the ruins a bit. Old, dusty, and radiating that classic vibe of “step on the wrong stone and you’ll be impaled by an ancestral trap.”

And then we saw it.
A huge stone door with a strange inscription.

I stepped closer. Frowned. And read.

…
It was in Japanese.

Yes. Japanese.
Not Khaelym’s ancient mystical language.
Not lost runes of the dragon realm.
Katakana, hiragana, and kanji like a badly translated visual novel carved in stone.

“Can you read it too, Evelyn?”

“Of course I can!” she snapped. “I can read every language that exists, tsk…”

She was annoyed.
Because for the first time in ages, someone questioned her usefulness.
And, to be fair, she wasn’t wrong.

“Wow, Miss Evelyn… you’re amazing,” Nymeris said, genuinely impressed.

Evelyn smirked arrogantly.
And began to read the inscription aloud:

“Her fan slips,
the breeze lifts her dress…
my soul trembles.
Was it fate, or sake?
All I know— I saw… too much.”

…
Silence.

“What kind of pervert wrote this here?” I asked, scratching my head in existential resignation.

“I think it’s very pretty,” Nymeris answered with pure innocence.

…
Of course you do, Nymeris.
Ancient soft-hentai haiku carved in stone. Pure ancestral culture.

Once read, the letters began to glow.
A magic aura wrapped the door.
And it started to open slowly with an ominous creak that sounded like: “enter and you won’t come out.”

The place… gave me chills.
Dark.
Cold.
Silent.

I began to reconsider whether those 10,000 argens were worth it.

While I pondered my contract with capitalism, Evelyn and Nymeris had already gone inside.

…
“Come on, Ren. You can’t let them do all the work and then you take the reward…”
…or maybe you can.

…
I steeled myself.
And went in.

We advanced cautiously.
Well… we tried.

On one wall, a new inscription flickered with a bluish glow. Clearly another arcane text sealed by ancient wisdom.

I stepped up.
Read aloud.

“These ruins are filled with dangerous traps that activate upon saying one specific word: BOOBS.”

…
Yes.
I read the word too.
Yes.
Out loud.

…
We fell silent.
A bead of sweat rolled down each of our foreheads at the exact same time.
It was like one of those scenes where the protagonist realizes he’s messed up beyond repair—but it’s already too late.

And then—
CLACK.

Statues rose from the floor with very angry faces and dart launchers in each hand.
They started firing in all directions like we were targets at a demon carnival.

“RUN!” I shouted, because that is what a leader does when everything goes to hell.

We ran.
We dodged.
We rolled.
We screamed.

As if our lives depended on it.
Because they did.

After surviving purely by luck (and a bit of Nymeris’s magic), we reached a room that looked safe.

“That was close,” Nymeris said with an innocent smile.

“How could you read the inscription out loud, you idiot!?” Evelyn snapped, genuinely angry.

“How was I supposed to know!?” I shot back, still panting.

“If the inscription says you can’t say ‘BOOBS,’ then you don’t say it!”

…
…

She just said it.

CLACK!

The floor opened beneath our feet and we dropped into a void, like someone pressed the “restart chapter” button.

We slid down some kind of chute. Long. Narrow. Curved.
Engineered specifically to relive your breakfast in liquid form.

But it wasn’t all bad.
During the fall, I managed to see under Nymeris’s skirt.

Pink.
Heh.

At the end of the slide, we crashed into a dark room.
And by “we,” I mean Nymeris landed right on top of me.

Her breasts were…
very close to my face.
Very.

…
God exists. I know it. I just visited Him.

“A-Ahhh, Mister Ren! I’m so sorry!” Nymeris yelped, scrambling to her feet, redder than a health potion.

It’s fine, Nymeris… you can do that anytime.
I didn’t say it. But I thought it very loudly.

“Where are we?” Evelyn asked, rubbing her backside like she’d landed on a golem.

“Good question,” I said, still recovering from the contact with paradise.
“Nymeris, can you make some light?”

Nymeris nodded eagerly, raised her magic staff and… spoke the strangest words I’ve ever heard paired with a spell:

“Abracadabra, goat’s leg—let there be light!”

…
And it worked.

A soft glow blossomed from the staff’s tip and revealed the room.

…
It couldn’t have looked more suspicious.

A single chamber.
Clean stone.
Not a corpse, not a cobweb.
And in the center… a chest.

A lone chest in the middle of everything.
With signs pointing at it.

Signs that read:
“DO NOT OPEN.”
“TRAP.”
“DANGER.”
“BE CAREFUL.”
“KEEP AWAY.”

…
It won’t matter, will it?

“We should find a way out of here,” I said, with zero intention of opening that damned chest.

It literally had warning signs.
Who in their right mind would open it?

…
My companion Evelyn.
Of course.

“Hey, Ren. Look. Come check this out.”

I turned.
And saw the horror.

“WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING, EVELYN!?” I screamed, soul on fire.

Too late.
Evelyn had ignored every warning someone—probably a decent person with a family—had taken the trouble to carve, paint, and hang.

But of course…
That person didn’t account for an extremely sexy goddess with zero respect for public safety.

As a good strategist, I took immediate action.
I hid behind Nymeris.

Yes.
I was using her as a shield.
Problem?

It’s called natural defensive magic.

I braced for disaster.
Nothing exploded.
No golem erupted from the floor.
No portal to hell opened.

…
I relaxed.
Stepped out from my feminine cover.

“What is this…?” Evelyn asked, crouching to check the chest’s contents.

And with that, she gifted me one of the finest views an ancient dungeon can offer.

A thin trickle of blood escaped my nose.
Surely from some earlier hit. Obviously, this had nothing to do with Evelyn.

After a couple extra hip sways that nearly rebooted my nervous system, Evelyn pulled out…

…
“Are those… panties?”

“There’s a note too,” Evelyn said, drawing out a small parchment with total indifference.

“Sacred Panties of Aishan:
Legendary undergarment once worn by a divine heroine.
Grants absolute protection… but only if worn.”

…
Silence.
…

“No way I’m putting that on,” Evelyn said, tossing them aside like a used napkin.

…
I crouched down.
With utmost respect.
With devotion.
With the careful hands of an archaeologist unearthing a relic of a lost empire.

“I… have… scientific curiosity,” I said, pocketing them with all the seriousness in the world.

…
The sacred… must be respected.

The peace didn’t last.
It barely existed.

The entire room began to shake.
Walls creaked. The floor rumbled.

And suddenly—
CLANK!

Two doors appeared out of nowhere. Literally.
No “abracadabra,” no dramatic effect.
They just—poof—were there.

Above one, a glowing sign lit up.
Yes, glowing. Magic floating letters.

“EXIT,” it blinked, like a magical nightclub sign.

…
From the other door…
A shadow emerged.
Dark. Misshapen.
And with a presence that scared the living crap out of me.

“Thieves… thieves…” the shadow repeated in a guttural voice as it slowly approached.

“AAAAAHHHH A GHOST!” I screamed, my soul leaping out of my eyes.

I spun on my heels, ready to announce a strategic retreat.

But of course.
Evelyn and Nymeris had already been running for a while.

…
“YOU TRAITORS!! AGAIN!!”

I ran like death itself was chasing me.
Because death’s ectoplasmic cousin was chasing me.

While sprinting, I glanced back to see how close the shadow was—

THUD!
I slammed into something.
Something soft.

I staggered, looked ahead…
and it was Evelyn’s butt.

Normally, that would be the highlight of my day.
But I was too terrified to enjoy it.
A tragedy in all senses.

“Why did you stop!? We have to keep going!!” I yelled, sweating in places that shouldn’t sweat.

But they hadn’t stopped by choice.

Right in front of us (yes, I’m counting myself in the group now),
a magic wall had blocked our path.

No exit.
No plan B.

There we were, the three of us.
Trapped.

And behind us…
“Thieves… thieves… you will pay… thieves…”

The shadow drew closer.
The air turned icy.
Tension, palpable.
Panic… total.

…
I just wanted the 10,000 argens, man.