Menu no.24 - Dungeon Raid, Start!

I used to think preparations for an expedition were fast—quick and efficient, like in games. A few clicks, a loading screen, and you were ready to go.

Reality was nothing like that.

It took time. A lot of it. And more energy than I had expected.

Supplies were checked again and again. Armor straps tightened. Weapons inspected, polished, rewrapped. Orders were repeated until even the air seemed tired of hearing them.

I stood near the edge of the guild terrace, watching as everyone finally took their positions.

At the very front stood Raiza and her escort.

And beside her—

Boss Hugo.

I blinked, convinced my eyes were playing tricks on me.

But no. He was really there.

Fully armored. Axe resting against his shoulder. Standing at the front line as if that was where he belonged.

Honestly, I was shocked.

Alisa hadn’t been exaggerating. Boss Hugo wasn’t just a guildmaster who happened to hold authority—he was someone genuinely respected. Soldiers nodded when they passed him. Adventurers straightened their backs unconsciously in his presence.

He wasn’t trying to command attention.

He simply had it.

The horse-drawn carriages began to move. Wheels creaked against stone as the long line of forces slowly advanced. Beyond the gates, the path climbed upward, winding toward the first hill that marked the entrance to Drachenfall Dungeon.

One by one, they marched.

Weapons raised—not in threat, but in resolve.

I watched until their figures grew smaller against the slope, until Raiza’s silver hair became just another pale glint among armor and banners.

Only then did I turn back toward the guild.

My hand had just wrapped around the door handle when—

A sharp pain stabbed through my head.

I staggered slightly, gripping the door for balance.

“…Ngh.”

It was sudden. Like pressure flooding my skull all at once.

But just as quickly, it vanished.

I exhaled slowly, steadying myself. “…What was that?”

No answer came, of course.

I shook my head and stepped inside.

.

.

.

The guild felt hollow.

Too quiet.

Normally, even during slow hours, there was always something—dice clattering, boots on wood, laughter echoing from the hall.

Today, there was nothing.

Just me, Alisa, Gustav, Arumi, and Gunther.

And Gustav again—because somehow, he always felt like two people when he was around.

Since the guild was completely idle, I decided it was the perfect chance to experiment.

A few days ago, Sister Arietta had lent me a pressure device—an old mechanical press she used for medicinal extracts.

I carried it out into the workspace and set it down carefully.

“Alright…” I muttered.

The press was covered in a thin layer of dust. I wiped it down, cleaned every joint, every screw. Slowly, I began testing how it worked—pulling the lever, adjusting the pressure, listening to the way the metal responded.

It looked remarkably similar to a coffee press.

But not quite right.

“It needs tweaking,” I said to myself. “Just a bit.”

Some parts stuck out awkwardly. Others applied uneven pressure. With a few modifications, it could be far more efficient.

Thankfully, Boss Hugo had given me permission to borrow spare parts from storage.

As I was measuring one of the protruding sections, a voice came from behind me.

“What are you doing?”

I nearly jumped.

Alisa stood at the storage doorway, arms crossed, watching me with mild curiosity.

“I didn’t hear you come in.”

“I noticed,” she said flatly.

I scratched my cheek. “I’m trying to modify the press. Make it easier to use. More efficient.”

She tilted her head. “Isn’t it already fine as it is?”

“That’s what I thought at first,” I replied. “But look here.”

I pointed to a raised section near the base.

“This part wastes pressure. And this joint—see how it flexes? Over time, it’ll wear out faster.”

I explained each issue carefully. How adjusting the angle would distribute force more evenly. How replacing a single screw could improve stability.

Alisa didn’t interrupt.

She watched. Closely.

For some reason, that made me nervous.

“This is probably the first time,” I said lightly, “you’ve watched someone make coffee equipment instead of just drinking the result.”

“…Probably,” she admitted.

She crouched slightly to get a better view.

“You really think this matters that much?”

“It does,” I said. “Coffee’s not just about beans and water. Tools shape the taste. Efficiency shapes consistency.”

She was quiet for a moment.

“…You’re serious about this.”

I paused, then nodded.

“Yeah.”

For the first time, Alisa wasn’t looking at me as just a staff member. Or a reckless guy who kept bringing trouble into the guild.

She was watching me as someone with a craft.

A focus.

Maybe even a purpose.

I adjusted the lever again. Metal clicked softly.

“…If this works,” I said, half to myself, “I might finally be able to make espresso properly.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Espresso?”

I smiled faintly. “Another story for another day.”

Outside, the world was quiet.

The expedition had left.

The guild stood still.

And in that stillness, surrounded by silence, metal, and possibility—I felt something settle inside me.

Not fear.

Not anxiety.

But the steady pressure of something about to be born.