[Master, have you decided which domain you are going for?]
Viktor scratched at his chin as he leaned back, letting the chair creak under his weight. “I think we should summon our next Guardian first, before we decide on the domain.”
[Why, Master?]
He gave a chuckle. “Because otherwise, it’s like picking a recipe before even knowing what ingredients you have. There’s no sense in selecting the Domain of Fire only to end up with a Guardian who wields the power of ice. No, it would be best if the Guardian and their assigned floor’s environment complement each other. And since we can’t choose the Guardian before the summoning, it makes more sense to see who we get first, then select the domain that brings out the most of their abilities.”
[I see.]
“Celeste, show me your current stats.”
[Yes, Master.]
Even though he had spent considerable resources to summon replacements for the minions slain during the Dungeon Reavers’ attack, there were still plenty left. Enough to use the “Summon Guardian” skill several times.
He still remembered the first time he used that skill. Since he had only enough mana for just a single attempt, he was basically stuck with whoever answered the call. With the looming threat of the Azran and Lahmia’s invasion, however, he had no choice but to take the gamble. Fortunately, Sebekton had proven himself to be a reliable and capable subordinate, who had contributed a lot to the dungeon’s defense. Still, he didn’t want to rely on luck ever again.
Now, he could afford to be picky. His mana reserves were ample, so he intended to thoroughly assess each and every summoned candidate. If their skill set or contract terms didn’t meet his expectations, he would just dismiss them and summon someone else. He could go through the process as many times as necessary until he found the best Guardian for his dungeon’s needs.
He glanced at the words and numbers hovering in the air before him, showing him the Dungeon Core’s “stats” and “skills.” The first time he had seen this status screen was the day he met Celeste, at the ruins of his old castle. When she revealed it to him, he was taken aback. He hadn’t expected it at all that she also possessed a power that was structured so similarly to his own—his Thaumaturgy.
But after the initial surprise passed, he realized it was actually a blessing. The similarities made it easier for him to figure things out. He and Celeste had different “modules,” “Path of the Thaumaturgist” and “Path of the Dungeon,” which did different things, but the way the progression was organized was essentially the same. For the Dungeon Core to grow, he just needed to help her gather points, and once she had accumulated enough, she would level up and unlock new skills. Pretty straightforward, really.
He couldn’t help but wonder who had come up with all this in the first place. The Gods, perhaps? After all, it was said that the Gods had created the Dungeon Cores, so maybe they had created Thaumaturgy as well while they were at it. But if that were the case, then why?
Well, it didn’t matter.
Asking why the Gods did anything was like asking why bears shit in the woods. Some things just were, and trying to make sense of them was a fool’s errand. His objective remained unchanged: to track down the descendants of the Six Heroes, and kill them. Each one held a fragment of his power, a so-called “Key.” Only after obtaining all six would he reclaim what was rightfully his, and what made him him.
[Master, do you want to summon the new Guardian now, or wait until this afternoon?]
Viktor shook his head. “No, there’s not much time left this morning. I want to interview each candidate thoroughly, so it might take a while. As for the afternoon, I'll be at the Guild and won’t be coming back here.”
[Is something happening, Master?]
“The new Guildmaster will arrive today,” he replied. He needed to be there to observe them closely and assess what kind of person they were.
[I see.]
Now what? He still had some time before he needed to head back home to make lunch for Claire.
What should I do for the time I have left?
His gaze wandered around the room until it rested on the murals etched into the walls. A new scene had been added. It depicted Sebekton, his loyal Guardian, locked in a duel with Bjorn, the formidable Northman, with crescent moons and icy comets dancing between them. Off to the side, a lone mermaid was gliding through the water, toward the fight, and toward her doom. This was the first mural that didn’t depict someone meeting a gruesome end, and he found himself pleased by that. Yes, this portrayal felt just right. Celeste hadn’t disappointed him.
His eyes continued to roam the room, and then, he found the corner where several weapons and pieces of equipment lay scattered on the floor.
The Reliquaries.
These artifacts had once been wielded by the Dungeon Reavers, the invaders who had stormed his dungeon and slaughtered his minions. They were all corpses now, their cold, lifeless bodies stripped of these precious items.
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Yes, I can use the remaining time to decide what to do with these spoils of war.
He walked toward the corner, crouched down, and picked up a vambrace. It was made of boiled leather, its surface dark and weathered. Though it looked unremarkable, this was the Reliquary that had caused him so many headaches.
Viktor frowned. “What the hell is that backstory? A flame that doesn’t warm, but freezes people?”
[Well, there are many strange things that can happen in the world.]
“How do you know all of this anyway?” he asked, glancing at Celeste.
[All I did was show you the information stored within the Reliquary. I don’t know any more than you, Master.]
Someone had fought desperately for her salvation, clinging to the final shred of hope that she might escape her fate, only to realize it was all a lie. She was not even special, just one among many, deceived by an entity that was beyond her understanding and died a meaningless death. Viktor couldn’t say hearing that story brought him any comfort.
He shook his head. There was nothing to be done about it, and letting such stories cloud his mind would only hold him back. He needed to focus on the present and keep moving forward. Yes, just because someone else had failed didn’t mean he would end up the same way.
“Let’s put this into storage. I’ll decide what to do with it later,” he told Celeste before moving on to the next artifact, Bjorn’s sword.
So that was why the Northman kept unsheathing and resheathing his blade. The Reliquary’s requirement made it a bit cumbersome to use, but considering what the damned thing could do—how it cut through his minions like they were nothing—that awkwardness was but a trivial inconvenience.
“Let’s have Sebekton give it a swing. If he likes it, this could be a solid upgrade for his weapon.”
[Understood, Master.]
Now, the shield.
A warrior from the North? Was he a Brefjordian? Also, someone who died fighting to defend a bridge, huh?
Fianna...
Viktor sighed. “Again, tell Sebekton to try it out. We can use this to upgrade his armor.”
Next was the medallion, his old medallion, still looking the same after three hundred years.
Viktor had been keeping this medallion for quite a long time, using it to conquer many water realms across many dungeons. Yet until now, he had no idea it was forged from the soul of someone with a story like that. A foolish king who declared war upon the Gods, a king who desired to be more than a mortal, only to end up less. And all because he had listened to whispers from the Deep. Was that the same Great One the Acolytes worshipped? And then, the king’s entire fleet was destroyed by a storm summoned by a titan? The Storm Titan?
“Are all those backstories real? Did they all actually happen?”
[Yes, I think so, Master.]
“In this world?”
[Not necessarily. While crystallized essences usually stay put, every now and then one falls into the Ethereal Sea through a rift, and ends up drifting about until it either washes ashore in a different world or gets picked up by someone.]
So there was a world where the Storm Titan and the Great One of the Deep were both present at the same time? He wondered when that story happened, and what fate had ultimately befallen that world. Oh well, whatever. Not his problem.
Finally, the bow.
Out of all the Reliquaries, this was the one that interested him the most. After all, it guaranteed that every shot the wielder took would find its mark, as long as they could see the target. A terrifying prospect in the right hands. And in the hands of someone like him, who could see every corner of the dungeon, it was downright disgusting. The only problem was this scrawny body. He simply lacked the strength to shoot far enough to utilize this weapon’s potential to the fullest. Unless—
An idea had just dawned upon him.
“Celeste, call Kazyk. Tell him I’ve got something I want him to build.”

