No, no, no…
Letia shook those cosmic storms out of her mind.
She honestly didn’t have much in the way of feelings for Red; more than anything, she just wanted his protection.
How could the thing Liz was worried about ever happen?
“I’ll leave this to you, Letia.”
Liz withdrew the hand she’d placed on Letia’s shoulder.
“I’ll keep investigating Little’s identity. I’m not giving up.”
Looking at the ever-so-straightforward Liz, Letia couldn’t hold back a question.
“Then… Captain, what about the dungeon expedition?”
“……”
Liz was speechless for a moment.
“Another week of rest.”
“Alright.”
Letia could accept that outcome.
The more things got postponed, the more time she had to prepare.
However, there was still a rather serious problem at hand.
How should she handle this Recording Crystal in her possession?
It wasn’t realistic to just throw it away, but keeping it in her own bedroom was even less realistic.
Wouldn’t it just get in the way when she wanted to play Koukou Space?
So how should she deal with it?
After much deliberation, Letia finally decided…
She’d just stuff it in Otto’s bedroom.
***
Meanwhile, on the other side, Red was finally meeting the person he’d been waiting for.
He turned his head and saw the light at the door briefly blocked by a tall figure—a blue-haired, strikingly androgynous lancer.
The person scanned the tavern as they entered, quickly locking onto Red sitting in the corner.
“Your taste is as gloomy as ever,” the lancer strode over, “couldn’t you pick a nicer place?”
“It’s quiet enough here, and inconspicuous.”
Red set down his clay cup and replied with a smile, “Long time no see, Ailian.”
Ailian didn’t stand on ceremony—he pulled out the chair across from Red and sat down.
The silvery light armor he wore glinted coldly under the dim lamps.
One hand rested casually against his cheek, the other lay on the table as he studied Red.
“Let’s skip the pleasantries,” Ailian had no interest in catching up.
His chin-propping hand pressed a little harder as he leaned forward, his gaze intense on Red.
“I heard you left the Dawnblade. Is it true?”
To this, Red gave a wry nod.
He hadn’t expected that after the incident at the banquet, everyone seemed to know about his leaving the team.
Even this old friend, whom he hadn’t contacted in ages, had heard about it.
“Did you leave on your own? Or did they kick you out?”
Ailian’s brow furrowed, his tone edged with interrogation.
“Both, I suppose, but mostly the former.”
Red glanced at a nearby server, “Excuse me, could we get two pints of draft beer?”
“No need, I don’t drink.”
“Then I’ll drink both.”
“…”
Ailian’s mouth twitched at Red’s joke.
“Fine, since it’s the stingy iron rooster’s treat, I’ll do you the honor and accept.”
“Cheers.”
The two clinked their glasses and downed their drinks.
After just one, Ailian’s face was already a little flushed.
“…Are you really satisfied with your life now, Red…”
Ailian met Red’s eyes.
“You gave up being an adventurer—is this really what you want?”
With that, Ailian, taking advantage of his slight tipsiness, reached out a hand toward Red.
“Join us. The Winter Wardens may not be as renowned as the Dawnblade, but I believe your talent and abilities would truly shine with us.”
Ailian’s voice was urgent and sincere, filled with unshakable conviction.
But even so, Red only shook his head.
“No, for now I have no intention of going deeper into the dungeons.”
“……”
Ailian wasn’t really surprised by that answer.
They were old friends, after all; who didn’t know how stubborn Red could be?
“By the way, didn’t you guys clear the twentieth floor recently? The spoils should’ve been pretty good, right?”
Red was trying to steer the conversation elsewhere—some small talk before getting to business.
But as soon as he said it, Ailian’s expression grew exceedingly grim.
“We went into the twentieth floor with thirty-seven people. When we came out, there were only twenty left…”
“So most of the earnings went to consolations for the fallen.”
“The books just barely balanced…”
Ailian’s words were brief, but only he knew how heavy they really were.
“The casualties were that bad?”
Red clearly hadn’t expected the Winter Wardens to get pushed to their limits on just the twentieth floor.
“You think everyone’s like you?”
Ailian gave a disgruntled snort.
“If you pity me so much, then quit the chatter and join up—we can talk about pay later.”
Faced with Ailian’s second invitation, Red still just shook his head.
Seeing this, Ailian sighed.
“Without your help, we’ll need at least a month—maybe even several—just to recover our fighting strength.”
That’s the dungeon for you—a brutal coliseum paved with bones and built on a staircase of blood and flesh.
Every floor deeper multiplies the difficulty exponentially; for most adventurers, the Dawnblade’s record of “zero casualties” is a legend far out of reach.
But if the dungeon is so dangerous, why do so many adventurers and heroes keep pouring in?
Partly because of the treasure within: magical artifacts and riches beyond counting.
Many enter simply for the money.
Another reason is the dungeon monsters themselves—slaying them lets you absorb their magic power, almost like grinding for experience.
The deeper you go, the stronger you become; an adventurer back from the twentieth floor is an overwhelming force compared to someone still lingering on the tenth.
And most importantly, legend has it that anyone who reaches the fiftieth floor will step into a realm no human has ever reached before.
For strength and for fortune, the dungeon is like a beacon in the night, drawing adventurers to its flame like moths to fire.
“Right,” Red seemed to recall something at this point, pulling a stack of papers from his pocket.
“Here, take this.”
“What’s this?”
“Combat Plan I left behind at the Dawnblade, written to tackle the twenty-first floor.”
Red smiled, “Someone recently asked me for a new Combat Plan, and while I was digging through my old stuff, I found this.
Thought maybe it could help you guys, so I brought it along.”
“……”
Ailian flipped through it, his expression growing more alarmed the further he read.
The whole plan laid out nearly every detail of the twenty-first floor—the monster placements, their weaknesses, optimal routes, and avoidance strategies.
The only thing not marked, restricted by that damned “Resurrection Mechanism” of the dungeon, was the random appearance of treasure chests and bosses.
But even so, just this “old draft” in hand gave Ailian absolute confidence: with the Winter Wardens’ remaining twenty, they could take the twenty-first floor without any reinforcements or rest, and come out with almost zero casualties!