Chapter 323: The Basement

The following afternoon.

Zich moved his left shoulder slightly. The wound had already healed completely, but large movements still caused a dull pain. Nevertheless, it was much better than a few days ago. At the very least, he could now put on his own coat.

He changed into a black combat outfit, strapped Frostgrave to his back, and checked the contents of his spatial bag.

There were soul stones, a few bottles of recovery potions, and a communicator.

He had no intention of going anywhere else today.

There was only one thing he needed to confirm.

...

Twenty minutes later, Zich stood in front of the mansion he had rented.

He pressed his silver access token against the sensor, and the main door slid open silently.

Everything was exactly as he had left it.

Quiet, tidy, and without any signs that someone had searched the place.

The Failure Network knew the location of this mansion, but after Arthur strengthened security, they clearly hadn’t dared to approach it again.

Zich crossed the living room and headed toward the staircase leading to the basement.

At the bottom of the stairs stood a heavy iron door.

The locks on its surface gleamed coldly.

Just as he approached, a faint clattering of bones came from the other side.

Click. Click.

The door was pushed open slightly from inside.

An undead skeleton soldier poked half its skull through the gap. Two ghostly green soul flames burned within its empty eye sockets, and it held a tray containing two empty bowls of thin porridge.

Upon seeing Zich, it immediately hid the tray behind its back.

Then, with a sharp snap, it stood at attention, its skeletal joints producing a series of crisp cracking sounds.

Zich: "...You don’t need to hide it."

The skeleton soldier tilted its head, seemingly contemplating the meaning of those words.

Two seconds later, it brought the tray back out and handed it to Zich before turning around to resume guarding the door.

Zich accepted the tray and pushed the iron door open.

The basement was illuminated by harsh white lights.

Two Failures were chained to opposite walls.

One had a collapsed shoulder, while the other’s leg was broken.

Their faces were even paler than the last time he had seen them. Their eyes were sunken, and their lips were cracked.

Hearing footsteps, both men raised their heads.

When they recognized the person entering, the man with the collapsed shoulder visibly trembled.

"Y-you... What are you doing here again?"

His voice was hoarse, carrying unmistakable fear.

Zich pulled over a chair and sat down in front of them.

"Just checking whether you’re still alive."

"..."

The two men exchanged glances, neither saying anything.

Zich didn’t bother questioning them for new information.

He had already asked everything he needed to know.

The two had revealed the location of the Failure Network’s stronghold in the First Shelter.

According to them, it was in the Lower District, near the edge of the Privileged District. An unmarked iron door stood between two mottled stone walls, leading underground.

However, Zich hadn’t rushed to take action.

Arthur had warned him that they shouldn’t alert the enemy before finding the mole.

If they led a group to raid that stronghold now, the mole would immediately receive word, and the entire network would relocate.

So they would wait.

"Your boss... Silas Crow."

Zich suddenly spoke.

Both men’s bodies stiffened simultaneously.

The man with the broken leg swallowed, his eyes flickering nervously.

"Y-you... You’ve met him?"

"He came by."

There was a brief moment of silence before the man with the collapsed shoulder lowered his head, his voice dropping almost to a whisper.

"You’d better... be careful around him. That man... isn’t a normal Player."

"What’s abnormal about him?"

"He’s been on the First Layer for too long."

The man raised his head, an almost instinctive terror visible in his eyes.

"Longer than anyone else. He’s watched batch after batch of newcomers ascend, while he remains trapped here forever. Do you know what that kind of experience can turn a person into?"

Zich looked directly into his eyes.

"Into what?"

"Into... something that doesn’t fear death, but won’t allow anyone else to live either."

Zich didn’t ask any further questions.

He stood up and pushed the chair back into its original position.

"Your meals will be delivered on time. Don’t even think about escaping."

He glanced at the skeleton soldier standing near the entrance.

"Its orders are to break your legs if you attempt to escape."

Both Failures shuddered.

Zich turned and headed upstairs, the iron door closing behind him once again.

...

After returning to the living room, Zich sat on the sofa for a while.

His communicator suddenly vibrated.

It was the group chat Helen had created.

Helen: You went out?? Didn’t I say you weren’t allowed to go to the training ground?

Zich: I didn’t go to the training ground.

Helen: ...When did you leave?

Zich: Twenty minutes ago.

Helen: Where did you go?

Zich: To confirm something.

Jayden: Confirm what?

Zich: Family matters.

Jayden: What family matters do you even have?

Helen: Stop asking. If he doesn’t want to say, he doesn’t want to say.

Mira: I planted a new batch of spirit herbs. They’ll be ready to harvest next week. Zich, do you want some? They’re good for recovery.

Zich: Sure. Thanks.

Helen: Message me when you get back.

Zich: Mm.

Zich turned off his communicator and leaned back against the sofa, staring at the ceiling.

Silas Crow... The look in that man’s eyes when he said those words hadn’t seemed fabricated.

Someone who had been trapped on the First Layer for who knew how many years, watching countless newcomers pass him by, ascend, and disappear. Yet he himself remained in the same place forever.

"...Lunatic," Zich muttered. "He has probably lost his mind already."

He stood up and brushed nonexistent dust from his coat as he slowly left the mansion.

...

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