[Chapter 133. The Right Use of the Dungeon]

Searanox crossed the damp, stone chamber, his movements fluid and silent despite the heavy armor. He came to a halt before the small, ornate chest resting behind the now-vacant throne. "As for this," he said, his voice echoing with a cold, hollow resonance against the ancient stone walls, "you’ll gather the contents from every subsequent clear. I will collect the accumulated loot whenever I visit the city to clear the level fifteen dungeon."

He reached down and lifted a small, heavy pouch from the chest, weighing it in his hand for a moment before examining the drawstring. "I’ll provide a baseline of gear for ten of you to start. However, do not mistake this for charity. The contents of this chest remain my property until you’ve collectively repaid the value of the equipment I’m investing in your survival."

With a sharp, blue flash of light, the pouch vanished into his storage ring. He turned his head slightly, his eyes catching the dim light as he looked at his two companions. "Now, we’re leaving. You two will be in control of the schedule when I’m not physically present."

"You mean... we're in charge now? Just like that?" Rayan asked, his voice tensed with a mixture of disbelief and sudden, crushing weight. He and Samantha trailed behind Searanox as they began the walk back toward the portal, her new boots clicking rhythmically against the stone.

"You are in charge of the dungeon operations, not the city itself," Searanox clarified, his gaze sweeping briefly over the swirling blue portal as they approached the exit. "You will be responsible for gathering the groups, maintaining the rotation, and ensuring they actually step inside. I will check the progress of the city’s average level daily. And if I am not satisfied with the speed of your development..."

He let the threat hang in the air, heavy and unspoken. The implication was clear: his patience was a finite resource. They hurried their pace to catch up with his long, effortless strides.

"Understood," Rayan said, his voice tight and resolute as he matched Searanox's pace. Samantha remained silent, her face partially obscured by the shadows and the flickering, dim glow of the portal. Her knuckles were white where she gripped the hem of her shirt, but she didn't argue.

"I’ll bring the meat tomorrow morning. Have a processing team ready at dawn." Searanox stopped abruptly, turning to face Rayan. The suddenness of the movement made the younger man flinch. "This isn't a request for a volunteer shift, Rayan. It is a directive."

"Understood," Rayan repeated, nodding firmly.

Searanox turned and stepped through the portal. The transition was instantaneous, and his gaze immediately swept across the crowd assembled in the cool night air outside the broken building. The silence was absolute as he looked over the faces of those who had waited.

"Who left the instance before he was supposed to?"

His voice cut through the stillness like a jagged blade, sharp and devoid of warmth. The crowd shifted nervously, men and women glancing at each other with wide, frightened eyes. Slowly, the group parted, creating a vacuum of space around a heavyset man in his late twenties. Sweat was beading on the man's forehead despite the chill of the night, and his breath was coming in shallow hitches.

"Congratulations," Searanox said, closing the distance between them in three slow, deliberate steps. "Everyone else who stayed inside for the duration is now level five. You, however, chose to step out early. You remain at level zero."

He paused, tilting his head as he studied the man's trembling form. "Do you have a wife? Children?"

"N-no," the man stammered, his eyes fixed firmly on the dirt at Searanox’s feet.

"Good." Searanox’s tone remained chillingly flat. "Then you are the only one who will suffer the immediate consequences of your own incompetence. If you had people relying on you, I might have actually felt a flicker of pity for them. As it stands, you’ve simply signaled your own irrelevance."

He turned his back on the man and addressed the group at large. "You will report to Rayan and Samantha in the morning. From this moment on, what happens inside that dungeon is your collective responsibility. If you fail to clear it, you fail yourselves."

He began to walk along the perimeter of the crowd, his boots crunching loudly on the gravel and debris. The survivors watched him, their expressions a mix of awe and terror. After a few steps, he glanced back over his shoulder.

"In six days, this city should be able to field multiple groups of level ten. At a minimum." His voice carried easily in the quiet night air. "Due to the staggering levels of past incompetence and malice shown by your previous 'leadership,' I will personally assist one team of five to reach that level as a vanguard. The rest is entirely up to you."

He stopped, turning to face them one last time. "Have a good night. Sleep well while you still can."

Without another word, he turned and walked toward the entrance of the level fifteen dungeon. His silhouette was quickly swallowed by the darkness of the ruined street, leaving the crowd standing in a stunned, heavy silence.

After clearing the level fifteen dungeon, Searanox had his transport drone drop him off at the hotel. He walked through the lobby, the silence of the building now feeling hollow rather than tense. He reached his room and sighed; the door still hung crookedly on its single, mangled hinge, a reminder of his earlier entrance.

"What a fucking shit show..." he muttered to the empty room, collapsing onto the bed without bothering to remove his armor.

He lay there for a moment, staring at the cracked ceiling. `The others need to come here soon. They should clear the swamp dungeon as a priority. He sat up, the mattress groaning and complaining beneath his weight. But they need to clear the localized dungeons around the tower first to maximize the efficiency of the growth curve. Unless I clear the path for them.`

His mind began to calculate the various permutations of reward distribution. `Clearing it for them would only truly matter for Iris. But this could also be the perfect chance to test the reward distribution mechanics after what I saw with Rayan. The system allows party members to leave and re-enter without breaking the instance, but to what extent? As long as one remains inside, or the objectives aren't finished?`

A soft, tentative voice broke the silence, sounding small against the backdrop of the groaning, wind-swept building. "Hello? Is... is anyone in there?"

Searanox pushed himself off the bed, his boots scraping across the floor as he stood. A woman stood framed in the splintered doorway, the dim light from the hallway casting her features in soft shadow. She was clutching her arms, looking at the ruin of the door.

"Oh... there you are." She twisted the hem of her shirt, her knuckles turning white as she struggled for composure. "I wanted... I wanted to come by and thank you."

"For what?" Searanox asked, closing the distance between them until he stood just inside the threshold.

"For Thomas. For his men." Her voice dropped to a barely audible whisper. "For ending it." She looked down the hall, where doors hung from broken hinges like hanging flaps of skin. "If you want, you can stay at my place for the rest of the night... There’s not exactly much privacy left in this wing after you kicked all the doors in."

"I wasn't planning on sleeping in this city," Searanox replied, his gaze neutral.

The woman’s gaze flickered to his face, her eyes searching his for some sign of humanity before darting away again. "You have to rest eventually... you’re human, aren’t you? Mostly?" Her fingers tightened further around the fabric of her shirt. "I heard what you did at the portal. I heard you freed the women. You even cleared the dungeon for them after you fought."

"Am I right in thinking you want to be in a private location with me?" Searanox asked, his voice cutting through her rambling.

The woman nodded once, a sharp, jerky movement, without speaking.

"Fine," Searanox said, his pragmatism winning out over his desire to simply sit in the dark and plan. "Lead the way."

The woman, led him through the winding, debris-choked streets of the city center. Her steps were quick and uneven, her eyes constantly darting toward the dark alleys and hollowed-out windows of the looming buildings. The silence between them stretched, heavy and awkward, until she finally found the courage to speak again.

"I’m Natalie," she said, her voice barely a breath.

Searanox kept pace behind her, his boots crunching steadily on the shattered glass and masonry that littered the asphalt. He said nothing in return, his eyes scanning the rooftops from habit rather than any real fear of the local populace.

She stopped before a modest, three-story residential building that looked remarkably intact compared to its neighbors. "Here," she said, pushing open a warped wooden door.

Inside, the air was warmer, smelling faintly of woodsmoke and old dust. A small fire burned within a circle of stones in the corner of the ground-floor room, casting flickering, orange light across the space. Natalie gestured toward a rough, mismatched wooden table and a pair of chairs. "Sit. Please." Her hands were trembling as she pointed toward a small metal pot suspended over the fire. "The water’s warm, if you want to wash up."

"No," Searanox said, his gaze sweeping the room and noting the exits and the structural weak points. "I’m not thirsty, and I’m not here to wash."

She stood before him, her fingers once again twisting her shirt. "Thomas... his men... they were monsters." She swallowed hard, her eyes glistening. "You ended it. We’ve lived in fear since the very first day. Every night was a gamble."

Her eyes met his briefly, filled with a desperate, raw gratitude, before dropping back to the floor. "I wanted to give something back. Something that was just for you. Not because I was told to, but because I wanted to."

Searanox reached out, his gauntleted hand moving slowly. He placed two fingers under her chin and tilted her face up to meet his. "Are you entirely sure about that, Natalie? I am not a kind man. I am not your savior."

Natalie nodded, her breath catching in her throat as she leaned into the touch. "I’m sure."

The first rays of dawn were beginning to break through the cracks in the boarded-up window as Searanox pushed himself up from the thin mattress. The fire in the corner had died down to a bed of glowing red embers. Natalie lay on her side beside him, her back streaked with a sheen of sweat, her breathing still somewhat ragged and uneven in the morning chill.

"I... I can do more," she whispered, her body trembling slightly beneath the thin, threadbare blanket. Her voice was thick with exhaustion, yet there was a strange, frantic need in it.

He looked down at her, his expression as unreadable and cold as the stone in the dungeon. "You’ve done enough."

He began to dress, his movements methodical and precise as he strapped on his armor and checked his gear. The clinking of the metal plates was the only sound in the small room.

"But I want to please you," she said, her voice barely audible over the sound of a distant, waking bird.

He paused mid-motion, his fingers curled around the pull of his boot. "You did. That is sufficient for now." Once he was finished dressing, he stood and looked down at her. "Do not expect special treatment because of this, Natalie. The rules I set for the city apply to you as much as they do to anyone else."

Natalie flinched at the harshness of his tone, but she shook her head, a small, tired smile touching her lips. "No. I don't want a crown. Just knowing that you’re the one in charge... that’s enough for me."

His hand came to rest on the splintered wood of the doorframe. He looked back at her one last time, his eyes glowing faintly in the dawn light. "Then get stronger. If you want to survive what’s coming in six days, you need to be more than a grateful victim. If you can do that, then maybe you’ll last the entire night next time."

He stepped out into the dawn-lit street, the door swinging shut behind him with a soft, final thud, leaving her alone with the fading scent of their encounter and the cold reality of a world that had no room for weakness.