[Chapter 138. Efficiency]

Searanox pushed through the heavy, gilded ballroom doors, the hinges groaning in a rhythmic protest that echoed off the high, vaulted ceilings. Inside, the voices of Lana and Sarah carried across the expanse, their words sharp against the relative silence of the hotel.

"Good, you're all together," he said, his voice flat and devoid of warmth as he surveyed the cleared space. The women had clearly been busy; the debris that had once littered the floor was swept into neat piles, and the various broken fixtures had been pushed to the periphery. "I see you've even managed to clean this shithole."

He crossed the room and dropped onto a velvet couch that had been shoved against the far wall, the springs creaking under the weight of his armor. He leaned back, his posture one of calculated exhaustion. "So, how was the city tour? Did you have fun? Are you still itching to run back home, or does the tower look a little less terrifying now that you’ve seen the alternative?"

The four women exchanged hesitant glances. Vanessa sat rigid in a nearby armchair, her hands folded tightly in her lap. The flickering light from the hallway cast long shadows across her face. "This city is hell," she said, her voice trembling slightly. "We've spent the afternoon talking to the survivors. We’ve heard... we've heard what happened to the women here under Thomas."

Sarah picked at a loose thread on a couch cushion, her eyes fixed firmly on her knees. "We thought... we thought we had it bad with you, Searanox," she whispered, her voice faltering before she could find the strength to continue. "But this... the things they described..."

The words hung in the air, heavy and unspoken, but the understanding was universal. In the tower, they were restricted, but they were safe. In the city, they had been prey.

"Enlightening, isn't it?" Carmen murmured from her corner of the room. She was leaning against a marble pillar, her sharp gaze never leaving him. Unlike the others, her fear was tempered by a cold, analytical detachment. "There's a significant difference between controlled subjugation and... well, total anarchy. To you, we are assets—valuable enough to protect and maintain. Here, we would have been nothing more than disposable commodities. Temporary distractions."

Lana stared at the floor, her shoulders slumped. "I don't ever want to be in a place like this again," she said, her voice so low it was almost a breath. "The tower is a cage, maybe, but at least we know exactly where we stand with you. There are rules there. Here, there’s only hunger."

Vanessa crossed her legs, the movement sharp and precise. "We want to get stronger. For real this time. Not the rush job you gave us before where we just stood behind a shield. If we’re going into that swamp today, we’re ready to do whatever is necessary."

"Good." Searanox leaned back further, his gauntleted hand tracing the worn, dusty fabric of the couch. "It’s about time you started seeing things clearly. Perspective is a powerful motivator." He fixed his gaze on Vanessa. "You're going in. But let's get one thing straight: you won't be fighting. Not yet. I have no desire to smell swamp rot on your skin for the next week because you tripped into a bog-hulk."

Vanessa straightened her back, her green eyes flashing with a spark of defiance. "Then what is our purpose in there? Are we just going to stand at the entrance and observe like children on a field trip?"

"Your purpose is to be present when the boss falls so you receive the system reward for clearing the instance," he replied, patting the backrest of the couch with a metallic clunk. "That way, I can ensure the bonus stat points are invested in people I can actually use, rather than being wasted on the locals who might die the moment I turn my back."

His gaze swept over the group, noting their reactions. "If you really want to brave a dungeon and test your mettle, I can send you into the Howling Caverns tomorrow. It would be the logical next step on your progression path."

The name alone sent a visible shudder through Lana. Her face paled as she recalled snippets of a conversation she’d overheard between Searanox and Iris regarding the nature of the beast-type dungeons.

Carmen’s brow furrowed as she began processing the name. "The Howling Caverns? Based on the linguistic cues, I’m assuming it’s inhabited by canine-type creatures or something that uses sonic attacks. What level are we talking about?"

"It’s just a Level 15 dungeon. Nothing you can't handle if you keep your heads," he said, pushing himself up from the couch. "But that's good timing. Iris needs to clear another dungeon today as well to maintain her lead." He began walking toward the door, his heavy boots echoing. "I’m going to store the latest meat haul in the basement cold-storage rooms. Once that’s done, we’ll head to the swamp."

Searanox made his way to the basement, systematically dropping the tons of harvested meat into one of the reinforced, windowless rooms. The cool, damp air of the cellar helped, but as he stood amidst the massive piles of meat, a thought struck him.

`A proper ice cellar would be a massive force multiplier for this city.` He mused. `With thirty thousand people, spoilage is my biggest enemy.`

At the thought of large-scale refrigeration, his mind immediately jumped to the Elemental Dire Wolf. He recalled the frost variant he had encountered—a beast that radiated a literal aura of sub-zero temperatures. He leaned against the stone wall of the basement, lost in a rapid-fire calculation of thermal dynamics and boss mechanics.

Many minutes of silence passed before he finally pushed himself off the wall. "It's possible to generate ice manually, but a persistent dungeon made of ice would be a far better solution than anything I could manufacture on my own," he muttered softly to himself as he headed back up the stairs.

With the four women trailing cautiously behind him, he moved out toward the city's outskirts. They arrived at the Rotting Swamp portal not long after; it was located in a sunken industrial park only a few kilometers from the hotel.

"Look, the portal is still on a cooldown cycle for a few more minutes," he said, retrieving his foldable chair from storage and setting it down. "I can bring you back to the tower afterward, if that's what you’d prefer."

"No, thank you," Vanessa answered quickly. The other three shook their heads in unison. "We would like to stay here and help Samantha with the organizing. If we're going to live here for a while, we should be useful."

"A noble sentiment. We shall see if you still possess it after the reality of the next few days sets in."

When the blue light of the portal stabilized, he got up, stored the chair, and walked toward the swirling gateway. The oppressive, humid air of the dungeon washed over them instantly, the pungent scent of sulfur and decay filling their lungs as they stepped onto the muddy bank.

"You will stay right here at the entrance," he told the women, his voice taking on a commanding edge. "Do not wander off. The fog in here is deceptive, and the water is deeper than it looks."

"Vanessa, keep in mind that you four still need to level up significantly before you can contribute," he reminded them as he began summoning his drones. The mechanical units hummed to life, their crimson lights flickering as they disappeared into the thick, low-hanging fog that obscured the tunnel leading into the open cavern ahead. "For that to happen, you have to clear dungeons, and not just once. You need consistency."

"Understood," Vanessa answered. The others simply nodded, their expressions a fragile mixture of primal fear and newfound determination.

"I will be back soon. Stay put."

He was about to step away when Carmen's sharp, clinical voice cut through the fog. "Wait. The risk-reward calculation for this exercise seems... inefficient. We gain nothing tangible by standing here, yet we face potential danger from environmental hazards or wandering creatures."

Searanox paused, turning slightly to face the petite teenager. "The calculation is perfectly simple, Carmen," he replied, his tone as flat as a machine's. "By being inside when the final objective is met, you gain an additional stat point and a share of the experience. Consider it an educational field trip. Besides, if you stay here, I don't have to worry about you smelling like swamp rot for the next few days."

Without waiting for a rebuttal, he turned and disappeared into the swirling grey mist. The sound of his boots was quickly swallowed by the oppressive silence of the bog.

The seconds stretched into long, agonizing minutes for the women left behind. The initial surge of adrenaline that had carried them through the portal now gave way to the dungeon's naturally crushing atmosphere. The constant, unseen movements in the murky water—the ripples of things that swam beneath the surface—frayed their nerves. Every distant croak of a frog or the rustle of dead leaves made them jump.

"I don't like this at all," Lana whispered, her knuckles white as she gripped Vanessa's arm for support. "It feels... it feels like the swamp is alive. Like it's watching us."

"Focus, Lana," Vanessa commanded, though her own voice was strained as she scanned the impenetrable gloom. "Remember what he said. We're here to learn how he operates. Just keep your eyes open."

"He also explicitly said not to wander off," Carmen added, her analytical mind struggling to suppress the primal terror clawing at her gut. "The unknown variables are too significant. This fog could be a hazard in itself, reducing visibility and potentially carrying airborne toxins or spores."

Just as Lana was about to reply, the silence of the swamp was shattered. A series of distant, wet crunching sounds echoed through the cavern, followed by the heavy, echoing thud of something massive hitting the ground. A few seconds later, another thud resonated from a different direction.

The sounds were rhythmic, systematic, and utterly devoid of the chaotic screaming or metal clashing they’d expected from a battle. It was the sound of an industrial exterminator at work, not a warrior fighting for his life. The sheer, cold efficiency of the massacre was more terrifying to them than any monster's roar could have been.

And then, as fast as it had started, the noise stopped. A system window flickered into existence before each of them, announcing the dungeon's completion.

Moments later, the fog parted. Sarah, overcome by the need for fresh air, shoved past the others and stumbled toward the exit. The sudden transition back to the portal's light made her squint, and in her haste, she didn't see the figure stepping out of the gloom. She slammed into something as hard as solid stone.

The impact knocked her completely off balance, a sharp gasp escaping her as she pitched forward toward the ground.

A metal-clad arm snapped around her waist with lightning speed, hauling her upright and pinning her against an immovable, armored body. The sensation of muscles like steel cables pressing through his undersuit was overwhelming. His scent—a mix of ozone, cold metal, and the faint musk of the wolf-woman—cut through the stagnant reek of the swamp clinging to his clothes.

Heat bloomed across Sarah's face as she stared up into Searanox's impassive expression.

"Careful," he said. His voice was flat, the word clipped and professional. He let go the moment he felt she had found her footing, stepping back to give her space.

Vanessa, Lana, and Carmen emerged from the portal behind her, their eyes wide. They glanced between Sarah's flushed cheeks and Searanox, who stood waiting by the portal as if the total extermination of a Level 15 dungeon was nothing more than a routine chore.