Chapter 66 Let’s start with a quick explanation about dungeons
Edited by: Kanaa-senpai
In this world, there are two kinds: natural and artificial.
Natural dungeons form on their own. Artificial ones were created later by people who wanted to harvest the “good parts” of those natural ones.
What do you gain from a dungeon? Three main things.
First—the treasure.
Not just gold and silver, but ancient relics, magic tools from lost civilizations, divine artifacts, Skill Orbs, even forgotten knowledge. Some of it’s junk collected by roaming monsters, but much of it’s produced directly by the Dungeon Core.
The results vary wildly—some worthless, some worth enough to retire on. That’s why most adventurers risk their lives down here: the dream of one lucky find.
Second—resources generated inside the dungeon.
The air here is thick with miasma.
Plants and ores steeped in that energy absorb and mutate under its influence. Some even change their very nature.
Take magic steel, for example. It’s harder than iron, lighter, and conducts mana nearly as well as mithril.
To a blacksmith, it’s a miracle metal. The raw magic ore that becomes it exists only in dungeons. Some say it’s just ordinary iron ore that’s soaked up miasma for centuries and transformed.
There are rare herbs too—stronger, stranger, more potent than anything found on the surface.
And third—the magical beasts that roam these halls.
Defeating them yields valuable materials and the crystal-like Magic Stones inside their bodies.
Those stones power weapons, armor, and magic tools, so even the smallest ones fetch a price. Most explorers earn their living by hunting monsters for these stones.
A goblin or kobold, the weakest of all monsters, usually drops a C-10-class Magic Stone—worth about three to five copper coins, say three to five hundred yen. One in three might carry a C-9-class stone, worth ten copper coins.
Kill ten in a day and you’ve made sixty or seventy coins. Not much for risking your life, but with good prep and a level head, even a child could manage goblins. That’s where most novices start.
They say dungeons are alive—and that each one has a guardian called a Dungeon Master.
A dungeon survives by absorbing miasma. To do that efficiently, it uses that same energy to trigger various phenomena.
The Dungeon Master controls those phenomena. When no master exists, the flow of miasma goes wild. The dungeon collapses—or releases its beasts in a massive “stampede.”
Now imagine being able to control the Dungeon Core itself—or even the Dungeon Master.
If someone could do that, they’d hold the world in their hands.
Ancient rulers once tried.
They researched how to build dungeons from scratch, and succeeded—partially. The artificial dungeons that remain today are their legacy.
”And reigning as this dungeon’s master—” Kanata raised his arms grandly “—is yours truly!”
He burst into laughter. “Wahahahaha!”
His voice echoed off the stone and died in the emptiness.
’…’
”Come on, say something,” he muttered, bowing his head toward the sword stuck in the ground before him. “Please?”
A weary sigh drifted from the blade.
’So? What exactly do you want me to do?’
”That’s obvious…” Kanata began, explaining his request while his mind replayed how things had ended up like this.
* * *
”Huh… what is this supposed to mean?”
Kanata frowned at the map he’d drawn, tapping the parchment with his finger.
He’d fallen into this dungeon thanks to Tsubasa—but even Tsubasa probably hadn’t realized his artificial dungeon connected to another one below.
Kanata had considered the possibility, but never imagined the two would actually overlap so closely.
Taking advantage of it, he’d tossed Tsubasa into his dungeon and left him to handle cleanup while he went off exploring this newly discovered one.
After a full day of wandering, he’d managed to map what he could. The result sat before him now.
”There’s a clear line here… something changes past this point.”
He glanced around the small chamber where he sat.
A corridor extended to his right; part of the left wall had collapsed, revealing a tunnel deeper in.
On the corridor side, the stone walls were neat and uniform—too precise to be natural. It looked like a man-made labyrinth.
Beyond the broken wall, raw rock jutted out in uneven ridges—a natural cave.
The contrast between the two bothered him.
”Hmm… what was that quote again? ‘When you eliminate the impossible, whatever remains—however improbable—must be the truth.’”
He mumbled to himself, thinking through the conclusion he’d reached.
There must’ve been an original dungeon here long ago.
When Tsubasa created his own, it happened to overlap the existing one, linking the two—and eventually connecting both to Kanata’s dungeon.
”That means I should start by exploring this side…”
He sighed.
The more he mapped, the clearer it became that this place stretched endlessly. Just the thought of surveying it all made him want to give up and go home.
”No. Opportunities like this don’t come twice.”
He chuckled to himself. He wasn’t proud of his lazy, pampered days surrounded by girls—but this time, he’d see it through.
Truth be told, part of him missed that lazy, hedonistic life.
But another part—the deeper one—was tired of it.
The endless skirmishes with the human race bored him, yet he couldn’t deny the rush that came with danger.
Simply put, he wanted adventure again. And there was no way he could pass up the chance to explore an unknown dungeon that had practically fallen into his lap.
Kanata folded the map and stepped carefully through the collapsed wall.
The instant his foot crossed the threshold, something strange coursed through his body—a fleeting pulse, as if invisible hands had brushed across his skin.
It was gone in a heartbeat, but the feeling lingered. He tried to shrug it off as his imagination, yet unease gnawed at him.
He turned around to double-check.
Nothing.
The corridor he’d just walked through was gone—vanished.
Only a solid stone wall blocked his path.
”Damn it. No way back, huh?”
He searched every inch of the rock for cracks or hidden mechanisms, but found nothing. Wasting more time would change nothing.
With a resigned sigh, Kanata turned forward and began exploring the ancient passage, step by cautious step.
* * *
An hour later, he stood in a wide chamber at the heart of the ruins.
At its center rose an altar, and embedded in it—a single sword.
It jutted upward like it was waiting for someone to claim it.
Kanata crossed his arms, frowning.
”Figures. The classic setup.”
He stared at the blade. “So what’s the play here?
Is this a helper item for beating the boss… or a seal keeping the boss trapped?”
If it was the former, great. He’d take it and move on.
But if it was the latter, pulling it out could unleash whatever nightmare slept beneath.
Then again, leaving a sealed monster alive might cause trouble later.
He weighed his options, thoughts looping endlessly in his head.
”Right. Time for a break.”
Kanata stopped thinking and unpacked an emergency ration kit, simmering a simple soup over his portable burner.
He’d learned the hard way that thinking on an empty stomach only led to bad ideas.
By the time the soup was ready, about thirty minutes later, a voice echoed through the room.
’Enough already—pull out the sword!’
Kanata froze mid-stir.
That was how he met the so-called holy sword—Faris.
He didn’t answer. Just ladled soup into his bowl and began to eat.
’I said pull it out! You can hear me, can’t you?!’
The voice came again, sharper this time. Kanata calmly took another bite.
’Don’t ignore me! Pull me out right now!’
Still nothing. He ate, finished, then poured himself a cup of tea.
’Please? You can hear me, right? Come on, I’m begging you. Pull me out…’
The once-commanding voice had turned meek, almost tearful.
’I’m an intelligent weapon, you know! I’ve got power, enchantments, value—everything! Don’t you want me?’
Her tone quivered, and Kanata’s hand paused midair.
Sensing a reaction, the voice perked up again.
’Ah, I knew it! You’re interested, aren’t you? Let me explain—just pull me out first!’
Kanata refilled his teacup.
’Please! Anything you want! Just pull me out!’
By the time she was nearly sobbing, Kanata sighed. He’d already decided to try after resting anyway.
”…Fine. But if something nasty pops out, I’m breaking you first.”
’No, no, you’re fine! Nothing’s sealed! You can trust me, Master!’
Her tone flipped cheerful again, and Kanata turned his back.
’W-wait! I’m sorry! Please, Master, I’ll do anything!’
The desperation in her voice was pitiful. Kanata finally relented.
He gripped the hilt. “Betray me and you’re scrap metal.”
He pulled.
Pop!
The blade slid free effortlessly, so easily that the sudden lack of resistance sent him tumbling backward onto his rear.
’Good! Now take the black core from the altar and fit it into the slot on the hilt!’
Kanata looked over. Embedded in the altar was a black crystal orb, about the size of a child’s fist.
He examined the hilt—sure enough, there was a circular indentation where it would fit.
’Go on, don’t be shy! Slot it right in!’
”…What happens if I smash it?”
’Don’t! I’m sorry! Just put it in, please!’
He sighed and brought the orb close.
’It’s my first time… be gentle, okay?’
”….”
Kanata jammed it in without hesitation.
’Ah—ahhh!’
The sword blazed with light, its rusted form morphing into a gleaming platinum longsword adorned with intricate engravings.
’Phew. Master, you’re a bit rough, you know.’
Kanata blinked. “So this is your real form?”
’More or less. But thank you for freeing me, Master.’
”…Mind explaining what exactly you are?”
’I would love to… but first, may I ask—what are you, Master?’
That was all the invitation Kanata needed.
He launched into a full, self-satisfied speech about being a Dungeon Master—and that led to where they were now.
* * *
’So when you said, “become mine,” you meant what exactly?’ Faris asked flatly.
’Are you… aroused by inanimate objects, Master?’
”Wha—no! That’s not what I meant at all!”
’Heehee… that’s fine, Master. I can adjust to your tastes. “I’ll become your color,” as they say.’
A soft laugh echoed through the chamber. Kanata winced.
A minute ago, he’d been the one in control—but somehow, the situation had turned upside down. Where had it all gone wrong?
He bowed his head.
”Please, just stop already! Forget that part—tell me about you.”
’Me?’ the voice teased.
”I mean… uh, Holy Sword… ma’am?”
’Heehee, I’m joking. Call me Faris. So—where should I start?’
Her tone stayed playful, though there was a trace of thoughtfulness now.
”Well, I want to say everything, but that’s vague. Let’s start simple. You said you’re an Intelligent Weapon, right? Does that mean you’re the sword’s consciousness?”
’That’s… complicated,’ she replied after a pause. ‘But if I had to put it simply—I’m a Dungeon Core.’
Kanata blinked. “Come again?”
’Even I’m not entirely sure,’ Faris admitted. Her voice softened, almost cautious, as if testing whether he could follow. ‘But maybe this will help you understand.’
* * *
’A dungeon,’ she began, ‘is born when a Dungeon Core comes into existence.’
The world, she explained, was filled with mana—the essence of all things. When that mana becomes tainted or twisted, it turns into a volatile energy called miasma.
Miasma changes easily under its surroundings. The magic that humans and monsters use is essentially the act of reshaping miasma through will and imagery.
To use magic, then, is to impose your imagination on miasma and force it to become real.
But miasma’s influence is dangerous.
Plants and beasts that can survive it evolve, their bodies adapting over generations. Those are the magical beasts.
Likewise, demonkin and demi-humans are species that rewrote their bodies to coexist with miasma.
Humans, on the other hand, are resistant—thanks to the Goddess’s blessing. That resistance lets them live safely in tainted lands but makes manipulating magic far harder.
’When miasma builds up too much, it harms living things,’ Faris continued. ‘So the world has a natural cleaning system: the dragon veins. They absorb miasma, purify it, and return it to mana. Think of them as the planet’s blood vessels, running beneath the continents. Thanks to them, the world stays balanced.’
But not perfectly.
Some places lie beyond the dragon veins’ reach—or worse, the veins there have transformed. Miasma accumulates in such places, forming what’s known as a miasma pool.
Over time, those pools warp the land, drawing in more of the same energy and altering their surroundings. That’s how dungeons begin.
The mutated miasma gathers itself into a core, starts managing the area, and uses excess energy to create “bait”—resources to lure living creatures. It spawns monsters to hunt and absorb them, reclaiming miasma from their remains to grow stronger.
And thus, the dungeon evolves.
’But,’ Faris added, ‘a Core by itself isn’t intelligent. It just optimizes. To function properly, it needs a Dungeon Master—a chosen life-form given the authority to direct it.’
That caught Kanata’s attention. “So that’s where I come in.”
’Exactly. Long ago, ancient mages tried to create Cores that could think on their own. Artificial intelligence, you could say. The by-products of that research were homunculi, magical beasts with human-like intellect, and Intelligent Weapons like me.’
Even with their incredible knowledge, the ancients could only produce a handful of self-aware Cores—and even those were experimental, placed in scattered artificial dungeons.
Faris herself, it seemed, was one such relic of that forgotten age.
* * *
”So… this sword,” Kanata said. “You called it an Intelligent Weapon earlier. What’s that about?”
The voice hesitated—an odd thing for a being without a face, but he could almost feel her looking away.
’Well… I didn’t lie,’ she said defensively. ‘An Intelligent Weapon is created when an “Intelligence Core” like me attaches to a vessel—a weapon made to house it.’
She explained that Intelligence Cores were rare and unstable without hosts.
Only certain weapons could accept them, depending on material, craft, and magical affinity. Even identical swords might differ—one could serve as a vessel, the other not.
’So technically,’ she said brightly, ‘when I inhabit a weapon, it is an Intelligent Weapon. See? No lies here!’
Kanata could practically picture her puffing up her nonexistent chest in pride.
”Huh. So your consciousness lives inside the sword, and that makes you an Intelligent Weapon?”
’What are you talking about? I’m a Dungeon Core,’ she huffed. ‘This sword’s just my external interface. Don’t lump me in with those muscle-headed battle junkies!’
Kanata smirked. Apparently, she saw herself as a higher being than any ordinary weapon.
”So in other words,” he said slowly, “this sword is just… a sword.”
’That’s right—wait, no, I didn’t mean—!’
Too late. She’d realized her slip.
Kanata grinned. Finally, the upper hand.
He’d won this round.
Notes:
• Tsubasa – A classmate, and a gift holder of Creator. He has an androgynous charm, popular yet approachable, bonds with Taichi’s group. The only son of the Ninari Conglomerate family.
• Mia – Came from the same village, chosen with Mira as part of the payment. She’s the strawberry-blonde with a bob cut—soft-spoken but clear, quick to adapt, and steadier than Mira, with a quiet willingness that grounds her.
Please bookmark this series and rate ☆☆☆☆☆ on here!
Edited by Kanaa-senpai.
Thanks for reading.
Leave a Reply