Chapter 53 : Who dares to act rashly
Liliane’s carriage rolled smoothly along the cobblestone road out of the city, the rhythmic clatter of wheels lulling the passengers. The interior, cushioned with plush velvet, carried a soothing mix of leather and faint incense.
Ailiya, now in sleek leather armor with flexible scale joints—courtesy of Liliane—sat restlessly, like a child on her first field trip. She tugged the window curtain aside, watching fields blur past, then turned to Aurora, her clear eyes brimming with curiosity.
“So… Aurora, what’s this ‘dungeon’ we keep talking about? Sounds like a game raid.”
Aurora’s face lit up, as if waiting for this. She cleared her throat, sitting straighter, her expression a mix of scholarly gravitas and excitement. “Legend has it, centuries ago, a demon duke, without the Demon King’s permission, waged war on the continent with his army.”
Ailiya leaned in as Aurora continued.
“Defeated by the human nations’ alliance, the surviving demon forces were sealed away by various kingdoms. Those sealed sites are what we now call ‘dungeons.’”
Ailiya blinked, her practical mind spotting a flaw. “Wait, they won, right? Why not use the surviving demons as laborers instead of sealing them?”
Aurora nodded approvingly. “Good question. Two reasons.” She held up two fingers. “First, most demon troops, aside from titled nobles, are mindless, destructive beasts—like rabid dogs, uncontrollable. Second, the demon realm won’t pay ransoms for ‘idiots.’ They don’t use currency, and proud demon nobles won’t stoop to save defeated underlings.”
“So, they fought hard, won, and got… nothing? No loot, no compensation?” Ailiya’s mouth twitched. “Fighting demons sounds like a raw deal.”
“Exactly. A pure survival war,” Aurora said. “Plus, demon stragglers kept causing trouble post-war.”
She leaned forward, eyes gleaming. “Then a genius emerged—a great witch who invented a revolutionary fifth-rank spell: Matrix Magica Conversion.”
Ailiya’s jaw dropped. “What’s that?”
“The original version was… direct. It targeted demons, extracted their mana, and converted it into life energy to nourish the land.”
“They turned demons into fertilizer?” Ailiya blurted. “That’s brutal.”
“Apt metaphor,” Aurora chuckled. “Later, the witch refined it. The upgraded spell integrated sealed demons into a self-sustaining mana cycle within the dungeon’s environment.”
Ailiya nodded vaguely, lost.
Aurora sighed, simplifying. “Think of dungeons as sponges soaking up ambient mana to grow rare materials not found elsewhere. When demon activity spikes, excess mana feeds back into the environment, balancing the ecosystem.”
“So, a war’s trash dump became a magical power plant?” Ailiya ventured.
“Exactly!” Aurora grinned. “Very impressive, right?”
“Uh, sure!” Ailiya nodded enthusiastically, still half-confused but certain it was cool.
“Your knowledge is remarkable, Aurora,” Seraphina said softly from the side. “Even upperclassmen rarely recall such details.”
“Just book smarts,” Aurora replied, slipping into a polished, noble humility that lasted three seconds.
Liliane, silent until now, smiled faintly. “Well said, Aurora.”
Aurora’s spine snapped straight, eyes blazing with joy, her grin barely contained.
Ailiya stared at her glowing friend. One compliment and you’re this happy? Are you Liliane’s loyal dog?
The carriage slowed, the scenery shifting from fields to a lively town. Ailiya peered out. The sky was clear, white clouds drifting lazily, a breeze carrying the town’s bustle.
A wide street, fit for multiple carriages, stretched toward a colossal stone gate. Shops lined the road: a blacksmith’s with gleaming swords and shields, an armorer’s displaying fine armor, inns, taverns, and potion shops buzzing with activity. Adventurers, armed with greatswords or staves, roamed in lively groups.
“Lady Liliane,” Ailiya said, skeptical, “did we take a wrong turn? This doesn’t look like a demon-sealing spot.”
Liliane gazed out, explaining calmly, “The Matrix Magica Conversion produces rare materials, but someone needs to harvest them—adventurers. They gather resources, which the kingdom buys, creating wealth and jobs.”
Her eyes followed an adventurer with a massive axe. “With adventurers fighting in dungeons, support services—weapon maintenance, food, potions, lodging—naturally follow. Over time, towns like this formed around major dungeon entrances.”
The carriage stopped near the grand gate. Liliane instructed the driver, “Drop us here. Return at nine tonight.”
The four disembarked, Ailiya awestruck by the gate’s scale. A long line of adventurers waited as uniformed kingdom officials and guards verified IDs.
A commotion erupted. Guards dragged a shifty-looking man from the queue. “My papers are real!” he pleaded.
An official held up a shoddy document, sneering, “Forged guild seal? To the dungeon—interrogate his accomplices.”
“No! I’m alone! Mercy!” the man wailed as burly guards hauled him away like a sack.
Ailiya flinched, hiding behind Liliane.
An official approached, blocking their path. “Your papers.”
Without a word, Liliane produced a small mithril badge engraved with a howling winter wolf—the Winter family crest—and handed it over. “These are my attendants,” she added coolly.
The official’s face transformed from stern to awestruck. He bowed deeply, voice trembling. “Lady Winter! My apologies! Please, enter!”
Ailiya marveled. That’s the power of privilege?
The crowd noticed, sparking outrage. “Why do they skip the line?” a bearded man bellowed.
“We’ve waited an hour! Rules are rules!” another chimed in.
“No noble exceptions!” the crowd roared.
Liliane’s icy glance silenced the loudest, her calm gaze chilling them like a frozen lake.
Then, unexpectedly, she tossed the wolf badge to Ailiya. “Handle it.”
Ailiya fumbled to catch the cold, heavy badge, instantly grasping Liliane’s intent—a test and a lesson. Fear flickered, then gave way to excitement.
Taking a deep breath, she mimicked haughty nobles she’d seen, raising her chin and stepping forward, holding the badge high. “Lady Winter is here. Who dares make trouble?”
Under the sunlight, the mithril wolf gleamed with cold authority.
The crowd’s faces paled. “W-Winter family…” “The winter wolf crest…”
The Winters, border guardians and the kingdom’s sharpest blade, were legendary. The uproar died, the loudest protesters shrinking silently.
Ailiya lowered her hand, secretly thrilled. Wow, being a powerful jerk feels… awesome!