Live Dungeon!

”Oof!” An odd noise escaped Korinna’s lips as her face hit the floor.

The Explorers nearby glanced over, some offering pitying looks while others snickered openly. Now draped in plain flaxen clothes, she had been unceremoniously spat out of the Guild’s Black Gate and sent sprawling across the floor. Humiliation clung to her like a shadow — a feeling that followed her all the way here to Absolute Helix.

”Better luck next time.”

Korinna pushed herself upright, her gaze landing on Tsutomu as he extended a coat toward her. He’d been watching earlier through the Monitor, when she’d been skewered by the Shell Crab. She accepted the coat, pulling it tightly around her shoulders, and looked up at him. His awkward expression made her stomach knot.

”W-what went wrong, do you think?” she asked hesitantly.

”That’s… for you to figure out. I’m not exactly in a position to critique your handling of the mutated Shell Crab.”

”Oh. Right.”

Tsutomu glanced toward the Monitors that displayed the day’s challenges. ”Judging by the other Pedestals, no one’s having much luck today. You should head to the reception and get changed.”

”O-okay…”

Tsutomu’s initial kindness turned frosty so quickly that Korinna blinked back tears. She stood, dusting herself off, and trudged toward the reception desk. There, she collected her casual clothes from Guild storage and slipped into the changing room at the back. She peeled off the flaxen uniform, its coarse texture a stinging reminder of failure.

[I really blew it this time.]

As she stood in her undergarments, slipping into her comfortable clothes, her mind replayed the battle’s key moments. Each mistake unfolded with brutal clarity, but one stood out above the rest: her failure to maintain support for Hannah. The instant she lost focus, the entire formation crumbled. That lapse haunted her, a single thread in a tapestry of regrets unraveling before her eyes.

She caught her reflection in the mirror — dejected, eyes dull with shame. Slowly, she closed them, drawing a deep breath as though willing herself to reset.

When she opened them, she left the changing room and merged back into the stream of bustling Explorers.

The flaxen uniform she’d left behind would be collected soon. The Guild bought them back for a pittance, though only the most desperate rookies ever bothered to make the exchange. They had a curious business in those uniforms — exporting them to artisans who transformed the symbol of failure and Black Gate expulsion into something wearable.

By the time Korinna finished her business in the restroom and returned to the Black Gate, Amy had just tumbled out — but unlike Korinna, she landed gracefully, rising to her feet in one fluid motion. Without waiting for an offer, she took the coat Tsutomu held out, draping it over her shoulders with practiced ease. There was no shame in her movements, no trace of self-pity — just dignity, as though she had long since made peace with the cost of failure.

[Amy’s amazing…]

Korinna watched her, a sense of awe flickering like an ember. Before becoming an Explorer, Korinna had been a nurse, and in her rare moments of free time, she’d observed the Monitors. Amy had always stood out — a celebrity to her, even now. Even now, wearing the badge of defeat, she seemed no less radiant.

Soon after, Leleia, Amira, and Hannah returned from the battle, sliding across the floor in an ungraceful heap. The disorienting sensation of expulsion from the Black Gate made graceful landings a rarity, even for seasoned Explorers — one had to be VERY accustomed to death to pull it off. Leleia scowled as she took her coat from Tsutomu, her irritation barely masked. Amira’s reaction was very much the same, while Hannah accepted hers with a sheepish smile, her cheeks reddened from the impact.

”Looks like my lunch break’s over,” Tsutomu said, glancing at a Monitor displaying the time. ”I’ll be on my way now. Take care.”

As the others headed off to change, Tsutomu departed. Korinna, clutching her still-aching stomach — no longer pierced, but growling with hunger — watched him leave and offered a polite bow.

The rush of peak lunch hour had faded, leaving the Guild’s dining hall quiet enough for Korinna to secure a table with ease. She claimed a spot for five, then wandered over to the Magic Stone-powered meal ticket machine, folding her arms as she pondered the day’s menu.

[What should I get?]

The dining hall wasn’t glamorous by any stretch, but it had a certain charm — and the food was good enough to fall back on when no one in a friend group wanted to make a decision. Given its prime location within the Guild, with easy access to the Monitors, the prices skewed high. Yet the hall stayed busy even during off-hours, drawing in regulars and the occasional outsider alike.

Korinna tapped her fingers against her elbow, brow furrowed in intense concentration. With no one queued behind her, she let herself linger, weighing the options.

”Korinny, why the scary look?”

Amy stood beside her, selecting a grilled fish set from the adjacent machine. She shot Korinna a teasing smile as her own ticket printed.

”The egg dishes are on point today,” Korinna murmured, casting a glance toward the kitchen. ”The lady makes killer omelette rice. But I’m craving something hearty… maybe meat… Then again, that risotto is hard to pass up…” ℝᴀ𝐍ȫ𝔟Ë𝐬

Amy chuckled, already heading to the cashier. ”Well, no rush. The others can decide while you sort your choices out.”

She handed over her Status Card to deduct the payment from her account, then strolled off to the pick-up counter. Meanwhile, Korinna remained locked in her silent battle.

By the time the others had placed their orders — Amira and Leleia opting for raw seafood sets, and Hannah going with the chef’s choice meal — Korinna finally emerged with an overloaded tray.

”Sooo…” Amira eyed the mountain of food with a raised brow. ”If you’re just gonna order everything anyway, why even bother agonizing over it?”

Korinna frowned. ”This is VERY important! I have to burn off what I eat! I never used to worry about this, but now…”

Amira’s unimpressed stare did nothing to faze her. With a resigned sigh, Korinna pinched the softness at her waist. Back when she was a nurse, constantly on her feet with physically demanding work, she’d never given her weight a second thought. But now, she was keenly aware of how quickly she could tip into a fuller figure — and worse, her growing appetite after combat and training left her wondering if she was even breaking even.

”To lose weight, exercise alone isn’t enough,” Amy said, her voice low as she leaned in. ”You’ve got to control your diet. Otherwise, you’ll just stay the same.”

”Yeah, I know…” Korinna sighed again. ”But I just can’t resist…”

”Well, then there’s not much you can do.”

Their whispered conversation about dieting carried a faint air of defeat. Across the table, Amira tore into her meal without a care, her sharp gaze flicking their way as if to silently mock their plight.

Leleia sipped her tea before adding her own pointed commentary. ”Of course, SOME PEOPLE have no reason to worry about things like that. Must be nice to be born with good genetics. How enviable.”

Amira’s fork froze midair. Her eyes narrowed, glinting with irritation from the day’s earlier failures. ”…What was that?”

Leleia’s serene expression didn’t falter, but a slight lift of her brow made it clear she’d intended the jab. Across the table, Hannah twirled her fork between her fingers like a teacher about to give a lecture.

”True, Amira, your figure IS enviable,” Hannah said, grinning. ”But, honestly? I’ve never worried about my weight either! Never had a belly or anything!”

She leaned back with a self-satisfied shrug, the very picture of someone who’d never counted a calorie in her life. All four women stared at her. Or rather, their gazes drifted down — landing on the ample chest resting lightly against the table’s edge.

[All that nutrition must’ve gone there instead…]

Korinna wasn’t the only one thinking it. The thought passed unspoken, but it was written all over their faces in perfect silent agreement. Amy, in particular, had her eyes narrowed into a laser-focused glare.

Hannah glanced around the table. ”Uh… Why are y’all staring at me?”

”Oh, no reason, really,” Amy replied flatly, her voice utterly devoid of emotion. Without breaking eye contact, she bit into a whole fish and crunched through it — bones and all — as if it were nothing.

Hannah blinked, clearly puzzled by the sudden mood shift, then shrugged and bit into a deep-fried shrimp, shell and all.

”All right,” Korinna cut in awkwardly, hoping to redirect the tension. ”Let’s move on to the meeting.”

The post-battle review suggestion wasn’t met with enthusiasm. Amira grimaced almost immediately, her jaw tightening as the memories of their failure resurfaced. The first half of the fight had gone smoothly enough — until the Shell Crab’s adhesive slime hit. Stuck fast, Amira had been rendered completely useless.

”Amira,” Korinna began gently, ”you don’t need to beat yourself up over it. That was beyond your control.”

”Yeah, it’s not really your fault,” Amy added. ”I mean, it’s probably on me for spending too much time riding its back. Sorry. I’ll avoid that next time.”

Amy’s agility made her particularly suited to climbing onto the Shell Crab’s back shell, but that strategy had backfired. In a standard encounter, staying on the shell too long only triggered the Crab’s water-pressure needles. This time, though, it had unleashed a sticky white slime from the outset. The adhesive coated the ground, and Amira had gotten caught, completely immobilized.

”We’ll definitely need countermeasures for that,” Leleia said, frowning. ”In the past, washing the slime off with water was enough to neutralize it, but this time it just seemed… much stickier. It’s probably changed the formula.”

Korinna bowed her head. ”We were unprepared. That’s on me. I’m sorry.”

She’d done her best to research the mutated Shell Crab beforehand — poring over broadcasts, studying battle logs, and preparing countermeasures — but the slime had been an unforeseen variable.

The root of the issue, Korinna realized, was her tendency to skip over broadcasts of weaker parties. She focused on veterans — those who’d already adjusted their tactics to account for the slime. Because of that oversight, she’d never witnessed the full extent of its effects.

Had she reached out to Dungeon Maniacs or independent information brokers, she might have learned more. But Korinna’s avenues for gathering intel were limited — she wasn’t well-connected in those circles.

”No, it’s not your fault,” Amy said, her tone regretful. ”We’re the ones who left all the research to you. That was a mistake on our part. It’s just… you’ve put in so much work that we just assumed you had it covered, you know. Sorry, Korinny.”

At the end of the day, Korinna’s research skills were not inferior to Tsutomu’s, with the amount of data she gathered being comparable to what he usually provided. That level of effort had made Amy think it would be safe to leave the prep work entirely in Korinna’s hands.

”You know,” Amy continued, ”I’ve got a few contacts. I’ll ask around after this.”

Korinna’s shoulders relaxed, the tension easing. ”Thank you. That would help a lot.”

”In the meantime,” Amy said, turning to the others, ”can the rest of you keep an eye on the Pedestals? We need more data.”

”Understood,” Leleia replied without hesitation.

”Got it!” Hannah chimed in with a bright smile.

”…Fine,” Amira grumbled, clearly reluctant.

Amy grinned slyly. ”C’mon, it’s not all bad, Ammie — watching the Guild Master struggle would be a rare treat, don’t you think?”

Amira clicked her tongue in annoyance, scowling as she looked away.

Korinna cleared her throat. ”I don’t think anyone made any major mistakes in their roles today. If we gather more intel and come up with some solid strategies, I’m confident we can beat it next time.”

”Yes, I agree,” Leleia said. ”The key will be figuring out how to counteract that adhesive slime.”

”Mm-hmm, mm-hmm!” Hannah nodded enthusiastically.

Amira folded her arms, her expression dark. ”Next time, I’m not getting stuck in that crap.”

”…Uh, by the way,” Hannah spoke up again, raising her hand hesitantly. ”There’s one thing that might be a problem. Remember that Large Inferno Magic Stone I used at the end? I think Miss Ollie might get mad about that. I thought it was a good opportunity, really! But… those things are EXPENSIVE…”

The table fell silent.

Amy’s white-furred ears twitched with interest. ”…That Stone’s a drop from the Mount Golem, right? Do you know how much it’s worth?”

Her tone was one of casual curiosity, what with how her finances were far more secure than most.

”Uh…” Hannah shifted nervously, her wings ruffling as she glanced around. ”It was a pretty high-quality one, from what I’ve been told. Maybe around… this much?”

She raised her fingers to indicate the price, hesitating as though even mentioning the number might summon disaster.

Amy’s ears shot straight up. Korinna’s lips trembled, trying and failing to form words, while Amira and Leleia averted their eyes, suddenly finding their empty plates more interesting than the discussion.

”Well… you DID get it from Miss Ollie, right?” Amy ventured cautiously. ”If she handed it over, then it should be fine…”

The Clan’s supplies — especially high-value items — were managed by Ollie. Hannah wouldn’t have had access to a high-quality Magic Stone like that unless Ollie had approved it. Even so, Hannah’s expression remained uneasy as she avoided everyone’s gaze.

”Uh… So, you see, I kind of really had to beg for it,” she muttered, fidgeting. ”Like, a LOT of begging. Now that I think about it, she did mention something about only using it when I was absolutely sure we could win… Or maybe she didn’t? I can’t really remember…”

Amy’s eyes narrowed. ”…And you used it — but failed to take down the enemy?”

”……”

”Yeah,” Amy sighed, running a hand through her hair. ”That’s… bad. We’ll explain it to her together, but you should be ready to get grilled.”

”Yeah… I figured as much…”

Hannah slumped in her chair, her blue-feathered wings drooping. The loss of the Magic Stone had seemed manageable at first. After all, they had accounted for potential setbacks in their preparations. But realizing just how expensive the Large Inferno Magic Stone had been — and that Hannah had used it without fully grasping its value — left Amy with a sinking feeling.

The group spent the rest of the day gathering data from the Monitors and consulting Dungeon Maniacs before heading back to the Clan House in the evening. By the time they returned, the sun had dipped low, and nervous energy hung in the air as Hannah reluctantly approached Ollie and reported her case.

”You used it…?” Ollie’s brows furrowed. ”W-well, if it was the only way to defeat the Shell Crab, I suppose I can let it slide. It’s a painful expense, but if it earned your team some recognition, it might’ve been worth it.”

Ollie had handed over the high-quality Large Inferno Magic Stone with no small amount of reluctance, convinced to part with it only after hearing that Hannah was being considered for Team 1. Knowing it had been used almost right away was already enough to make her head throb. Still, she might have made peace with it — if they’d at least managed to take down the mutated Shell Crab.

Then Hannah spoke again. ”…Uh, actually… we did NOT manage to take it down.”

”……”

Ollie pinched the bridge of her nose, eyes closed as though counting to ten in her head. When she finally spoke, her voice was calm — dangerously so. ”Please explain the battle. And describe the moment you used the Stone. Did anyone witness it?”

”I’ll explain,” Amy offered, stepping forward in an attempt to ease the blow.

Her report was direct and honest. Though she wanted to shield Hannah, there was no way to gloss over the flashy spectacle the Magic Fist had caused. Witnesses had seen the whole thing. It would likely be all over the morning papers. Ollie listened in silence, her expression darkening with every word. And when Amy finished, she delivered her verdict with a smile that sent chills down Hannah’s spine.

”Miss Hannah, your pay will be docked.”

”Wha–!? Miss Ollie, no…!”

”Miss Ollie YES. I warned you repeatedly — only use the Large Inferno Magic Stone when you’re absolutely sure you can defeat the enemy. But from what I heard in Miss Amy’s report, it wasn’t even a suitable situation to use it. The way you used it, and the result? Both were disastrous.”

”Umm… I can cover it,” Amy offered, stepping forward again.

”No, Miss Amy — you’ve already made generous contributions to Absolute Helix. That’s been a tremendous help, but I won’t let you take on more. Besides, it wouldn’t do Miss Hannah any good if you covered for her…” Ollie trailed off, and a deep sigh escaped her as she rubbed her temples. ”I suppose I bear some responsibility for this as well. I misjudged the situation. Now, how do I explain this to Mister Tsutomu?”

In the end, Hannah endured a lengthy scolding. The Large Inferno Magic Stone had been a precious resource, and using it without results was a costly mistake. Her only formal penalty, a pay cut, could be considered a mercy.