“Not good! Chairman Fahl! Something terrible has happened—!”
Mirabelle practically slammed the door of the chairman’s office open. The door banged against the wall, shaking the documents on the desk.
Fahl, who had been writing quickly at his desk, frowned and looked up at her, displeased. “Mirabelle, even if the sky is falling, you need to stay calm! Panicking like this, how can you make things clear?”
“Ch–Chairman!” Mirabelle’s chest rose and fell violently, her face deathly pale. “The Dungeon… the Dungeon has started collapsing! The spatial rifts… they’ve already spread down to the fourth and fifth floors!”
“What?!” Fahl shot to his feet. His chair scraped back with a harsh screech. He pressed both hands on the desk, leaning forward, his eyes filled with disbelief. “It’s only been a little over a month?! Impossible!”
“It’s the truth!” Mirabelle trembled all over. “We just got reports from adventurers who escaped—they were attacked by monsters from other dungeons! I even went to the basement myself to check the mana fluctuation recorder… The situation is worse than they said!”
Fahl’s heart sank sharply. “I need to see for myself!”
The two of them almost ran down the stairs into the Adventurers’ Guild basement monitoring room. There, Fahl finally saw the recorded mana charts.
On the chart, glaring energy spikes jutted up like the fangs of a raging beast, one after another, endless, with only the briefest lulls like short breaths between them.
It was as if a great archmage were standing beside the instrument, casting terrifying spells day and night without pause!The abnormal mana fluctuations clearly signaled that the Dungeon had already entered a dangerous phase!
“Damn that Guge! What kind of bullshit formation master?!” For once, the usually composed Fahl lost control and cursed. “He bragged so loudly, saying it would take at least three months before collapse began! Not even half that has passed!”
He snapped toward Mirabelle, speaking so quickly the words fired like beans from a drum: “If even three months can’t be trusted, then that so-called six-month deadline is pure nonsense! The worst case… it could completely collapse in just a few days!”
“Mirabelle! Execute the highest emergency plan immediately!”
“First, seal the Dungeon entrance! Post the highest danger notices, forcibly evacuate every adventurer—no one is allowed in!”
“Second, organize the evacuation of all town residents! The collapse radius is unknown, everyone must withdraw at least ten miles! Prioritize sending them to nearby cities for shelter, and notify the local lord at once!”
“What about the refugees?” asked Liliane, the maid who had been silently shadowing Fahl.
“Right… the refugees!” Fahl felt his temples throb violently. That was the real problem. These refugees were hard enough to manage already, and now they were tied here by the mushroom rations… If he tried to force them to leave, they would surely resist!
In theory, his duty was only to “advise” and “organize.” Those who didn’t obey, their lives and deaths were their own responsibility—the blame wouldn’t fall on him as the branch chairman.
But after only a short pause, Fahl gave a firm order: “Mirabelle! Send people to the surrounding cities. No matter the price, buy up as much food as possible! Then tell the refugees—if they follow the evacuation convoy, there’ll be hot porridge waiting!”
“Chairman Fahl!” Mirabelle looked troubled. “There’s famine everywhere now! Even red millet has gone up more than fivefold! There are so many refugees… And the Guild’s stored materials—because of the last two high-price purchases, most haven’t even been sold yet…”
“Tch!”
Fahl irritably grabbed a fistful of his own hair, then turned to his maid. “Liliane, give Mirabelle my savings!”
Liliane’s clear eyes locked on him. “Young master, are you sure? That’s all of your fortune.”
Fahl didn’t answer her. His sharp gaze pinned Mirabelle. “Mirabelle, listen well! Use this money to buy as much grain as possible! This is a matter of life and death! You’re a smart woman—do it well, and I’ll guarantee your future in the Guild! But if you dare skim even a single coin…”
“I wouldn’t! I absolutely wouldn’t, Chairman!” Mirabelle waved her hands frantically, terrified.
“Go!” Fahl barked.
Mirabelle spun and ran.
Once she was gone, Liliane spoke softly: “That means no more red pork from Fishing-Sails Port, ever again.”
“Doesn’t matter!” Fahl snapped.
——
“What the hell is going on?!” The swordsman captain’s face was twisted with fury and grief, nearly grotesque. A comrade’s sudden death left him desperate for a target of rage. “Monster tide? The Guild never issued a monster tide warning!”
“Don’t think about it! Just get out of the Dungeon first!”
Even as the words fell, a bowstring hummed. An arrow whistled through the air and drove straight into the eye socket of a Stonehide Boar charging from the side shadows!
The beast shrieked and bolted away.
Confronted with such unknown danger, none of them dared linger. Veyra’s trio and the swordsman’s remaining four formed a temporary defensive formation and withdrew upward.
They jogged to the fifth floor, where the tension in their hearts eased slightly—this level was fully controlled by the Pujis, relatively safer.
But that fragile relief lasted less than ten breaths.
From the shadows, a tall, thin figure rushed at them with a rustling “sha-sha”!
It was a “strawman” crudely bound from withered grass and unknown vines, over two meters tall. Its arms were sharp bundles of dried grass, its face drawn with crude features in black mud, and in its hollow eyes flickered an ominous glow.
Its movements were stiff yet unnaturally fast, lunging straight for the warrior carrying the injured man.
“Enemy attack! Why is this thing on the fifth floor?!” The swordsman captain roared, eyes bloodshot, swinging his greatsword with a howl of wind at the strawman’s waist!
At the same time, Veyra’s curved blade slashed a gleaming arc at the monster’s arm.
Both strikes hit at once. Withered grass burst apart as the strawman’s broken form writhed briefly on the ground before collapsing completely.
But this was not victory—it was only the beginning.
“Right side!” Fein shrieked in warning.
In the faint glow of the mushrooms overhead, more straw figures appeared in the distance—shadows upon shadows!
Not just one. Twenty or more!
They advanced with stiff, halting steps, the rustle of grass grinding together swelling into a chorus that filled the air.
Worse still, among them was one smaller, stronger figure, moving far quicker than the rest!
“Fein! Speed us up!” Veyra urged as they ran.
“Hold formation! Retreat to the fourth floor!” the swordsman captain bellowed, trying to keep them steady.
But before they’d gone far, another group of strawmen blocked their path!
With no escape, two fireballs were hurled, and battle erupted.
It didn’t take long before their formation was completely broken.
In the chaos, Veyra could only shield Phylline and Fein, fighting as they fell back until they were driven into a cavern.
Veyra recognized this place—the cave where Pujis once hosted a lottery.
But now, the fat Pujis was long gone. Only scattered fragments and mats of mycelium remained.
The three tried to use the cave mouth as a choke point against the strawmen, but the overwhelming numbers forced them back step by step.
“That feeling again!” Fein suddenly cried.
“What?” Veyra started to ask.
A savage strawman’s claws ripped through the air, striking at them!
Exhausted, Veyra barely managed to block, the impact throwing him off balance and crashing him to the ground.
“Veyra!” Fein shouted, her staff flashing as a translucent shield formed before him.
But the expected blow never landed.
Right in front of Veyra, space suddenly twisted and tore open. That familiar, severing spatial rift appeared once more without warning!
Shhhk!
This time, it was the strawman who was caught.
Poof—
Before their stunned eyes, a round, chubby Pujis leapt lightly from the rift, landing firmly in the cave surrounded by strawmen…