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Chapter 4
E-Rank Dungeon: Den of the Hidden Ghouls (3)
A sharp cry split the air.
“Kyaaaak—!”
The moment I finished the incantation, my right eyeball popped out of its socket with a wet sound.
Without warning, the rebellious orb rolled across the floor, twitched—and then sprouted feathers, transforming into a crow.
The black bird cawed once, then began devouring the decapitated corpse beside me.
Crunch, crunch.
Flesh and blood spattered the ground; splintered bones cracked between its beak.
Its table manners were atrocious.
But one didn’t criticize a servant of an evil god for lacking etiquette.
The creature was directly linked to lardney, the Twisted Herald of Truth, the god whose madness could warp the minds of all intelligent races.
【You who have just set foot upon the path toward the Immaculate Truth…】
As the blind crow feasted, a cold, echoing voice crawled into my mind.
lardney.
The blasphemous god of forbidden knowledge and profane magic—
the sly sorcerer who devoured the World Tree and claimed infinite wisdom for himself.
The voice prodded my consciousness like fingers kneading a brain, and for an instant, my thoughts nearly shattered.
Even a conversation with him was enough to drive the weak-willed into madness.
I knelt on one knee, lowering my head as any humble new cultist should.
“I hear you, Lordney.”
【It tastes fine… but it leaves a rather unpleasant aftertaste.】
He clicked his tongue.
【Humans are so bland. Don’t offer me any more of them.】
Here it was—the infamous Hellish Audience Phase every cultist dreaded.
Pick the wrong dialogue option, and you’d be cursed.
Flatter him too much, and his energy would consume your mind.
It was a razor’s edge conversation.
“Lordney.”
Keeping my tone calm, I recited the correct answer like a veteran.
“We’re in no position to be choosy with our offerings. The Church of Twisted Truth and all other dark sects have long since fallen into ruin.”
【Then at least remove the tendons next time.】
“That takes too long.”
【How bothersome you are!】
He barked, voice echoing like thunder laced with childish whining.
【Why can’t you be like the other cultists? They used to bow and squeal ‘I obey, my Lord!’ while twisting their bodies like worms! Youth these days…】
I shrugged politely.
“And where are all those obedient senior cultists now, my Lord? Likely roasting in the heavens of the benevolent gods.”
【…Hmph.】
“If you don’t want to follow them into oblivion, you’ll have to make do with what little faith you still have.”
【Insolent wretch!】
The god’s oppressive aura vanished from my mind like smoke.
He’s sulking again.
No need to panic—this was standard procedure.
“My Lord, have you forgotten something?”
Polite as ever, I coaxed him back.
lardney presence returned with a faint growl.
【Very well. Though your offering was disappointing, I shall bestow my blessing upon you.
Tell me, inquisitive fledgling—what is it you desire? The truth that shakes the world? A spell that slays kings? Speak it, and it shall be done!】
“Then, I have one question first.”
【Curiosity is the seed of enlightenment. Ask.】
“You currently have… less than two dozen followers, correct? Can you really grant any wish?”
【……】
The oppressive weight in my skull immediately shrank.
Apparently, that hit a nerve.
I sighed and tried again, softer this time.
“I mean, it’s just curiosity, my Lord. With fewer than twenty believers, your influence on the mortal world must be… a bucket’s worth at best. How can you claim to grant any wish with that?”
Even with my best polite smile, the silence deepened.
Finally, he muttered:
【…So what do you want, then.】
Still sulky, but manageable.
I’d seen this a hundred times in the game—he’d come around after some gentle flattery.
I crouched, helping the crow finish its meal, and whispered:
“Bestow upon me a Mystery.”
In the game, Mysteries were essentially skills—divine powers granted to believers.
Normal gods gave them freely to their priests.
Evil gods required… sacrifice.
【Fine. Out of regard for your diligent offering, I shall grant you one. What Mystery do you seek?】
I named the one most vital to conquering this dungeon.
【…That one? Truly?】
His tone shifted—surprised, curious.
“Yes, my Lord.”
【Very well. Even a god with only ‘two dozen believers’ can afford that much!】
Still holding a grudge, but he accepted.
A faint heat bloomed at my fingertip.
Fzzzt.
My right index finger burned as a pattern seared itself into the flesh—
a pupil-like mark, sharp and unblinking.
《Mystery: “Thread That Binds All Things” has been engraved upon your body. Praise the benevolence of the Wise One!》
“Thank you, Lordney.”
【With more sincerity, disciple.】
“Waaah, thank you, my glorious master!”
【Next time, prepare something special, or I’ll twist your body until it breaks!】
“Understood.”
I stood, looking down at myself.
My clothes were soaked red, dagger dripping blood—
I looked like a serial killer caught mid-act.
Do I really have to perform human sacrifices every time?
It had been my first time carving up a body, and it was much harder than I’d imagined.
Still, I survived—and learned. Next time would go smoother.
Marlin approached quietly, holding out a handkerchief.
“…Good work.”
“Thanks.”
Her expression was strained, pale.
Even a seasoned butcher would’ve flinched at what she’d witnessed.
“We’re done here. Let’s move.”
I packed up the ritual tools and led the siblings out of the building.
There was one last place to go.
“Here.”
After trekking north, we reached a section of forest where the trees grew tightly together, forming a near-impenetrable wall.
Forcing my way inside, I found a cramped space—barely enough room to crouch.
“Stay here. If you’re tired, sleep.”
“How could anyone sleep in a place like this…?”
“Close your eyes long enough, and you’ll find out.”
I pressed Abel down gently, forcing him to lie still, then slipped out alone.
Only the final phase remains.
It was time to awaken the artist’s soul slumbering within me.
I inspected the fresh mark on my finger.
《Thread That Binds All Things – Rank 1 Mystery. Produces fine threads from the fingertips. Strength and thickness scale with mental energy consumed.》
Exactly as described in the game.
I focused—and a translucent filament slid from my fingertip.
Somewhere between spider silk and fishing line.
With sharper concentration, I refined it into a blade-thin wire.
When I brushed it with my other hand—
Slice.
A thin line of blood appeared.
“Already getting a headache.”
In Nightmare Dungeon, each class used a different resource for skills.
For cultists, it was mental strength.
Unlike mages’ fixed mana, mental strength was theoretically limitless—
but overuse led to madness, delusion, depression, or hallucinations.
A slippery slope into insanity.
《Remaining Mental Capacity: 85 / 100》
“Good. Keep it that way.”
《:)》
Having a divine HUD watching my sanity was oddly comforting.
I began weaving—
constructing an elaborate network of threads and traps, a deadly installation art piece.
“Be careful. One mistake, and we die.”
There were no retries in reality.
If the plan failed, the siblings would join the other corpses in the ghoul pantry.
That wasn’t an option.
So I worked until my head throbbed, my vision blurred, and—
《Remaining Mental Capacity: 10 / 100》
Barely enough to stay conscious.
“…Done.”
At 5 points remaining, the web was complete.
My limbs felt heavy, exhaustion dragging me down—but I forced myself to stay awake.
There was one last thing to do.
“Marlin.”
I woke the girl, leaving her brother asleep.
“When did I even fall asleep…?”
She sat up, blinked—and flinched at the sight of my face.
“You look terrible.”
“I was born this way.”
“Not funny.”
“The ghouls will be here soon.”
“You’re planning to stay until the dungeon condition is met?”
“Why? Getting attached to them already?”
“……”
Marlin sighed, then met my eyes.
“Just tell me what you’re thinking. What do I do?”
For someone I’d met less than a day ago, she was quick to cut to the point.
Kids these days matured fast.
I didn’t waste time.
“Do nothing. Just stay still.”
“If you do, we’ll be out of here within the hour.”
