Cid casually shoved Colton's headless body aside and began searching the supplies loaded onto the wagon.
"Mostly food… what a shame. Why are there so many weapons? And these—are these firestones? What are they stockpiling this much for?"
The haul was so large it would have taken several handcarts to move. Cid had been delighted at first.
Then he actually looked through what was there—and immediately felt drained.
Most of it wasn't useful to him.
Food was bulky, inconvenient to carry, and hard to sell for a good price.
Weapons could fetch high prices, sure—but selling them in bulk was asking for trouble.
Any legitimate shopkeeper who saw someone unloading that many weapons would call the military police on the spot.
"So," they'd say, "why do you have this many weapons—planning a rebellion?"
If he wanted to move weapons at scale, he'd have to use back-alley channels.
Cid couldn't be bothered. Too much hassle.
And these weren't even premium pieces—just standard-issue junk for disposable grunts. Losing them wouldn't hurt anyone who mattered.
As for firestones, Cid had studied them before. The energy inside was volatile.
With the right method, you could detonate them.
The blast was basically on par with a bomb.
A full wagonload of something that dangerous—what for?
Were they planning to blow up the Dungeon?
Cid couldn't help glancing back at the bodies on the ground.
"Are you seriously trying to blow up the Dungeon? I underestimated you. I didn't think you had that kind of guts."
He'd heard that the Dungeon was, in some sense, alive—otherwise it couldn't keep producing monsters endlessly.
If you set off this many firestones inside it… wouldn't it get angry?
And if it got angry, wouldn't it produce even stronger monsters?
Maybe these firestones weren't meant for the Dungeon itself, but for some hidden monster of a person operating in the dark.
Someone who had already outgrown the upper floors—someone so strong the Dungeon could no longer provide prey capable of pushing them to the next step.
If they couldn't complete a great feat, they couldn't advance.
Just like him.
So they decided to force the Dungeon's hand—hurt it, provoke it, make it "work harder," and spit out stronger monsters.
Whip it when it doesn't perform.
Treat it like something to be exploited.
Cid was genuinely impressed.
"There's a way to achieve a 'great feat' like that? Then doesn't that mean I could fight deep-floor caliber monsters in the mid-levels? How did I not think of this?!"
He excitedly collected every last firestone.
These would come in handy someday.
A simulated nuclear blast could create a similar effect, but his magic reserves weren't high enough yet to do that whenever he felt like it.
In the end, he was still shackled by the limits of Level 5.
"Still… it's not nothing. Alchemy materials, gemstones, rare metals…"
He did a quick tally.
If he sold the valuables, he'd clear roughly five million valis.
One valis was worth about four yen.
In other words, this single robbery was equivalent to about twenty million yen in goods.
"Robbery really is the fastest way to make money."
As he counted, his mind sank straight into a pit of greed.
For a moment, he genuinely wished this world were full of bandits.
If he could just stroll around and run into robbery attempts all day, wouldn't he become rich without even trying?
But then Alise and the others flashed through his mind, and the thought cooled.
If the world descended into chaos, they'd be busy—and they'd be in danger.
Familias that stood for justice always ended up on the front line against darkness.
And, in Cid's eyes…
They were too weak to bear that weight.
"Everything else aside… what is this?"
He held up a polished orb that looked disturbingly like an eyeball.
It hadn't been in the wagon. It was something the leader had carried on his person.
The craftsmanship was fine, and it held a strange, concentrated energy—far from ordinary.
Most items like this were alchemical products with unclear functions: worth collecting, not worth obsessing over.
But this one felt different.
"Is this… a curse?"
Cid wasn't certain.
This world had divine power. It also had curses.
Unlike divine power, curses were rare.
Over the years, Cid had only encountered one cursed weapon.
He'd dismantled and reforged it, hoping to understand how curses worked.
He'd learned a great deal—yet never fully cracked the underlying principles.
After that, he hadn't found anything similar again.
And now, here it was.
He put the orb away, intending to study it at leisure once he returned.
"Speaking of which… what is this 'Dark Faction' they kept talking about? I think I've heard the name. Aren't they the headache Alise and the others have been dealing with?"
Judging by what that guy had said, Cid had apparently robbed the Dark Faction plenty of times in the past.
To be fair, he hadn't been targeting anyone in particular.
Anyone transporting huge amounts of supplies through the Dungeon was obviously no good.
Normal adventurers entered with their gear and some potions. Nobody hauled wagonloads of supplies into the Dungeon.
If you're moving supplies, why not use the surface roads?
Anyone using the Dungeon as a base wasn't a decent person—so Cid never felt guilty about robbing them.
He just hadn't realized he was repeatedly hitting the same organization.
"Heh. Incorrigible. Gathering people in the Dungeon to plot evil again and again."
"As Shadow, my presence will cover every last corner of darkness."
With the valuable items packed, Cid prepared to leave the Dungeon.
About thirty minutes later, a woman with a wild, unrestrained presence arrived at the scene.
She was the overall leader of the Dark Faction—Valetta, known as the "Killer Emperor," rumored to have command skills that could contend evenly with the hero Finn.
When she saw Blood Fist Brandon's corpse, her expression turned ugly.
From the marks at the scene, Brandon had died with almost no resistance.
He had been a Level 3 adventurer. Anyone who could kill him that easily had to be at least Level 4.
But the known Level 4s in Orario were under tight watch. There was no way they should be here.
So who did it?
It couldn't possibly be some random expert passing through… could it?
Eliminating the impossibilities, Valetta arrived at an answer.
"Damn it… there's a traitor!"
…
Cid stepped out of the Dungeon—and froze.
Iska was waiting near the entrance.
In name, he hadn't officially left the Astraea Familia yet, so he couldn't just pretend he hadn't seen her.
And he had a very bad feeling.
Even after he left, was Alise still going to assign someone to keep tabs on him?
"Hey, Cid. Get anything good in the Dungeon?"
Iska walked up and asked.
Before he could answer, she grabbed him and dragged him along.
"Dragging things out isn't my style. Come with me."
"Iska—what are you doing?"
"Giving you a gift. Mine's a little special, so I'm not doing it together with the others."
She pulled him into a secluded back alley.
Seeing him still confused, she didn't explain.
She hooked an arm around his neck and drew him close.
As her face came nearer, Cid tried to avoid it—
But Iska was fast.
Given the level of strength he was publicly showing, it was the sort of move he "shouldn't" be able to evade.
"Ack—!"
So Cid "conveniently" slipped.
On the surface, it looked like her sudden movement had thrown off his balance.
Failing at the critical moment—now that was proper background-character behavior.
Cid was smugly congratulating himself when Iska steadied him with ease, not letting him fall.
And she didn't stop.
As an Amazon, she could act without caring about the mood at all.
That day, Cid lost something important.
His first kiss.
-------
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