That Time I Got Reincarnated as a King (Old Version)

The fire had long since burned down to embers, leaving only the faint, pulsing glow of mana crystals to light the hollow.

Kael rose slowly, joints stiff, but his mind sharp. He slung his pack over one shoulder, feeling the reassuring weight of supplies and spell components. Rimuru floated sleepily above his head, still tinted a soft, lazy blue. Nyaro stretched with a low rumble, his golden coat rippling like liquid light in the dim cavern.

The break was over.

It was time to go deeper.

Kael tightened the strap on his right glove and glanced once at the cracked ceiling overhead, where a single sliver of the night sky had been barely visible hours ago. Now, only the crushing weight of the dungeon remained.

He turned toward the stairwell cut into the rock—spiraling downward like the throat of some ancient beast.

"Ready?" he asked quietly.

Rimuru pulsed green — Ready!

Nyaro shook out his fur and padded forward without hesitation.

Kael smiled thinly.

Together, they descended into Floor 2.

The temperature shifted immediately.

The air grew heavier, hotter—wrong in a way that set Kael's skin prickling. Mana currents twisted unpredictably through the stone, warping the passage into strange angles and unsettling echoes.

Each step echoed too long.

Each breath tasted faintly of ash.

Kael flexed his fingers and gathered a thread of mana in his palm. Carefully, he shaped it—compressing it, willing it to form without ignition.

Tiny orbs of flame winked into existence, floating around him like patient fireflies.

Great Sage:
"Lighting control: stable. Mana drift compensated by 7% tether adjustment."

Kael let out a breath. "Feels like the dungeon's... watching more now."

Great Sage:
"Correct. Environmental sentience increasing. Recommend heightened awareness."

Nyaro stalked ahead, his pawsteps silent even against the jagged floor. Rimuru bounced slightly in the air, her surface flickering between blue and yellow as if unable to settle her excitement.

Every so often, the carved walls shuddered slightly, releasing faint gusts of superheated air.

Kael narrowed his eyes. "Feels like the dungeon's breathing."

Rimuru pulsed a nervous orange.

Nyaro's ears twitched back sharply.

They continued downward, the passage twisting tighter, darker. Here and there, the ground fractured into narrow crevices where molten mana trickled in glowing threads far below.

Kael paused at a wider ledge where the air shifted again—hotter, harsher.

Ahead, the corridor opened into a vast cavern where shifting shadows flickered and danced without any visible flame.

Rimuru dimmed her glow instinctively.

Nyaro crouched low, tail lashing.

Kael pulled more fire into his hands, ready to fight, but kept it small and controlled—a single, steady blaze.

Beyond the threshold, something moved.

Not the slow, crumbling guardians of Floor 1.

No.

This was faster.

Smarter.

Hungrier.

Kael tightened his jaw and stepped forward.

The real descent had begun.

The cavern stretched wide ahead of them, but it wasn't the size that made Kael slow his steps—it was the unnatural flicker of movement just beyond Rimuru's soft glow.

At first, it looked like strands of smoke twisting across the ground.

Then the smoke coiled into shapes.

Figures.

Kael barely had time to raise his hand before the first of them lunged.

A blazing form, no taller than Kael himself but whip-thin and sinuous, shot forward like a bolt of living fire. Its eyes burned white-hot against a skeletal frame of semi-solid flames, and its clawed hands left scorched trails through the air.

Fire Wraiths!

Kael reacted instinctively.

He twisted to the side, the wraith's claws missing him by inches. Mana surged down his arm, but instead of blasting raw fire outward, he pulled the heat inward, shaping it tighter, smaller.

A compressed orb of flame appeared in his palm—dense, controlled.

Kael slammed it into the wraith's chest.

The creature shrieked—an ear-splitting, crackling noise like burning reeds—and collapsed inward, its form imploding into a swirl of dying embers.

But there were more.

Dozens more.

They rose from the cracks in the stone floor, drifting like vengeful spirits. Their bodies were unstable, half-collapsing, half-reforming with every motion.

Kael dropped into a fighting stance.

Great Sage—core location?

Great Sage:
"Center mass. Compression threshold low. Precision strikes advised."

Nyaro leapt without hesitation, a golden blur slicing through the smoke. His claws, wreathed in Kael's residual mana, slashed across a Fire Wraith's chest. The creature howled—and scattered into fragments.

Rimuru hardened her slime form, reshaping herself into a wide, spiked shield that floated alongside Kael, knocking away two more incoming wraiths with sharp, wet impacts.

Kael gritted his teeth.

Raw fire wouldn't cut it here. They needed control.

He reached deeper into his core, weaving a thread of Flame Manipulation tighter than before. Instead of lashing outward wildly, he created sharp tendrils of flame—thin as wires—that lanced forward with surgical precision.

One, two, three—

Each tendril pierced a wraith directly through its unstable mana core, collapsing them instantly.

The others hesitated, swirling in agitation.

Kael narrowed his eyes.

He pressed forward, weaving between scattered stone outcroppings, using them for cover. He lured wraiths one by one into the open—never letting them swarm—and struck with quick, deliberate blows.

Rimuru mirrored him, her smaller form darting around Kael's attacks like a living satellite, knocking enemies off-balance.

Nyaro prowled the edges of the battlefield, striking fast and retreating before the wraiths could corner him.

It wasn't a battle of brute force.

It was a battle of endurance.

Sweat beaded on Kael's brow as the last wraith screeched and collapsed into ash.

Silence fell—broken only by the hiss of cooling air and the faint drip of molten stone somewhere in the distance.

Kael exhaled shakily and wiped his forearm across his forehead.

Great Sage:
"Enemy threat neutralized. Mana reserves at 78%. Notable: Fire Wraith mana cores are salvageable. Potential future crafting material."

Kael crouched near the remains of a fallen wraith.

Where its chest had been, a small, flickering ember floated—barely the size of a marble, but thrumming with residual power.

He reached out and plucked it carefully from the air. The ember pulsed once, then stabilized, resting warm in his palm.

"First real loot," Kael murmured.

He tucked the mana core into his pack, already imagining future uses.

Behind him, Nyaro padded over and sat down heavily, tail flicking. Rimuru bobbed beside Kael, pulsing a triumphant green.

Kael smiled thinly.

"Good work," he said. His voice echoed strangely in the cavern.

But there was no time to linger.

The deeper they went, the smarter—and hungrier—the dungeon would become.

Kael turned his gaze toward the shadowed passage leading out of the cavern.

"Let's keep moving," he said quietly.

And together, they stepped into the narrowing dark.

The passage narrowed the moment they crossed into Floor 3.

Gone were the wide battlefields of the upper levels. Here, the stone walls closed in tightly, forcing Kael and his companions into single file. Jagged outcroppings jutted from the floor and ceiling like broken fangs, and the very air felt thicker—oppressive, clinging to Kael's skin like smoke.

Every few steps, the ground trembled faintly underfoot.

Kael shifted his weight carefully, testing each patch of stone before committing to a step. His floating flame orbs—smaller now, more tightly controlled—revealed glimpses of the terrain ahead.

Collapsed bridges.

Cracks in the floor venting thin streams of molten mana.

Dead ends shrouded in illusion magic, trying to lure unwary travelers into deadly falls.

Great Sage:
"Environmental hazards confirmed. Structural instability critical. Proceed with extreme caution."

Kael grunted in acknowledgment.

Rimuru floated close to his shoulder, her surface dimmed to a muted orange—a warning color. Nyaro stalked ahead, careful and silent, his claws occasionally clicking softly against bare stone.

Half an hour into the descent, they reached the first major obstacle.

A bridge.

Or what remained of one.

The stone span stretched across a gaping chasm roughly twenty meters wide, its surface cracked and unstable. Beneath the crumbling ledge, a slow river of molten mana flowed like liquid gold, its surface popping and hissing in angry bursts.

Kael edged forward and studied the ruined structure.

The center section had already collapsed, leaving a sheer five-meter gap between the surviving halves.

Too wide to jump normally.

Too unstable to risk building a platform the usual way.

He glanced at Rimuru.

She bobbed uncertainly, her surface flickering pale yellow.

Kael drew a slow breath, reaching inward to the core of his flame magic—not to burn, but to shape.

He crouched at the edge of the broken bridge, pressing one palm flat against the stone. Mana surged through him—deliberate, patient.

He whispered a spell.

"Flame Platform."

The air shimmered.

From the broken lip of the bridge, a platform of solidified flame materialized—a disk no larger than a small raft, hovering in midair over the molten river.

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It wobbled slightly under its own heat, but held steady.

Kael grimaced. "It's not going to last long."

Great Sage:
"Correct. Structural integrity estimated at twelve seconds under current conditions."

Kael glanced at Nyaro.

The big cat huffed once and crouched low, muscles bunching.

Kael gave a sharp nod.

"Go."

Nyaro leapt first—powerful, graceful. His paws barely touched the flickering surface of the Flame Platform before he bounded across to the far side, landing with a grunt.

Rimuru zipped after him, weightless.

Kael exhaled once and followed.

He landed lightly on the flickering surface—and pushed off just as the platform began to sag.

For a moment, he was suspended over the river of mana, heat blasting upward in violent waves.

Then he hit solid ground on the far side, rolling once to absorb the impact.

Behind him, the Flame Platform cracked, guttered—and collapsed into a spray of harmless sparks.

Kael stood, breathing hard, and looked back.

No going back now.

He wiped his palms on his pants and shot Rimuru a shaky grin.

"Not bad for my first flame bridge."

Rimuru projected a wobbling thumbs-up.

Nyaro flicked his tail impatiently, urging them onward.

Kael turned toward the winding tunnel ahead, already feeling the weight of the dungeon pressing harder against his shoulders.

The hazards weren't just obstacles.

They were warnings.

Turn back.

Give up.

Kael set his jaw and pushed forward.

He wasn't here to quit.

The tunnel narrowed further as they pressed on, the walls closing in like the throat of a dying beast.

The light from Kael's flame orbs grew dimmer—not from lack of mana, but because the stone itself seemed to drink in the light, swallowing it whole.

Every footstep echoed oddly, as if the dungeon were remembering their presence.

Kael slowed, motioning for Rimuru and Nyaro to stay close.

That was when Great Sage spoke.

Great Sage:
"Mana anomaly detected."

Kael froze mid-step. "Explain?"

Great Sage:
"Multiple embedded artifacts within local walls. Dormant state. Residual enchantments active. High probability of trap mechanisms if disturbed."

Kael's heart picked up pace.
Artifacts. Real ones.
Not broken relics like in ruined villages—true Pre-Cataclysmic artifacts, hidden deep where no one dared tread.

He glanced toward the rough stone wall.

Faint outlines shimmered under Rimuru's hovering light—circles of carved runes, overgrown with centuries of mineral deposits. In the center of one was a narrow slit, almost invisible unless you knew to look for it.

Like a sheathed blade waiting to be drawn.

"Could we remove it safely?" Kael asked.

Great Sage:
"Negative. Environmental instability critical. Extraction attempt will trigger dormant defense systems: estimated collapse radius, fifteen meters."

Kael clicked his tongue softly.

"Later, then."

He knelt and pulled a small marking chalk from his belt—a simple blue rune marker used by Emberleaf scouts.

Kael drew a faint glyph a few meters back from the artifact's location: a spiraling flame within a triangle. The symbol would warn any future expeditions that something valuable—and dangerous—lay here.

Rimuru floated down to the wall and extended a slim pseudopod. She touched the air just above one of the runes.

A ripple spread outward.

Instantly, faint cracks of corrupted mana bled into the air, black tendrils like smoke trying to latch onto her.

Kael's instincts screamed.

"Rimuru—!"

But she was already moving.

Her body pulsed and absorbed the corruption in a smooth, effortless motion—Predator at work, neutralizing the tainted magic before it could trigger whatever hidden traps waited.

Rimuru wobbled slightly afterward, her surface dimming for a moment before stabilizing into a confident gold.

Kael exhaled slowly, heart pounding.

"You crazy slime," he muttered, half laughing under his breath.

Rimuru projected a simple image above her head:
A stick figure Kael holding up a '10/10' scorecard.

He snorted despite himself.

"Yeah, okay. Ten points. Just… warn me next time, alright?"

Nyaro prowled forward, casting a sharp-eyed glance at the darkened runes, then flicked his ears back in a silent warning.

They moved quickly after that, marking two more artifact locations along the way but giving them all a wide berth.

The dungeon didn't like being touched.

It remembered.

And it was starting to wake up.

The next chamber opened without warning—a broad, circular space lined with spiraling rune patterns carved deep into the stone floor and walls.

Kael slowed instinctively.

The air here crackled with static, faint pulses of mana shifting through the room like invisible tides.

He took a cautious step forward.

The moment his boot touched the rune-scribed floor, the runes flared to life—searing red and orange lines racing outward in jagged spiderwebs.

And the wraiths came.

Dozens.

They erupted from the walls and cracks in the floor, screaming shapes of living fire, faster and angrier than anything they had faced so far.

Kael threw up a barrier of compressed flame just in time to block the first claw swipe.

Great Sage:
"Trap activation confirmed! Battle engagement mandatory! Simultaneous requirement: Solve primary rune sequence to disable collapse protocol!"

Kael swore under his breath.

Fight and solve at the same time.

Typical.

He spun, lashing out with a controlled whip of fire that sliced two wraiths cleanly apart, then called out sharply:

"Rimuru! Projection mode!"

Rimuru responded instantly, floating higher and forming a hovering projection screen of condensed mana above her head.
The active runes of the room mirrored themselves onto her surface—a live map of the puzzle's shifting sequence.

"Great Sage, feed her the solution!" Kael shouted, ducking another attack.

Great Sage:
"Decoding sequence initiated. Primary pattern: central flame sigil. Secondary link: eight-point chain sequence counterclockwise."

Kael gritted his teeth, blasting a cluster of wraiths away with a burst of compressed air and fire.

Rimuru pulsed urgently, highlighting the first rune on her projection.

Kael slammed his palm against the matching rune etched into the floor.

The ground shuddered under his touch—but the searing lines faded slightly around the room's edge.

One step closer.

But more wraiths poured in, drawn by the disruption. Their bodies crackled with unstable power, making them more volatile—every time one died, it exploded into a violent burst of mana shards.

Kael ducked low under a blast, grunting as shrapnel grazed his shoulder.

Nyaro wove between the attacks like a ghost, slashing and leaping, buying Kael precious seconds.

Rimuru flickered, her projection updating rapidly as the rune sequence shifted again.

"Next!" Kael barked.

Rimuru highlighted three new glyphs simultaneously.

Great Sage:
"Multi-seal activation required. Two points must be struck within five seconds."

Kael didn't hesitate.

He sprinted across the cracked floor, dodging flaming claws and collapsing stone, and slapped the first glyph with a surge of flame-wrapped mana.

Behind him, Rimuru zipped to the second glyph, slamming her body into it with a wet splat of compressed mass.

The ground trembled harder.

The runes along the outer edges of the chamber flickered violently—unstable, but weakening.

Another explosion rocked the room as two Fire Wraiths collided mid-air, tearing each other apart in a chain reaction.

Chunks of stone rained down.

Cracks raced up the walls toward the ceiling.

"Status!" Kael shouted.

Great Sage:
"Collapse prevention at 72%. Two final glyphs must be deactivated. Time remaining: twenty seconds."

Kael's heart hammered against his ribs.

He scanned the room.

The last two glyphs—one high on the far wall, one sunken half-buried in cracked rubble.

"Nyaro!" Kael called.

The panther snapped his gaze to him instantly.

Kael pointed at the wall glyph.

Without waiting for further instruction, Nyaro charged, bounding up a fallen pillar and launching himself like a missile toward the high glyph. His clawed paw struck it dead center.

The glyph flared—then collapsed into darkness.

Kael turned toward the rubble, teeth gritted against the heat and pressure.

Flame swirled around his body—not wild and raging, but focused and obedient.
He funneled the magic into his legs, boosting his speed, and sprinted the final distance.

One last leap.

He slammed both palms into the cracked glyph, pouring raw mana into the stone.

The rune screamed in protest—
—and then shattered.

All at once, the runes along the floor and walls dimmed, retreating like receding floodwaters.

The chamber fell silent.

No more rumbling.

No collapse.

Kael sagged to one knee, breathing hard.

Around him, the last remnants of the Fire Wraiths crumbled into harmless ash.

Rimuru floated down gently, projecting a small, shaky victory banner over her head: MISSION COMPLETE!

Kael laughed once under his breath, half from exhaustion, half from sheer relief.

"Nice job," he rasped.

Nyaro padded over, breathing heavier than usual but unharmed.

Great Sage:
"Collapse protocol disabled. Advancement path unlocked."

At the far end of the room, a hidden door groaned open, revealing a downward stairwell into the next floor.

Kael pushed himself upright, rolling his aching shoulders.

They were still standing.

Still moving.

But the dungeon wasn't done with them yet.

The stairwell spiraled even tighter as they descended.

Kael moved carefully, feeling every step vibrate faintly underfoot—not from structural weakness this time, but from something deeper.
Something wrong in the very fabric of mana itself.

The air around them grew heavy, sharp with static.
Tiny arcs of wild magic flickered across the stone walls, snapping like sparks from an untamed forge.

Rimuru's surface rippled uneasily.
Nyaro growled low in his throat, fur bristling.

Kael tightened his grip on the Flame Orb floating near his palm, frowning.

"Great Sage," he whispered. "What's happening?"

Great Sage:
"Localized mana storm detected. Natural and dungeon-induced. Probability of severe spell disruption: 91%."

Before Kael could respond, the stairwell opened into a wide tunnel—
—and chaos erupted.

Mana storms tore through the passage like living things.

Bolts of raw, unaligned magic whipped across the hall—blue, red, green, purple—crashing into the walls, carving deep scars into the stone.
Pillars of heat and gravitational distortion spiraled upward, warping the air into shimmering, violent whirlpools.

Kael threw up a hasty Flame Shield to block an incoming bolt—
—but the shield immediately cracked under the chaotic mana pressure, destabilizing in his hands.

Pain lanced up his arms, a searing burn not from fire, but from mana backlash.

"AAgh—!" Kael staggered back, clutching his wrist. His circuits—not just his skin, but his core pathways—felt like they were tearing apart under the unstable currents.

Great Sage:
"Warning: Mana circuit overload imminent! Immediate stabilization required!"

Kael clenched his teeth, forcing himself to gather control—
—but another arc of raw mana slammed into the ground nearby, knocking him off balance.

The mana inside him surged out of sync, vibrating wildly.

If this keeps up, my core will rupture—

A flash of blue blurred into view.

Rimuru.

Without hesitation, she launched herself at Kael, wrapping her entire body around his torso like a living, rippling shield.

Predator activated.

Kael gasped as the pressure inside him eased instantly, Rimuru siphoning off the unstable mana through direct contact, absorbing and neutralizing it before it could shred him apart from the inside.

His vision blurred at the edges, but the burning pain in his limbs faded.

He could breathe again.

Great Sage:
"Stabilization complete. Residual mana damage: minor. Recovery in progress."

Kael slumped to one knee, catching his breath.

Rimuru loosened her hold slightly, still glowing with a fierce, determined light.
Tiny arcs of rogue mana bounced harmlessly off her surface, deflected away.

"You…" Kael managed a weak laugh. "You saved my ass again."

Rimuru pulsed gold with pride, projecting a tiny cartoon of herself wearing a superhero cape.

Nyaro prowled close, circling protectively as another unstable bolt sizzled down the far corridor.

Kael gritted his teeth and forced himself upright.

He couldn't cast large spells here.

Any mistake, and he'd risk burning out completely—or worse.

"Adapt," he muttered under his breath. "Small spells. Physical focus. Let Rimuru buffer the worst of it."

Great Sage:
"Correct. Recommend minimal mana manipulation until environmental stabilization."

Kael nodded, feeling the ache deep in his bones but refusing to slow down.

They moved cautiously through the storm-blasted tunnel, ducking and weaving between arcs of chaotic magic.
Nyaro's instincts saved them more than once, sensing bursts before they formed.
Rimuru floated protectively beside Kael, absorbing stray currents when they got too close.

It wasn't a battle.

It was a trial of endurance.

Every step forward felt like swimming upstream against an invisible tide.

By the time they finally reached the far side of the storm, Kael's cloak was singed at the edges, his gloves scorched, and his mana reserves dangerously low.

But he was still standing.

They all were.

He leaned heavily against a cracked pillar, breathing hard.

Rimuru floated down to settle against his shoulder, soft and warm.

Nyaro sat nearby, panting slightly, but alert.

Kael looked ahead.

Another spiral staircase waited, leading deeper still.

No words needed.

They pushed forward.

Because survival wasn't enough anymore.

They were chasing something greater.

And the dungeon knew it.

The stairwell from Floor 4 was shorter than the others, almost an afterthought carved into the rock.

Kael moved with measured steps, feeling the weight of exhaustion in his limbs—but also a sharpened clarity.
The mana storm had burned away any lingering doubts.
They were alive.
They were tested.

And now, they were being watched.

He felt it the moment they stepped onto the landing.

The air changed.

It wasn't hot—not like the molten rivers before.
It was… heavy.
Thick with ancient mana, condensed and patient, waiting.

Rimuru hovered low and wide, casting minimal light.
Nyaro flattened himself against the stone, silent as mist.

Kael raised a hand in warning, and they crept forward.

At the far end of a long corridor—half-collapsed, overgrown with cracked stone and blackened vines—they saw it.

The Sentinel.

It stood motionless at the base of the next stairwell—a towering figure of scorched iron and cracked stone, humanoid but twisted by time and magic.
Flames flickered in the gaps between its armored plates, like the last breaths of a dying forge.

Its head was bowed slightly.
Its arms, ending in brutal gauntlets, hung limp at its sides.

But it wasn't dead.

Kael could feel the pulse of mana radiating from it—slow, deliberate, watchful.

Great Sage:
"Semi-dormant dungeon guardian entity detected. Activation conditions: proximity trigger within ten meters or hostile mana surge."

Kael studied it carefully.

The armor was ancient, cracked along the seams.
It wasn't invincible.

But it also wasn't something he could afford to fight head-on, not after surviving a mana storm and two floors of brutal combat.

He exhaled slowly, thinking.

"We need a plan," he murmured.

Rimuru bobbed faintly, pulsing a soft blue—Agree.

Nyaro stayed crouched, eyes locked onto the sentinel, muscles taut.

Kael crouched beside a broken pillar and traced a quick mental map.

There was cover—half-fallen columns, rubble mounds.
Enough to maneuver around, if they moved carefully.

The goal wasn't to defeat it.

It was to pass it.

Stealth, patience, and control.

Kael smirked slightly, despite the tension gnawing at his gut.

"Alright," he whispered to Rimuru and Nyaro. "Follow me. Slow and quiet. No big mana surges."

Rimuru flashed green—Understood.
Nyaro simply nodded once, never taking his eyes off the sentinel.

Kael tightened his cloak around him and crept forward, staying low, using the broken terrain as cover.

Every heartbeat felt like a drum against his ribs.

The sentinel didn't move.

Didn't stir.

But Kael could feel its awareness brushing the edges of his senses—
—a predator half-asleep, yet ready to awaken at the slightest wrong move.

They crept, step by step, weaving through fallen stones and scorched wreckage.

A loose pebble skittered from under Kael's boot.

The sentinel's head tilted slightly.

Kael froze, holding his breath.

Ten meters.

Nine.

Eight.

Steady…

Rimuru floated silently behind him, her glow suppressed to a bare glimmer.
Nyaro moved with impossible grace, paws whispering over broken stone.

Six meters.

Five.

Kael's pulse thundered in his ears.

The stairwell was just beyond the sentinel, a yawning mouth leading deeper—closer to the dungeon's heart.

Three meters.

Two.

The sentinel's gauntlets twitched—
—a faint scrape of metal against stone.

Kael didn't flinch.

He stepped sideways, staying behind a cracked pillar, keeping his mana as tightly sealed as he could.

The sentinel's head turned fractionally.

But no roar came.
No attack.

Kael exhaled soundlessly and slipped toward the stairs.

Rimuru and Nyaro followed in perfect synchronization, not a sound between them.

When they finally reached the first step and began to descend, Kael dared a glance back.

The sentinel remained at its post—silent, smoldering, a relic of war too old to die.

But Kael knew one thing for certain.

If they had tried to fight… they wouldn't have made it.

They didn't go far after slipping past the sentinel.

Just enough.

Enough to be out of range, behind a half-collapsed section of the corridor where broken stones piled high and the dungeon's oppressive heat eased into a bearable simmer.

Kael slumped against the cracked wall and let his pack slide to the ground beside him.

He let himself breathe.

Really breathe.

Every inch of his body ached—shoulders stiff, legs burning, hands still tingling faintly from mana backlash. His mana core throbbed like a sore muscle, low and steady.

But they were alive.

Rimuru floated down into his lap without a word, soft and heavy with exhaustion.
She pulsed faintly, colors shifting between a sleepy blue and a dull gold.
She was tired too.

Nyaro circled once before flopping down nearby with a huff, tail thudding against the ground in quiet defiance of the dungeon's weight pressing down on them.

For a while, none of them moved.

The silence here wasn't hostile like before.

It was… heavy. Patient.
Like the dungeon itself was letting them catch their breath before the next test.

Kael tilted his head back, resting it against the stone.

Above him, through a jagged crack in the ruined ceiling, he could just barely glimpse the night sky.

Or maybe it was only an illusion—painted there by mana echoes, a trick of the dungeon's ancient magic.

It didn't matter.

It was beautiful anyway.

A faint, scattered spray of stars.

A reminder of the world above.

A promise that there was more waiting beyond this darkness.

Kael closed his eyes for a moment, feeling Rimuru's warmth against his chest and Nyaro's steady breathing nearby.

They had made it through four brutal floors.

They had adapted.
Endured.
Grown.

And they weren't done yet.

Kael opened his eyes and stared up at the shattered stars one last time.

"Almost there," he whispered.

The words faded into the stone, unheard by anyone except the two companions at his side—and maybe, just maybe, by the dungeon itself.