The ceremony celebrating the Conquerors grew into an event the size of the entire city. Traveling merchants from neighboring cities gathered, aiming to profit from the nobles and wealthy guests attending the ceremony. Even merchants with established shops within the city busied the streets day after day, proudly advertising themselves as suppliers to the Conquerors. Even shops the party had visited only once, now claimed the title as proof of their commercial ambition.

Overwhelmed by the endless stream of distinguished visitors, the party members found fewer and fewer opportunities to see one another. Perhaps because of that, they had managed to carve out a small window of time to gather all five together.

“That deputy branch manager said since Walm is only a contract member, he can only participate from the spectator seats. I almost thought about throwing him out the window.”

“I appreciate the sentiment, but the Guild has internal regulations. If flexibility becomes an excuse to grant exceptions too often, the organization itself becomes unhealthy.”

If special cases were granted too freely, resentment would accumulate within the organization. Walm knew this firsthand from belonging to structured institutions. A culture where misconduct was overlooked so long as results were produced could easily invite personal recklessness.

“Walm, that’s the sort of thing that makes you seem so detached.”

Merrill, who had bristled at what seemed an unfair notice, found her anger deflating when the very person concerned appeared utterly unbothered.

“Still, are you truly fine with it? It is a great honor.”

Hari spoke as if to confirm it once more.

“It doesn’t suit me. The Adventurers’ Guild probably wants to emphasize natives of Bergana anyway. I’m receiving more than adequate treatment in terms of meals and lodging. I have no complaints.”

“You’re stubborn in the strangest ways.”

Mariante, resting her cheek in her palm as though already accustomed to this, muttered.

“Well, it’s not as though you can’t attend at all. More importantly, , looks like Walm’s armor that was reduced to scrap metal will be ready in time for the ceremony.”

“I’m surprised anyone accepted the request in such a short time.”

“It is the armor of a member of the Conquerors’ party. Their spirits are naturally high. We must be grateful to those dwarves for putting in a word.”

When speaking of “those dwarves,” there was only one group Walm knew. One of the few parties that came and went from the lower floors—a mixed squad of dwarves and beastkin dispatched from the Aleynard Forest Alliance, who pushed forward regardless of monster or terrain.

“Since the materials are what they are, they apparently won’t entrust it to anyone else. The dwarves are even participating in the forging themselves, quite fired up. To think they can handle smithing work as well as combat… though that dwarf can’t read the room at all, he’s surprisingly dexterous.”

Merrill spoke, recalling what seemed to be some personal grievance. Beneath the boldness with which they split monsters with their battleaxes lay the delicate sensitivity and stubborn dedication of craftsmen. They were, without question, a complicated race.

That said, Walm had no complaints. Using his Highserk-era armor, which had been rendered useless in the battle with the Undead Dragon, they would resurrect it anew with a small amount of Magic Silver and the ashes of the Undead Dragon. Moreover, they would preserve the fundamental design according to Walm’s wishes, despite slight differences. It was more consideration than he could have asked for.

“And what about your contacts, Hari?”

Merrill asked about his progress.

“It concerns old matters. It has proven rather difficult.”

The topic between the two was the method of compounding Deep Crimson Bloom. Hari was gathering information from connections dating back to his time with the Church, but due to concerns about it being linked to the Conqueror, they could not act openly, and progress was slow. After all, it was a secret treasure said to cure all ailments. For someone with only a short time left to live, it was something they would crave desperately.

“I originally intended to search alone without any connections. You’ve helped me greatly.”

Walm’s only potential lead had been the healing mage from the border town, Kopetsk. Though that man had possessed rare medicines, there was no guarantee he knew the solution. If anything, rather than proposing a cure, he had likely told Walm of the secret treasure Deep Crimson Bloom to prevent him from succumbing to despair.

“Don’t be distant. We are comrades who experienced the depths together. It is no great effort.”

Hari spoke without the slightest hint of calculation. When stated so plainly, Walm found himself at a loss for words. Offering a straightforward thanks felt awkward, and he could only reply vaguely.

◆

“What a nuisance. It’s nothing but scandals lately.”

Raffaele, Deputy Branch Manager of the Bergana Adventurers’ Guild, was struggling under pressure from the marquis household due to declining iron output from the labyrinth. In recent years, while the export of resources centered on low-floor meat had gone smoothly, iron production from the middle floors onward had steadily decreased. The reason was simple: mid-tier and higher Adventurers capable of handling the work were not being cultivated.

Promising groups of Adventurers frequently found themselves blocked by the walls of the middle and upper floors, often facing annihilation. Of course, Raffaele had not been idle. He had promoted promising Adventurers to staff positions to hear their opinions. Furthermore, he had opened practical and academic lectures alike and even stationed highly paid healing mages within the labyrinth to improve survival rates.

There had been rumors, dubious ones, of manhunts occurring, but lacking concrete evidence, the Guild judged that the greater issue lay in the incompetence of complacent Adventurers. Compared to decades ago, when the Guild had simply sent users into the black hole and considered its duty fulfilled, the current administration was supposed to be vastly improved.

Then came the unbelievable news: the confirmed appearance of manhunters within the labyrinth. Worse still, the perpetrators were one of the Guild’s most veteran parties, even serving as Guild Instructors. Who could have believed it? To dismiss it as misinformation was impossible, the Faust party had left behind two dead and vanished. With the reporting party being the Three Magic Attack, Raffaele could not ignore it.

“Individuals have periodically broken taboos in the labyrinth, but to think the most senior had been conducting manhunts.”

Faust’s rebellion—once a model Adventurer who never hesitated to cooperate with the Guild—was enough to shake the Guild’s management system. Raffaele had been consumed with dealing with the aftermath, barely finding time to rest.

“Still, isn’t it fortunate their identity was exposed?”

Roggo, who served as Raffaele’s aide and bodyguard, offered his assessment. Once a skilled Scout within the labyrinth, Roggo viewed the removal of the manhunters positively. One might call it draining an abscess, but for those forced to take responsibility after enduring daily overwork, it was hardly comforting.

“That bastard Faust seemed to be harvesting parties that reached a certain level. Even juniors he had personally instructed. Like some vile form of livestock farming. Do you have any idea how much manpower and expense the cleanup requires? And now there’s criticism in the taverns claiming the Guild knowingly tolerated manhunts for years.”

Absurd conspiracy theories even emerged, alleging that the Guild had profited from manhunts. Raffaele could not help but feel anger toward Adventurers’ excessive fondness for rumors.

“If that drifter had just quietly died, none of this trouble would have arisen. Faust was getting old. Manhunts, too, cannot defeat age forever. He would have weakened soon enough and either perished in the labyrinth or retired.”

At the detached tone, Roggo looked as though he wished to say something, prompting Raffaele to press him.

“Hmph, spare me that righteous expression. This Labyrinth City is no clear stream. It is a city swollen beyond control with humanity, foreign spies, criminals, necromancers lurking within. A city where desire and intrigue swirl together. Without the capacity to balance both purity and filth, one cannot manage it.”

The Adventurers’ Guild, together with the marquis household’s guards, had removed such elements time and again. But it was endless, like trying to sweep away fog with one’s hands.

“The red-light district and the slums are the same. The marquis attempted total control, but infiltration failed. Resistance came from enemies without faces, and public order worsened. In terms of population, those outside the walls vastly outnumber those within. How could one possibly control all that from inside the walls? In the end, selecting certain ruffians and grooming them into managers is easier. Even among their own, they hand over those who go too far.”

“So this is a kind of exchange meeting?”

Roggo referred to the upcoming event.

“It’s an inspection. To ensure their business operates properly. Consider it a perk— Hahaha, though you act stern, your body is always honest.”

Raffaele’s gaze drifted from Roggo’s face downward, and he snorted.

“I thought that mercenary was just another troublemaker, yet he conquered the labyrinth with Three Magic Attack. The world is unpredictable. Even if the manhunts were exposed, the benefits outweigh the losses. The marquis, once displeased, is now delighted. More than that, for those ruffians to invite us to a brothel in celebration of the conquest… how generous.”

Those quick to profit were equally swift to act, hoping to share in the blessings brought by the Conqueror. Raffaele’s method was to reward those who displayed obedience. Roggo himself was one such subordinate.

“Well then, Deputy Branch Manager, enjoy yourself.”

During their exchange, Raffaele arrived at the brothel in question. Complaints about official business would end here.

“Ah, you as well. It should be a fine night.”

They parted at a fork in the long corridor. Guiding Raffaele onward was a woman with dull red hair. Her features carried a shadow, an air of misfortune perhaps, but she was by no means unattractive. Her body, likely kept active, was moderately toned.

“I don’t remember you.”

Though the dim light and drifting fragrance obscured his vision, Raffaele prided himself on his memory.

“To ensure master Raffaele fully enjoys this evening, I have been specially prepared.”

Leading him into a private room, the woman entwined her long limbs around him and whispered at his ear.

“The aphrodisiac scent of an Alraune brings happiness and eases the spirit. Please, at least for this moment, forget your daily burdens and relax.”

She was skilled at flattering men. Even if the praise was transparent, it was not unpleasant. Playing along without spoiling the farce had its charm. Raffaele graciously accepted the invitation.

“Well then, let us see how you entertain me.”

Together with the clinging woman, the deputy branch manager’s shadow merged with hers upon the bed. The sweet fragrance dulled his thoughts and numbed his body.

Translator – Lyxxna