Who Designed This Dungeon Chapter 145: Chap145

No matter the ti or place, rewards are always the greatest driving force behind exploration.

So people may be drawn in by story or atmosphere, sure. But relying solely on narrative to push players eagerly into a roguelike? Completely unrealistic.

Most adventurers are pragmatists at heart—no rewards, no motivation.

Take Leon and Drew, for instance. The mont they got the chance, Leon grabbed the reluctant dwarf and dragged him straight back into the roguelike dungeon. They spent the entire day fighting nonstop.

After a full day of grinding, they finally earned four Battle-Test Tokens.

Drew checked the altar, searching the exchange list, and eventually traded his token for an Alluring Skull. One token for ten skulls—very cost-efficient. Seeing those ten skulls piled up in front of him filled him with a strange sense of triumph.

Since the item description said it could draw monster aggression, he figured that from now on, he would never again have to experience the terror of being chased around like earlier.

Especially that part where he got hunted down by the stray demon… trauma he never wanted to relive.

"You're not exchanging for anything?" Drew turned back to Leon.

Leon shook his head. "I'm saving up for sothing better."

His gaze burned as he looked toward the altar, fingers curling as if he could already feel the weight of future Tokens in his hand.

It was a small step for him, but a massive leap for adventurers as a whole.

So Blessings found within this dungeon were far more valuable than souls. The Sein Dungeon was practically a treasure vault.

Feeling exhilarated, he lowered his eyes to his straight sword. The blade was chipped and jagged after the day's extended combat. It definitely needed repairs.

He wasn't sure if it was his imagination, but Leon felt that after advancing through more levels, the monsters inside had begun subtly changing in difficulty.

Hard to describe—but he sensed it.

Enemies that were far too weak or overwhelmingly strong were gone. In their place were monsters that required effort—monsters whose difficulty felt calibrated.

As for elite monsters, the fights had beco tense battles where he had a realistic chance of losing.

It felt as if the monsters' strength was adjusting to his own.

Battling evenly matched foes was fun, but the joy of mowing down enemies had faded. Only the levels before the first elite remained relatively easy.

No mystery there—Wade had applied the Balance of Power to the roguelike system.

By day's end, Leon's mind was buzzing with excitent, but his body had reached its limit. Estimating the ti, they finally chose to exit the dungeon.

Outside, night had already fallen. Stars sprinkled the sky, and the moon hung overhead, looking like it had been bitten by Steve Jobs.

The noisy bustle outside sharply contrasted with the quiet tranquility of Firelink Shrine. The difference made Leon feel like he had crossed into another world.

People always say it's hard to return to a quiet ho after a lively ball—but Leon felt the opposite. He wasn't used to noisy crowds anymore.

"You think Maru and the others are out yet?"

He bought a few skewers from a street stall and handed one to Drew.

Drew hesitated. Recently, thanks to influences from the Gourt Zone, food around the city had grown increasingly bizarre. No one could even tell what the ingredients were anymore.

But… whatever. If it tasted good, that was enough.

His stomach growled, and he accepted the skewer.

Whatever at it was, it was tender and juicy, the oil glistening, the charred brown surface contrasting against bright green onions. A thick aroma of roasted at filled the air. One bite—and any at lover would ascend straight to heaven.

His fatigue lted the mont the hot food ward his stomach. Drew devoured the whole skewer—almost as long as his forearm—in just two bites.

Leon laughed and was about to buy more, but Drew waved him off.

"To the tavern!"

Hot food was great—but hot food with cold beer was how you ended a night properly.

The mont they pushed open the tavern door, a wave of noise crashed into them, making them instinctively recoil.

The place was brightly lit and completely packed—people standing, drinking at crowded tables, loudly discussing the day's harvest. Every so often, cheers echoed through the room. The sll of beer lifted everyone's spirits.

"Was it always this packed?" Leon glanced around. Not a single open seat.

The tavern had always been popular, but never this overflowing. What happened today?

"It's been like this for a while," Drew said. "Everyone's here because of the dungeon. You've been gone a month—you didn't notice."

He pointed deeper inside. "There. Seats."

Seats?

Leon looked over—and saw familiar faces: Maru and Terl. Gapar, however, was missing.

Even Roger was there. He had one arm wrapped around Terl's waist—because her shoulder was too high—and his other arm slung over a young man Leon didn't recognize, singing loudly and terribly. People nearby were already grimacing, clearly reaching their limit.

Leon suddenly lost the desire to approach.

"Boss! Over here!" Maru spotted him and waved imdiately.

Leon had no choice but to walk over. As soon as he got close, Roger lunged at him for a hug, but Leon sidestepped.

Roger crashed to the floor with a thud and stayed down. Monts later, soft snoring erged.

"Leave him. One drink and he's gone," Maru said, kicking him aside in disdain. The unfamiliar young man stood, clearly wanting to escape the chaos.

"Hold up!"

Maru grabbed Leon's arm. "Boss, let introduce you—this is the guy I told you about—"

"Darrick, right?" Leon smiled warmly and extended his hand.

Darrick shook it, surprised. "Didn't think the 'Lion' Leon would know ."

"Of course. I've heard plenty since I got back—like…"

Leon's grin widened.

"The Little Farron Undying Squad, Farron's Young Wolf, the Hero Who Slays Demons."

"Pff—! Cough! Cough!!"

Darrick almost sprayed his drink all over the table. Who kept inventing these embarrassing titles!?

"Sit. I've wanted to et you, legend."

Darrick sat stiffly. Leon was the leader of the raid group—rumor said he was warm as sunlight but sharp as a lion, with a deep cunning beneath his smile.

Darrick straightened. Whatever test Leon gave him, he'd answer it seriously.

Dealing with big shots was unavoidable.

A mont later—

"The Farron Undying Squad is so cool! I wanna fight them soday!"

After eight mugs of beer, Leon—now tipsy—slung an arm around Darrick's shoulders, practically sparkling with admiration.

"C'mon, tell more stories about them. I wanna hear all of it."

Darrick hunched, thinking, Do strong people here all turn clingy when drunk?

"I already told you everything I know," he said with a polite, pained smile. "I really don't have more."

How did Leon turn into a kid begging for bedti stories!?

"Sha…" Leon sighed. "So? Are they strong? How's your progress?"

Darrick shook his head—whether to say he couldn't match them, or sothing more complicated.

Leon understood imdiately. The Battle of Val City had just ended. Of course Darrick needed rest. He probably hadn't stepped back into the dungeon yet.

"Darrick's famous now," Roger suddenly said—fully awake and sitting upright like nothing happened.

"The Count awarded him, recomnded him to the higher-ups, adventurers think he's a beast, civilians idolize him—what a life."

Darrick's eye twitched. "A lot of people helped… why act like I did everything?"

"It's because the battle footage was amazing. And you killed a demon commander," Roger said. "Perfect material for propaganda."

Darrick fell silent.

That footage brought more than fa.

This morning, several people visited his ho asking to beco his disciples, begging him to teach them swordsmanship.

They were survivors of Val City.

Their eyes were hollow yet filled with hatred—like people who, after avenging their loved ones, would imdiately take their own lives because nothing remained.

They sought him out because of the footage, and because they believed he inherited the legacy of the Abyss Watchers—the "demon-slaying heroes" in the eyes of civilians.

Darrick's swordsmanship, his battle alongside the wolves, and the activation of his wolf blood convinced them even more.

The survivors wanted revenge but had no power to storm Farron Keep—so they placed their hopes on Darrick.

It was too much. He didn't know how to handle it. For now, he sent them to the farm.

But they were only the beginning. More people ca—so wanting to be disciples, so wanting to hire him as a guard so they could seek wolf blood, so even throwing their entire family fortune at his feet, begging him to kill more demons.

It overwheld him. He fled the farm tonight, only to be dragged into the tavern by Roger.

Am I really supposed to create a new Undying Squad? Can I shoulder the futures of so many people?

The tavern roared with life, but Darrick's mind was a storm of confusion.

Noticing his mood, Leon pulled out the torn painting fragnt he obtained earlier.

"I got this from a grave. It's a fragnt showing the legend of Sir Artorias the Abysswalker. Sha it's incomplete."

Darrick shot to his feet.

Did he hear that correctly? Artorias the Abysswalker?

Wasn't that the very hero the Abyss Watchers revered!?

He grabbed Leon's hand.

"Please—tell everything!"

After Leon explained the roguelike and its chanics, Darrick fell deep into thought.

But soon, determination ignited in his eyes.

Tomorrow, he would enter the dungeon to seek Artorias's legend.

Maybe that hero's story could guide him through his turmoil.

The next day, when Darrick arrived at the portal alone, he unexpectedly encountered—

"Yo-ho~!" Maru peeked out from behind Leon. "Morning!"

Darrick stiffened, eyes shifting past them—where an elderly figure stood.

Sword Saint Gapar nodded at him.