Who Designed This Dungeon Chapter 189 - 189

The vision that appeared before Darrick was extrely fragnted.

He saw "himself" training relentlessly, gradually becoming a true mber of the Undead Legion, fighting side by side with the others as they purged one Abyss after another.

He saw himself gathering large numbers of Estus Flasks—items similar to healing potions. Whenever other mbers of the Legion ran out, they would co to him to ask for so.

He saw himself creating countless aningful mories with the Undead Legion. As he watched, he found himself unconsciously sinking deeper into the scene.

So this was how harmonious and close the Undead Legion had once been, before being corrupted by the Abyss.

But then a question surfaced—

Such a brave and powerful army… why had they suddenly fallen to the Abyss and ended up slaughtering one another at Farron Keep?

The answer soon revealed itself.

Because the fire was gradually fading.

Darrick didn't know when this had happened, nor how much ti had passed since Lord Gwyn had linked the fire—but the fla was growing weaker and weaker. At that mont, soone had to step forward to link it once again.

And that responsibility fell upon the Farron Undead Legion.

Only then did Darrick truly understand the aning behind the title he had heard earlier—

"Lords of Cinder."

It turned out to an kindling.

The Farron Undead Legion agreed to link the fire.

After that, all Darrick saw was fla erupting before his eyes. As an observer of mory, he felt no heat—but surely being consud by raging fire would be agony beyond words, even for a battle-hardened immortal army.

Darrick was imrsed in the shock of the flas rising, yet he failed to notice—

This fire was far smaller than the one Lord Gwyn had kindled.

Suddenly, a question struck him.

If the Undead Legion sacrificed themselves to link the fire… then how did they later return to Farron Keep?

The mory offered no answer.

The scene shifted abruptly, and a statue appeared before him.

No—this wasn't a statue.

It was an ancient dragon, stone-like in appearance, completely motionless. Perhaps it was still alive… or perhaps it had long since died.

And as he gazed upon the dragon, he felt "himself" experience a powerful sense of longing.

Longing to… beco a dragon?

The vision cut off.

The world spun violently as Darrick's back slamd into the ground.

Before he could even react, excited shouts erupted around him.

"Boss out!"

"That was fast this ti—boss was way too strong!"

"I heard the people who entered the Wolf Knight painting from the guild still haven't co out yet. Looks like this boss is even more amazing!"

Staring up at the deep blue sky of Firelink Shrine, Darrick blinked blankly.

His mood felt exactly like the ti he'd seen Artorias about to battle the Lord of the Abyss—only for the vision to abruptly end.

A lump of frustration stuck in his throat, unable to co out.

At least let see what happened after the Farron Undead Legion linked the fire!

What happened to Hawkwood afterward? Why was he still alive?!

And what was that dragon at the end supposed to an?!

No matter how much his companions called out to him, Darrick remained imrsed in the vision.

This imrsion felt even stronger than before. Though the experiences were fragnted, it felt as though he had personally witnessed Hawkwood's growth step by step.

The sense of identification was far stronger than with Artorias, who had started at max level from the very beginning.

Gods… didn't you get this wrong?

I was supposed to be a warrior who passed the Wolf Blood Trial and fought the Abyss alongside the Undead Legion, not—

Wait.

Aren't I also forming a new generation of Farron Guardians to fight the Abyss—no, the demon race?

Isn't that basically the sa thing the predecessors did?

Darrick snapped back to reality instantly, standing up before anyone could shout, "He's gone dumb!"

"So what was it like inside?"

Everyone crowded around him, chirping excitedly like a flock of birds. They were practically vibrating with anticipation.

Facing their curious gazes, Darrick took a deep breath and said:

"There's a secret to becoming stronger in there!"

(***)

Bedford City

On a quiet, rarely traveled street, inside an unremarkable house—

A man sat at his desk, deep in thought. Before him lay a stack of completely blank manuscript pages, while crumpled balls of paper littered the floor—discarded drafts without exception.

"I can't write anything… and the deadline's almost here."

He grabbed at his hair—ssy like a chicken's nest—and his unshaven beard made it obvious that this was a creator trapped in the agony of creative burnout.

His na was Charlie.

A writer who made his living submitting articles to newspapers.

But lately, he couldn't write a single word.

Because of Sein Dungeon's explosive popularity, nearly everyone was creating content centered around it. He'd reacted too slowly—by the ti he tried to jump in, everything worth writing about had already been done.

He wanted to write about the Farron Undead Legion as well, but that topic had already been thoroughly exhausted by Wallace and his peers. Rumor had it that Wallace had made a fortune from A Historical Study of Farron Keep and Ten Thousand Ways to Die in Sein Dungeon—enough to buy a large house and a new carriage.

Charlie was so jealous his eyes were red.

"What else is there to write about… can Sein Dungeon hurry up and update so new history already? I'm about to starve."

He anxiously chewed on his pen—bit down too hard and snapped it clean in half.

Dejected, he slapped the broken pen onto the desk and walked outside.

Most people living on this street were poor—locals scraping by, or outsiders who'd co looking for work. Charlie lived here simply because the rent was cheap.

Just then, he noticed a young man walking past him.

The face looked familiar.

Ah—right. His na was Klan. A forr resident of Val City.

Poor guy… after what happened to that place.

"Hm?"

A spark flashed through Charlie's mind.

He'd heard that many survivors from Val City had joined a newly ford organization called the Farron Guard. Klan was one of them.

That group claid to inherit the spirit of the Farron Undead Legion—so maybe they possessed undisclosed information about the Undead Legion?

With that thought, Charlie hurried over enthusiastically.

"Hey, Klan! How've you been lately?"

"Mr. Charlie," Klan said, lifting his head to look at the scruffy middle-aged man he'd only t a few tis.

After a brief exchange of pleasantries, Klan quickly understood the writer's intentions.

"Unpublished information?" Klan said. "I actually do have so—and it's guaranteed to be explosive."

He was referring to the Farron Undead Legion's linking of the fire—fresh intel Darrick had brought back not long ago.

"Really?!" Charlie's face lit up.

"But, Mr. Charlie," Klan said with a smile, "what are you planning to trade for it?"

"I'll definitely pay you," Charlie said pitifully, "but I don't have the money right now… can I pay you after I earn from the article?"

"I see. Then co with —to the Farron Guard base."

He was referring to Darrick's farm.

"Sign a contract. When the information cos in, you'll split the profits with us. Consider it your contribution to eliminating the demon race."

Charlie hesitated for a mont—

Then clenched his teeth and agreed.

All or nothing!

If this information couldn't support an article people actually wanted to read, he'd give up writing entirely and go back to the countryside to grow potatoes!

(***)

A few days later, an article titled—

"Link the Fire! The Tragic Legend of the Farron Undead Legion!"

—was published in the Bedford Weekly.

Its impact could be sumd up in four words:

An absolute explosion!

Charlie gained massive attention from this exclusive piece, securing enough funds to continue locking himself indoors to write.

As for the Farron Guard—aside from receiving a share of the money, their na recognition skyrocketed thanks to repeated ntions in the article.

Count Charon praised the move endlessly.

Before he'd even begun promoting them, they'd already promoted themselves.

So he gave it an extra push, spreading the article even further.

As the Farron Guard's fa rose, people began approaching them from all directions—those offering supplies, those wanting to join, those seeking cooperation.

Darrick and his group officially integrated the "Hawkwood" painting into daily training, with remarkable results.

Demon remnants could appear at any ti, leaving them no spare energy to deal with visitors. In the end, they agreed to cooperate with Count Charon and dumped all external affairs onto him.

Thus, Darrick and the Farron Guard lived busy yet fulfilling days—training constantly to prepare for the eventual reckoning with the demon race.

Every day, selected mbers entered the painting world for training. Soon, Wisk and the others were wielding Farron sword techniques with convincing form.

anwhile, Charon tirelessly searched for traces of the demon race—whether they found anything or not.

They were waiting.

Waiting for the right mont.

A mont for the Farron Guard to shine.

After the Luluwo group ford an alliance with the Farron Guard, they made speedrunning Farron Keep their top priority.

As the region with the highest number of adventurers, guides for it were everywhere. After reviewing them all, their progress was rapid.

But they hit a wall with the boss—

The Farron Undead Legion.

From their perspective, the Undead Legion was both beatable and unbeatable.

They could trade blows and even hold out for so ti—but once the damage reached a certain threshold, the enemy's attack speed would spike, often leaving no ti to react.

To defeat them, they would need fighters with lightning-fast reflexes, bodies strong enough to keep up—and at least a ten-person team.

And that was assuming the Undead Legion possessed only the strength they'd shown so far.

Luluwo attempted to recruit Leon, Darrick, and other elite adventurers to form a raid party—but for various reasons, they couldn't gather enough people.

As a result, progress in Farron Keep reached a bottleneck.

Everyone knew that the best way to deal with a bottleneck was to relax and shift focus.

After so consideration, they approached Charon and borrowed a precious flying mount—

A griffin.

"Hahaha! Flying feels amazing!"

Riding atop the griffin, wind roaring past her ears, Luluwo raised both hands and shouted in delight.

Mira hurriedly grabbed their captain, afraid she'd be blown off by the gale.

A griffin was far faster than any carriage.

Even dosticated, impure-blooded griffins still retained highly active monster instincts, making riding them extrely dangerous. Only those with sufficient strength could do so safely.

Looking down, the creatures on the ground seed as small as trash.

In the distance, a city—much smaller than Bedford City—ca faintly into view.

Farmland surrounded it, fields filled with all kinds of vegetables. Its greenery far surpassed Bedford's, making it look vibrant and healthy.

This was the destination of the strategy group's journey—

Springvale City.

They had co to see for themselves what the rumored Cangyin Dungeon—said to resemble Sein Dungeon's terrain—was really like.

"I want to see which dungeon is harder—this one or Sein!"

Luluwo's eyes burned with excitent as she looked toward the journey ahead.