Qiraj crouched low in the foul-slling swamp, a bucket over his head and a fishing rod strapped to his back, lurking like a crocodile waiting to strike.
Several skeleton monsters wandered nearby, yet not one noticed the very large, very alive man hiding right under their noses.
It wasn't their fault. A short distance away, another poor soul had drawn all their attention with a far greater racket. The skeletons imdiately went charging after him.
"Thank you, brother…" Qiraj whispered tearfully as he watched the man's back vanish into the distance. Deep down, he knew that comrade would likely never return.
"I'll catch one more fish for you… to honor your sacrifice."
He kept his eyes fixed on the monsters until they were far enough away that there was no chance of them coming back. Then, with a sudden burst of courage, he sprang to his feet!
But he wasn't the only one.
Another group rose at the sa ti. Counting himself, there were nine of them!
Every single one wore the sa bizarre "uniform": a bucket on the head, a fishing rod slung across the back, fragrant bait tied to the waist. Their faces were filled with grief and determination, their eyes burning with the silent vow—"The aning of the dead must be carried on by the living."
These were the fishern Qiraj had t just a few days earlier in the Gourt Zone.
Kindred spirits. No matter the danger, no matter the cost, they were determined to fish there.
Not for treasure, not for glory, but because the Gourt Zone was brimming with fish. Here, buckets never ca up empty. Every catch carried a sense of achievent, and the price fetched at market was more than enough to help with household expenses. At last, families would stop scolding them for fishing all day!
And best of all—the place overflowed with food. No need to pack als. Just bring buckets and rods. It was paradise.
Lately, the Gourt Zone had beco the hottest topic in Bedford City, drawing wave after wave of people into the Sein Dungeon. Simply put—it had gone viral.
Normally, few dared to step foot in dungeons, especially the dangerous ones. Dungeons ant endless fighting, constant fear of death, and exhausting battles that left you half-dead.
But if you told people there was suddenly a bright, sunny place inside, overflowing with food and drink, filled with never-before-seen delicacies—well, who wouldn't want to take a look?
Food was far more enticing than combat.
The Gourt Zone's endless schools of fish especially drove anglers wild. What was the greatest joy in a fisherman's life? Catching a new species! And here, every single fish was sothing unheard of, unseen before.
The fishern went mad, filling their bestiaries with entry after entry.
But one problem plagued them all.
They were weak.
Not just weak—pathetically weak.
Among the ten of them, Qiraj was sohow considered the strongest… and he was only at a Low-Tier combat level. The rest were middle-aged uncles or washed-up adventurers with no real strength left. Entering the Sein Dungeon for them was almost guaranteed suicide. Even with the recently discovered shortcut to the Gourt Zone, the journey was perilous.
Because the Dungeon was alive. Monsters didn't wait neatly in place; they road.
You could morize trap locations, sure—but roaming monsters? Those were the real nightmares.
So the weaklings banded together for safety, and eventually one "genius" ca up with a plan.
"Hey, every ti we get surrounded, we just send one brave soul to lure them away!"
"We'll take turns. That way, everyone gets at least one chance to fish every two days. Perfect, right?"
Everyone thought about it. It sounded reasonable. They agreed without hesitation.
Why not hire adventurers as bodyguards? As if! At the Sein Dungeon's difficulty, simply being able to survive alone was already a miracle. Besides, these fishern were ordinary folk. They didn't have the money to hire protection.
Rumor had it even that famous raiding party, the one making waves recently, had suffered a setback here, leaving its mbers disheartened.
"Everyone, run!"
At the shout, they scattered like lightning, bolting as fast as their legs would carry them. Ti was life—ti was fishing!
The commotion inevitably drew more monsters, but they didn't care. All they needed was to reach the Gourt Zone. Once inside, monsters wouldn't follow.
Yet once again, they were too slow. The monsters closed in, surrounding them.
At that desperate mont, one man leapt out, shouting:
"I'll do it!"
"Farewell, hero!"
He dashed off in another direction, screaming nonsense at the top of his lungs, successfully luring away a massive pack.
That was what it ant to be a man.
After another desperate sprint, the survivors finally stumbled into the fragrant Gourt Zone.
Only seven remained.
Three heroes had sacrificed themselves so the others could fish.
"Rember their nas," Qiraj said solemnly. "Next ti, it will be our turn to offer ourselves."
The group responded with fiery resolve. To an outsider, it might have looked like they were preparing to lay down their lives for so noble cause.
But the truth?
It was just for fishing.
A pot of tea, a pipe of smoke, a rod in hand, and a whole day by the water.
The morning passed quickly. Qiraj stretched, glanced at his empty bucket, and sighed.
He had blanked.
To co up empty-handed in such a fish-rich zone… that was practically a talent.
Without a catch, he might not even afford dinner tonight.
His teammates had given up on entering the Sein Dungeon for now, saying they'd do odd jobs outside to gain experience.
Qiraj had no patience for errands, so he went fishing with a few new angler friends.
If he caught sothing, selling it at the market would cover three or four days' als. If not, well… so be it.
He had also picked up gathering requests for so Gourt Zone specialties—things he could collect while fishing.
"Let's see… dandelion cow-tongues, at least twenty. Easy, those are everywhere."
"Soy-sauce locusts… ugh, too fast, hard to catch."
"Hunt a whole roast pig—what lunatic slipped this into my commission list? That's suicide!"
"Five swiftshrooms, two life durians…"
Qiraj grimaced. He had accepted too hastily without reading carefully.
Swiftshrooms, once cooked, temporarily boosted speed.
Life durians could restore soone from the brink of death to full vitality.
Unlike the Gourt Zone's usual "just tasty" foods, these ingredients carried effects that made them highly valuable on the market.
The problem? They only grew deep within the Gourt Zone.
Everyone knew the place was divided by rivers. Each small area had limited, almost fixed resources.
To obtain rarer, higher-quality ingredients, one had to venture deeper.
This natural progression separated ordinary people from adventurers. Regular folk stuck to the Milk River's bounty, while adventurers pressed further for greater rewards.
Qiraj admired the Gourt Zone's "rules"… so long as he wasn't the one going deeper.
Still, he clenched his teeth, handed his rod to a companion, and crossed the Milk River.
(***)
Wade received a prompt.
[Mana 91]
He barely glanced at it, uninterested. The crystal ball before him displayed countless images, but one caught his attention, enlarging automatically.
It showed several figures who, at first glance, looked like adventurers. But on closer inspection, sothing was very wrong.
Their skin was pitch black, their bodies massive and muscular. Horns jutted from their heads and limbs. Their forms twisted with grotesque features: tongues dragging on the ground, multiple bat wings sprouting from their backs, scales rippling across their flesh.
They looked like warped fusions of humans and monsters.
"These things…" Wade muttered to himself.
"Aren't they demons? How the hell did they end up in my dungeon?"
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