I'd experienced a lot since arriving in this world, but this… this was the first time I was caught up in something that could honestly be called part of the main storyline.

Up until now, I'd either twisted the events off-course or blocked them entirely. Little detours, safety measures, rewriting the script before it even got a chance to unfold.

And truthfully, I could've done the same this time too—derailed the whole thing before it started. But I didn't.

Why?

There were a few reasons.

First: people would get hurt, yes, but no one was supposed to die. Pain and panic, sure—but it wasn't a tragedy. Not yet. That made it tolerable.

Second: this dungeon wasn't just some random pocket of trouble. Buried inside was a hidden room, one left behind by an alchemist who'd poured his entire life into his craft. A place full of secrets and legacy. Walking away from that kind of opportunity? That would've been stupid.

And third… the real reason I let this play out.

The villains behind this dungeonization.

In the original story, they were supposed to cause havoc, push the protagonists into a corner, and then fade into the backdrop of "enemy of the week." Disposable, but talented.

But me? I saw potential.

If they were sharp enough, if they weren't just mindless thugs—I could recruit them. Turn them from enemies into allies. And if that didn't work? Well, New Dawn already existed. A growing villain alliance with enough ambition to bite at the Twelve Signs themselves. Collaboration wasn't out of the question either.

Either way, it was a chance to build something. To shift the balance.

So, no—I wasn't here just to play the role of the victim or the bystander.

I was here to watch, to choose, and maybe even to rewrite this part of the story for myself.

I let out a slow breath, the dungeon's eerie silence settling around me.

"…Well then. Let's see how this plays out."

...And just like that, more than ten minutes passed.

There was no sign of any danger well until I saw the danger myself.

"Ah."

Not far ahead, something stirred in the half-lit corridor.

At first, I thought it was another statue, just another piece of old décor, but then it shifted—a quiet, deliberate movement, metal joints creaking like a door long forgotten.

A knight in full armor.

No face, only a helm shaped like a bud half-bloomed. A single crimson rose bloomed proudly where a crest should've been, its petals glowing faintly against the dull iron.

"A Rose Knight," I muttered, recognition sparking.

Originally, they were nasty mid-rank plant monsters—knights whose bodies had been hollowed out and filled with blooming roses, swords guided by roots instead of nerves. But here, in this dungeon? I knew better. These were subspecies. Weakened versions. At best, low-rank, high-tier.

Dangerous, yes, but not immediately.

And more importantly—they wouldn't attack first.

The dungeon's master had… a gentle streak, if I remembered correctly. These knights only retaliated if provoked, or if someone tried to breach the treasure vault.

So unless I did something monumentally stupid, I was safe.

I raised a hand slightly, palm open. "Hello. Can't see your face with that helmet on, but your rose looks great. You've been watering it well, huh?"

The knight didn't speak—of course it couldn't—but its stance shifted, almost… lighter. As if pleased someone noticed.

"I don't suppose," I continued, tilting my head, "you'd be kind enough to guide me to the reward room?"

At that, the Rose Knight froze. Then, with a slow, deliberate shake of its helm, it refused.

Not aggression. Just… denial.

"Ah." My lips curved into a dry smile. "So I'm not qualified, is that it?"

The knight gave the faintest nod.

I let out a soft chuckle and folded my arms. "Figures. No shortcuts, huh? Guess I'll have to play by the dungeon's rules."

Still, the way the knight shifted again, as if reluctant, caught my attention. Like it wanted to help but wasn't allowed.

"…But you don't hate me being here." My eyes narrowed slightly, catching the faint flicker of the rose's glow. "Interesting."

So I wasn't an intruder—not yet. Just… untested.

That was fine. In fact, it was better than fine.

Because if the knight wouldn't guide me to the vault, then it meant there was a vault.

And all I had to do now was find the path myself.

I gave the Rose Knight a short nod, almost respectful. "Thanks anyway. I'll figure it out. Try not to get bored standing around too long."

The knight stilled once more, silent and watchful, as I moved past it into the deeper halls.

Its rose glowed faintly behind me, like a lantern watching my back.

I paused mid-step.

No… the way it swayed earlier—it wasn't a flat rejection. It was closer to: I can't, but maybe…

I turned back, studying the knight. The petals on its rose shifted slightly, curling inward like it was holding its breath.

"Not qualified, huh?" I muttered, tapping my chin. "But that doesn't mean you can't hint at something, does it?"

The Rose Knight didn't react. At least, not immediately.

I crouched slightly, narrowing my eyes at the armor. "Let's make this easy. Don't move if I'm completely wrong. Move—however you like—if I'm on the right track."

A ridiculous test, really, but worth trying.

"First question," I said lightly. "The reward room exists in this dungeon, yes?"

The knight's gauntleted hand twitched ever so slightly. Almost imperceptible.

Bingo.

"Good. Now… it's not somewhere obvious, is it? It's hidden."

The knight's helm tilted by a fraction, like a statue leaning in the faintest breeze.

I grinned. "Thought so."

I took a slow step closer, lowering my voice as if we were conspirators. "If I walk straight ahead from here, will I be getting closer?"

This time, there was no movement.

But as I shifted slightly to the left, the rose's glow pulsed faintly—like the petal caught a sliver of unseen light.

I froze. Then slowly, carefully, I adjusted myself another step left.

The glow pulsed again.

"…Ha." A quiet laugh slipped out. "You're not allowed to guide, but you can't help giving me directions, can you?"

The Rose Knight stood motionless, but its presence felt warmer, almost pleased, like a guard finally getting to play a game after centuries of standing still.

I straightened and gave it a small nod. "Thanks. That's enough for now. I'll take it from here."

And with that, I turned in the direction it had hinted, my pulse quickening.

A weakened dungeon, a gentle master, and now… a silent ally.

Things were getting interesting.

-----

"Ryen, get the others together! We have to move—now!"

"I know, Leon! Just hold them off a little longer!"

Leona—disguised under the name Leon—gritted her teeth and swung her sword in a wide arc. The blade, infused with mana, carved through the plant-like monsters, slicing stems and severing thorny limbs.

For a moment, it looked effective… until the vines writhed back together, knitting their wounds as if nothing had happened.

They weren't ordinary monsters. These things weren't born naturally; they'd been made. Twisted copies, patched together with unnatural resilience.

Leona cut one down completely, her sword aura shredding it to dust, but most simply healed themselves by latching onto their companions, draining the others to recover.

"Tch… persistent weeds," she muttered, shifting her stance.

They weren't particularly strong one-on-one. That wasn't the problem. The danger was in their numbers—if they managed to split the group, anyone caught alone would be swallowed whole.

That was why she had to carve the path.

And Ryen? He had to make sure no one fell behind.

His holy sword flared, radiating a soft light that pushed the monsters back, buying precious seconds of space. He stood at the rear, shielding stragglers, guiding them forward, and every time a vine tried to lash out, his blade cut through it with a burst of divine glow.

Step by step, they pushed forward, Leona leading, Ryen guarding.

Their plan was simple—clear a route, keep the civilians together, break through no matter what.

And against all odds, it worked.

When they finally stopped to catch their breath, six wide-eyed tourists huddled together behind them. Ordinary people, shaken and pale, but alive.

"…Six," Ryen counted, lowering his sword just enough to glance at their faces. "That's everyone we found."

Leona nodded, wiping the sweat from her brow as she tightened her grip on her weapon. "Good. Then we're not done yet. We have to get them out of here."

Six tourists—ordinary men and women who'd probably just wanted a simple trip—now stood trembling, their clothes torn, their faces pale.

One of the older men clutched his arm, though it was only scratched. A woman hugged her child so tightly the boy could barely breathe, though the child was too shocked to complain.

Ryen lowered his glowing sword and turned to them, voice calm but firm. "You're safe for now. Stay close to each other, and don't wander. No matter what happens, don't run off on your own."

The reassurance worked a little—at least enough for the tourists to nod. Still, their eyes darted nervously to the shadows of the dungeon walls, as if the vines might lash out at any second.

Leona exhaled, sliding her sword back into a ready stance but letting her shoulders relax just a fraction. "We cleared enough distance. They won't regroup this fast." She glanced at Ryen, lowering her voice so only he could hear. "But if this keeps up, they'll wear us down before we get anywhere."

Ryen nodded, his gaze flicking back to the group. He couldn't let them hear doubt—not now. Instead, he forced a small smile, the kind that radiated confidence. "It'll be fine. We'll get through. That's what we're here for."

All six people nodded at Ryen's words and at the same time Ryen expression hardend as he thought of Rin.

'I have to finish here fast.... Only then I can save Rin!'