The twenty-fifth-floor corridor erupted in light as Luthar raised his weapon and fired without hesitation. The monster pack never had time to scatter.
Chitin shattered. Flesh collapsed. Bodies struck stone almost in unison.
Natasha's group moved first, their weapons still raised as they checked the surrounding corridors. Behind them, Daphne followed more cautiously, eyes sweeping the walls, every sense strained by prolonged exposure to the Dungeon.
Cassandra remained where she was, hands clenched at her sides, gaze fixed on the scattered magic stones, already thinking about how she could assist the others.
Luthar did not look at the stones. His attention had already shifted to the faint projection hovering near his wrist.
"Clear," Natasha said.
"Okay," Luthar replied, eyes unmoving.
With a small gesture, he adjusted their route. A longer path. Narrower passages. Fewer open chambers.
"At this pace," he continued evenly, "we will need at least two more days to reach the fortieth floor."
"That's too fast," Daphne said. "You're not planning to ignore rest, are you?"
"I am not an idiot," Luthar replied. "We will take appropriate breaks."
Hearing that, the group relaxed slightly. Cassandra hesitated, then spoke, her voice quieter than the others.
"If we go deeper… we might encounter the floor boss. What do we do then?"
Luthar paused. His head tilted slightly, as though reviewing information only he could see.
He turned to face them.
"If a floor boss like Udaeus appears," he said calmly, "we have three options."
He raised one finger.
"First, we try to avoid it. If we do encounter it, we run."
A second finger.
"Second, we engage carefully and try to wear it down over time."
A brief pause.
Third finger.
"Third, direct elimination."
Daphne stiffened. Cassandra's breath caught.
"Can your weapons kill it?" Daphne asked.
"Only if you can buy me time," Luthar replied.
"That will be difficult," Cassandra said quietly.
Luthar turned back toward the descending corridor.
"There is another option," he said. "But it could force a Juggernaut to spawn."
He started forward.
"We move for the next two hours," he ordered. "Then we rest."
While Luthar calculated routes and time in the depths below, the surface followed a different rhythm.
In Orario, impatience moved faster than planning.
And some people decided they could not wait.
They came after the shop had closed.
Hoods low. Faces wrapped. No insignia. No colors that could be traced back to anyone specific.
They already knew they would not be forgiven for what they were about to do.
The quiet street was broken by metal scraping against wood.
Inside the shop, Miach paused mid-count. The sound came again, louder this time—the rough grind of force against the door.
Naaza looked up from the back room.
"Is someone trying to—"
Miach was already moving.
He reached the counter just as the door opened.
Two men stood there, hoods up, faces wrapped. One of them immediately raised his gun, aiming straight at Miach's chest.
The second turned his weapon toward Naaza.
"Stay where you are," one of them said. "Don't make a sound."
Naaza stopped short, eyes flicking from the guns to the half-hidden faces.
Then she sighed.
"You're breaking into Luthar's weapons shop," she said flatly, "using Luthar's guns."
The man nearest her snapped, finger twitching near the trigger.
"Shut up."
Miach spoke before Naaza could say anything worse.
"Easy," he said calmly. "There's no need for—"
The gun shifted, aimed directly at his chest.
"I said don't talk," the thief hissed.
He didn't fire.
Not because he couldn't.
Because even thieves knew better than to kill a god inside Orario.
From outside, a voice barked an order.
"Take everything."
They abandoned any pretense of care.
Crowbars came out. Gloves snapped on. Instead of opening display cases, they tore them free. Entire weapon racks were ripped from the floor, cords snapping, metal screaming against stone.
One of them reached bare-handed toward a locked case.
The shock dropped him instantly.
He convulsed once, then collapsed, smoke rising faintly from his glove-less hand.
"Gloves!" the leader shouted. "I said gloves!"
No one argued.
They worked faster after that, no longer reckless. Displays were dragged whole and dumped into sacks, unopened.
Two guns remained trained on Miach and Naaza the entire time. They could not risk either of them screaming or calling for help.
When the last case was hauled out, the leader gave a sharp signal.
They vanished into the night.
Only then did the two gunmen retreat, backing away until they reached the end of the street—then they turned and ran.
Silence returned to the shop in fragments.
Broken glass. Scorched stone. The smell of burnt insulation.
Naaza exhaled shakily.
"Do you think he's going to blame us for not stopping them?" she asked.
Miach shook his head. "No. He doesn't strike me as someone who blames bystanders," he said, his gaze lingering on the empty racks. "I'm more worried about the thieves."
His concern was genuine. He had always felt that Luthar did not think of people in human terms.
Naaza glanced down at her prosthetic arm. For a moment, she stared at it, thinking about its creator.
"…Let's close the shop and go to the church to inform him," she said quietly.
Miach looked at her.
She hesitated, then added, more firmly, "At least we can do this for him."
Miach nodded slowly.
They began moving without another word, boarding up what they could, extinguishing the remaining lights. The shop fell dark behind them.
Both of them walked side by side, the weight of the incident settling in with every step. Shops opened and closed around them, depending on the kind of business being done.
As they reached the church, it looked exactly as it had the last time.
Metallic walls. Sealed doors. No light spilling from the narrow windows.
Standing before the entrance, Miach raised a hand and knocked once against the metal. The sound rang dull and heavy, swallowed almost immediately.
A moment later, the locks disengaged with a low mechanical sound, bolts retracting in sequence.
The door opened from within.
Lily stood there, armor scratched, cloak torn at the hem. Dirt still clung to her boots. She looked worn down, but her eyes sharpened the instant she recognized them.
"What are you doing here this late?" she asked.
Miach nodded. "Luthar's shop was robbed."
"…Already," Lily muttered. "I didn't expect Apollo to provoke Luthar by stealing from him."
Naaza blinked. "Apollo?"
Miach frowned. "How do you know it was him?"
Lily hesitated for half a second, then stepped aside.
"I found out yesterday," she said quietly. "I was going to investigate further, but it looks like I'm already too late."
She glanced once more at the empty street.
"Let's hope Luthar doesn't overreact."
Naaza swallowed. "If you already know the culprit… we can report this to the Guild."
Lily shook her head slightly as she motioned them inside.
"Reporting it won't help," she said. "Unless you can say Apollo himself was there, leading the thieves."
The door sealed behind them, locks sliding back into place as she ushered them inside.
---
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