Bear Pounce!
Bear Grapple!
Bear—
"Mr. Gapar, why are you just standing there watching?!"
Roger was being chased all over the hall by a Rune Bear. His clothes had been shredded into rags by its claws, and he had narrowly avoided several lethal blows through sheer luck.
He was panting heavily, drenched in sweat. When he turned his head, he saw the other three standing off to the side, calmly watching as if they were enjoying a show.
Hiss—
He sucked in a breath. Anger surged up for a moment, only for him to force it back down.
Calm down. None of these people are someone you can afford to offend.
But isn't it a bit cold-blooded to just stand there and not help?!
"Set told us to train the kid properly," Tursey said cheerfully. "He ignores his thesis every day and only obsesses over magical creatures. No wonder Set got mad."
A faint, invisible magic barrier covered Roger's body. The moment he encountered the Rune Bear, Tursey had already cast it on him.
The shield protected only his body, not his clothes, which was why he looked so miserably tattered.
The reason he had survived so many near-death moments was also thanks to Hades' secret assistance. As a professor specializing in magical control, Hades could manipulate the flow of magic inside another person's body from a distance—subtly altering how their magic was released and helping Roger complete certain movements without him even noticing.
It looked like three mentors were simply spectating—but in truth, they were all helping.
So what was Gapar doing?
When Roger glanced over again, he saw the Sword Saint making all sorts of hand gestures at him, as if directing him.
I don't understand any of that!
Clicking his tongue, Roger used the brief opening after dodging a pounce to cast invisibility and Flash—though "Flash" was really just a momentary burst of extreme speed. He also released a sound spell, hoping to lure the Rune Bear away and make a run for it.
But the already-alert Rune Bear wasn't fooled. It charged straight at him with terrifying precision.
Damn it—footsteps and scent can't be hidden!
Roger ran in utter chaos. Of course he knew silence magic—but that spell required chanting time and was completely unsuitable for the current situation.
If only he could learn an instant-cast silence spell from the Magic Academy. Maybe there'd be one in Sein's Dungeon?
So far, most magic produced by Sein's Dungeon required almost no preparation time before casting. Convenient, but not extraordinary—after all, this world also had plenty of instant-cast spells.
After the initial panic, Roger felt like he had started to grasp the Rune Bear's attack patterns. He even boldly attempted a counterattack.
He was immediately driven back by a sudden barrage of frenzied swipes and forced to flee again.
No good. Beasts are impossible to predict.
"Roar! ┗|｀O′|┛"
The Rune Bear suddenly leapt high into the air. A massive shadow swallowed Roger whole. At this distance, even Flash couldn't save him.
Just as he was about to be crushed beneath a mountain-like slam, the savior finally arrived.
"Shing—"
A familiar flash of steel.
Roger's vision blurred for an instant. When it cleared, he found himself tucked under Gapar's arm. Behind them, the Rune Bear collapsed slowly, hitting the ground with a heavy thud.
Cause of death: multiple stab wounds, dismembered into seventeen pieces. Ruled a suicide.
Roger let out a long breath of relief, showering Gapar with thanks. This man radiated an overwhelming sense of security.
"Not bad," Tursey said, smiling as she shook the recording stone in her hand. "We'll show this to Set later. Maybe he'll cool off. Don't blame us for not helping—this was your mentor's request."
Roger's facial muscles twitched. He began reflecting on all the assignments from Set that he had repeatedly skipped.
Despite his scruffy beard, he was only in his thirties—the prime age for a mage.
Although he had already graduated, advancing to a higher position within the Association required publishing academic papers and handling all sorts of tedious matters.
He had always wanted to write about magical creatures, but that topic kept getting rejected. Switching subjects didn't help—he wasn't interested in anything else and didn't know enough, so his papers became half-hearted attempts.
Eventually, he had pushed Set too far.
Good professors are rare these days. I should bring a gift, apologize in person, and properly finish my thesis.
"Clink—"
As the Rune Bear dissipated, a Spade Key fell to the ground with a crisp sound.
Gapar picked it up, looking at the slowly fading Mimic Tear with a complicated expression.
Mimic Tear and Silver Tear—just a few words apart, yet completely different in outcome.
He had secretly hoped that defeating it might drop a Larval Tear. That was why he had rushed in to steal the kill before the other professors.
Reality proved he had been overly optimistic.
"Sigh." Gapar tucked the Spade Key into his pocket.
Three keys collected. Only the Heart Key remained.
Should they continue exploring, or return to check what was inside the Spade Room?
They chose to keep exploring for now—but no matter how hard they searched, they couldn't find any monster carrying the Heart Key.
Strange. Where could it be hiding?
Still unwilling to give up, they pushed forward—until they realized there was no path left.
After passing through a hidden door blocked by clutter, they found themselves back at the entrance of the Sorting Hat classroom.
After all that circling—it was connected!
If the right-side map also linked back to the starting corridor like the left side did, then the entire layout resembled a flattened "日" character. The two sides twisted and turned, but both ultimately returned to the initial corridor.
Could the Heart Key be hidden on the right side of the map?
In the end, they decided to check the Spade Rooms first. Curiosity had won.
There were three Spade Rooms. They randomly picked one—but it wouldn't open. After several attempts, they realized the doors had to be opened in order from left to right.
What kind of gimmick is this?
"Creak—"
The first Spade door slowly opened. A stale, aged smell rushed out, as though they had collided headfirst with history itself.
In plain terms: it hadn't been cleaned in ages, and the accumulated dust nearly choked them.
"It's too dark."
Snap.
Tursey snapped her fingers, and a small orb of light appeared above each person's head.
"Eh?"
As the lights illuminated the darkness, the glow was suddenly absorbed.
A streak of light flashed before them—like a meteor falling from the heavens, descending and fading away.
"What does that mean?" With his extraordinary eyesight, Gapar could see what absorbed the light.
It was a mural.
But what it depicted—
Another streak of light cut across it.
Then a third. A fourth.
Tursey seemed to realize something. She cast the illumination spell again—this time increasing its power.
And so, countless starlights fell from the cosmos, pouring freely upon the land!
In the dim secret chamber, beneath the star-showered mural, they finally saw its full image.
It depicted endless snowy mountains.
At the highest peak stood a group of ragged travelers gazing at the starry sky. Stars fell before their eyes, and the breathtaking beauty left them spellbound.
Suddenly, the mural began to move.
The travelers stood still, watching the meteors. Only after the last star vanished did they reluctantly leave the mountaintop.
Under the blue starlight, their tattered clothing gradually transformed—into robes Gapar had just recently seen.
The robes of Raya Lucaria mages.
So the travelers who witnessed the falling stars became mages?
No… something felt off.
Gapar kept watching—and soon understood.
It wasn't that mages observed the stars.
It was that the stars created the mages.
The mages persisted in studying the sky. The movement of the stars captivated them. After an unknown amount of time, the first person cast a spell.
When Glintstone Pebble was born, the mages cheered.
The scene shifted rapidly. New spells emerged one after another. The ranks of mages expanded. They taught students and spread the knowledge of magic throughout the world.
Hades suddenly clenched his fists.
The mages arrived at a tranquil lake. As they looked up, a magnificent magical academy stood within the mist.
"Buzz—"
The room's lights abruptly turned on, snapping them out of the mural.
It was just an ordinary storage room. Aside from the mural, it was filled with miscellaneous clutter: unidentified ores, sets of mage robes, unfinished staffs.
Looking back at the mural—it had returned to the original snowy mountain and falling stars.
"It wasn't the mages who observed the meteors. The meteors created the mages," Gapar concluded.
No one objected. The mural had made it clear.
Hades remained silent—almost as if he had lost the ability to speak. But emotionally, he was undoubtedly the most shaken.
Because in Sellen's recorded image, he had seen meteors. He had seen Sellen observing meteors.
The two pieces of evidence reinforced each other's authenticity.
"Magic originated from the stars?" Tursey murmured. "But modern magic doesn't include stars as an element."
"Maybe there was a historical break," Gapar said. "Besides, the mural never said all magic came from the stars. If magic can be derived from stars, then fire, lightning, tornadoes—each could have their own origins too."
"So this mural records how ancient people discovered star magic?"
Gapar nodded. That was likely the case.
Using images and paintings to narrate fragments of history—that was a common technique of Sein's Dungeon. He was used to it by now.
The stories introduced were often short and incomplete, leaving room for imagination.
If your brainwaves aligned with it, you'd probably love this format.
"Clatter—"
While the three were deep in thought, rummaging sounds suddenly came from the side.
Tursey turned her head—and nearly fainted.
"Roger, what are you doing?"
"I'm seeing if this fits."
Roger had dug out a mage robe from the pile and put it on. On his head was a damaged glintstone crown, exposing half his face—making him look like a battle-damaged Kamen Rider.
"Alright, the crown's useless."
He removed it sheepishly. Based on his dungeon experience, he had assumed the crown might grant some sort of buff.
But the mage robe…
"Professor, you should try it."
He handed the robe to Tursey. She waved him off in disgust, grabbed another one herself, cast a cleaning spell, and put it on.
"There's a slight enhancement. My magic power increased a bit. This is actually a magic item?"
The boost was negligible to Tursey—but to weaker mages like Roger, it meant a few extra spell casts. That could be the difference between defeat and victory.
Because the robe's enhancement was a fixed increase—not percentage-based—meaning it benefited lower-level mages more.
With so many robes in this storage room, wouldn't selling them make a fortune?
Impossible.
After searching for a long time, Roger found that only the first two robes had real enhancement effects. The rest were ordinary garments—maybe suitable for cosplay sales.
Most of the ores had lost their luster and potency as well. Only a small portion remained usable—and all were Cuckoo Glintstone.
"Eh, what's this?"
At the very bottom of a box, he found a faint purple glimmer.
[Celestial Dew]
An item used for atonement.