How to Survive as a Dungeon Manager in Another World

Part 12 – The Conclave (1)

*Fwoosh-*

My vision bloomed white, and then the world flipped.

Lifting my head, I saw a colossal spire that seemed to pierce the heavens.

Shattered sunlight fell through the clouds, illuminating the spire.

Its pitch-black outer walls were stacked in layer upon layer, etched with arcane symbols in every nook and cranny.

I lightly surveyed my surroundings.

There were only gloomy trees all around, so there was no decent information, but having read the novel, I knew exactly where I was.

‘So this is the Conclave.’

This was the Conclave indeed.

The first Lord’s Dominion, the very heart of the Arkan Council of Lords.

The greatest military power on the continent, stubbornly surviving even countless calamities until the late stages of the original story.

It was the territory of the witch Arkan, its leader.

To think the day would come when I’d actually see this place.

From the ominous atmosphere to the inky, charcoal sky.

Everything matched the descriptions in the original work perfectly.

“…”

To be honest, I was a little bit impressed.

Even while reading the novel, it was a place I had wanted to set foot in at least once.

But actually coming here filled me with strange feelings.

I came because I was invited, but thinking about what lay ahead, I already felt overwhelmed.

Lost in such strange sentiments, I continued to observe my surroundings.

“This way, please.”

The azure-haired youth led the way.

His voice was still trembling slightly, and it seemed his attitude toward me had become more cautious after what happened earlier.

‘Just why did they invite me?’

I may be a mere human, but if you really had to classify me, I belonged to the Imperial Family.

From the perspective of those at odds with the Imperial Family, I could never be their ally.

Then why invite me?

If revenge for the Dark Shadow Society’s destruction was the goal, there’d be no need for such a cumbersome method.

‘Everything utterly defies common sense.’

The Dark Shadow Society reduced to ashes out of the blue.

The executives, bursting asunder, muttering my name – a face unknown to them.

And then, this sudden invitation.

How could everything be nothing but preposterous events?

‘I don’t even know anymore.’

Having already accepted the invitation, there are no options left.

I can only rely on improvisation to escape this place unscathed.

Whether that’s even possible remains to be seen.

‘If only I knew what they wanted, I could at least prepare…’

Above all, the biggest problem is that I have no idea what they want from me.

And why would I? I am but a humble official.

There should be no connection between me and a colossal power like the Arkan Sovereign Council.

Thump, thump.

I’ve walked for what feels like ten minutes, and I’m still circling the first floor, nowhere near my destination.

Just how vast is this place?

I was starting to feel irritated, but then a massive stone gate came into view ahead.

At least dozens of knights stood in perfect formation before the gate.

Clank, clank.

Turning their gaze to me, the knights moved aside in unison.

As if accustomed to it, Cheong followed the opened path.

After walking for what felt like an eternity, the distant, enormous stone gate was suddenly right before us.

And then.

Creeeaaak.

The gate opened, revealing a vast circular hall.

Tall pillars stretching to the ceiling stood in rows, with stone statues aligned between them.

A red carpet was laid in the center of the floor, and at its end—

‘…Arkan.’

Witch Arkan.

The head of a colossal power, one that cleaved the continent in two, sat upon her throne.

Our gazes met, and a faint smile graced her lips.

“So, you’ve come?”

Her voice resonated through the hall.

A voice as cool and beautiful as the dawn wind.

“Luke Richter.”

She merely spoke my name, yet a chilling silence descended.

Immediately following, an indescribable, immense pressure seized the space.

“I will concede that you possess courage.”

Kugugugugu.

As malice, compressed to its absolute limit, surged forth, Ludine, standing beside me, gripped her wavering legs and broke into a cold sweat.

Cheong, seemingly accustomed to it, kept his head lowered, pushing his mana to its breaking point to defend himself from the erupting intent.

But I…

‘What’s that one doing?’

I felt nothing.

That was because I felt no malice.

The most fundamental energy resource of this world was none other than mana.

And when will was projected onto this mana, it transformed into things like aura, internal force, or killing intent.

The type of energy she was exuding toward me was malice.

A typical human, upon facing malice brimming with ill will, would experience a resonance of mana within their body, leading to a state of extreme tension.

But I was the exception.

I had lost my mana as the price of absorbing the runes.

One needed mana to resonate with the gushing killing intent in order to even react to it.

I felt the pressure bearing down upon the space, but I didn’t particularly feel afraid.

Arkan, having no way of knowing this, upturned the corners of her lips in a tearing smile.

In her eyes, it must have seemed as though I were meeting her killing intent head-on.

However.

‘…How long does she intend to keep this up?’

A stubbornness seemed to have taken root; there was no sign of the killing intent abating.

Indeed, the pressure intensified with each passing moment.

Honestly, it wasn’t a concern, but I opened my mouth, begrudging the wasted time.

“Your welcoming is… less than ideal.”

“…”

She chuckled lightly from her throne, snapping her fingers.

The pressure that had been crushing the space vanished in an instant, as if it had never been.

“Second time,” she remarked.

“…Second time?”

“You are only the second. The second one to show not even a flicker of disturbance.”

She seemed to be under a rather firm misconception, but there was no need to correct her.

More important matters were at hand.

“What is your business?”

I asked her, cutting to the chase.

Qing frowned at the somewhat insolent tone, but that was all.

Arkan, on the other hand, looked on with rapturous interest, asking innocently,

“Hmm? I wonder, why *did* I call you here?”

“…”

“Ah, don’t misunderstand. I was merely confirming if you truly didn’t know.”

She grinned, as if to lighten the mood.

But unlike her smiling lips, her eyes held no mirth whatsoever.

“The Shadow Syndicate.”

Her voice was heavy now, a stark contrast to moments before.

Arkan slowly leaned forward, bringing herself to eye level.

Her gaze, fixed on me, flickered with a menacing intensity.

“Ten of our executives are dead.”

She scrutinized my face as if devouring it piece by piece, then twisted her lips in a sneer.

“Popped like balloons, I heard. *Pop!*”

She said, grinning.

It was what I had expected, so I wasn’t particularly surprised.

“So, I started racking my brain. Just what in the world did someone *do* to make a perfectly healthy person explode without a single warning sign?”

Unfettered glee splashed across her face, undisguised.

She was clearly relishing this situation.

‘They say she’s mad. Guess she really is.’

Of course, having read the original work, I already knew she was mad in more ways than one.

And so I stood there quietly, listening to her words.

“You killed him, didn’t you?”

“What?”

“True Ancestor Arkhantila.”

“…!”

Something unexpected burst forth from her lips.

“No need to play innocent. I don’t particularly intend to hold you responsible. But no matter how I think about it, there’s nothing else it could be. Someone killed a True Ancestor, and as a result, the stallions all simultaneously went *pop*!”

“…What?”

…It certainly made a certain sense.

Come to think of it, the True Ancestor seemed to mutter my name before he died.

Probably because Adina called out my name as she rushed over.

“So it’s true?”

Taking my silence as confirmation, she straightened up.

Her luscious violet hair, previously obscured by the backlight, danced in the wind.

“It’s rather astonishing, really. To kill one of that forgotten monster’s lineage. And how did you even find out the True Ancestor’s location?”

“…”

I read it in the novel.

I forcefully swallowed the words that lingered on the tip of my tongue.

“A shame. I really wanted to kill that Arkhantila monster with my own hands.”

…So what if you did?

Did you think I *wanted* to kill him?

“I know that expression. The ‘I’m bored to death’ expression, isn’t it?”

“…”

“Fine, I’ll get to the point.”

By now, I was genuinely curious.

She had invited me, but for what purpose exactly?

I strained to listen, my thoughts racing.

“The Pindal Codex.”

What?

“If you killed him, surely you know the whereabouts of that damned grimoire?”

Of course.

The Labyrinth Tartazan’s core was none other than that very tome.

It currently resides, safely locked away, in my office safe.

“That thing, that blasted hag stole it, but it was originally mine, you see.”

…I hadn’t known.

Was there such a passage in the original work?

At least, I couldn’t recall such a thing.

“Surely you didn’t invite me just for that?”

“Indeed. So, I’d like it back. Just hand over the grimoire, and I won’t press the matter further.”

Oho. Is that so?

For her to go so far as to request it like this, it must be a precious thing indeed.

That changes things.

I was the one who conquered the labyrinth.

Which means the Pindal Codex is rightfully mine, a spoil of war, justly earned.

The upper hand in this negotiation belongs to me.

Therefore…

“For nothing in return?”