Kraiss crossed his arms, his eyes sparkling as he continued speaking.

"The man named Dolph, the creator of this dungeon, designed it in the past."

Enkrid gave him a sideways glance, wondering what nonsense Kraiss was about to spout this time. Kraiss met his gaze with a smug smile, one that was oddly irritating but not worth arguing over.

"And back then, this method didn’t exist," Kraiss added.

Over time, as the years passed, treasure hunters became more cunning.

Rather than risking their lives to disable traps and delve deep into dungeons to claim their rewards, they started bypassing the arduous processes like trap disarming altogether, focusing instead on the outcomes.

The culmination of this approach was what Kraiss referred to as the Cristrown Method for Dungeon Clearing.

"It's called the ‘Bypass Technique.’"

A shortcut, but an effective one when executed well—even Enkrid had experienced its merits.

If facing the leader of the Nols was an insurmountable wall, then Enkrid had found ways to overcome it without sacrificing the village, choosing a disadvantageous battleground, or waiting unnecessarily.

"This is it," Kraiss declared, gesturing toward a large boulder the size of a grown man.

"Lua Gharne, if you would."

Without protest, the Frokk woman stepped forward.

She pushed the boulder aside with ease, the massive stone toppling over with a resounding thud. Beneath it, a weathered hole was revealed.

Kraiss pulled a shovel from his pack and started digging around the area. After a few strokes, he straightened and announced:

"This is the entrance. Now then—"

He began pacing around with a half-burned candle as his timer, occasionally inspecting the ground. After some time, a wide grin spread across his face.

"Should be around here."

With renewed vigor, Kraiss picked up his shovel and started digging. Of course, there was no way he could manage the task alone.

"Move aside."

This time, it was Enkrid’s turn. He grabbed the shovel and began to dig.

The plan was simple: bypass all the traps and dig directly into the area where the treasure was hidden.

While it wasn’t exactly an innovative idea, it was the kind of strategy that wouldn’t have occurred during Dolph’s time when the dungeon was constructed.

A shortcut, yes, but far more efficient than risking lives to disable traps.

Enkrid agreed with the method and lent his strength.

Meanwhile, Esther, who had been prowling around nearby, unsheathed her claws, clearly on edge.

"Rest for now," Enkrid said, shaking his head.

The leopard, looking visibly fatigued, seemed relieved at his words.

"Kyarr," she purred contentedly, curling up in a corner and closing her eyes. Her exhaustion was apparent.

On the journey here, when not sparring, she had been cradled in Enkrid’s arms. Her current state was one of pure fatigue.

As the digging continued, Kraiss’s confidence remained unshaken.

"We’re just passing through, picking up a few treasures on the way. Why leave them behind? Although… there’s always the chance someone else looted the place without a map. But that’s unlikely."

For the third time, Kraiss reassured them it was "no big deal."

As they dug deeper, the earth crumbled away, revealing an artificial passageway beneath.

"See?" Kraiss pointed, satisfaction evident in his voice.

The combined effort of Enkrid and Kraiss had paid off.

Inside the hole, a few gold coins glinted in the dim light, reflecting a faint shine.

Though the deeper part of the passageway was cloaked in darkness, it was unlikely that just a handful of coins was all there was.

True to Kraiss’s claim, it had been simple.

"Wow," Finn said, her eyes gleaming with excitement.

Kraiss had promised her a share of the loot, and the thought of filling a few pouches with krona had clearly brightened her mood.

Lua Gharne and Esther seemed uninterested, while Enkrid considered the state of his damaged sword and concluded that acquiring more krona wouldn’t hurt.

The plan was straightforward: descend, collect the treasure, and return.

It should have been easy.

And it was—until the sun dipped below the horizon, and the moon began to rise.

As night fell, Kraiss glanced at the moon and spoke.

"Let’s all go together. It’s not a bad idea to spend the night inside. There might be a lot to carry out."

It wasn’t likely to be dangerous.

There were no signs of beasts in the vicinity, and they wouldn’t need to endure more than a day in the dungeon.

With the moon now high in the sky, it seemed reasonable to set up camp below rather than risk being exposed to the elements.

Kraiss’s reasoning made sense, and everyone agreed.

"That sounds good," Enkrid said, nodding.

As he agreed, he couldn’t help but wonder if there was anything beyond the gold coins that might be of value.

“Could there be something worthwhile?”

While Enkrid wasn’t entirely strapped for krona, his sword had suffered severe damage in the recent battles.

The blade, made of Valerian steel and Noir iron, was chipped beyond repair.

Even if it were reforged, the core of the sword had been compromised.

“This is unusable.”

For a mercenary, their weapon was their lifeline. Not recognizing the importance of one’s weapon was a fatal mistake from the start.

Enkrid, of course, knew how to evaluate his gear.

Having cut through hundreds of monsters and beasts, it would have been strange if his weapons were intact.

Both swords were now beyond saving, and his armor had taken a beating too. Leather sections were torn, and some chainmail links had snapped, leaving gaping holes.

As these thoughts crossed his mind, he glanced over at Lua Gharne, who was moving nonchalantly.

"It seems like we’ll be delayed," Enkrid said.

Lua Gharne puffed out her cheeks in response.

"That’s fine. I’m enjoying this."

The mood was lighthearted. Enkrid handed a piece of seasoned jerky to Esther, while Finn tied a sturdy rope to a nearby tree.

Her ranger’s knotwork was flawless.

"It won’t come undone unless someone slashes it. And it’s not impossible to climb back up, either."

Precautions for any potential mishaps—it was the ranger way.

With the rope secured, they began their descent.

Enkrid went first, followed by Finn. Kraiss was next, while Esther leapt down, claws digging into the wall to slow her descent.

Lastly, Lua Gharne wrapped the rope around her legs and slid down nimbly.

Once everyone had reached the bottom, the moonlight illuminated their surroundings.

“Must be around midnight,” Enkrid estimated.

"We’ll camp down here and head back up tomorrow," Kraiss suggested from behind.

Enkrid nodded, though he remained cautious, lighting a torch to inspect the area.

Behind them, near the dungeon’s entrance, a long passageway stretched forward, so narrow that one would have to crouch to pass through.

“I’d throw my back out trying to get through that,” Enkrid thought.

The tight space was clearly unsuitable for combat. Fighting in such a confined area would make wielding a sword near impossible.

"A Place Ill-Suited for Swords"

Enkrid concluded that the cramped passage was indeed a poor place to wield a sword effectively.

Other than that, there didn’t seem to be any immediate dangers. Everyone seemed to share the same sentiment.

The air wasn’t as dusty as one might expect, and there were no traps that activated upon stepping on the ground.

Esther yawned lazily, letting out a low growl, clearly fatigued. Seeing this, Enkrid handed the torch to Kraiss and cradled Esther in his arms.

"Take a rest," he said gently, shaking his head.

The leopard purred in response, curling into a comfortable position and promptly closing her eyes. Her exhaustion was evident, having traveled in Enkrid’s arms for much of the journey, only to exert herself during sparring.

Meanwhile, Lua Gharne scanned the area, muttering under her breath.

"These are old traces."

As a scholar, what might her perspective be like?

Enkrid mused idly.

“She knows ancient languages, and she’s also a royal appraiser of talents.”

Apart from her combat prowess, Lua Gharne’s skills were versatile and undeniably valuable.

Up ahead, Finn checked the connected passageways, finding no signs of danger.

Though not a treasure hunter by trade, Finn knew how to detect traps.

“Everything seems fine.”

If there were traps she couldn’t detect, they were either tied to magical mechanisms or highly sophisticated, far beyond the typical pressure plates or tripwires that triggered arrows.

Such traps—activated by the slightest touch—were the kind one might expect in ancient tombs, laced with magic to boot.

“It’s overkill for some wealthy individual’s dungeon.”

Finn glanced at Kraiss, who was walking alongside her. He had just picked up a few gold coins scattered on the ground, the torchlight glinting off their surfaces as he examined his surroundings.

Until that moment, nothing unusual or dangerous had occurred.

The passageway was short and led to a round chamber. At its center stood an altar and an old, weathered chest.

On the altar, covered in dust, stood a sword.

It was ancient, its age giving it a certain dignity—or perhaps it was just plain worn out, depending on how you looked at it.

"We’ve come to the right place," Kraiss said, unable to suppress his excitement.

He had dug in the right spot, followed the map correctly. Surely, this qualified him as a treasure hunter?

Reading The Cristrown Method for Dungeon Clearing had paid off.

Since childhood, Kraiss had devoured any book he could get his hands on, ever since he’d first learned to read. Books were his ticket out of the swamp of poverty he’d been born into.

And he’d been right.

“Here I am, finding treasure.”

"Do you really need that much krona to start a salon?" Enkrid asked casually, the question as mundane as it was skeptical.

"Of course!" Kraiss replied without missing a beat.

Really? Enkrid’s expression silently asked.

Kraiss launched into his dream with uncharacteristic fervor.

"I’m going to open the most luxurious, opulent salon in the capital, a place everyone will be desperate to enter. Memberships will be exclusive, of course. And that’s not all—I’ll open branches, spreading them across the continent."

The eyes of someone chasing their dream always burn bright.

Enkrid had neither the right nor the desire to mock someone else’s aspirations, and he found Kraiss’s enthusiasm admirable.

"Go for it," he said simply, offering quiet encouragement.

Other than the ancient sword on the altar, there were two old chests in the chamber.

Given the gold coins scattered in the passageway, there was likely more treasure hidden here.

Kraiss eagerly examined the chests, though he approached with caution, wary of potential traps—perhaps poison darts that might shoot out upon opening.

Behind him, Lua Gharne offered Enkrid advice worth more than gold.

"Learning the basics isn’t enough. You need proper training in swordsmanship, something you can internalize. That’s how you’ll move forward."

"For example?"

"That northern-style swordsmanship—you learned some of it from him, didn’t you?"

Lua Gharne’s sharp eye had picked up on it. After observing both Ragna and Enkrid, she had deduced the origin of his technique.

Enkrid nodded.

She continued, "If you can properly learn northern swordsmanship from that blond, red-eyed friend of yours, it’ll be beneficial."

"Couldn’t you teach me yourself?"

"I’m bound by an oath. This leave of absence is already an exception—I need to return."

Her tone carried genuine regret.

The Frokk’s "Oath of the Heart" was no light matter. Bound by their desires and impulses, Frokk took these oaths to restrain themselves.

They seldom spoke of "hearts," often substituting the term with "oath" out of reverence.

For a Frokk, breaking an oath was unthinkable, akin to violating their very being.

Thus, the phrase “naive Frokk’s blade” had come into existence—a cautionary term referring to Frokk who were deceived into breaking their oaths and forced into acts of violence.

“That’s... heavy.”

Enkrid realized anew the weight of Lua Gharne’s earlier words about falling for him.

Was that really necessary?

To make an oath of the heart, only to declare such feelings?

Why? For what reason?

Enkrid couldn’t bring himself to ask her to retract it.

Anyone who insulted a Frokk’s oath risked losing their head—a fact even the most foolish knew.

Enkrid held his tongue.

And then—

"Kyah!"

Esther, who had been curled up in exhaustion, suddenly let out a ferocious cry.