The walls crushed for one last time as I stretched my hands in front of me.
At the very edges of the cave, behind a tombstone sticking out of the ground was a small tree. Its leaves fell gently on the top of a helmet.
Near the tombstone was a man sitting peacefully, like a gentle kiss, the leaves of the tree kept falling on him.
Unlike the others I had seen, his size was just like a normal person's maybe even a little shorter than me now.
With one hand on his blade and the other on his ground, the man, the boss of this dungeon, Goemon, slowly stood up.
It was things like these that made us believe that dungeons were natural occurrences. A fable of Goemon existed in the minds of the old of the East.
A lover on war that returned home to a dead wife. He vowed before he had left to never leave her alone again.
And when he came back, she was gone.
