((((ARTHUR POV 1ST PERSON)))))))))))
I was back in my old world.
The warm glow of the evening sun spilled through the living room window, painting everything in gold. My mother and Mary sat on the couch, laughing softly as they talked. Joseph and my younger sister ran through the flat in bursts of childish energy, their laughter echoing off the walls.
Dad wasn't home yet.
But that was alright.
This dream was a reoccurring favorite of mine. A fragile illusion, but one I welcomed every time. Here, at least, I could pretend—pretend that warmth still reached me, that I hadn't lost everything.
I remained unseen, a ghost lingering at the edges of my past, watching the people I loved. Even if they couldn't see me. Even if I knew none of this was real.
It was enough.
Then, the door creaked open.
Dad must be home, I smiled, expecting to see his familiar weary smile.
Instead, the golden light died.
Darkness poured in from the doorway like ink, curling unnaturally across the floor, stretching like clawed hands. Shadows slithered toward my family, devouring the warmth, choking the air.
"No—NO!" I lunged forward, desperate to stop it. But I was too late. Again.
As the darkness touched them, they unraveled—dissolving into nothing, vanishing like smoke. Laughter cut short. Voices silenced. In an instant, I was alone.
Or so I thought.
A silhouette stood where my family had been, as if conjured from their deaths.
A woman stepped forward, emerging from the abyss. My breath hitched, my blood turning to ice.
"No," I whispered, shaking my head in denial. "Not you."
But there she was.
Dark purple hair cascaded down her back, her violet eyes gleaming with something unreadable. She was undeniably beautiful, delicate. As if she were something to be protected.
But she was the devil.
Fear coiled around my heart like a vice, squeezing the air from my lungs. This wasn't how its meant to be. This dream was meant to be my safe place.
She smiled as she saw my face contorted in pain.
It was warm. Gentle, and disgustingly fake. Her eyes remained cold. No that wasn't right. There was a peverse pleasure there as she saw him struggling pain.
Rage surged, drowning out the terror. I moved before I could think, closing the distance between us, hands reaching for her throat. If I can kill her...
Shadows lunged at me.
They caught my arms, wrenching me back, slamming me against the far wall. I thrashed, fighting against the unseen force, but I was trapped—helpless.
She giggled, the sound light and playful, yet filled with something rotten.
"I can't believe I actually fell for that once," she mused.
I stilled, my blood running colder.
She stepped closer, her fingers trailing along the blade of a long, familiar knife. My stomach twisted violently. I knew that knife.
"Why can't you leave me alone!?" I shouted, struggling harder. "You're supposed to be dead!"
Her lips parted in a soft laugh. "Why does death mean I should leave you alone, Reshi?" She leaned in, her voice a whisper against my ear.
"Or is that not your name anymore?"
I froze.
…....
Arthur's eyes snapped open.
A shadow loomed over him—moving fast.
His body reacted on instinct, his heart still pounding in fear.
His hand shot up, grabbing the incoming wrist, twisting it sharply, and pulling it down, forcing the figure to drop. A surprised grunt sounded, and without thinking, Arthur drove his fist forward.
The figure caught the punch.
"What the fuck, man!?"
Arthur blinked.
Reality crashed back into place. The tent, the rebellion, the damp morning air. It had just been a dream.
Arthur exhaled sharply, releasing Noah's arm. "Shit. My bad."
Noah muttered something under his breath, flexing his fingers. "You were thrashing and muttering in your sleep," he said, watching him closely.
Arthur sat up, running a hand through his hair. "Yeah, nightmare."
Noah nodded, recognizing that he didn't want to talk about.
"Get your ass up," he said instead, already moving toward the tent entrance. "We're heading out soon."
Arthur groaned, rubbing his temples. "What a shit fucking sleep."
Still grumbling, he forced himself to his feet, packing up his things with the rest of the unit.
"Arthur!"
Commander Scarlet's sharp voice cut through the morning haze.
She stood nearby, composed as ever, looking as though she'd been up for hours.
"Ma'am," Arthur yawned.
"Hurry up," she ordered. "Officer Reftia wants you with her."
Arthur exhaled through his nose. 'What now?'
"Yes, ma'am," he muttered, slinging his pack over his shoulder. As he made his way toward Officer Reftia's camp, he flexed his arm absently. The bite marks she'd left on him hadn't even fully healed yet.
When he arrived, she was already waiting, a bright smile on her face.
"Ahh, Arthur! There you are!"
Arthur forced a weak smile. "As ordered."
He wanted to fall at the back of the unit, but Officer Reftia hauled him to the front. Obviously, she wasn't finished with interrogating him.
"So, Arthur, tell me about that ability of yours" she asked in a conversational tone.
"What do you want know?" He asked, tensing.
"Well, it isn't a common ability, are you perhaps a saint candidate?"
"Uhh...what's a saint candidate." Saints hadn't really been mentioned in the novel. Everything he knew came from Marsh, the healer's assistant, the only person that had been willing to talk to him back then.
"Huh...you really don't know", her tone was slightly surprised. "Are you blessed by Asclepius."
He shook his head, and he could see a flash of disappointment in her eyes. "I see, that's probably why you don't know. A saint candidate is a person who has the potential to become a saint. Only one Saint is chosen per candidate. The failed candidates would then make up a team that is subordinate to the saint."
"Are there any saint candidates currently."
She smiled. "Saint candidates vary in skill. There a those who only have Asclepius's blessing, but are good at fighting. Their technically Saint Candidates, but are really just glorified healers. True Saint candidates are rare, I think there are around three."
Arthur frowned, "So, if there are real saint candidates, why haven't they elected a saint."
Officer Reftia shrugged. "I'm not part of the church, I wouldn't know."
Arthur sighed in disappointment. He had hoped she'd fill some gaps in his knowledge, the novel had been centered around the mc, so knowledge outside of the MC and his party was limited.
Without realising, Officer Reftia gripped his arm, pulling back his sleeve. "Why didn't you heal yourself."
Arthur smiled, hiding his inner fustration. 'When is this bitch going to stop grabbing my arm without permission?'
"My blood only works on others."
She nodded, "I see." She looked almost disappointed.
He slowly retreated to the back, and she let him do so, obviously done with her interrogation for now.
He made his way to the back of the unit, walking besides a soldier with dark eyes and long dark hair tied in a bun.
"Nice to meet you, I'm Arthur." He extended his hand, his grip steady but not overbearing.
The man took it, shaking firmly. "Lan. Name's Lan."
Arthur gave a small nod. "Good to meet you, Lan."
Lan studied him, eyes sharp, as if weighing something unspoken. Then, with a slight tilt of his head, he asked, "So, you were forced into this, huh?"
Arthur hesitated for the briefest moment before nodding. "Yeah. What about you?"
Lan exhaled through his nose, shaking his head. "Nah. I volunteered."
Arthur arched a brow. "Oh."
Lan's lips pressed into a thin line before he added, "But my sister wasn't. She was taken. I joined up to find her."
Arthur felt a weight settle in his chest. His fingers curled slightly at his sides. "What's her name?"
"Leera. Most people call her Lee."
Arthur's breath hitched, but only for a fraction of a second. The tension in his shoulders eased as he exhaled quietly. For a moment, he had feared—feared that name would be Sera's. But it couldn't have been, here family was imprisoned after all.
Lan caught the flicker of relief in Arthur's face, his eyes asking a question.
Arthur forced a wry chuckle, scratching the back of his head. "I thought you were talking about someone I used to know. Someone... who's gone now." His voice dropped slightly, careful, measured. "So I guess I'm relieved your sister isn't her."
Lan studied him for another moment before his expression softened. "I see."
He heard a voice call from the front. It was Officer Reftia's. "Leroy found a cave, get prepared, we're checking it out."
The cave finally came into view, a gaping maw nestled within the dense wilderness. The mountains loomed over them, their slopes tangled with trees and vines. At first glance, the entrance blended perfectly with its surroundings, just another shadow among the rocky terrain.
Officer Reftia halted, scanning the opening with a keen eye. Arthur stepped up beside her. Something about this cave felt… off. The entrance was too precise, too smooth. A perfect circle, its edges free of the jagged imperfections found in natural formations.
"This isn't natural," he muttered.
Reftia hummed in agreement, reaching out to brush her fingers along the stone. "Definitely man-made." She turned to him, eyes sharp with curiosity. "We should check it out. Come on."
Before Arthur could respond, she grabbed his arm and pulled him inside.
'Again she grabs me without a second thought for personal space' he muttered inwardly.
The moment their feet crossed the threshold, the cave walls pulsed with a soft blue glow. Strange symbols—runes—flared to life, shimmering against the stone like ghostly etchings.
Arthur's breath hitched. Every instinct screamed at him to back away. "Shit." He whirled around, trying to step back out—
But he slammed into something solid.
An invisible barrier. The entrance was still there, or at least it had been a second ago. Now, before his very eyes, the shimmering cave mouth morphed, the space folding in on itself until all that remained was solid rock.
"W-what?" Arthur stammered, stumbling backward. His pulse pounded in his ears.
"A dungeon," Reftia declared, her voice level, composed, as if she had expected this.
Arthur forced himself to swallow, though his throat was dry. "I—I thought dungeons were natural phenomena."
She shook her head, eyes still scanning the glowing runes. "Most are. But some... some are man-made."
Arthur's fingers curled into fists. "How the hell does someone make a dungeon?"
"I don't know," she admitted. "But whoever did, it wasn't us."
A chill ran down his spine. The runes cast an eerie light around them, their shapes twisting in ways his mind struggled to comprehend.
"W-what do we do now?" His voice came out tighter than he would have liked.
Reftia exhaled. "No doubt it's magically protected. Our only option is to move forward." She glanced at him, sharp and expectant. "Don't forget the mission, Arthur. We need to locate the secondary entrance."
"Secondary entrance?"
She nodded. "Every dungeon, whether natural or artificial, has at least two ways in or out. We need to ensure this place doesn't provide a hidden passage for the Empire to infiltrate our lands."
Arthur took a deep breath, steadying himself. Right. The mission. His fingers tightened around the strap of his gear. "Of course this happens to me," he muttered under his breath before glancing at Reftia. "Alright. Let's go."
The glow of the runes pulsed once more as they ventured deeper inside, the shadows of the cave swallowing them whole.
As they pressed forward, Arthur reached over his shoulder and withdrew his spear that was strapped to his back. He didn't want to summon Ikaris in front of Officer Reftia, after all, she was their enemy, he wanted at least one card up his sleeve when the day inevitably came that he had to fight her.
If this was a dungeon, there would be monsters—there was no doubt about that. Dungeons, in most cases, were naturally formed when multiple monster species clustered in one habitat. Over generations, their mana-rich bodies altered the very nature of the space, twisting the laws of reality and creating environments unlike anything in the outside world.
More than that, dungeons were a treasure trove. Any ore found inside would be infused with mana, making it incredibly valuable for weapons, armor, and even cultivation.
Officer Reftia retrieved a torch from her waist, the sudden burst of light casting long, flickering shadows against the tunnel walls. The air inside was thick, stale, yet charged with something unseen—mana, dense and undisturbed for who knew how long.
After ten minutes of steady progress, a sound reached them.
A rabid, guttural jabbering.
Arthur stiffened as the sound echoed through the tunnels, multiplying, growing louder with every step. He couldn't understand the language, but something about it made his skin crawl. The moment the foreign words touched his ears, nausea bubbled up in his stomach, as if the sheer act of hearing them was an offense to his mind.
The tunnel widened into a massive cavern.
The instant Officer Reftia stepped forward, white light flooded the space, revealing a horde of creatures.
Arthur's stomach twisted.
Dozens—no, at least a hundred of them. Small, hunched figures with sickly green skin, deformed faces twisted in ravenous hunger. Their sunken red eyes gleamed with malice, and each one carried a rusted, jagged weapon.
Goblins.
A shriek erupted from the horde as they rushed forward, a tidal wave of screeching madness.
Reftia reacted instantly. She darted ahead, her movements a blur. Twin daggers materialized in her hands as she leaped into the fray, carving through the creatures with ruthless efficiency.
Arthur recovered from the initial shock and stepped forward. "Mana Surge," he muttered. His body responded immediately, his muscles and bones thrumming with power as mana coursed through them.
He spun the spear, opting for broad, sweeping strikes rather than precise thrusts, it was better against handling numbers.
The dense mana in the dungeon was intoxicating, and he felt his reserves depleting at a slower rate than usual.
'Let's see what I can do' he thought, excited to see how his training paid off.
He exhaled, channeling energy into his weapon. Flames erupted along the length of his spear, glowing orange as they licked at the metal. The heat was comforting to him—mana could not harm its wielder—but the goblins screamed in agony as it seared their flesh.
One lunged at him with a rusted blade. He parried, then drove the butt of his spear into its skull with a sickening crack. The fire spread on impact, bubbling the creature's skin as it crumpled to the ground.
"Not hot enough," Arthur muttered.
He poured more mana into the spear, and the flames roared to life. The next goblin that met his strike was cleaved apart like melted wax.
Momentum carried him forward. He struck, spun, dodged—losing himself in the rhythm of battle. He leaped, soaring over a group of goblins before plunging his spear into the earth. He allowed mana to flow out of the spear releasing a wave of fire that ignited everything around him.
Screams filled the cavern as goblins burned, writhing and clawing at their own melting flesh.
But there were too many. Even with the advantage of fire, they overwhelmed him. Cuts accumulated on his arms, his legs—small but numerous. Blood slicked his grip. Mana burned through his reserves at an alarming rate.
'I need a mana cultivation technique,' he thought grimly. Without one, his mana recovery was too slow. The best cultivation techniques could enhance the body itself, allowing warriors to absorb mana passively. But they weren't easy to acquire. Only mana beasts of intelligence could grant them, or someone who had been taught by a mana beast, and once learned, they could never be replaced. It was a lifetime commitment which is why he hadn't focused on it.
Just as he was about to be overrun, it was over.
A blur of motion—then silence.
Arthur blinked.
The goblins around him collapsed, their bodies slashed apart in an instant.
They continued like that for hours, moving from room to room, facing endless hordes of goblins. It was grueling, and painful, forcing himself to keep fighting, only taking short breaks before moving on.
Unlike him, Officer Reftia showed no signs of exhaustion. Her abilities with those two daggers was nothing short of terrifying.
He didn't know how long had passed until they finally stopped. His body was a score of cuts and blood. Not of all of the blood was his own.
Ahead of him, Officer Reftia stood among the carnage, her breathing steady, her daggers dripping red. Her uniform was soaked in goblin blood, her eyes alight with something that almost resembled... excitement.
Arthur exhaled. "Fuck me, you look terrifying."
Her head snapped toward him. "What was that?"
"Nothing," he coughed. "Anyways come here, I'll heal you."
"It's fine," she said, waving a hand dismissively. "Just small cuts."
"Yeah, well, we need to be in top shape. And besides, I'm already bleeding—might as well put it to good use. My blood can also recover some of your exhaustion as well."
She hesitated, then finally nodded. "Alright."
After healing her, they decided to stop here and camp.
"A dungeon is about endurance, not just skill," Reftia remarked. "It's better to take our time than to charge ahead recklessly."
Arthur nodded. Unlike her, he wasn't healed, so he wasn't against taking a rest.
"Here," she said, pulling a first-aid kit seemingly from nowhere.
Arthur arched a brow. 'A spatial ring?' He glanced at her hand. 'Those are expensive.'
She cleaned and dressed his wounds with practiced efficiency.
"Thanks, Officer Reftia."
She smiled. "I wouldn't want my portable healing potion to go to waste."
Arthur blinked, then snorted. Before he knew it, he was laughing, not only at her joke. But the entire situation was laughable. Here he was, undercover, laughing with an enemy after a near-death fight.
It was just too absurd. But at the same time, he couldn't let himself forget. There'd come a day, when he'd need to kill her.
It was a sobering thought.
Reftia started a fire, cutting goblin meat and roasting it over the flames.
Arthur hesitated. Goblins weren't just monsters. They had a language. They communicated. Eating them felt... wrong.
"Look," she said flatly. "Either you eat, or I force you to eat."
He smirked. "That a promise?"
She smiled back, but there was something sharp in it. Dangerous. "Do you really want to find out?"
Arthur chuckled, shaking his head. Strangely enough, he felt more at ease here than he had at Fort Lanai.
'Maybe there's something to be said about facing life-or-death situations together,' he mused.
The meat was tough, bitter. He forced it down anyway.
"I'll take the first watch," Reftia said. "Get some rest, Arthur. You did good today."
He nodded, already feeling a wave of heavy exhaustion settle in. "Wake me when it's my turn."