There were many things Kaze wasn't qualified to do—lead armies, issue strategic commands, or identify a goblin's liver from twenty paces. And yet here he stood, elevated on a stack of broken crates like some kind of divine stage prop, robes flowing dramatically in the wind, face composed in the style of "I totally know what I'm doing."
"All adventurers, form up! Line ranks by class, mustache thickness, and general survivability!" he declared.
Hundreds responded. B-rankers stiffened. A-rankers exchanged glances. Even the S-rank elite turned to listen.
Including one particular headache in gold-trimmed armor.
"Saint Kaze," came a flat voice. "Is this a strategy meeting or a street performance?"
Kaze turned—and of course it was him.
Lance, the kingdom's top-ranked adventurer. S-rank. S-tier jawline. Spear longer than Kaze's remaining sanity. They'd met during the arena event a few days back. They weren't friends—but they weren't enemies either.
More like… coworkers in a fantasy apocalypse.
"Lance," Kaze greeted with a polite nod. "Glad to see you didn't take my suggestion to retire early."
Lance didn't smile. "Didn't have the luxury. The capital's on the verge of collapse."
"Right, right. We're all working weekends now."
Kaze turned back to the gathered adventurers. "Guild Master, take the B-rankers to the cliffs for high-ground formation! Shield units on the front. Mages—you're the fireworks team today, so go nuts."
To his mild horror, everyone moved. Efficiently.
Even the grizzled Guild Master, a walking slab of muscle and scowls, saluted. "Understood, Saint."
Lance stepped closer, arms crossed. "Didn't peg you for a tactician."
"I'm not," Kaze muttered. "But I've read a lot of strategy manga."
Lance gave him a puzzled look. "Manga?"
Kaze shrugged. "Think of it as… illustrated strategy books."
Lance gave him a long look. "And it's actually working."
Kaze nodded solemnly. "I am just as surprised as you."
The gate pulsed again—a glowing rift of violet and shadow hanging in the sky. Monsters spilled out: scaled hounds, armored beetles, one rogue slime riding another slime. It was chaos on legs.
Kaze raised his staff dramatically. "They threaten our peace! Our kingdom! Our cabbage economy! Show them the fury of mortals!"
The battlefield roared.
"They're following you, Saint," Lance replied, half-doubtful, half-annoyed. "Which is worse."
The gate shimmered. Then twisted.
A massive clawed hand emerged—black-scaled, covered in arcane runes, grasping reality like it owed it money.
Even Kaze took a step back, his voice low. "This… isn't how it was supposed to go."
Kaze raised a hand. "No worries! It's just a mid-boss with commitment issues!"
More monsters charged. Screams echoed across the field—but so did the sound of swords, spells, and one guy yelling "I REGRET EVERYTHING" before being chased by an angry mushroom.
In the thick of it all, Kaze shouted, "LANCE! Take the vanguard! Lead the charge! The people trust you!"
Lance hesitated for just a breath. "Why me?"
"Because your jawline inspires hope!"
That… actually earned a huff of laughter.
Lance unsheathed his massive blade. "Fine. But when this is over, we're having a real talk about your qualifications."
"Joke's on you—I don't have any!"
Lance charged, aura blazing. A-rankers and B-rankers followed. Even the Guild Master leapt into battle with terrifying grace.
Kaze stood there, staff still raised, watching the chaos unfold with perfectly rehearsed divine calm.
Inside?
He was screaming.
"I just wanted to read fantasy novels," he whispered, voice trembling. "Now I'm leading one."
Up in the darkened sky, the gate pulsed again. Something massive stirred just behind the veil.
Something that hadn't stepped through—yet.
The massive black hand twitched once—then slowly retreated back into the gate, vanishing like it had second thoughts about the whole apocalypse thing.
The battlefield stilled.
Smoke and steam rose from scorched earth and shattered stone. The last of the monsters fell with a screech, cleaved by a warhammer the size of a bookshelf. Adventurers stood bloodied but victorious, panting, gripping weapons slick with gore.
And then... silence.
The gate remained.
It hovered midair like a giant cosmic zit, faintly pulsing, waiting to be popped.
Kaze stared at it with dead eyes. "Don't say it," he whispered to himself. "Don't you dare."
Behind him, the Guild Master stepped forward. "We've cleared the first wave, Saint. Shall we prepare to enter?"
There it is.
Kaze pinched the bridge of his nose. He wanted nothing more than to crawl back to his fancy room, soak in a bathtub the size of a small pond, and maybe cry a little. Or a lot.
But no. Fate had other plans. And apparently, they involved manual labor.
"Right," he said, forcing a holy smile. "Let's finish this while my spine is still attached."
Kaze didn't pick at random. This was science—well, half science, half desperate prayer.
**All five S-Rank adventurers** in the capital were gathered.
- **Lance**, obviously,
- **Rokar the Earthwall**, a bald mountain of a man with the voice of a yawning bear.
- **Selene the Frostkissed**, elegant, quiet, and possibly married to her staff.
- **Daxin the Black Flame**, edgy, brooding, and constantly on fire (for aesthetic).
- **Toru the Wind Fox**, the kind of rogue who talks too much but survives everything.
Next, ten A-rankers, each hand-picked for diversity of skill, discipline, and ability to not ask questions.
And finally, four veteran healers, assigned specifically to "make sure the Saint doesn't trip and die heroically."
Kaze turned to the Guild Master. "You'll remain here. If any monster slips through, I trust you to turn it into ground beef."
The Guild Master nodded. "You can count on me, Saint."
Kaze smiled, already regretting everything. "I hate that I can."
---
They stood before the gate. It pulsed once, almost breathing.
"Remember," Kaze said, voice projecting with holy authority, "our goal is to locate and defeat the Dungeon Boss. Do *not* touch anything weird. If something glows and whispers your name? Run. If something explodes? Blame the rogue."
Toru gave a thumbs-up.
"Also…" Kaze hesitated. "Stay alive. I still need someone to carry me out if I pass out dramatically."
Lance muttered, "Already planned for that."
---
They stepped forward, light swallowing them whole one by one.
Kaze was the last to enter.
And just before he crossed the threshold, he looked up at the gate's surface—where, for just a moment, the shape of that black hand shimmered again.
The world shifted the moment Kaze stepped through.
He expected the usual dark cavern, maybe a bit of sulfur and ominous ambient lighting.
Instead, they emerged in what looked like a **twisted temple**—pillars of black crystal rose high, etched with glowing runes that pulsed like heartbeats. The floor was slick obsidian, reflecting warped versions of the adventurers like a cracked mirror dimension. A thick mist hugged the ground, and somewhere in the distance, chains groaned.
Kaze blinked. "Okay. Not bad. 6/10. Creepy but not cliché."
A growl echoed.
Lance stepped forward, hand on his blade. "Eyes sharp. The first wave might have been the appetizer."
Rokar grunted. "Then this must be the soup course."
Selene murmured something and conjured a soft light, driving the mist back. At their feet, runes lit up.
A voice whispered: "The trial begins."
From the walls, shadowed shapes peeled off like paint coming to life.
Ten creatures emerged—monstrous knights, clad in blackened armor, each holding cursed weapons that hissed with energy. Their eyes were embers. Their movements—too smooth, too smart.
Kaze felt something stir in his gut. "Are those… mini-bosses?"
Toru squinted at the approaching figures. "Whatever they are, they don't look friendly."
"No talking, flank them!" barked Lance, already dashing forward.
The adventurers split instantly into practiced formation. A-ranks moved to contain the flanks. Healers shielded and buffed. The S-ranks danced in with practiced lethality.
Kaze? Kaze took a few careful steps back and watched.
"Okay," he muttered, eyes scanning. "That one's casting. That one's leading. That one's... spinning for no reason—Rogue's problem."
He watched Lance engage a knight in a flurry of slashes that lit the room with sparks.
"They really don't pay S-ranks enough," Kaze muttered, summoning his staff with a lazy flick.
He raised a hand dramatically and shouted, "**Divine Guidance!**"
Light exploded above the heads of the party—not healing, but the illusion of a holy buff. The knights paused for a beat, thrown off. The adventurers suddenly believed they were faster, stronger, blessed.
They weren't.
But the **Lie of Legends** did its work.
The party surged forward with new vigor, shouting war cries. Even Rokar grinned. "I feel ten years younger!"
"Great," Kaze mumbled, ducking as a flying blade barely missed his head. "Maybe you'll survive long enough to retire."
Within minutes, the black knights fell—dissolving into ash with metallic shrieks. The mist began to part, revealing a giant spiral staircase leading downward into the dark.
Kaze took one look at it.
"Nope," he said. "Stairs are cursed. That's a rule."
Lance looked back. "We keep moving."
"I figured you'd say that," Kaze sighed.
He glanced at the others. Morale was high. They believed in him. They thought he was a saint sent by the gods to lead them.
Meanwhile, he was just trying to survive long enough to fake a nap.
---
As they began descending into the depths, the staircase rumbled. From below, something roared—a sound like grinding stone and shattering glass.
The final chamber waited.
And Kaze… was already regretting everything.
The air in the dungeon chamber grew thick, the walls humming with an eerie energy as Nih'Zaruk, The Mouth Beneath the Mask, appeared before the group. His presence sent a shiver through the adventurers, and the air grew unnaturally cold. The mirrors surrounding the chamber flickered, each one showing distorted versions of the group's faces, twisted in grotesque ways.
Kaze stood at the front of the group, his eyes scanning the creature that floated before them. Nih'Zaruk had no face—just a polished, blank mask that gleamed in the dim light. His body was covered in tattered priest robes, stained with a darkness that seemed to shift and pulse as if alive. The mirrors around them began to ripple, distorting reality itself.
"Do you see it?" Nih'Zaruk's voice was a whisper that came from every direction, echoing in their minds. "Do you feel the truth? The truth of your own selves?"
The adventurers bristled with unease. Even Lance, the unshakable S-rank, seemed uncomfortable, glancing nervously at the mirrors.
"I think it's time we get rid of this thing," Lance muttered, gripping his sword tightly.
Before Kaze could respond, the creature's voice invaded his mind. "You lie to yourself, Saint of Despair. You are not who you claim to be. Your lies are nothing more than a mask, and even you cannot escape the truth."
Kaze grimaced but held his ground. "I'm not about to let a floating priest teach me about my inner self. I'm already divine, thank you very much."
The mirrors seemed to grow brighter, each one reflecting twisted versions of themselves. Lance saw himself, not as the unflinching hero, but as a broken man with no honor. The others faced similar horrors: the healer saw herself losing her faith, the A-rank adventurer saw a version of himself betrayed and alone, and even Kaze saw… well, a Kaze who had already failed.
What was happening? The illusions were powerful, deeply personal. The group faltered.
However, Kaze had an idea. He grinned, his voice steady despite the weight of the haunting illusions. "So, you think you can make me doubt myself? Sorry, but I'm too good at lying to fall for this. Let's see if you can handle this truth."
Kaze looked straight at Nih'Zaruk, a glint of mischief in his eyes. "I am the Saint of Despair, and I have no regrets. All your illusions can't touch me, because you're talking to someone who's already been to Hell and came back more powerful than you'll ever be."
A brief silence passed. The mirrors flickered.
For a moment, Nih'Zaruk hesitated. His voice softened, tinged with uncertainty. "You—"
Before the boss could finish, Kaze continued, his grin widening. "You see, you're not just facing a lie. You're facing the master of it."
The boss hesitated again, a ripple of doubt spreading across the room. "Impossible. You cannot—"
But Kaze's confidence in his own delusions had broken the creature's illusionary hold. Nih'Zaruk's form shimmered and cracked as it began to falter, unable to maintain control over its projections. The adventurers rallied, the weight of their collective doubt evaporating.
Lance took the opportunity. "Everyone, focus! Let's end this!"
The final blow came swiftly as the adventurers closed in, aided by Kaze's unintentional manipulation of the creature's weakness.
As Nih'Zaruk collapsed, his body disintegrated into shadows, the mirrors shattered one by one. The dungeon began to calm, the air lightening.