Chapter 125: Adventurer Gil (part 1)

Chapter 125: Chapter 125: Adventurer Gil (part 1)

The adventurer swung his sword with the last of his strength, cutting through a spider that lunged toward his throat. Before he could recover, another spider dropped from the ceiling and landed on his back. He staggered forward, desperately trying to shake the creature off, only for two more to attack his legs.

His screams echoed through the web-covered chamber.

He fought fiercely, but his movements grew slower with every passing second. His mana had been exhausted, his armor was barely holding together, and his wounds had robbed him of most of his strength. Eventually, a spider’s venom took effect, leaving his limbs numb and his vision blurred.

"Get... away..."

He raised his sword one final time.

It fell from his hand before he could strike.

Moments later, the adventurer collapsed onto the cold stone floor. The spiders swarmed over his body, and the system registered his death.

Ragnar’s eyes narrowed as he examined the motionless figure.

"Perfect timing."

He raised one hand and summoned the system’s teleportation function.

Since the spider nest was part of his territory, he could move directly to it without traveling through every corridor in between. The system’s restriction prevented him from leaving the dungeon, but it did not prevent him from teleporting between locations inside it.

A faint distortion spread through the air.

When Ragnar reappeared, the throne room had vanished, replaced by the dim, web-covered corridors of the spider nest. Thick strands of silk stretched between the walls and ceiling, while the remains of several spiders littered the ground. A faint stench of venom and blood lingered in the air.

The dead adventurer lay a short distance away.

Ragnar glanced around, confirming that no other adventurers were nearby. A few spiders were crawling along the ceiling, but they quickly retreated into the darkness when they sensed his presence.

He approached the corpse and crouched beside it.

The man had been carrying a battered leather backpack, a sword with a chipped edge, a small pouch of coins, several basic supplies, and a few potions. His armor was worn but serviceable, although several pieces would need repairs before they could be used again.

Ragnar examined the man’s face carefully.

His features were ordinary, without anything particularly distinctive. Short brown hair, a slightly crooked nose, a faint scar running along his left cheek, and a pair of dark green eyes that had now lost their light. It was the sort of appearance that would blend easily into a crowd of adventurers.

Ragnar used the Thousand Faces Transformation Orb’s.

He began adjusting his facial features, changing his hair color, eye color, and the shape of his nose and jaw until his reflection gradually came to resemble the dead adventurer. He reduced his apparent height slightly and altered his physique to match the man’s build. Finally, he reproduced the scar on his left cheek and adjusted the smaller details around his eyes and mouth.

The transformation settled into place.

Ragnar looked down at his hands. They were now those of an ordinary human adventurer, roughened by years of handling weapons and covered in small scars. His dark hair and green eyes matched the dead man’s, while his face had become nearly indistinguishable from the original.

"Not bad." Ragnar touched his cheek, feeling the familiar scar beneath his fingers.

Of course, the transformation only changed his appearance. His actual strength, skills, and demonic nature remained untouched. Anyone capable of seeing through advanced concealment or detecting the difference between displayed and actual power might still discover something unusual about him.

That was a problem for another day.

Ragnar removed the man’s adventurer identification from a small leather case attached to his belt. It was a metal plate bearing the adventurer’s registered information and guild markings. He turned it over several times, studying its details before placing it safely in his own pocket.

He also collected the man’s coins, potions, backpack, and other usable belongings. The chipped sword was hardly worth keeping, but he took it anyway.

After finishing his preparations, Ragnar stood and looked down at the corpse.

He had obtained the face, the equipment, and the identification of a Level 15 adventurer. Yet there was still one issue he needed to consider.

The identification could solve that problem, but Ragnar would have to read it carefully and remember every detail. If he intended to impersonate this person convincingly, he couldn’t afford to forget something as simple as his own name.

He opened the case and examined the metal plate.

A moment later, his expression changed slightly.

"So that’s your name, Gil"

He memorized the registered information, including the man’s name and guild affiliation, before returning the identification to his pocket. He would need to learn more about the habits of ordinary adventurers before attempting to interact with anyone, but at least he now had a starting point.

Ragnar glanced at the corpse one final time before opening the teleportation interface.

"Well, thank you for your contribution."

Ragnar adjusted the straps of his backpack and began walking toward the enormous doorway leading out of the spider nest.

Before long, the familiar surroundings began to change. The narrow, web-covered passages gave way to a wider corridor, and the sounds of human voices gradually grew louder.

Ragnar’s expression remained calm as he approached the enormous doorway.

Beyond it lay the dungeon’s entrance hall, a place that had become increasingly crowded since the authorities of Lufast City began managing the dungeon.

The atmosphere inside was completely different from the monster-infested corridors behind him. Adventurers filled the spacious chamber, some gathered around the registration counter to pay their entrance fees, while others sat along the walls to rest, repair their equipment, or discuss their plans for exploring the dungeon.

Ragnar paused briefly, allowing his eyes to sweep across the hall.

Nobody paid much attention to him. More importantly, nobody approached him.

Not a single adventurer stopped to ask about his exploration, invite him to join their party, or even spare him more than a passing glance. Most were too occupied with their own affairs to concern themselves with a stranger who had just emerged from the dungeon.

He couldn’t help but feel satisfied.