Chapter 340: Fantasy Land

The next morning, Solomon left the house with Iris. They met up with Paul along the way and headed directly toward District Seven to take care of some unfinished business.

District Seven was famous for two major attractions.

The first was Guild Avenue, which was currently locked down and swarming with investigators following the explosion and the subsequent deaths of the six corrupt detectives just recently.

The second was a stabilized local dungeon that had been entirely converted into an extension of the city itself.

Solomon, Paul, and Iris stood in a long line, purchased their entry passes, and stepped through the stabilized portal.

It was not a typical, monster-infested dungeon anymore. It was a sprawling tourist attraction. Elaborate fantasy buildings and whimsical architecture had been constructed inside by the corporate owners, turning the dungeon into a highly profitable, famous vacation spot.

It looked exactly like a theme park built inside a fantasy world, and it was quite literally named ’Fantasy Land’.

Paul looked around the bustling, themed streets and turned to Solomon. "Why are we here? I do not feel like going on a picnic right now."

"We are here to meet someone," Solomon replied, keeping his hands in his pockets.

"Who?" Paul asked. "And where are they?"

"I know a spot we could try," Solomon admitted, scanning the crowds. "But I know for a fact that he is somewhere inside this dungeon."

They walked past crowded streets lined with souvenir shops, themed restaurants, and various entertainment facilities.

There were even residential houses and large plots of land available for sale inside the dungeon, though the real estate prices were so exorbitantly expensive that the lots remained mostly vacant or rented out as short-term vacation homes.

Paul watched Solomon as they navigated the crowds. He noticed the teenager’s expression growing increasingly dark and upset with every step they took.

Paul wondered why they were specifically in this dungeon. ’Wait...’ Paul realized, a cold dread settling in his stomach. ’Is this the dungeon that...’

Solomon let out a frustrated sigh. "I cannot do this," he muttered, stopping dead in his tracks.

Tourists walked past him, bumping into his shoulders, but Solomon ignored them. He aggressively rubbed his hands over his face and pulled at his silver hair, as if he was performing a frantic stress-relief ritual.

This was the dungeon from the tragedy orchestrated by The BlueYorker’s Shield three years ago. This was the very place where two hundred adventurers had sacrificed their lives to stop a monster break. This was the ground where his girlfriend, Serah, and all his fellow guild members had been slaughtered.

And after the dungeon was officially cleared and The BlueYorker’s Shield seized the exploration rights, they had shamelessly paved over the graveyard, turning the massacre site into a profitable tourist trap to line their own pockets.

Solomon forced himself to calm down. He took a deep breath and resumed walking.

After hiking for a while, the dense crowds slowly disappeared. The commercial attraction spots faded away, leaving nothing but unpolished dungeon terrain ahead.

Solomon took a few sharp turns off the paved path, navigating through a short, dense forest, climbing a steep rocky hill, and descending into a secluded valley.

Solomon navigated the rough terrain without any issues, and Iris followed him effortlessly. Paul, however, struggled. He couldn’t move through the steep hills and rocky descents as fast as they were.

Solomon turned to the maid. "Iris, help him out."

Iris nodded. She simply walked over, picked Paul up by the back of his jacket with one hand, and casually jumped off the cliff, landing gracefully at the bottom of the descent.

Paul did not stop shouting and whining about the terrifying drop for the rest of the hike.

A few minutes later, they reached a small, dilapidated house made of stacked wood and rough stone. A meager, poorly maintained farm sat near the structure, alongside a few basic, rusted survival facilities.

"What is this place?" Paul asked curiously, dusting off his jacket. "This location was never mentioned on any of the dungeon forums or tourist guide maps."

"You will find out soon enough," Solomon responded as he walked up to the wooden door and knocked firmly.

A few seconds later, a gruff, exhausted voice responded from inside. "This is not a tourist attraction. You are trespassing. Leave immediately."

Instead of saying anything, Solomon knocked again, louder this time.

"Who is it?!" the voice demanded angrily.

"It is Solomon," he answered.

After a few tense seconds of absolute silence, the deadbolt clicked. The door creaked open slightly. A man with uncombed, matted hair, a messy, overgrown beard, and dirty, ragged clothes peered through the crack. His tired eyes widened in sheer shock upon seeing the silver-haired boy standing on his porch.

The man was Ben Walker. He was the Guild Master of the unnamed District Seven guild, and... Serah’s father. Since he was the sole survivor of the dungeon tragedy, the corrupt courts had granted him this tiny, worthless piece of land deep inside the dungeon, and nothing else.

This plot of dirt was the location where his daughter and his guild members had supposedly perished. The land was handed to him as a pathetic, insulting pity reward long after the rigged trial had concluded after public outrage.

"Why are you here, Solomon?" Ben asked, his voice trembling slightly.

"I am here to take you back," Solomon stated, looking the broken man in the eyes. "You have a guild to run."

Ben immediately tried to slam the door shut in Solomon’s face. "I am done with guilds! I just want to be left alone so I can die in peace!"

Solomon kicked the door before Ben could fully close it, forcing the wood back open. "You cannot die yet."

Ben scowled, tears welling up in his exhausted eyes. "Why are you doing this?! Why are you tormenting me?!" he cried out, his voice breaking.

Solomon looked at him with a mixture of pity and deep contempt. He vividly recalled his memories from three years ago, back when Ben was a proud, confident Guild Leader, a loving father, and a highly respected S-rank adventurer. Now... he was nothing but a broken shell of a man, rotting away in a shack.

Solomon gulped hard, swallowing his own surging emotions before choosing his words carefully.

"The people who tormented you are all gone," Solomon stated firmly.

Ben froze, wiping a tear from his cheek. "What are you talking about?"

Solomon looked him dead in the eyes. "The BlueYorker’s Shield is gone."

Ben blinked in confusion. "What do you mean? Where did they go?"

"I destroyed their guild," Solomon answered, his voice completely devoid of emotion. "I burned their headquarters to the ground. I killed every single one of them."

Ben stumbled backward, completely unable to believe what he was hearing. He finally noticed Iris and Paul standing awkwardly inside his small living room. He looked at the two strangers, then turned back to Solomon. "Are you joking right now? Is this some kind of sick test?"

"Look at my face," Solomon demanded, stepping fully into the house. "Look me in the eyes."

Ben reluctantly looked up. He saw Solomon’s face filled with absolute, unwavering pride and resolution. The boy was not lying.

Ben’s hands began to tremble. He took a hesitant step forward, stuttering as he asked the only question that mattered. "Have you... have you finally learned how to use your talent?"

Solomon nodded slowly. "Yes. I have."ℯ