We've just finished eating, and I ask Ronan for a short break to digest and recover a couple of mana points through meditation. Afterwards, we head back toward the dungeon exit, followed by the golems, bats, wolves, and trolls Ronan has summoned, including the alpha.

Of course, I'm not leaving until solving the mystery of the possible secret level. After ascending the spiral staircase and reaching the cavern, I approach the relief area.

I imagine the dungeon core excavated this chamber from the mountain rock, leaving irregular stone walls now covered in ice—making my task even harder. With so many potential reliefs, it's difficult to identify the right one. After several minutes of searching, I have no choice but to ask the pup to point it out again.

He cocks his head when asked, as if considering something. Then he glances sideways at Ronan, looks back at me, and with a happy bark dashes to a spot just over a meter to my right.

Ronan, standing near that point, quickly positions himself between the seed and the wall.

"With all due respect, Divine Beast," he says gravely, "I understand you take advantage of my lady's kind heart, but I am here to protect her, not you. As you know, I am not one to shrink from duty's demands."

The pup stops dead in his tracks and turns to look at me with pitiful eyes. I laugh, pick him up, and cradle him. As if Ronan would dare harm his deity's divine beast... But it's amusing to see the little rascal's expression.

"Would you like to press it, my lady?" Ronan steps aside, having located the exact relief.

Now that I see it, its unnatural geometry is unmistakable. Still… how was I supposed to see it before?

"Yes, Ronan. I know you're low on mana, but I think you could at least cast exhaust if needed. Or your suction spell—doesn't that one cost nothing as long as you have some mana?"

"Correct, my lady."

"Alright, well I can summon the shadow wolf, he's already proven he can handle whatever gets thrown at us. I say we press it and see what happens."

Besides, we're surrounded by all of Ronan's skeletons and zombies. Honestly, if not for my divine beast, I'd think dungeon crawling with Ronan is like having the boss on your party—and not even nerfed.

"Go ahead, little troll wolf, do the honors," I say.

He looks at me, at the relief, suspiciously at Ronan, back at me, and at my approving smile, happily raises his paw and presses it.

This time, it's nothing like the pyramid. No sound of gears or heavy mechanisms, just an oval portal appearing in the air.

To be clearer: a section of the wall's air seems to ripple, the vision within a mathematically perfect oval blurring. We can still see the rock, but it's indistinct. It's large enough for us to pass through easily, even the trolls if they crouch.

There are no traps blocking our exit or forcing us to enter. The dungeon lets us choose.

"I admit you know a great many things," I tell the pup while thoughtfully petting his head.

"Shall I send a wolf to investigate, my lady?"

"Good idea."

A skeletal wolf steps forward and enters. Seconds pass.

"My lady, I have an extensive range for mental communication with my friends. I cannot contact the wolf. It may be far away, outside this dungeon, or in some place shielded from such communication or magic."

"Alright, I'll go first," I say, crouching to pick up the pup in his true size.

Obviously, I'm not entering without my survival ace.

"What if it takes you to the ocean depths or a chamber filled with volcanic lava?"

I roll my eyes.

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"Ronan, if that were the case, this little one wouldn't have shown us the lever. If only because he needs me alive," I reply before entering without hesitation.

Doubt about whether I'm giving the seed too much credit hits me simultaneously with slight dizziness and disorientation. Instantly, I appear on the other side.

No lava.

Instead, it's a lavishly decorated burial chamber with wall torches that must be magical—otherwise, how else would they still be burning?

I take a few steps. The atmosphere is profoundly solemn, seemingly without danger. I set the pup down, and he stays perfectly still.

"Go back and show this to your master," I tell the wolf.

Oh, and where does he return? I just realized.

Turning, I see the portal where I came from, facing what must be the chamber's true entrance: a huge metal door sealed shut, engraved with horned, winged warrior figures in combat. The wolf disappears, and soon Ronan arrives alone.

He finds me studying the chamber.

Absorbed in the solemnity, I barely notice his approaching footsteps. Looking down, I see why—the floor is covered with thick carpets, a purple color that reminds me of the royalty of the Roman Empire in my world. My elongated, dancing shadow from the torches falls across the sarcophagus that can only belong to a demon king. Though sealed, its lid bears a golden recumbent figure—a humanoid larger than me but smaller than the trolls, clad in heavy armor that accommodates the horns and wings folded neatly against his back. Despite the helmet, I feel observed through eternally closed eyelids, as if my presence interrupted a century-long slumber.

The air is thick, almost tangible, heavy with forgotten rituals. Each breath feels like desecration. My gaze traces the rectangular chamber's contours: three pillars supporting the ceiling, each flanked by stone statues.

The walls are made of pristine white slabs untouched by time. No dust. The torches emit no smoke. Undoubtedly some ancient, powerful preservation magic at work.

To my left, a majestic dark stone statue depicts a feline-featured warrior woman gripping a spear that touches the ceiling, her expression fierce yet serene—the eternal guardian of her lord's rest.

On the opposite pillar stands an obsidian sentinel with six arms, each wielding weapons pointed toward different cardinal directions.

Most disturbing is the statue directly behind the sarcophagus, a hybrid of humanoid and indescribable elements. Its empty eye sockets, set with red gems, seem to follow my movements. Maybe it's just a trick of the flickering torchlight, but I could swear I saw it blink.

"Impressive, is it not?" Ronan's voice shatters the tomb's silence, startling me. "There is something carved on the sarcophagus."

I follow as he approaches. Indeed, engravings circle its base. They are not mere decorations; rather, they tell the story of the demon king's rise, conquests, and final pact with divine forces.

I can't read the script but understand the pictographs.

"The lesser demons built this as tribute to their fallen king. Each statue represents one of his most loyal generals," Ronan explains.

"You can read it?"

"Yes. It is an ancient magical language sometimes used by darkness-affinity mages. It was in one of the books my master brought me as a child."

This Ronan and that master... I'm starting to think the god's hand may have guided the master's selection of study materials. Though I also know I didn't arrive in this world alone, without divine intervention. Questions without answers, for now.

As I reach toward the inscriptions, Ronan stops me. The pup also tugs my pants backward with his teeth.

"There is a curse on touching it, my lady. Far stronger than any I know."

"I see. Thanks."

I pause, lost in thought for a few seconds.

"Do you think he's truly dead?" I whisper, not wanting to further disturb the place.

Ronan doesn't answer immediately. When I turn, his expression is inscrutable.

"His soul is not in this chamber, and I cannot reach beyond. This place's magic prevents it."

I study the carvings, particularly one showing the demon king riding a dragon. Given there's access here from the dungeon—in fact, this chamber might be inside the dungeon—and the dead dragoness by the frozen lake, I wouldn't be surprised if this is Myrthaxya.

There's a story here that Ronan could ask her about.

Notably, there's no treasure chest or gold in the chamber. Honestly, even if there were, I wouldn't loot it. First because of potential curses, second due to the bone-deep solemn atmosphere, and third because possessing a fallen demon king's artifact might bring me closer to becoming one.

"I would like to raise the lid, but this curse feels far beyond my current capabilities. Even sending a volunteer to lift it would backlash onto me. With your permission, my lady, I suggest leaving both sarcophagus and chamber undisturbed. Perhaps when Mary grows stronger, she could dispel it."

"Of course," I reply, suddenly relieved.

It hadn't occurred to me that Ronan might want to animate the demon king. Not that I'm stupid—of course he'd want to! But the chamber's solemnity (perhaps spell-induced) had kept such profane thoughts at bay. Clearly not from Ronan's mind, though.

We cross back through the portal, with me carrying the pup. Once all three of us are through, it closes. The oval vanishes, leaving only solid stone wall behind.

"Do you think touching it will reactivate it?" I ask.

"I do not know, my lady. Sometimes dungeons have one-time-only accesses or bosses."

Right, like special first-clear rewards.

Well, I'll remember that. We exit into real sunlight, blazing off the snow, and I feel myself again—the solemn atmosphere lifting. Stretching, I reassert bodily awareness of being back to normal... then notice something's wrong with Ronan.

Beneath his eyes are branching patterns radiating from tear ducts across lower eyelids. Not capillaries.

"Ronan, stop a moment please."

I step closer to examine him. It looks like someone drew on him with black and glowing blue markers. Strange geometric tattoos of curved and straight lines dig into his skin.

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