Who Designed This Underworld Dungeon?
Chapter 91: True High Pressure (Please Subscribe)

Chapter 91: Chapter 91: True High Pressure (Please Subscribe)

[Blast Scale Dragon]

[Spiritual Power Required Per Unit: ?]

[Overall Combat Power: C++]

Dragons, a beautiful yet powerful creature.

Everything about them is perfect, mysterious, and indifferent like a tyrant, with Dragon Flames that incinerate all, the bonfires serving as a reminder that Immortal Ancient Dragons once ruled the world.

Roger couldn’t help but recall his childhood memories.

That year, he and his childhood sweetheart were reading a fairy tale together. The story was about an Evil Dragon who kidnapped the Princess, and the Hero set out to rescue her at the request of the King, overcoming numerous challenges along the way.

The story was cliché, the only thing that made an impression on him were the names of the characters, which were long and cumbersome but rhythmically enchanting when pronounced.

After finishing the story, his childhood sweetheart, with flushed cheeks, asked him, "If I were kidnapped by an Evil Dragon, would you come to save me?"

Roger only remembers replying with a determined "I definitely will!" but it seemed that his thoughts at that time were different. What was he really thinking? He can’t remember now.

The explosions caused by the Blast Scale Dragon were both huge and dense, forcing him to use Flash continuously, with his magic power reserves rapidly depleting and signs of exhaustion showing.

Logically speaking, this would be the time to call forth the Female Fire Dragon to fight alongside him, but he thought better of it. Even with combined forces, they could not overcome, and the outcome would be uncertain even if the entire Exploration Team were here.

The workers had long since perished, leaving only a man and a dragon alive at the scene.

When Flash finally failed and his body could no longer move, the Blast Scale Dragon let out a long howl and dove down like a cannonball.

Roger didn’t dodge or hide. Calmly, he spread his arms wide open as though to embrace the Blast Scale Dragon, thinking how cool it would be to die at the hands of a dragon.

Right, I remember now, at that time I was thinking—

If you were truly captured by a dragon, then I would definitely set out to rescue the dragon bewitched by you, and become companions with it on adventures!

How low was my emotional intelligence at that time...

Roger’s consciousness plunged into darkness.

When he opened his eyes again, he found himself, as expected, inside the Resurrection House.

"What a mess?"

As he sat up holding his head, which was splitting with pain, he heard the Resurrection House filled with clamorous voices, everyone shouting and screaming.

What’s going on? Why all the commotion?

"Quickly, quickly, another ten just returned!" the nun yelled.

"We can’t save them all, really can’t, I’m running out of magic power!" the old Priest said in a voice lacking strength.

"Why did so many people die today, hey!" the staff of the Resurrection House cried out in unison.

"Sir," Roger turned his head to find a nun, her face covered in sweat, speaking to him: "Since you’re awake, please hurry down. Today we have an extreme number of deaths, and there aren’t enough beds,"

"Ah, yes..."

He hurriedly got out of bed to see the nun moving a body that was riddled with rock shards onto the bed, then turned to move another body. But no sooner had one been moved away than the Teleportation Crystal sent back a heap more. Even using magic to transport them was not quick enough.

Everyone was overwhelmed with work, having no choice but to temporarily move the bodies that could not be dealt with right away outside; the Resurrection House was becoming too packed!

Bystanders gathered around to watch the spectacle, chatting enthusiastically about why so many people died today.

Ever since the Sain Dungeon had undergone a transformation, the Resurrection House’s business had been busy with a surge in death tolls. But today, a particularly high number of people died, all at the same time, naturally causing a congestion like rush hour.

The Priests and nuns thought they had grown accustomed to high-intensity work, not realizing that this was now the true "high-intensity"!

Roger rubbed his temples, and as the headache began to relent a little, he suddenly realized that all these deceased people were actually all workers from the Bed Family!

Some were smashed to death by tremendous force, some were pierced full of rocks, and some were blown to pieces, while others were burnt to a crisp...

Their deaths all corresponded with the kinds of fates dealt by a Big Rock Snake or a Blast Scale Dragon.

Roger had an epiphany.

It seemed the workers, as they typically did, went mining and ended up encountering newly emerged Monsters in the Dungeon, collectively meeting their end in a single swoop.

Although it was unethical, he couldn’t help but feel a sense of schadenfreude.

No, he must not laugh; these workers were innocent... Hehehe, Count Philip is headed for a disaster.

As if to atone for his moment of malicious glee, he joined the ranks of the helping hands and volunteered.

It was the nobility who were at fault; the workers were merely trying to survive, and what they needed was to be resurrected and given rest as soon as possible.

News of a massive worker fatality in the Sain Dungeon due to the appearance of new Monsters spread rapidly and reached the ears of adventurers still queuing at the Teleportation Gate.

Their response was surprisingly consistent: Good! Good! Good!

It was immensely satisfying; nothing was more heartening than seeing a despised Lord suffer a colossal loss!

By the time the news had spread throughout the entire city, there was still a small portion of workers lined up to enter the Dungeon, with hundreds yet to go inside.

Hearing that everyone ahead of them had perished, with each entry leading to death, the remaining people were too frightened to proceed, regardless of the guards’ threats, with only a very few daring to push on.

These few soon met again in the Resurrection House.

"I’m done with this; who would want to do work that guarantees death!"

"I just died the day before yesterday, and today I was forced to come back, dying again will make me sick..."

"Damn it, I have to go in; my family is still in debt,"

Chaos erupted near the Teleportation Gate of the Dungeon, with guards unable to maintain control.

No matter the threats or enticements, no one was willing to undertake a nearly certain death mission, and the residual effects of resurrection were a burden they would have to bear themselves.

The workers’ pay consisted of a low base salary plus a bonus for the amount of ore mined — if they died upon entering the Dungeon without mining anything, the loss would be immense!

The presence of members from the Light Eagle Group was prominent, and the leader who had earlier discovered Roger now sneered, saying, "Just a rabble of cowards."

The guards were furious but dared not respond; everyone knew of the Light Eagle Group’s fame—having distinguished themselves in wars between nations and boasting powerful members in their leadership ranks. It was said that their leader had recently hunted a Gold Level Monster solo, a feat that usually only qualified adventurers could attempt, with many other leaders bearing the title "Hundred Beasts Slayer."

The more chaotic the scene, the more exhilarated the adventurers became. One timidly asked, "If all the workers are dead, will we also..."

"So what if we die? Just the chance to encounter a powerful Monster makes it worthwhile!"

"Yeah, I only dare to challenge Monsters stronger than me in the Dungeon because if I die on the surface, I can’t afford resurrection,"

An adventurer tauntingly called out, "Hey, you guards over there, dare to go in and slay the Monsters to uphold your Lord’s dignity? Hahaha."

"Just a bunch of cowards; how dare they compare themselves to us brave adventurers,"

The guards clenched their fists as the leader of the guards pleaded with the Light Eagle Group leader:

"Mr. Golka, please help us, we can’t control the situation,"

Golka gave him a glance, not uttering a word, but just a look was enough to make the head guard feel as though he was carrying a mountain on his back, his knees quaking.

"For the sake of your Lord,"

Finally, Golka stepped forward, raised his arm, and pressed his palm downward.

"Shut up."

With just a light mention, however...

The scene fell into an eerie silence, as if it were a silent mime show.

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