Chapter – 10

Hikaru watched Aman and his team leave the dungeon without paying them much attention.

His focus was entirely on the soul currently sprawled on the forest floor, balanced precariously on death’s doorstep.

He wasn’t merely angry.

He was absolutely furious.

Through the bond they shared, his Pokémon had felt his emotions. His rage. His grief.

And they had responded in kind.

The entire forest had risen to defend their creator and punish the one responsible for drawing his ire.

Now they surrounded the fallen man on all sides, victorious expressions on their faces as blood slowly dripped from Snorlax’s fists.

Hikaru floated closer and gently ran an ethereal hand through the giant Pokémon’s fur.

“Thank you, Snorlax. You did great.”

He felt a little bad about turning Snorlax into a killer.

Unlike what Aman had assumed, Snorlax wasn’t actually a sub-boss. Hikaru hadn’t even known what a sub-boss was before today.

Snorlax had simply been Hikaru’s first and only attempt at creating an evolved Pokémon.

He had wanted to know whether making a larger body and soul would allow him to fit more skills into his creation. So he had gone all in and made the biggest Pokémon he could.

Unfortunately, souls didn’t work like that.

It wasn’t about size.

It was about depth.

Complexity.

Things that required a lot of time and effort for Hikaru to progress any further.

So Snorlax had become little more than a novelty project.

Hikaru had left him wandering Viridian Forest as a little Easter egg for future explorers to discover.

An attempt to recreate the classic ‘A sleeping Snorlax is blocking the path’ encounter from the games.

Maybe one day he would even make a Poké Flute.

He had never expected Snorlax to become his executioner.

Unfortunately, the moment Snorlax felt his creator’s fury through their bond, the Pokémon had woken from his nap and joined the rest of the dungeon in seeking revenge.

Not that Hikaru would have changed anything if given the opportunity.

Aman and his companions were free to leave.

He was genuinely happy to see them survive.

But that fucker, Seibel or whatever his name was, had crossed a line.

Not because he was greedy and arrogant.

Not even because he had killed one of Hikaru’s creations.

No.

He had done something much worse.

He had caused the first true death among Hikaru’s Pokémon.

Hikaru had long since come to terms with the fact that his creations lived and died.

That was simply the circle of life.

But that acceptance only existed because of one comforting fact.

As long as they remained inside the dungeon, they were never truly gone.

To Hikaru, and to his Pokémon, death inside the dungeon was little different from fainting in the games.

A temporary inconvenience.

Nothing more.

It was the comforting illusion that allowed Hikaru to live without any guilt, despite creating creatures that lived in a place specifically designed to be hostile and dangerous.

And until today, it had worked.

He had genuinely believed that giving the adventurers empathy and an understanding of his Pokémon would be enough to prevent anyone from desecrating the fallen.

Unfortunately, he had failed to account for human greed.

Where Hikaru saw Monster Cores as unique crystallizations of mana, the culmination of months of effort and experimentation, the mortal races saw resources. Currency. Loot.

Something to carve out and sell.

Something to harvest from the corpse of a fallen Pokémon without a second thought.

Something that happened to contain the soul of the creature they had just killed.

The very thing that made it who it was.

And in extracting that core, Seibel had destroyed it.

Destroyed the soul. Destroyed the Pokémon.

For real this time.

Hikaru could create another Rattata.

That wasn’t the problem.

He could create ten. A hundred. A thousand.

But it wouldn’t be the same one.

It wouldn’t be Rattata No. Three.

The one with the springy tail.

The one that liked to eat Rawst Berries and sleep wherever it pleased.

It would be Rattata No. Six.

An entirely different individual.

Hikaru might not give his Pokémon cute nicknames.

He might not constantly fuss over them.

But they were still his creations.

His Pokémon.

Each one unique. Each one irreplaceable.

He simply loved all of them equally.

And now the man currently bleeding out in his dungeon had permanently taken one of them away.

Destroyed any possibility of bringing it back.

So yes.

Hikaru felt completely justified in his reaction.

And if anyone disagreed, then they could kindly go fuck themselves.

Because Hikaru wasn’t done yet.

Not even close.

The moment Seibel’s soul finally had enough and slipped free of its mortal shell, Hikaru snatched it up.

An ugly grin spread across his face.

“I would like to say this is nothing personal, just the advancement of science, but you’ve already made it very personal.”

He looked down at the struggling soul.

“So I’m going to enjoy this.”

The grin widened.

“I’m going to tear you apart piece by piece, dissect every aspect of your existence and figure out exactly how your soul works. Then I’m going to use that knowledge to improve my creations.”

Hikaru tilted his head.

“If there’s anything left of you afterward, I might even use the scraps to make another Rattata.”

His smile became positively vicious.

“You know. As a replacement for the one you killed.”

He slowly squeezed the soul in his grasp.

“As they say, an eye for an eye.”

A pause.

“Or in this case, a soul for a soul.”

The struggling spirit froze.

“So enjoy your eternal torment, buddy. After that, I’ll erase whatever remains of your existence.”

For several seconds, nobody said anything.

Even the Pokémon surrounding him looked slightly disturbed.

Several of them quietly shuffled away from their creator.

Hikaru blinked.

Then looked around.

Then noticed every Pokémon staring at him.

“…Right.”

The grin vanished.

He coughed awkwardly.

“That may have been a bit much.”

The surrounding Pokémon visibly relaxed.

Hikaru quickly straightened himself and addressed the gathered crowd.

“Well everyone, justice has been served. I’m fine now. You can all go back to whatever you were doing.”

The forest immediately filled with cries, chirps and growls as the Pokémon voiced their agreement.

One by one, they began dispersing.

Within minutes, the dungeon had returned to normal.

Hikaru watched them leave before turning his attention elsewhere.

Now that his anger had been somewhat appeased, it was time to deal with a different problem.

Specifically, Aman and his companions.

The poor guy probably had no clue what just happened.

It looked like it was time for Professor Oak to wake up.

---

Aman woke with a groan, the hard ground digging into his back.

He blearily opened his eyes and immediately noticed the change in scenery. Instead of the magical trees of Viridian Forest, he was lying beneath the shade of ordinary, non-magical trees.

It took a few moments for his memories to catch up.

The Snorlax. The desperate retreat. The dungeon suddenly turning hostile.

Seibel.

Aman shot upright.

“Where’s Seibel?”

His eyes darted around frantically, searching for the familiar, irritating face.

He didn’t find it.

Only the grim expressions of his companions.

Even though Stella was sitting directly across from him, Aman couldn’t bring himself to look at her.

Instead, he turned toward Mina.

“What happened to Seibel?”

“He’s dead.”

Stella answered anyway.

Aman immediately rose to his feet, anger flaring inside him.

Before he could say anything, Stella raised a hand.

“Before you accuse me of being cold and heartless, will you at least give me a chance to explain?”

Aman closed his eyes.

He took a deep breath.

Then another.

Slowly, the anger began to fade.

Not disappear.

Just settle enough for him to think.

He knew he was being emotional.

How could he not be?

This was the first time he had seen someone die.

Someone he actually knew.

But death was hardly uncommon among adventurers.

Especially inside dungeons.

Before he passed judgment, he needed to hear the whole story.

When Aman finally opened his eyes again, he silently gestured for her to continue.

Stella nodded.

“Before I explain, how much do you know about dungeons and dungeon rules?”

“Not much,” Aman admitted. “Just the basics every mage learns.”

“Then you already know that dungeons are placed in the same category as mortal races. At least the friendly ones.”

Aman nodded.

Every dungeon on the continent was treated as a living entity rather than merely a location.

The sole exception within the Kingdom of Mati was the Crypt of Sylia, whose core the kingdom was still actively trying to destroy.

“They have their own thoughts, desires, preferences and goals,” Stella continued. “Dungeons allow us to enter their domain because they want something from us. Our Souls. Our Bodies. Our Mana. In return, we enter them because we want the resources and opportunities they provide.”

She folded her hands together.

“It is a mutually beneficial arrangement.”

Aman nodded again.

“So where do the dungeon rules come in?”

“Once a dungeon develops sufficiently and forms a stable ego, negotiations begin.”

“Negotiations?”

Stella smiled slightly.

“Think of them as treaties. We establish a set of agreements that both sides consider acceptable and beneficial. Then both parties swear to uphold them.”

Aman’s eyes widened slightly.

“The dungeon rules.”

“Exactly.”

He had always assumed the rules posted at dungeon entrances were created by kingdoms and the adventurer guild.

The idea that the dungeons themselves participated in drafting them had never occurred to him.

“Usually the agreements are fairly straightforward,” Stella explained. “We agree not to destroy the dungeon core, overexploit its resources or otherwise threaten its continued existence. In return, the dungeon agrees not to create impossible challenges or indiscriminately slaughter its visitors.”

“Both sides follow the rules because neither side wants a war.”

Aman immediately thought of something.

“Like the Crypt of Sylia?”

“Yes. Like the Crypt of Sylia.”

A grimace crossed Stella’s face.

“Though that case is slightly different. No agreement was ever reached with the Crypt in the first place. It was hostile from the very beginning.”

She pointed toward the entrance of Viridian Forest.

“What you witnessed today is what happens when someone breaks the dungeon rules.”

Aman frowned.

“The entire dungeon turns against them.”

Her voice remained calm.

“It doesn’t matter who they are. It doesn’t matter why they did it. Breaking a dungeon rule means one thing and one thing only: death.”

The pieces slowly began falling into place.

“So you’re saying…”

“That this dungeon already has rules of its own.”

Stella nodded.

“We don’t know how old it is. We don’t know how many floors it has. But what happened today makes one thing very clear.”

Her gaze drifted toward the forest.

“Whatever intelligence resides within that dungeon, it is far more mature than we initially believed.”

Aman remained silent for a moment, processing everything he had just heard.

“It has its own rules.”

“Yes.”

“And Seibel broke one of them.”

“That is my conclusion.”

Aman frowned.

“How can you be so certain? We don’t even know what those rules are.”

For the first time, Stella looked uncertain.

“I don’t know how to explain it.”

She searched for the words.

“It was my skill, [Intuition]. I had a gut feeling.”

Aman raised an eyebrow.

“That he was such an asshole that even the dungeon hated him?”

This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

A faint smile tugged at Mina’s lips despite the grim topic.

Aman wasn’t trying to be argumentative.

He genuinely wanted to know.

Had Stella made the decision because of evidence? Or because of prejudice?

“It wasn’t just a feeling.”

Everyone turned toward Arvel.

The Garud had remained silent throughout most of the conversation.

Now he finally spoke.

“The evidence was there for all of us to see. Stella’s skill merely helped her unconscious mind reach a conclusion before her conscious mind could process the evidence.”

Stella blinked.

Arvel continued.

“It is one of the traits that makes her a good leader. It is also one of the reasons we follow her.”

Stella looked hopeful, while Mina appeared curious. Aman, meanwhile, was completely lost.

Noticing he had everyone’s attention, Arvel elaborated.

“None of us realized it at the time because we were too busy running. But think back carefully. How many attacks actually targeted you?”

Nobody answered immediately.

“There were dozens of Pokémon and hundreds of attacks. Yet how many of them actually hit us?”

Aman opened his mouth, then closed it again.

Because now that he thought about it, very few.

“Most of them missed,” Mina whispered.

“Exactly.” Arvel nodded. “They weren’t attacking us. They were attacking Seibel.”

The realization hit Aman like a physical blow.

Every attack he had dodged. Every near miss. Every projectile that had barely grazed him. They had all happened while he was standing beside Seibel or in front of him.

The attacks had never been intended for Aman.

He had simply been in the way.

“So yes,” Arvel concluded. “I am certain Seibel was the one who angered the dungeon.”

He glanced toward Viridian Forest.

“As for what he did specifically, I have no idea.”

Nobody spoke for several seconds.

Finally, Stella sighed.

“We can only hope the dungeon doesn’t hold the rest of us responsible.”

Her gaze drifted toward the distant tree line.

“And that the royal appraiser can somehow negotiate an agreement with the dungeon before things become even more complicated.”

---

Silence settled over the group after Arvel’s explanation.

Nobody had anything else to add.

What was there to say?

Seibel was dead.

Whether it had been his own fault or not didn’t change that fact.

Aman had disliked the man. He had found him arrogant, annoying and thoroughly unpleasant to be around. Yet now that he was gone, Aman found it difficult to feel any satisfaction.

Death was far too final for that.

Eventually, Stella rose to her feet.

“We should return to the Pokécenter.”

Nobody argued.

There was little reason to remain here.

More importantly, there was someone who needed to hear what had happened.

The walk back was quiet.

Mina made a few half-hearted attempts at conversation, only to quickly give up when nobody responded. Even she seemed subdued after everything that had happened.

Aman spent most of the journey staring at the ground.

His thoughts kept drifting back to Seibel.

The man had been alive only a few hours ago.

Complaining. Bragging. Trying to show off.

Now he was gone.

Just like that.

Aman had never liked him, but somehow that only made the whole thing feel stranger.

Eventually, the familiar red roof of the Pokécenter came into view.

Normally, the sight would have filled Aman with relief.

Today, it simply felt hollow.

The automatic doors slid open as they approached, allowing them entrance.

Professor Oak was already waiting inside.

“Professor Oak.” Aman opened his mouth, intending to explain what had happened inside the dungeon, but the professor simply stepped forward and placed a hand on his shoulder.

“It’s alright. I know what happened.”

The old man gave him a sad smile.

“And I am sorry for your loss.”

Aman looked up in surprise.

Not just him.

Everyone in the room wore a similar expression.

“What?” Aman asked. “How?”

Professor Oak’s smile turned a little strained.

“I felt the dungeon’s mana. I could feel its anger. So I asked a friend to investigate what had upset the dungeon.”

“A friend?”

Aman frowned.

Then he noticed where Arvel’s attention had been fixed since entering the building.

Near one of the walls sat an orange Pokémon with massive jaws.

Professor Oak followed his gaze.