Randy looked up from the blinking map on his phone. "Up here, we should turn right. After that, we'll see the entrance to the Crimson Fang Orc encampment."

  "Who controls the Crimson Fang encampment again? I forgot," Vesper asked from the front of the group.

  "Er…" Randy furrowed his brows in thought. "I believe it's the Stormbringers Guild? But unlike the Ironmaw Clan, the Crimson Fang Clan isn't known for producing anything, so they aren't as carefully monitored or culled weekly for experience…" His voice trailed off.

  All of them could feel it—a dark, oppressive aura hanging over the group.

  Gerald was upset about something.

  Randy hadn't even known Gerald was capable of emotions beyond hunger and, perhaps, rage.

  What could have possibly put him in this state? Randy wondered. He didn't even want to slaughter the Ironmaw Orcs back there, despite telling us he wanted to reach level fifty before we teleported to the surface.

  Gerald's sudden shift in mood was beyond perplexing—and concerning.

  Whether Randy liked to admit it or not, Gerald was going to be an integral part of his future, for better or worse. If he couldn't get a read on Gerald's emotions, it was bound to spell disaster for him and his friends down the line.

  Sighing, Randy slid the phone into his pocket. "So, Gerald," he said, gathering his courage as he quickened his pace to walk beside the skinsuit-wearing monster. "What's wrong? Ever since we set foot in the Ironmaw Orc encampment, you've been in a sour mood."

  Gerald straight-up ignored him.

  "Not like you have to tell us what's on your mind," Randy added quickly while starting to panic. "But since we're all a team now, I'd hate for there to be a rift between us before we've even reached the surface."

  Gerald slowly turned to look at him as if he were annoying. Randy could faintly see his own reflection between the dried blood stains on the metallic mask. "A rift? What do you mean?"

  "It's a saying," Randy explained. "It basically means we have a problem."

  "I don't have a problem with you three," Gerald said, glancing away. "I have a problem with how humans treat monsters on this accursed floor."

  The statement caught Randy off guard. He paused, taking a moment to process it before responding. "What do you mean by that exactly? I mean," he chuckled awkwardly, "they're monsters. How they're treated shouldn't really matter—" He stopped short, realizing who he was talking to. "Not you, of course," he clarified hastily. "I meant the mindless ones."

  Gerald glanced at him again, leaned in close, and suddenly snarled loudly.

  Randy stiffened. "W—what are you doing?" His heart pounded. Had Gerald reverted to his purely monstrous instincts? Was he about to attack them while no one else was around?

  "I said 'humans are delicious' in Orcish," Gerald replied calmly. "Obviously, you would understand, considering it's a language belonging to mindless creatures, right?" He tilted his head. "No? Then perhaps you know how to forge weapons and armor?"

  Randy slowly shook his head.

  "Huh, strange. Not capable of basic things that the Orcs are? Maybe you're the mindless one," Gerald taunted.

  Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

  Randy clenched his jaw. How did not knowing Orcish or weapon forging make him mindless? Still… he could see Gerald's point. Calling them mindless wasn't fair—but they were monsters.

  "Okay, let's calm down a bit," Vesper said smoothly, stepping in and placing a hand on each of their chests to gently push them apart. "I'm assuming the way humans treated the Ironmaw Orcs enraged you, Gerald? Is that right?"

  Gerald gave a curt nod.

  "I see." Vesper sighed, lowering his hands. "I agree that their treatment is barbaric—and that they aren't mindless creatures. But that doesn't change the fact that they are monsters: beings crafted from mana by the dungeon and compelled to kill humans. When we call them mindless, what we really mean is that they lack free will, unlike you."

  Good save, Vesper! Randy silently cheered before adding, "There have been countless attempts to communicate with monsters, both in dungeons and on the surface, in research labs. All of them failed." His voice dropped. "In fact, Gerald, you're probably the first monster ever capable of communicating with humans like this. If word of your existence got out, forget Japan—every government and major guild would want you. And not in a good way. They'd want you in chains. You would be questioned until your throat runs dry and experimented on until you wish you were dead."

  Gerald looked down. "So wherever I go, I'll be hunted."

  Randy exchanged a glance with Vesper, then nodded grimly. "I'm afraid so. But if you work with us, we can guide and protect you. And maybe one day, when you've outleveled powerhouses like Chronos, you can take off that mask and live free."

  Silence fell over the group.

  "Do humans treat other humans the way they treat monsters?" Gerald asked quietly as they resumed walking down the empty street.

  "Um…" Randy gulped. "Yes—and no. That's… complicated."

  "Humans are exploitative and opportunistic by nature," Vesper said, his gaze hardening. "Some more than others. Throughout history, humans have committed atrocities against one another that make what you saw today look tame." He paused. "Though in recent times, things have improved. The dungeon gave humanity a new evil to focus on—a lawless place that satisfies our more primal instincts."

  Valoria spoke up in a small voice. "Some people even believe the dungeon was a divine intervention. That a god left it behind to save us from destroying ourselves. My mother told me that the Third World War was only days away from starting when the gates opened. With the appearance of monsters, humanity had a new target to turn its anger and weapons toward."

  Randy nodded along. He was analytical by nature and skeptical of religion—but he preferred that theory over the alternative. That the dungeon was a precursor to an invasion, and that some alien race was simply fattening humanity up before the slaughter.

  Whatever the truth, Randy was starting to think Gerald could lead humanity into a new era. With how fast he was leveling, he wouldn't be surprised if he caught up to Chronos within a few years.

  "What about honorable combat?" Gerald asked. "Do humans engage in that on the surface?"

  "Honorable combat?" Randy tilted his head. "You mean like gladiator fights? One-on-one, in front of a crowd? A fight to the death?"

  Gerald's posture shifted, intrigued. "Yes. Like that."

  "Then… sorry to disappoint," Randy said. "We stopped doing that a long time ago. Wars are fought with machines now—like the turrets we passed that were disintegrating Orcs. Outside of that, only Hunters have the power to truly affect a battlefield."

  "Luckily, an all-out Hunter war between nations hasn't happened yet," Valoria said, though her expression lacked conviction.

  Randy shared her unease. The dungeon had been a powerful distraction for decades, but that era was ending. Old grudges between nations were resurfacing, and Hunters were gearing up for battle. He didn't even want to imagine the level of destruction a level three hundred Hunter like Chronos could unleash on an unprepared nation.

  It was one of the reasons Randy had chosen to be an analyst.

  If war came, he wanted to be behind closed doors—far from the battlefield.

  "Phew, this is depressing," Vesper said, jokingly wiping his brow to lift the mood. "I promise that you will like the surface, Gerald. There are no monsters up there for you to see mistreated, and there's a lot of tasty food. Not made out of human meat, though. That's like, highly illegal."

  "Why?" Gerald asked with genuine confusion. "I thought you guys hunted each other all the time?"

  "Yes, but..." Vesper shook his head, "we have morals, you know?"

  "Morals?"

  "Yeah. Unspoken rules that humans have learned throughout history. Be kind to your neighbor, don't steal, etc. I'm pretty sure 'don't devour your fellow man' was also written down at some point."

  Randy could practically hear the gears of confusion turning in Gerald's head.

  "I'm not a human, though," Gerald eventually concluded, "so I don't have to listen to these morals."

  Randy sighed deeply. Perhaps integrating Gerald into human society would prove more troublesome than he could have ever imagined.

  to read ahead!