Fete, escaping through the night, did not hire any adventurers.
Instead, he relied on the magic items he had accumulated to hide his presence, fleeing alone toward the surface at high speed.
As long as he left the dungeon and reached the public eye of the outside world, his safety would be greatly enhanced.
He entered the third floor through a passage beside the station.
Relying on magic items to conceal his form, the monsters generally could not detect his presence.
However, his luck seemed quite good today.
Usually, even when using magic items to hide, he wasn't certain he wouldn't run straight into a monster.
After all, magic items were not magical artifacts; their power was much weaker.
Today, he hadn't bumped into a single monster, narrowly avoiding a few near-collisions with a thrill.
Perhaps his luck was finally turning around.
After being so unfortunate for so long, had his fortune finally changed?
Fete had no room for further thought as he fled toward the dungeon's exit with all his might.
His stockpile of magic items was also being steadily depleted.
At this moment, he utterly detested the winding, labyrinthine nature of this dungeon; even with a map, it was a massive hindrance to his journey.
He had been advancing through the third floor for an unknown amount of time.
Fete suddenly noticed that the monsters that occasionally appeared in the area had vanished.
Realizing this, he quickly pulled out a new magic item, a paper ball.
Squeezing the paper ball flat, a double identical to Fete suddenly appeared before him.
However, the double could not move; it was merely a phantom layer.
Placing the phantom in a corner to disguise it as if it were resting, Fete quickly changed to another route according to the map.
However, it was all in vain.
Or rather, by the time he realized it, it was already too late.
Directly ahead on the path, three figures dressed in black with concealed faces appeared.
Fete turned around, wanting to escape from behind.
But he found that three more figures had appeared behind him as well.
The six people blocked the passage, leaving him with no way to escape.
Fete's back broke into a cold sweat; that aura was, without a doubt, that of an extraordinary being.
Was it the first-rank, or the second-rank?
"Mr. Fete, do you remember what was said during the day?"
"In this world, people who don't know what's good for them don't last long."
Fete clenched his teeth and looked toward the source of the voice.
A short, stout figure was standing behind the black-clothed men in front.
It was exactly that merchant from earlier today.
At this moment, Fete realized he was doomed.
He wouldn't necessarily die.
But given these people's methods, he would likely spend the rest of his life locked in a basement, performing alchemy in a place that never saw the light of day.
"I am an alchemist certified by the Alchemist Association!"
"Your current actions are making an enemy of the entire Alchemist Association!"
People with alchemical talent were incredibly rare, and alchemists were even more so.
They were weak themselves, yet they could create countless precious magical artifacts.
The Alchemist Association was a massive power formed by alchemists banding together, possessing unparalleled influence.
"This is a dungeon."
"Our actions this time have also been completely hidden by magical artifacts."
"Even the Alchemist Association won't be able to find a single trace."
Fete's heart sank halfway as he ran out of options.
At this point, he could only grasp at his final trump card like a drowning man catching a straw.
"I have already sent a letter to the Alchemist Association describing your appearance!"
The merchant chuckled again.
"How do you know this is my true appearance?"
"And as for the letter, is it this one?"
The stout merchant pulled out a blood-stained envelope.
"You killed him!"
Fete was shocked.
"Who do you think is to blame? If you hadn't sent the letter, he wouldn't have died."
"Just to be safe, we didn't kill him; we just crippled him and threw him into a pile of monsters."
The stout merchant didn't care at all about the loss of a life.
Though they were all humans.
They were high-ranking humans, and the lives of lower-class people weren't worthy of comparison to theirs.
"Mr. Fete, this is your last chance."
"If you still don't know what's good for you, we can only use some magical artifacts to twist your mind."
"But doing that would be a bit of a waste of your alchemical talent."
Fete watched the people closing in from both sides, staggering back toward the wall until there was nowhere left to retreat.
"Mr. Fete, if you want to blame someone, blame your lack of background."
"No lineage, only talent."
"You were born destined to be a tool, creating profit for us."
Fete grit his teeth and suddenly burst out laughing.
"Are you a noble?"
Fete asked.
"No, I am an attendant of that noble lord."
"I see..."
Fete reached out and pointed at the merchant.
"You're just a dog. From your tone, I thought you were some big shot."
"Turns out you're just a little mutt who's been around humans so long he thinks he is one."
Since he couldn't die and couldn't escape, Fete simply threw caution to the wind and let loose.
"You're asking for death!"
The stout merchant's expression turned cold.
The stout merchant raised his hand, intending to give Fete a lesson.
So what if he was an alchemist? As long as he could perform alchemy, it was enough.
How could he compare to himself? He was someone who stayed by that lord's side, interacting with important figures.
The decisions they discussed were those that could change the entire Northern Territory.
However, before he could give the order to these extraordinary beings to show off his authority.
A figure abruptly appeared in this passage.
When she moved, no one noticed her presence.
She wore a one-piece dress that was out of place for the setting; her tall, elegant figure formed a sharp contrast with the dungeon.
And above this elegant dress, she wore a metal head-armor that concealed her eyes and the upper half of her face.
Beneath the bar-shaped visor of the silver head-armor was a pitch-blackness that could swallow even one's gaze.
It was Zeno, who had been observing from the sidelines for a long time.
"Who are you!"
The stout merchant was startled.
The six black-clothed men drew their weapons one after another, pointing them at Zeno.
The second-rank swordsman and the first-rank swordsman, relying on experience, were the first to strike.
They attacked from both flanks, slashing toward Zeno.
They showed absolutely no mercy.
And the heavy warrior also took out a concealed small shield, launching a charge from the front.
In the blink of an eye, the attacks from three sides were about to land on Zeno.
This sudden change made even Fete's eyes widen.
He wanted to warn her of the danger, but found he didn't even have the chance to open his mouth.
Zeno slightly raised her head, and countless plants burst through the ground beneath her feet.
All the attacks were blocked in that instant.
The second-rank swordsman manipulated his Sword Qi, shredding the plants to pieces in an instant, yet Zeno's figure was nowhere to be seen among the cut vegetation.
"Harvest?"
The second-rank swordsman blurted out instinctively.
Zeno reappeared; under her perception ability, everything in the surroundings was within her control.
She landed on the ground and lightly raised her hand.
There was no mage in the human party; otherwise, they would have noticed by now.
The surrounding walls and floor were already filled with an immense amount of mana.
As Zeno raised her hand, this mana exploded.
In an instant, the entire corridor turned into an ocean of plants.
Thick vines and hard branches crowded in from all directions.
Everyone felt as if they had been swallowed into the stomach of a plant monster in an instant.
"She's a priest of Harvest, attack her true body!"
The second-rank swordsman shouted, being the first to rush toward Zeno not far away.
However, Zeno simply tapped the greenery on the ground with the tip of her foot.
In an instant, countless thick vines and sharp wood spikes pierced out from all directions of the passage.
In the blink of an eye, all the non-extraordinary people were skewered like meat on a spit.
Fete's eyes widened, and he slumped to the ground in terror.
That pretentious, stout merchant didn't even manage to utter a word before he was reduced to a corpse hanging from a branch, his eyes wide in a death stare.
The second-rank swordsman's pupils constricted.
He swung his sword at high speed, his Sword Qi surging in all directions to block the sharp branches rushing from the surroundings.
How could this power be possible!
"Heavy armor, defend, defend!"
No one responded.
He let out a roar of rage, his Sword Qi erupting wildly to grind all the surrounding plants to pieces, finally gaining a chance to look back.
Then he saw a terrifying scene.
The heavy warrior with the strongest defense was firmly bound by thick vines.
His body was being squeezed until it burst, his internal organs being crushed and flowing out from both ends.
Second-rank.
As a second-rank extraordinary being, his heart was now filled with terror.
And the first-rank swordsman who had witnessed the heavy warrior's death had already given up on the fight, frantically swinging his sword as he fled toward the ends of the passage.
He desperately attacked the passage that had been sealed shut by the growth of plants.
However, it was all in vain.
Everything here was now under Zeno's dominance.
All they could do was feel that crushing, monster-like strength.
The second-rank swordsman roared desperately, attacking the endless vines and branches.
Every muscle in his body was strained to the limit, far beyond its capacity.
He stared from afar at Zeno, who was manipulating everything from amidst the plants.
He felt as if a monster was hidden beneath that head-armor, operating a web called death, quietly watching his futile resistance.
How could she be this strong.
Why was there such a powerful existence in this dungeon!
Facing death, Zeno felt no pity.
Her only purpose was to carry out the purge.
Rate on N.U.
