Chapter : 208

A note refers to supplementary remarks appended to a document—extra details worth referencing.

The Hero’s Notes, true to their name, were additional provisions the previous Hero had left behind for those who would come after.

《I am the guide left here by the previous Hero.》

“…I see.”

The smoke-formed man gestured to Lucian and seated him carefully in a chair within the Notes.

《How much time has passed outside?》

“One thousand years.”

《A long time, indeed.》

The smoke man nodded again, boiled water, and in an instant served Lucian tea.

His swift, precise movements—like those of a first-class butler—made Lucian admire him despite himself.

“So this place is a dungeon?”

《Correct. To record all of the Notes the previous Hero prepared, an ordinary space would not suffice.》

“A dungeon inside the Imperial Palace, though…?”

Isn’t that a security risk?

At Lucian’s frankly suspicious attitude, the smoke man—who had now moved on to full-on baking—answered with firm certainty.

《If anything, being a dungeon makes it safer. More importantly—did you not see the safety mechanisms?》

He asked back with a confident smile.

Right. The corridor door could only be opened with the Emperor’s key.

Even then, only the Hero could open it, and the final “cut” that split the way was possible only with the Holy Sword.

With that many layers of security, it was hard to keep complaining.

“I understand that the Hero’s Notes are a provision left by the previous Hero for future Heroes. But then… what are you?”

Truthfully, what bothered Lucian most wasn’t anything else—it was the being right in front of him.

He understood this was a dungeon, and he understood the intention behind it… but what exactly was this human-shaped smoke?

《I am one who was once the master of this dungeon—one who served the owner of the Holy Sword, and who will continue to serve that owner henceforth.》

Master of the dungeon.

At that, Lucian’s body jolted.

He rose and tried to swing his sword at once—yet strangely, the Holy Sword did not manifest.

As if it were whispering that the being before him was not an enemy.

The Holy Sword had only done this once before—when Lucian first met “Ru.”

《If you believe all dungeon masters must be hostile to humans, then that is arrogance born of human ignorance.》

“…From this conversation alone, I don’t see any grounds to conclude you are friendly toward humans.”

《I was presumptuous. The only beings I show reverence to are God, and the owner of the Holy Sword. My apologies.》

Bowing as if in apology, the smoke man promptly handed Lucian a perfectly baked macaron.

Lucian didn’t even glance at it; frowning, he asked:

“If you’re a dungeon master, doesn’t that mean you’re the dungeon boss?”

《That is one way people phrase it.》

“Dungeon bosses are generally hostile to humans.”

At Lucian’s point, the dungeon master let out a light chuckle.

When the macaron was ignored, he took it back and mimed eating it himself. Since he was smoke, Lucian couldn’t tell whether he truly “ate” anything.

《It is natural you would think so. If a dungeon master were friendly toward humans, there would be no reason for them to appear in the world at all.》

“Then you…”

《Once, I too bore hostility toward humans. But not now.》

The dungeon master moved dramatically like an actor on a stage—one hand pressed to his chest, the other reaching toward the heavens.

《I changed after meeting the Hero of the Holy Sword! I was so profoundly moved that, merely because you wield the Holy Sword, I would be willing to lick your boot—such is my state!!》

“…I won’t be asking you to lick my boot.”

《It is only a manner of speaking.》

He answered softly.

And at that, Lucian felt that this dungeon master was not purely an evil being.

“What is your name?”

《Ah! Scrio. Please, call me whatever you like—Scr, Sri, Sio, Cri, Rio—anything, truly.》

Scrio, formed of smoke, felt as though he were smiling.

The unfamiliar name rolled around in Lucian’s mouth.

《I was told it is a name derived from ancient tongue—bestowed personally by God Himself.》

Perhaps recalling those days stirred his excitement; Scrio puffed out a breath and continued talking rapidly.

《And the Hero told me it suited me perfectly!》

Hm. If nothing else, Lucian understood one thing:

if you brought up the Hero in front of Scrio carelessly, you would be trapped listening to Hero stories for a very long time.

—

### * * *

The function of the Notes was simple.

Training. Training. And more training.

Snap!

A crisp sound—one that should never have come from smoke—rang out as fingers struck together, and a basilisk appeared.

Lucian did flinch, but after experiencing it many times, he raised the Holy Sword to face it.

Steel and sharp fangs collided with loud clacks.

Lucian moved swiftly, and in a clean motion, severed the basilisk’s neck completely with the Holy Sword.

《You are noticeably faster now.》

Scrio approached Lucian—sweaty from motion though not splattered with blood—and quickly offered him a towel.

《As expected! The one who inherited the Holy Sword—magnificent!》

Because it was a fabricated basilisk created by Scrio, perhaps that was why Lucian could dispatch it so simply, but Scrio looked genuinely impressed.

At this rate, he looked ready to do a handstand and clap with his feet.

Lucian wiped his sweat and hurriedly demanded:

“Next monster, please.”

《Understood.》

Snap! Again, and a monster with the body of a lion and the tail of a snake appeared, targeting Lucian at once.

The Hero’s Notes were indeed the provision the previous Hero had prepared for the next.

And Scrio was the very embodiment of that entire system.

If Scrio didn’t exist, this place likely couldn’t even function properly.

Above all, the best thing here was that Lucian could experience real combat as much as he wanted—

tailored perfectly to his level. Hard, but winnable. Designed for optimal efficiency to make a Hero grow.

And Scrio didn’t just watch Lucian fight. He observed carefully—what Lucian’s weaknesses were, how fast he was improving, whether he was stalling.

《So this is the growth speed of one with the talent to draw the Holy Sword…》

Was he recording this to support growth… or to satisfy some strange private desire?

There was even a peculiar breathing sound—*huff, huff*—as though he were overexcited.

Lucian tore his gaze away from Scrio and faced forward.

A grotesque sound—lion’s roar mixed with the snake’s hiss—filled the air as the monster slammed the ground with a massive forepaw.

Dust and stone shards scattered like a storm.

Lucian leapt back and neatly avoided the strike.

But beneath the monster’s waist, the snake tail writhed, alive like a venomous serpent, lunging for Lucian’s throat.

Not a chance!

Lucian drove the Holy Sword straight into the monster’s mouth.

“KRAAAAAH!!”

The monster shrieked and swung a forepaw at Lucian.

Lucian yanked the sword free and blocked its fangs.

BOOM!

The impact thundered.

Lucian lowered his body and rolled away from the huge foreleg—and the tail shot up again like lightning.

“!”

This one was different.

Planting his feet, Lucian swung his sword through the air.

The blade flashed straight and true—and the snake tail was severed, falling to the ground.

Another scream of agony burst out.

The beast thrashed wildly, shaking the floor with its impact.

Lucian’s body wobbled for a moment, but he didn’t miss the opening.

In pain, the monster opened its jaws and charged, desperate to kill him.

《…….》

Lucian felt Scrio’s gaze—cold, almost sharp.

Lucian froze for the split second before blade and fangs would collide, then leapt high—

but his jump wasn’t far enough, and the monster was too large.

Damn—should he erase the monster?

As Scrio hesitated, Lucian formed a foothold with a ring of earth magic and launched himself higher.

Between the monster’s golden mane, Lucian plunged his blade without hesitation.

The sword pierced the skull and drove deep.

The beast’s eyes shook for an instant, then slowly dimmed.

Its huge body collapsed, and the ground rumbled from the fall.

“Haa….”

Lucian exhaled as he watched the monster vanish without leaving even a trace.

No matter how many times he saw it, it was a mysterious sight.

《To use magic… like that.》

Scrio’s eyes glittered so brightly it was almost uncomfortable, as though he had witnessed something unbelievable.

A Hero who uses magic—amazing. Truly, the Holy Sword’s Hero!

Muttering as he finished his record, Scrio cleared his throat and approached to recommend rest.

《For the recovery of your stamina, I recommend approximately thirty minutes of rest.》

“Okay.”

Still breathing hard, Lucian lay down on the floor—

but in an instant, the floor turned into a bed, and the dust clinging to his body vanished just as quickly.

In this dungeon, Scrio controlled everything as if by divine will alone.

Once, when Lucian voiced that thought, Scrio had scolded him harshly:

《Who are you comparing to whom!? That is insolence toward God!!》

Lucian let out a small laugh. A cold towel—like ice—was placed over his eyes.

《There are four days remaining from the time you promised.》

“Already….”

If he planned to leave with one day remaining, then the seal on Iris would be undone in three days.

As the decisive moment pressed closer, Lucian shut his eyes and clenched his fist.

Without proper rest, training couldn’t continue.

The body wasn’t steel—beating it didn’t make it tougher.

A little rest was what allowed longer training.

He knew he shouldn’t be impatient—yet impatience still rose.

《Are you anxious, Hero?》

At Scrio’s question, Lucian didn’t answer.

How could he not be anxious?

Yes, he was anxious—terrified that his training would ruin everything.

《Do not be afraid. You are the Hero chosen by the Holy Sword.》

Scrio looked at Lucian.

His voice held unwavering trust.

And that unwavering trust was what Lucian feared most—

because it felt like leaning on a towering fortress built not by him, but by the first Hero.

《Lucian-nim?》

“Let’s end the rest.”

《Understood.》

He was afraid and anxious.

But he couldn’t bring himself to say it aloud—he could only swallow it down.

Because he was the Hero.

—

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