Is It Wrong to Want Luxury in a Dungeon? [18]

Clawing Towards the Light

Pain.

It came first. A deep, throbbing ache, wedged into her bones, heavy as lead. The kind of pain that made her head swim, her ribs creak, her limbs feel useless. A cruel reminder that her body was still intact—barely.

Her right arm. Useless.

Her ribs. Maybe cracked. Probably.

Her legs—nothing. Couldn’t move.

Calista sucked in a breath, sharp and ragged, and immediately regretted it. Copper. Rot. Blood. The air tasted thick, heavy, like old iron left to rust in damp stone.

Where…?

Her vision swam, darkness pressing in at the edges. Rough stone. A cavern? No. The air was too stale, unmoving.

Weapons. Armor. Bags.

Scattered. Torn. Broken.

Remnants of the dead.

Memories hit her like a falling stone. Dungeon Lizards. Too many. Pushing Lili aside. A claw. A shove. Pain. Then—darkness.

And now she was here. Wherever here was.

Not alone.

Her breathing hitched.

A presence.

Low. Rhythmic. Slow, steady breaths.

Something was watching her.

The LIzard.

Calista swallowed the lump in her throat, forcing herself to focus. She saw it now—just ahead. Massive. Coiled in the dark. Looked like a Dungeon Lizard, but larger. Leaner. Meaner.

It wasn’t attacking.

No, it was doing something else.

She followed its movements, gaze locking onto its claws as they scraped against metal.

It was sorting through weapons.

Long swords. Daggers. A spear—her breath hitched—but no, it was cracked, useless. The Lizard tossed it aside like garbage, it inspected the battleaxe next, lowering it's head. The motion was deliberate, practiced. It's done this before.

Not a mindless beast.

It was choosing. Deciding. Evaluating.

Her pulse quickened.

It wasn’t just some overgrown monster. It recognized weapons. Understood them.

It was different.

And then—

It turned to her.

She froze.

The beast studied her. Those glowing yellow eyes staring like it could see through her soul.

Then—it moved.

Not to lunge. Not to attack.

Instead, it gestured.

Clawed fingers flicked toward the pile of discarded weapons.

A silent offer.

Pick one.

Fight.

Her breath caught.

It wasn’t mocking her. It wasn’t insulting her.

It was waiting.

The realization sent ice down her spine.

This thing… it didn’t see her as prey.

Not yet.

It saw her as a challenge.

Calista gritted her teeth. The bastard was waiting for her to pick up a weapon.

Fine.

A slow exhale. She tried to move.

Her vision blurred. Her legs wobbled. Her stomach churned.

It watched. Every single moment of her struggle.

Her fingers closed around a weapon.

A sword.

Not her style. Not her weapon.

Didn’t matter.

The moment her fingers curled around the sword’s hilt, The Lizard moved.

A blur of muscle and scale.

Calista threw herself sideways—too slow.

A gust of wind. Not an attack. A feint.

She barely had time to process it before the real strike came—a clawed forelimb sweeping for her ribs.

Dodge. NOW.

Her feet barely left the ground before she twisted away. A hair’s breadth late.

BANG

Pain exploded down her side.

The force alone sent her tumbling. Her vision was spinning.

Move. Get up. Now.

She rolled, dug her boots into the ground, forced herself upright. The sword felt wrong in her grip. She wasn’t a swordswoman. Her stance was off. The weight unbalanced.

Didn’t matter. No choice. She had to Adapt.

She tightened her grip, forced her aching body to obey.

The Lizard watched her.

Measuring her worth.

Then it lunged again.

It was faster this time.

She barely got the blade up in time. Steel met claw.

CRACK.

The shock traveled up her arm—
Shit—
A splintering sound—
No, no, no—

The sword fractured.

The Lizard shifted, adjusting mid-motion, fangs bared.

It knew.

It knew.

It wasn't just a predator. It was an experienced one.

Calista’s breath hitched.

This thing—this overgrown lizard—was studying her. 

Testing her.

And she was failing.

The sword cracked further in her grip, useless. The Lizard didn’t press the attack. It waited.

Watching.

Like it wanted her to try again.

Her fingers twitched. Her gaze flicked to the weapons around her. Choices. Options.

Fine. She’d play along.

She tossed the broken sword and grabbed a battleaxe.

Weighty. Broad.

Completely wrong.

Her balance was off immediately. Too different.

The Lizard noticed.

It didn’t wait this time.

A blur—she barely lifted the axe before claws raked across the handle—

Metal shrieked. Sparks flew.

It was testing my strength.

She adjusted her stance, swung low, aiming for underbelly—it didn’t even try to dodge.

The blade hit scale—then promptly broke off.

Oh, come on—

THUD

A tail slammed into her chest.

Her ribs screamed.

She didn’t remember hitting the ground, but suddenly she was there, coughing blood.

Her vision blurred. Something cracked.

Breathing—gods, it hurt.

No strength. No spear. No miracles.

And yet—

She forced herself up.

Breathe.

In. Sharp pain. Out. Shallow. Ragged.

She was at her limit.

Her ribs were shattered glass, her arm numb and useless, her legs barely holding her up.

And The Lizard knew it.

It stalked forward, slow this time. Circling around her, raking it's claws against the ground. Like a predator savoring the final moments of a hunt.

It was done playing.

Calista’s grip tightened around the battleaxe hilt—now just a broken shaft.

She let her body sag, shoulders heaving.

She was defeated.

Beaten.

Done.

The Lizard paused.

Just for a second.

It saw prey.

A flicker of movement—it lunged.

Calista didn’t move.

Couldn’t.

Didn’t need to.

The moment fangs closed in—

She gathered her Mind.

All of it.

A flash—no, an explosion.

Raw power detonated from her core, flooding her body, her weapon, everything.

The broken axe—no, the makeshift spear—was propelled by what seemed like light itself.

BOOM

The impact came a fraction of a second later.

Fangs tore into her shoulder—
But the spear pierced first.

She didn’t feel it land. Didn’t feel if it landed.

Because the world—

Went white.

Then black.

---

The Guild doors slammed open.

Lefiya and Lili stumbled inside, panting, shaking. They ran the whole way.

Their boots clattered against the stone floor, loud in the empty late-night hall.

No one else was here.

Just a handful of clerks, some night-shift staff, and—

Rose.

She was at her desk, finishing paperwork.

She looked up.

And the moment her sharp golden eyes met theirs, Lefiya knew.

She had seen this before.

Adventurers bursting through the doors, eyes wild with panic, gasping for breath, bloodied, desperate.

She had seen this scene a hundred times. Too many times.

And every time—

The ending was the same.

Lili was the first to speak.

Her voice was raw, frantic, words tumbling over themselves.

"Calista-sama—she—she’s gone! We need—help—she was—"

Rose’s expression didn’t change.

Didn’t flicker.

She slowly put down her quill.

Closed her eyes.

Breathed out.

Then, quietly:

"…Goddamnit."

Lefiya’s breath hitched.

Not anger. Not grief. Just… resignation.

Like she had already decided. Like she had already given up.

Lili slammed her hands on the desk.

"Don’t just sit there! We need reinforcements! Someone—anyone—"

Rose finally moved.

Not fast. Not frantic.

Just… calm. Too calm.

She stood up, walked past them, headed toward the Guild’s internal records.

"We don’t have anyone to send."

Lili froze.

"What—?"

Rose’s voice was flat. Steady.

"We don’t have the manpower. The best we’ve got are rookies, and I’m not sending them to die against whatever took her."

Lili shook.

"So you’re just—what? Giving up?!"

A sharp, bitter laugh escaped Rose’s lips.

"Tch. Giving up? Kid, I’ve been watching adventurers die in this city since before you were born. You think this is the first time someone’s walked in here asking for a miracle?"

Lili flinched.

Lefiya sucked in a breath.

Rose didn’t raise her voice. Didn’t sound cruel.

Just tired.

"If you want help, go to your own Familia. But don’t come in here expecting me to pull a miracle outta nowhere."

Lili shook her head, stepping back.

"No. No, you don’t get to do this."

Her voice wavered.

"You don’t get to—treat her like she’s just—like she’s—"

Rose didn’t look at her.

Didn’t answer.

Because they both knew the truth.
This was what happened to adventurers.

And Rose had stopped getting attached a long time ago.

A voice cut through the heavy silence.

"It happens sometimes."

Lefiya turned.

One of the Guild workers. A clerk.

Just some guy. He didn’t mean anything by it. Probably thought he was being helpful.

But it was the worst thing he could’ve said.

Because Lili—

Lili snapped.

She rounded on him, glaring so hard he actually recoiled.

"She’s not some random adventurer!"

Her voice cracked.

"She’s—"

She choked.

Didn’t finish.

Didn’t need to.

Rose finally looked up.

And for the first time—just for a split second—her face flickered.

An emotion that Lefiya couldn't recognize.

Then—gone.

She turned away.

"Go home, girls."

And just like that—it was over.

Lefiya felt her legs wobble. She couldn’t stay here.

Couldn’t breathe.

Twilight Manor. They had to go. Now.

She grabbed Lili’s wrist, pulled her toward the door—

And they ran.

---

Loki tilted her glass, watching the amber liquid swirl inside.

Damn it.

She was running out of high quality alcohol.

She took a slow sip, letting the warmth settle.

Nice, quiet night. The manor was empty, with most of the familia off on an expedition. The strong ones were gone. Just the lower ranks left behind.

Loki liked it this way sometimes. Less paperwork. Less nagging. More drinking.

Well, less entertainment too.

BAM.

The front doors crashed open.

Loki didn’t flinch. Just sighed, setting her drink down as two figures stumbled in, panting, shaking.

Lefiya.

And—oh? Some tiny pallum girl?

Loki’s sharp red eyes flicked over them, scanning.

Disheveled. Panicked. Wild-eyed.

Not injured. But in shock.

Something had gone wrong.

Where's the brat?

Loki didn’t move. Didn’t rush to speak. 

Just… waited.

And then—

Lili’s voice cracked the silence.

"L-Loki-sama—Calista-sama—she’s dead."

The room stilled.

All casual conversation cut off instantly.

A few of the Level 2s looked up, startled. One guy dropped his glass, shattering it on the floor.

Somewhere in the back, a younger adventurer visibly flinched.

Loki?

Loki just… took another sip.

And waited.

Lili took another shaking step forward.

"She—she was dragged away—" her voice wavered. "S-she sacrificed herself to save Lili—"

Loki raised an eyebrow.

Took her time.

Then, lazily, she smacked her lips.

"You’re gonna feel real dumb when you see her alive."

Lefiya staggered.

Lili jerked back.

Their faces? Priceless.

Pure disbelief. Confusion. Anger.

Lili gaped.

"Are you even listening?! She’s gone! She’s—"

Loki sighed.

"Don't you know gods can tell when their children die?"

Lili froze.

Lefiya’s breath hitched.

Silence.

Lili’s mouth opened. Closed.

Lefiya’s fingers curled into her sleeves.

Loki leaned back in her chair, stretching her arms.

"Now quit cryin’ and go get her."

The manor erupted into motion.

Lili and Lefiya bolted for the door.

The level 3- Arcs snapped to attention.

Loki flicked a glance at him.

"Go with ‘em. Make sure they don’t die too."

The adventurer hesitated—then saluted and ran after them.

Loki sighed, rolling her shoulders.

Calista wasn’t dead.

She would’ve known if she was. Her connection was still there.

She smirked.

But even if she wasn't connected to her…

Loki still wouldn’t have believed it.

Because if that damn brat was gonna die, she’d at least make it a spectacle.

Not some silent, dragged-off, no-body, boring-ass disappearance.

Nah. That wasn’t her style.

Loki took another sip, sighing as she settled back into her chair.

"Tch. Figures that rich brat would pull somethin’ dramatic."

She tossed her feet up onto the table—

For a second. Just a second.

Then she set them down instead.

---

A/N: GAHHH i hope the fight scene was good :((((((