Is It Wrong to Want Luxury in a Dungeon? [12]

Back on Her Feet

The doors swung open, and Calista stepped outside.

Fresh air hit her all at once—warm and crisp, carrying the scent of stone, metal, and the faintest hint of something sizzling from a street stall nearby. So much better than the stuffy, sterile atmosphere she’d been trapped in for the past week.

Her shoulders relaxed as she tilted her head back, letting the sunlight soak into her skin. Finally.

The infirmary had felt like a prison, clean to the point of suffocation, with nothing but stiff sheets and nagging healers keeping her company. The cute ones had been tolerable—if only because watching them fuss over her had been entertaining—but the rest? Absolutely unbearable.

No more lectures about taking it easy. No more being told to rest.

Her fingers flexed, legs shifting with an impatient twitch. She needed to move. To do something. Anything but sit still and waste away.

The city around her was as loud and alive as ever—Orario never stopped, never slowed down. It kept going, even when she’d been locked up, recovering from wounds that, frankly, she would rather not dwell on. But now she was back. And she wasn’t about to let anyone shove her back into a bed.

She took a deep breath, rolling her shoulders as if shaking off the last remnants of that dull, suffocating week. Then, a slow grin tugged at her lips.

“Miss me, Orario?”

No one was paying attention, but that wasn’t the point.

She took another step forward, reveling in the way her body loosened with the movement, sluggishness fading with each stride.

She was done resting. Done being stuck.

It was time to move.

...

Calista didn’t expect a parade in her honor, but this was something else.

The moment she stepped back into Twilight Manor, she felt it—the shift in the air. The side glances. The way conversations dipped for a fraction of a second before continuing, like people were trying not to make it obvious they’d noticed her.

She could read the room well enough. Something had changed.

Lefiya, for one, was acting weird. Which was saying something, considering Lefiya’s default state was an awkward mix of flustered and exasperated. But this? This was avoidance. She kept ducking her head, refusing to meet her eyes, as if she had something deeply embarrassing to hide.

That wouldn’t do.

Calista drifted closer, just enough to see Lefiya tense up before she even spoke.

“Lefiyaaa.” Her voice practically purred. “Why are you acting like you owe me money?”

“I-I don’t—!” The elf nearly dropped the stack of books she was holding, ears twitching as she scrambled to look anywhere but at her. “I’m not acting—!”

“Mm.” Calista narrowed her eyes. “Suspicious.”

Lefiya fled.

Calista smirked, filing that mystery away for later.

Across the room, Raul had the opposite problem—he wasn’t avoiding her. If anything, he was doing the exact wrong thing and looking at her like she was a ghost.

Oh, for the love of—

“Stop that.”

Raul flinched, clearly mid-self-loathing spiral. “I—I just—”

“If you’re about to apologize, don’t.” Calista crossed her arms. “I’m standing here. Alive. You don’t need to act like you failed a tragic escort mission.”

That didn’t seem to help. If anything, Raul looked guiltier.

Calista sighed. She couldn’t stand people moping over her, especially when she’d already won. What was the point of surviving something if everyone treated her like she’d almost died instead?

“Listen.” She softened her tone just enough to shake him out of it. “You did fine. I’m fine. So let’s move on before someone else makes a big deal out of it.”

That finally got him to exhale and nod, even if he still looked like he needed a stiff drink.

A scoff cut through the air.

“Idiot.”

Ah. There it was.

Bete barely spared her a glance, arms crossed, already looking thoroughly unimpressed. “You trying to get yourself killed? Or are you just that dumb?”

Calista flashed him a bright, fake smile. “Aw, Bete. If you missed me, you could’ve just said so.”

His scowl deepened. “Tch. As if.”

Tiona, at least, was easier to deal with. She plopped down nearby, elbow propped against her knee, watching her with genuine curiosity.

“So, how bad did it suck?”

Calista arched a brow. “What?”

“Getting stuck in bed for a whole week. I’d rather fight a floor boss than sit around doing nothing that long.”

Calista huffed. “Believe me, it was torture.”

Tiona grinned. “Knew it. You looked way too smug for someone who just got out of the infirmary.”

It was simple, but refreshingly normal.

Ais was nearby, too, but—as always—she was hard to read. She hadn’t said anything, hadn’t reacted much at all, just... watched.

Calista noticed.

She noticed Loki watching too, smirking like she was waiting for her to do something interesting.

She noticed Riveria, silent, observing, no lectures, no sharp comments—just calculating something.

And she noticed Finn was nowhere to be seen.

All of it told her something.

But for now, she let it go.

She rolled her shoulders, shaking off the lingering tension. She was back. That was all that mattered.

...

Calista sat on the training field, arms crossed, expression flat. This was not what she signed up for.

She had expected something... more dramatic. Maybe an ancient spellbook, glowing runes, Riveria chanting in some mystical elven tongue while lightning sparked in the background. Instead, she got a lecture.

Riveria stood in front of her, perfectly composed as always, hands clasped behind her back. Lefiya sat off to the side, straight-backed, eyes full of genuine excitement like they weren’t about to spend the next few hours talking about magic instead of actually using it.

Riveria’s gaze sharpened. “Let’s start with the basics. Calista, what do you know about magic?”

Calista blinked.

Then, very slowly, she said, “It’s... magical?”

Riveria stared at her. Lefiya visibly cringed.

“Right.” Riveria exhaled, rubbing her temples. “We’ll start from the beginning, then.”

Calista sighed.

She learned three things very quickly.

One: Lefiya knew way more about magic than she did. Which, sure, made sense—elves were obsessed with magic. But it still stung watching the girl breeze through Riveria’s questions while she had to guess most of them.

Two: Magic wasn’t just about casting spells. There were rules—laws of magic control, chant structures, and something called Mind, which was apparently more than just mental energy. It was the fuel for magic, and running out meant passing out.

And three: If she messed up, she could explode.

“Ignis Fatuus,” Riveria explained coolly, like she wasn’t saying something horrifying. “A magical backlash that occurs when a caster loses control of their magic power. It manifests as an internal explosion, damaging the user from within.”

Calista narrowed her eyes. “You’re telling me I can literally blow myself up?”

“Yes,” Riveria said bluntly.

Lefiya nodded solemnly. “It happens when someone forces out more magic power than they can handle or loses focus mid-casting.”

“So you’re saying if I think about something distracting, I can just... detonate?”

“No,” Riveria said. “But if you fail to properly control your Mind while casting, the risk increases. Which is why—” she gave Calista a pointed look “—we start with the basics.”

Calista huffed. Fine.

The problem wasn’t that she couldn’t feel her magic. It was right there, humming inside her like a pulse.

But whenever she tried to control it, it refused to cooperate.

“Close your eyes,” Riveria instructed.

Calista sighed but obeyed.

“Feel the magic inside you. Don’t reach for it. Don’t force it. Just let it flow.”

That sounded simple.

She took a slow breath, focusing inward.

At first, there was nothing. Just the usual quiet hum of her own body, her own thoughts, her own frustration. But then—

A spark.

Warmth curled in her chest, faint but present.

Ah. There you are.

Her fingers twitched. The warmth responded. It flickered like a pulse, stretching out—

And then snapped back in like an elastic band.

A jolt shot through her arm, and she yelped, stumbling backward as a burst of light flared from her palm.

Lefiya gasped. Riveria’s eyes flickered with interest.

Calista flexed her fingers, staring at them. “...Did I just—”

“You nearly triggered an Ignis Fatuus,” Riveria interrupted coolly.

Calista froze.

Lefiya’s ears twitched. “Y-you have to be more careful! You forced too much magic out all at once without properly guiding it!”

“I forced it?” Calista muttered. “I barely did anything.”

“Exactly.” Riveria crossed her arms. “You have raw power. But your control is undisciplined. If you keep using magic carelessly, you’ll burn through your Mind before you even realize it.”

Calista clenched her jaw. That... annoyed her. She wasn’t used to struggling like this. She was used to picking things up quickly, to excelling. But this? This was proving to be frustratingly unpredictable.

Lefiya, to her great irritation, looked weirdly smug.

“Oh?” The elf smiled just a little too sweetly. “Is magic not coming as easily as you thought?”

Calista narrowed her eyes. “You’re enjoying this.”

“Maybe.”

Calista huffed. “Fine. Enjoy it while it lasts. I’ll figure this out soon enough.”

Riveria gave her an unreadable look. “We’ll see.”

Calista ignored the doubt in her tone. She would figure this out. She always did.

She just... needed a little longer than expected.

...

Calista had barely recovered from almost exploding herself again when the next disaster struck.

Or rather, walked in.

“Yo~”

Loki’s voice cut through the air, casual as ever. The goddess strolled onto the training field, hands behind her head, eyes far too amused for Calista’s liking.

Riveria sighed. “Loki.”

“Riveria.” Loki smirked. “Teachin’ our problem child how to cast magic?”

“She’s trying not to blow herself up,” Riveria corrected.

Loki snorted. “That tracks.”

Calista, still annoyed about the whole 'you almost caused an Ignis Fatuus' thing, turned her attention to the goddess. “Are you here to help?”

Loki grinned. “Nope. Just here to assign ya a babysitter.”

Calista blinked. “...A what.”

Lefiya froze.

Loki clapped her hands together. “Starting today, Lefiya’s in charge of makin’ sure ya don’t do anything stupid. Wherever ya go, she goes.”

Lefiya’s eyes widened in horror. “W-Wait—”

Calista, on the other hand, grinned. “Oh? That means she has to follow me everywhere?”

Loki nodded. “Yep. If ya wanna go out, she goes with ya. Ain’t negotiable.”

Lefiya looked like she was praying for divine intervention.

Calista, meanwhile, leaned in, voice dripping with mischief. “Oh, my dear Lefiya, that means no more dodging my shopping sprees.”

Lefiya visibly paled.

“No more running away.”

The elf took a step back. “W-Wait, Loki-sama—”

“No more escaping my company.”

“Please reconsider!”

Loki laughed. “Nah. Decision’s final.”

Lefiya looked betrayed.

Riveria, to her credit, didn’t argue. She merely gave Loki a long-suffering look before turning to Calista. “Don’t abuse this arrangement.”

Calista beamed. “Me? Never.”

Lefiya groaned, burying her face in her hands.

Loki patted her on the back. “Tough luck, kid. But hey, could be worse.”

“How?!”

Loki just grinned and walked off, whistling.

Calista watched her go, already scheming.

Oh, this was going to be fun.

...

Lefiya was still grumbling about her new job when they reached the Guild.

Calista, on the other hand, was in an excellent mood.

It had been a whole week since she last visited, which meant her favorite sarcastic, no-nonsense guild clerk was probably dying to see her again.

Not that Rose would ever admit it, of course.

She strode through the Pantheon with confidence, enjoying the usual buzz of adventurers filing paperwork, chatting about expeditions, or arguing over rewards.

Then, she spotted Rose behind her counter.

Ah. There she was.

Calista grinned, slipping past the line of waiting adventurers with all the audacity of someone who refused to wait in queues.

"Rooooose~" she sang, sliding up to the counter with a flourish. "Did you miss me?"

Rose looked up.

And froze.

Calista blinked. Huh? That wasn’t the usual exasperated glare she was expecting.

No sarcasm. No immediate dismissal.

Instead, Rose just stared.

Something sharp flickered in her golden eyes—something unreadable. Her hands, usually busy with paperwork, had gone completely still.

Calista’s grin faltered.

“…Rose?”

Rose exhaled. It wasn’t relief. It wasn’t anger. It was something in between.

Then—before Calista could process the shift—Rose’s expression snapped back into cold, deadpan neutrality.

"You’re alive."

Calista tilted her head. "...Obviously?"

Rose did not look amused.

"You disappeared for a week," she said flatly. "Last time I saw you, you were asking about Floor Five and Six—and then you just vanished."

Ah.

Right.

That probably looked bad.

Calista winced. "...I mean, technically, I was in the infirmary, so I didn’t vanish—"

Rose cut her off. "I thought you were dead."

Calista paused.

Oh.

Oh, that’s why she was acting weird.

For a brief second, realization flickered in her chest. She didn’t just disappear—she broke a pattern. She had been showing up daily, pestering Rose without fail, and then, after asking about deeper floors, she just... stopped.

No wonder Rose thought she’d gotten herself killed.

Calista hesitated. She could joke, brush it off, act like it wasn’t a big deal—

But Rose’s eyes said otherwise.

So, for once, she played it straight.

"...Sorry," she said, scratching her cheek. "Didn’t mean to make you think that."

Rose studied her for a moment.

Then, finally, her usual exasperation returned.

"Tch." She shook her head, reaching for the paperwork in front of her. "Figures. Of all the reckless idiots to survive, of course you did."

There it was.

Calista grinned. "Aw, Rose, I knew you cared."

"I don’t."

"You totally do."

Rose leveled her with a flat stare.

Then, without looking up from her work—

"I should have you banned from this counter."

Calista laughed.

Yep. Everything was back to normal.

Calista leaned against the counter, grinning as Rose flipped through a stack of paperwork, blatantly ignoring her existence.

“Well, as fun as this has been, I should probably get going,” Calista said with an exaggerated sigh. “Don’t miss me too much, darling.”

“I won’t.”

Calista smirked. “You so will.”

Rose didn’t dignify that with a response.

With one last wink—mostly to annoy her—Calista turned on her heel and strolled out of the Guild, Lefiya trailing behind her.

Calista stretched, rolling her shoulders as she stepped out of the Guild. Orario bustled around her—adventurers coming and going, shouting deals from market stalls, the usual noise of a city that never really stopped.

And then, without meaning to, her gaze drifted.

The Tower of Babel loomed in the distance, its massive structure reaching high above the rest of Orario, marking the center of everything. The gateway to the Dungeon.

Something stirred inside her.

A week. It had been a whole week since she last went in. Since she fought. Since she moved.

Her fingers twitched. Her body still remembered—the way the spear fit in her grip, the weight, the balance, the rhythm of combat. She could already picture it—stepping back onto those floors, weaving between attacks, striking with precision.

She wanted to go back.

Her feet almost moved on their own—

Then she stopped.

Her spear.

She’d broken it.

Calista stared at her empty hands.

Right. That... was a problem.

She sighed, shaking her head. “Looks like I need a new weapon.”

Lefiya, who had been sulking ever since they left the Guild, perked up in confusion. “...You just realized that?”

Calista ignored her. “Alright. Time for weapon shopping.”

Lefiya groaned. “Again?”

Calista grinned. “This time, it’s for survival. Much more important.”

Lefiya still looked exhausted.

Calista still didn’t care.

She had a new goal. Time to find a blacksmith.

...

The Hephaestus Familia section of the Tower of Babel reeked of money.

Weapons lined the walls, displayed like trophies—beautiful, pristine, and outrageously expensive. Swords, daggers, axes, polearms—every single one of them handcrafted by some of the best smiths in Orario.

Calista knew quality when she saw it.

And these? These were works of art.

She slowed as she passed a rack of spears, admiring the craftsmanship. The metal gleamed, polished to perfection, the edges razor-sharp. Some were embedded with magic stones, glowing faintly, enchanted with properties she could only guess at.

This was what she needed. Something durable. Reliable. A weapon that wouldn’t snap the second she poured magic into it.

She reached for one, testing the weight.

“Ah—Miss.”

A voice cut in, polite but firm. A Hephaestus Familia attendant—an elf, judging by the pointed ears—stood nearby, watching her a little too closely.

“That spear costs 90 million valis.”

Calista froze.

Slowly, she lowered the weapon back onto its stand.

“…Right. Of course it does.”

She glanced at the other price tags.

Most hovered around 60 to 100 million. A few were over 120 million. The real monsters—the custom-forged, one-of-a-kind masterpieces—sat behind locked glass cases with no price listed.

She didn’t even need to ask.

Those were the weapons for kings. The kind that easily hit 150 million valis and beyond.

Who in the nine hells has this kind of money?

She knew high-end weapons were expensive, but this? This was daylight robbery.

Lefiya, standing beside her, gave her a knowing look. “You can’t afford anything here, can you?”

Calista clicked her tongue. “I could. If I sold a kidney.”

Lefiya sighed.

Calista crossed her arms, reevaluating her options. If she couldn’t afford quality, then she needed quantity.

Her gaze drifted back to the price tags, her stomach twisting with something deeply unfamiliar.

Back home, this kind of money had been nothing.

Ninety million? Pocket change. She had spent more than that on a whim—on jewelry, designer clothes, vacations. The idea of not being able to afford something had never even been a possibility.

But here?

Here, she was broke.

Her fingers curled.

She exhaled through her nose. Fine. If she couldn’t get one weapon that could handle her magic, she needed multiples to swap out before they broke.

It wasn’t ideal. But it was better than nothing.

“Change of plans,” she muttered. “Time to find something affordable.”

Lefiya visibly relaxed. “Thank the spirits.”

With a new, slightly more realistic goal in mind, Calista turned and marched toward the cheaper section of the Tower.

It wasn’t ideal.

But she’d make it work.

...

The cheaper section of the Hephaestus Familia area was still lined with quality weapons, just… less ridiculous in price.

Calista scanned the racks, lips pursed. The spears here weren’t bad—decently balanced, sturdy enough, definitely better than whatever mass-produced junk lower-tier shops sold. But they weren’t custom-forged masterpieces, either.

Still. They’d have to do.

She grabbed a spear, giving it a few testing swings. Not bad. The weight distribution was decent, the grip felt solid, and—most importantly—it wouldn’t immediately snap under her magic.

Probably.

She tested another. And another.

Lefiya, already exhausted, sighed. “How many do you need?”

Calista hummed. “Enough that I don’t run out mid-fight.”

Lefiya gave her a bewildered look. “Most adventurers just get one good weapon—”

“Yes, and I would love to do that, but in case you haven’t noticed,” Calista gestured vaguely toward the expensive section, “one good weapon costs more than my entire life savings.”

Lefiya couldn’t argue with that.

Calista turned back to the rack. Quantity over quality. If her spears were going to break on her, she needed extras.

She ended up with four.

Two sturdy, plain spears for general combat.
One lighter, shorter spear for quick strikes.
And one reinforced, slightly heavier spear that looked like it could take a beating.

It wasn’t a perfect setup, but it’d keep her going until she could afford something better.

After paying—a painful dent in her valis pouch, but still manageable—she turned to the Hephaestus Familia clerk behind the counter.

“Alright, so, question.” She tapped one of the spears against her shoulder. “How do I carry all of these without looking like a walking porcupine?”

The clerk, an older dwarf with scarred hands and an unimpressed expression, raised a brow. “You could get a weapon harness.”

Calista waited.

The dwarf squinted. “You… don’t know what that is, do you?”

Calista flashed him a charming smile.

“…Right,” the dwarf muttered, rubbing his forehead. “A weapon harness lets you carry multiple spears across your back, evenly distributing the weight. Won’t interfere with your movement, keeps ‘em secure, and makes it easy to draw ‘em fast.”

Calista perked up. “Now that sounds useful.”

Lefiya side-eyed her. “And expensive.”

Calista turned back to the dwarf. “And expensive?”

The dwarf shrugged. “Depends. A basic one? Few thousand valis. If you want somethin’ reinforced so the straps don’t snap mid-fight, that’ll cost more.”

Calista sighed. More spending.

Still, worth it.

“Alright,” she said, pulling out her pouch. “Give me one that won’t fall apart if I start moving at full speed.”

The dwarf nodded and disappeared into the back.

Lefiya crossed her arms. “You really could’ve thought about this before buying four spears.”

Calista smirked. “And miss the fun of problem-solving on the fly? No thanks.”

Lefiya groaned.

Calista just grinned. She had new weapons, a way to carry them, and a reason to get back into the Dungeon.

She tapped her fingers against the counter while waiting for the dwarf.

She glanced around, scanning the workshop. This section of the Hephaestus Familia area was noticeably less polished than the luxury front-end. The weapons here weren’t displayed like artifacts in a noble’s collection—they were stacked, practical, meant for actual use.

And then, her eyes landed on him.

A red-haired man—tall, broad-shouldered, hammer strapped to his belt—was leaning against one of the nearby workbenches, arms crossed, watching her with thinly veiled amusement. His red eyes flicked over the spears she’d chosen, then back to her.

“Four spears?” he remarked. “Bit excessive.”

Calista arched a brow. “They break. I’d rather have extras than fight barehanded.”

The man huffed, pushing off the workbench. “Then you’re picking the wrong ones.”

That got her attention.

She narrowed her eyes. “Oh?”

He gestured toward the ones she’d chosen. “Those’ll hold up for a while, but if you’re planning on going all out with ‘em—” his eyes flicked to her stance, her build, like he was mentally calculating something “—they won’t last long.”

Calista clicked her tongue. “Yeah, well, unless you’ve got something better in my price range, this is what I’m working with.”

The man didn’t argue. He just shrugged, tone easy. “Just saying, if you ever want something that won’t snap after a few fights, talk to me.”

She studied him for a beat.

The casual confidence. The blacksmith’s build. The distinct lack of arrogance despite clearly knowing what he was doing.

Her eyes flickered to the name tag on his belt.

Welf Crozzo.

Crozzo? That sounded vaguely familiar, but she didn’t dwell on it.

Instead, she smirked. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Welf just shook his head, muttering something under his breath about stubborn adventurers, before turning back to his workbench.

Calista turned back toward the counter just as the dwarf returned with her harness.

She paid, secured her new spears, and rolled her shoulders, testing the weight. Not bad. She could move fine, and it didn’t throw off her balance.

As she stepped away, her gaze lingered briefly on Welf.

She’d be back.

For reasons.

...

By the time Calista and Lefiya made it back to Twilight Manor, the sun was already starting to set.

Calista felt good.

New weapons? Acquired.
Weapon harness? Functional.
Shopping spree? Technically necessary this time.

Overall, a successful day.

Lefiya, on the other hand, looked like she had been dragged through the lower floors of the Dungeon.

She slumped forward, arms dangling at her sides, exhaustion etched into her very soul.

“Never… again…” she mumbled.

Calista smirked. “Oh? But we only visited one shop.”

Lefiya groaned.

Calista patted her on the back. “Don’t worry, dear. You’ll build stamina eventually.”

Lefiya stumbled forward dramatically, barely catching herself. “Lady Riveria didn’t warn me it would be this exhausting…”

“Oh, she knew.” Calista grinned. “She just didn’t tell you because it was funny.”

Lefiya whimpered.

As they approached the manor, the familiar stone structure loomed ahead, standing tall against the dimming sky.

Calista adjusted the straps of her harness, already itching to test out her new spears. Maybe she could get a quick round of training in before dinner—

Then she noticed the figure waiting at the entrance.

Finn.

Expression unreadable, arms crossed, clearly expecting her.

Calista’s steps slowed.

Lefiya noticed too. She straightened immediately, exhaustion temporarily forgotten.

Finn didn’t say anything at first. Just watched.

Then, after a moment, he spoke.

“Meet me in the training field.”

Calista blinked.

Then grinned.

Finally.

---

A/N: hajafhahiahfiahi i uhhh another red head!!!! anyways uhhh idk what does this chapter accomplish? uhhhh meeting welf, new weapons, consoling dear ol rose and uhhh more lefiya teasing yippie