Dungeon Of Pride, Laplace - Chapter 917: Ominous Dream

After a while~ inside the now empty throne room. The darkness seemed to grow even darker. The king was absent and the room now had a new hidden chamber.

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“Why… are… you… here?…” A voice called out from a deep muddy miasma.

Gladion got on his knees and clasped his hands. He looked at the vague figure inside the muddy miasma and spoke.

“The plan to capture Ellesmere and expand towards the north had met with some obstructions. I’m afraid it will slow down your supreme’s plan”…

The figure in the miasma was silent for a while…

“Hmm? How can that be… I have given you those weapons and soldiers. Using their strength to conquer all of north of the Central Continent wouldn’t pose a problem” the figure questioned.

Gladion grit his teeth and replied “We are still investigating the reason but from what I know so far, it appears that we underestimated the enemy. They had many powerful backers and someone who could defeat the Third General”…

At those words, The figure in the miasma started murmuring in a voice that only he could hear.

“Strange?! This shouldn’t have happened. Although he was just a disposable pawn in the end, his synchronisation was at least 30 percent and he had reached the late stages of level 600.”

“There shouldn’t be any beings in the north… could it be a Ranker joined them? If so then pushing them even further would cause that Ranker to make a move. This would make the Adventurer’s association suspicious. Taking a fight with them at this stage is too dangerous. But I need to head north, the resonance I felt way back was definitely from the north. Fifth has to be there”.

“We have to investigate the reason and conquer north no matter what. However, before that we have far more important tasks. We need to head towards the west, I found the location of the heart. Once I get that item, I’ll be back at my full strength. At that time, conquering north won’t be a problem”

The figure in the miasma commanded.

Shedding all of his royal arrogance, Gladion nodded like a subordinate.

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One month later— Dungeon Laplace, White Palace.

Today It was the time of year when the Forest Spring Spirits celebrated the Spiritus Fortuna Festival, an ancient tradition where they offered thanks to the nature spirits for the bounty of the land and prayed for the continued prosperity of their clan.

The entire village had been transformed into a dazzling display of nature’s beauty intertwined with the Spirits’ magical touch. The trees, which were naturally verdant, now shimmered with soft hues of gold and silver, their leaves gently rustling as if in sync with the joyous atmosphere.

Vines of luminescent flowers curled around the pillars and archways, and the cobblestones beneath their feet glowed faintly, guiding the way through the winding streets.

Under the protection of Simon, they were no longer the small emigrants they were before and instead have become a large village that was the part of the dungeon.

The streets of the Forest Spring Village were alive with a vibrant, festive energy that could be felt in every corner.

In the heart of the village, the main plaza was a sight to behold. Colourful banners made from woven leaves and petals hung between the buildings, fluttering in the breeze.

Stalls had been set up in neat rows, each one offering a variety of goods—from freshly baked bread infused with forest herbs to intricately carved wooden trinkets that captured the essence of the wild.

The smell of roasting meats and sweet pastries filled the air, mingling with the sound of laughter and the cheerful melodies played by the local musicians.

Families wandered from stall to stall, children running ahead with eyes wide in wonder. Adults pacing leisurely, neighbours greeting each other, and shopkeepers exchanging pleasantries.

Here and there, groups of friends gathered around tables, sharing stories and raising glasses filled with the finest spirits the village had to offer. A scene that could never be imagined by the adventurers was taking place inside the dungeon on the Forest Spring Spirit Floor.

In the centre of what could be said to be the main table in the plaza, sat Simon as he quietly took in all of the views and events around him. It was not every time that the inhabitants of the dungeon could relax like this.

“I’m starting to like this festival” Irene commented sitting next to him.

Simon smiled at her comment as he glanced over at her. “You look good in that sea green dress”.

The sea-green dress she wore was a masterpiece that seemed to be made just for her. The fabric shimmered gently under the soft lantern light, reflecting the colours of the forest around them.

The dress was elegantly simple yet crafted with such precision that it accentuated Irene’s graceful figure without being too extravagant. It highlighted her neckline and collarbones.

The craftsmanship was evident in every detail—the fabric was of the finest quality, soft to the touch yet sturdy, clearly made to withstand both elegance and practicality.

Blushing slightly at Simon’s compliment, Irene glanced away for a moment, her cheeks dusted with a light pink.

“This dress… it was made by Daphne, she’s truly talented. I can see why everyone in the village speaks so highly of her. She even made sure the embroidery matched the essence of the Forest Spring Spirit’s heritage.”

She brushed her fingers lightly over the delicate patterns, feeling the smoothness of the stitching under her fingertips.

“And you,” Irene added, turning her gaze back to Simon with a small, appreciative smile, “look quite handsome yourself.”

Simon’s attire, though different from his usual crimson clothes, was equally impressive too. His dark tunic was made from a rare material that seemed to blend with the shadows and glinted faintly with hidden emerald threads when caught in the light.

The Forest Spring Spirits had crafted it with both form and function in mind—it was lightweight, allowing for freedom of movement, and reinforced to be durable enough for battle.