Sera - A Dungeon Revival LitRPG

Abila, Capital of Lizeria

A cloud of flies manifested in an alleyway, swirling and parting to reveal Zoha’s lithe form. She emerged from the shadows as she stepped onto a well-maintained cobblestone road.

She left the alleyway and stepped onto a bustling street filled with wealthy human nobles and merchants. Not few of them were accompanied by beastkin servants, their subservient demeanor contrasting starkly against the opulence of their masters. But none of these people were of interest to her for now. The place where she would seek her salvation was up ahead, a large and imposing structure that dominated the street.

The entrance to the concert hall was flanked by imposing marble columns adorned with carvings of musical notes and instruments. Lyres, flutes, and harps intertwined with flowing ribbons of music, their forms so lifelike they looked almost ready to spring to life. Even from outside, Zoha could hear the sound of people cheering and clapping.

Zoha approached the entrance of the concert hall as fast as she could. She had to wade through a large crowd of humans and beastkin as she slipped between the gaps, occasionally having to push aside those who blocked her path.

As she neared the entrance, a guard stepped forward with a hand outstretched. "Halt, the show has already—"

But as his eyes settled on her face, recognition dawned. "My apologies, Lady Zoha," he corrected himself, bowing slightly in deference. "How can I assist you this evening?"

Zoha offered him a charming smile. "Would you be so kind as to let me inside?"

"I don't mind, Lady Zoha. However, I must inform you that there are no available seats in the concert hall. Sir Dante is performing tonight, and the venue is at full capacity."

Zoha almost rolled her eyes at the pompous title "Sir Dante". But she quickly swept her emotions aside and composed her features into an expression of serene charm.

"I'm sure you can make an exception for me, can't you?"

"It's certainly not impossible, but there are no more seats available in the hall."

Zoha reached into her purse and discreetly slipped a few gold coins into the guard's hand. "I don't mind standing, surely you can just let me inside?"

The guard's hesitation melted away at the sight of the coins. He nodded eagerly and pocketed the money with a smile. "Of course, right this way."

He led her through the grand entrance, the noise of the crowd growing louder with each step. As they entered the main foyer, Zoha's senses were immediately assaulted by the rich scents of perfume and the mingling voices of the city's elite.

She was led through throngs of elegantly dressed patrons. Laughter bubbled up here and there, mingling with the clink of champagne glasses. All while the light of chandeliers bathed everything in a warm light.

As they entered the auditorium, the atmosphere shifted to one of sheer jubilation. Rows of plush seats stretched out before her, each one occupied by an enraptured guest. The audience's faces were filled with anticipation and joy, eyes fixed on the stage at the far end of the hall.

On that raised stage stood the so-called "Sir Dante", dressed in a finely tailored black suit. His blonde hair caught the light with each movement. And his blue eyes sparkled with confidence as he played his violin effortlessly.

The crowd was utterly captivated, their eyes fixed on Dante as he played. The sight of the crowd's complete adoration towards him grated on her nerves, but she knew that she had to keep herself composed, at least for now.

The demoness moved to a dark corner where the dim light barely reached, her presence almost merging with the shadows. She stood still with her eyes fixed on the stage as she waited for Dante's performance to conclude. Unlike the rest of the audience, she neither clapped nor shed a tear throughout the entire show.

Approximately fifteen minutes later, the final note of Dante's performance lingered in the air. He lowered his bow with a graceful, controlled motion. The silence that followed was profound, a moment of collective anticipation that filled the hall.

Then, the spell was broken by a wave of thunderous applause as the audience rose to their feet, clapping and cheering with fervor. Amidst the standing ovation, the demoness remained still in her shadowed corner, her gaze never wavering from the stage.

Dante acknowledged the crowd with a gracious bow. "Thank you, thank you."

"I deeply appreciate your enthusiasm and support. However, I must express a desire for more active participation in cheering and applause in the future." His gaze lingered pointedly on Zoha as he spoke, causing several people to look at her with curious and judgmental looks.

Zoha's gaze hardened as she glared back at the onlookers. They quickly averted their eyes, intimidated by her fierce expression.

Dante's eyes twinkled with mischief as he caught Zoha's reaction, and he sent a playful wink her way. Zoha cringed involuntarily. What an unfortunate day to come to him for help.

With the performance concluded, Dante addressed the audience once more. "Thank you for being a wonderful audience. I look forward to seeing you all again soon!"

He was then escorted backstage and disappeared behind the grand curtains. Meanwhile, Zoha waited patiently as the crowd gradually thinned out. When the time was right, she slipped through a side door.

The hallways wound like a labyrinth, but Zoha navigated them with practiced ease. It was far from her first time in the concert hall, and she made use of several lesser known doors and entrances that the opulent nobles and merchants would never think of going through.

Soon, she located the backstage door, its worn wooden surface partially concealed in the dim lighting of the hallway. Standing before it was a lone guard.

"Halt," he commanded. "This area is restricted to guests."

Zoha squared her shoulders, eyes narrowing as she locked onto the guard’s gaze. "I need to get through. This is important."

The guard shook his head. "My apologies, Lady Zoha, I can't let you inside. Orders are orders."

Frustration bubbled up within the demoness, her fingers curling into fists at her sides. Just as she prepared to argue, the doors behind the guard swung open with a soft creak as Dante made himself known. "Is there a problem here?"

The guard turned, his expression shifting to one of immediate apology. "Sir Dante, I didn't realize—"

"Let her in," Dante said, waving a hand dismissively. "She is my guest."

The guard stepped aside and Zoha brushed past him, eyes locking with Dante's in a brief, intense exchange. Dante turned and led her down a narrow corridor, the walls lined with framed posters of his past performances. Each poster served to display his illustrious career, showcasing him in various dramatic poses with his violin.

Awards and trophies gleaned from glass cases set into the walls. Almost all of them were won only within the last year.

As they reached the end of the corridor, Dante opened the door to a private room, which was filled with posters of him plastered across every wall. The sheer volume of self-aggrandizement was almost suffocating to the demoness.

Her attention was drawn to a trophy resting on a nearby shelf. She picked it up and read the inscription: "Most Talented New Performer."

Zoha shook her head, her expression hardening with disdain. "I didn't think you'd take playing the violin this seriously, brother."

Dante moved to a leather couch and sat down. He reached for a crystal decanter on a nearby table and poured himself a glass of wine. The deep red liquid swirled in the glass. He then took a slow, deliberate sip. "What can I say? I'm just that good."

Zoha crossed her arms, leaning back against the closed door. "Hard to believe you're still doing these performances. I thought playing the violin was just a hobby."

"It was, until I became really good at it. Then I decided being a performer wasn't so bad."

"Perhaps I shouldn't have expected anything else coming from you."

Dante's eyes twinkled with amusement as he set the glass down. "It's such a shame that my dear sister isn't capable of understanding the merits of music."

The demoness pushed off from the door and started to wander around the room, then paused as she noticed an ornate deer mask perched on a stand. It was carved from polished wood, smooth to the touch. The mask featured large, expressive eye holes and it was crowned with small, decorative antlers that curved from the top. She picked it up, turning it over in her hands. "And what’s this for?"

Dante glanced at the mask. "I tried my hand at theatre a few months back. Thought it might be interesting to explore a different facet of performance. Ultimately, it went against my natural flow. Too scripted, not enough room for improvisation."

"Everything about you is unnatural."

"I know what I want, and I'm happy. Isn’t that what matters?"

Zoha studied the mask for a moment longer before looking up at Dante. "Would you be annoyed if I took this?"

"Slightly." Dante said nonchalantly.

Without hesitation, Zoha tucked the mask into her cloak. "It's mine now."

Dante shook his head and sighed. "Alright, what's going on? You finally come to see me for who knows how long and the first thing you do is try to piss me off?"

Zoha hesitated, her usual confidence faltering. She glanced around the room, avoiding Dante's eyes. "I... I do need your help,"

Dante's eyebrows shot up in genuine surprise. "By the dead gods, what happened to you?"

Zoha sat down on the couch next to him. "I've been bound to an atrocious contract. You won't believe the terms."

"That bad?"

"It's basically a slave contract. I never had a chance to negotiate better terms. She had me cornered."

"Who could possibly enforce a contract like that on you?"

"My new Mistress is an elder dryad."

The room fell silent, the weight of her words hanging heavily in the air. Dante's eyes widened in disbelief. "Are you certain?"

Zoha's frustration bubbled to the surface. "Do you think I’d be here if I could solve this on my own? Are you going to help me or not?"

Dante stood up abruptly and walked over to a large, ornate cabinet in the corner of the room. He pulled open the heavy wooden doors and retrieved a thick book bound in black leather.

Zoha's eyes followed his movements with deep curiosity. "What is that?"

Dante placed the book on the table between them, its cover adorned with intricate silver designs. "I bought this from an adventurer a long time ago. Not sure who the author is, but it appears to be some kind of old encyclopedia which happens to have information on elder dryads."

Zoha raised an eyebrow. "That's awfully convenient. Since when did you start reading?"

Dante met her gaze with an earnest expression. "I've been reading for a long time, trying to find a way for us to go back home."

Zoha's irritation flared, the corners of her mouth tightening. "Just open the damn book."

Dante sighed but complied and sifted through the pages of the encyclopedia, its pages yellowed and grainy. Until he finally stopped at a section labeled "Elder Dryads."

He coughed into his hand before reading out loud. "Elder dryads are ancient and powerful beings with immense control over nature magic. Should you happen to encounter one, it is advisable to flee immediately on sight."

"Does the book have any information that isn't already obvious?" Zoha scoffed.

"It's not easy to find useful info in a book this dense," Dante muttered, flipping through a few more pages without much enthusiasm.

Zoha huffed, crossing her arms. "Well, keep looking. We need something useful."

"I am looking," he snapped back. "But it's not like there's an index specifically for your exact situation."

Zoha's impatience grew. "Just try harder."

Dante grumbled under his breath but continued sifting through the pages. After what felt like an eternity of turning yellowed pages, something caught his eye in the footnotes. "Hold on, there's a reference here to another part of the book. Page 237."

Zoha leaned in. "Well, go on then. Check it out."

Dante flipped to the indicated page, his eyes scanning the text quickly. His expression changed as he began to read, a mix of surprise and realization dawning on his face. "This section talks about the sources of an elder dryad's power. It mentions that their strength is often tied to something specific, like a sacred tree or a unique location."

Zoha leaned closer, her eyes wide with anticipation. "Keep reading. What else does it say?"

"It says that disrupting this connection can weaken or even sever their bond entirely," Dante said. "If we can find and sever this connection, there's a chance that the contract could become weak enough for you to break free."

Zoha shook her head and sighed. "That's going to be impossible."

Dante sighed, rubbing his temples. "I thought so. But what if we try tampering with the contract directly?"

"Can you actually do that?"

"I can try, but it's risky. You’ll have to trust me."

Zoha looked conflicted initially. She bit her lip, tension evident in her posture. But after a long moment of contemplation, she exhaled sharply and met Dante's gaze. "I'm willing to try."

Dante gave a small, reassuring smile. "Alright, let's get started. I'll need a dagger."

Zoha reached into her cloak and grabbed her dagger, extending it towards Dante. He accepted the dagger and glanced at Zoha’s arm, the demoness’s skin still obscured by layers of bandages.

He slowly unwound the cloth, revealing the insectile exoskeleton beneath. Then, he paused for a moment, the edge of the dagger poised at an opening in the carapace. The blade hovered, a fraction of an inch from her skin. "Slight warning, this might hurt."

Zoha nodded, bracing herself. "Just do it."

Dante carefully made a small incision, the blade slicing through the tough exterior. Zoha winced as a trickle of purple blood oozed from the wound. Afterwards, he grabbed a glass vial from a nearby cabinet and collected the blood inside.

He placed the vial on the table and retrieved a few other items from his cabinet: a small tome, a piece of parchment, and a quill. He opened the tome and chanted softly, resonating with the arcane energy in the room.

While he was chanting, Dante dipped the quill into Zoha's blood and started to write on the parchment. Intricate symbols and runes appeared, glowing with a pulsating light.

Dante concentrated deeply as he carefully inscribed each rune with careful precision. All Zoha could do was watch, her fingers gripping the edge of the table so hard she made dents in the wood.

But suddenly, a sharp pain shot through Zoha's body. She gasped, clutching her sides as the agony intensified, radiating from her core outward like wildfire. "It hurts! What’s happening?"

Dante continued scribbling frantically. "Shit, hold on. I’m almost done!"

Yet, the pain only grew more excruciating. Zoha's vision blurred, legs giving way as she collapsed to the floor. Her body writhed in torment, every muscle seizing in unbearable agony. "It hurts!"

Dante dropped the quill and rushed to Zoha's side. "I’m so sorry!"

"What…how—"

"You need to return to your Mistress, she's the only one who can stop this!"

"O…okay." Zoha gasped, tears streaming down her face.

Summoning the last of her strength, Zoha gave a weak nod. And in an instant, her form dissolved into a cloud of flies that vanished as soon as they appeared.