Sera - A Dungeon Revival LitRPG

The broker led Sera and Aermo through a series of nondescript locations: past a row of dilapidated shacks where children played in the dirt, through a bustling market where the cries of vendors hawking their wares mixed with the clatter of pots and pans, and along a shadowy lane where the only light came from flickering lanterns hung sporadically from hooks above.

Finally, they emerged in front of a small unassuming stall tucked away at the end of a secluded alley. The storefront was modest, its wooden sign just barely hanging above the door, the paint faded and peeling.

An old man stood behind a counter just inside the open doorway. His face was lined with age, and his hands moved with a surprising deftness as he arranged small trinkets on the display table.

The broker stopped and turned to Sera and Aermo. "This is the place."

Aermo looked around the narrow alley and the worn facade of the shop. "Are... you sure?"

Sera took out the journal and flipped through it briefly, skimming the pages before closing it then tucking it back in her cloak. "We should be in the right place."

The broker pointed to the old man. "Just hand him your passes and he'll take care of the rest."

Sera nodded, eyes locking onto the broker with an unwavering intensity. "Thank you. We'll take it from here."

The broker's lips parted as if she was about to protest or add something. But a stern glare from Sera silenced her. The broker's shoulders sagged slightly, and she ducked her head, stepping back and melting into the shadows of the alley.

Afterwards, Sera walked to the stall and slipped her hand into her cloak to take out the two VIP tickets. She slid them across the worn counter, the sound barely a whisper against the aged wood.

The old man working the stall squinted as he leaned closer to inspect the passes. His hands, surprisingly agile despite his age, moved with practiced precision as he retrieved a magnifying glass whose handle was covered in swirling runes from beneath the counter.

As he lifted the magnifying glass to his eye, the runes on the handle flared brightly. The glowing symbols interacted with the runes that were embedded in the VIP tickets, causing the passes to respond in kind. The inscriptions on the tickets lit up with a vibrant energy, confirming their authenticity.

Satisfied with what he saw, the old man lowered the magnifying glass, the glow fading gradually as he set it back on the counter. The light from the runes dimmed, leaving behind a lingering sense of arcane power. He slid the tickets back to Sera with a deliberate slowness, watching her carefully.

"You new around here?" he asked with a gravelly voice.

Sera shot a deadpan look at him. "None of your business."

The old man chuckled as his weathered fingers moved beneath the counter, and a clicking sound resonated through the room as he pressed a hidden lever. "Door's open, have fun."

Part of a nearby building's facade slid open with a grind of stone against stone, revealing a hidden entrance. Sera and Aermo approached it and saw a surprisingly well-maintained staircase leading down. Each step was lit up by several lanterns hanging from the walls.

Sera and Aermo descended down the newly opened passage. Flickering lantern light cast shifting shadows, playing across the rough masonry of the stone walls.

Sera's keen eyes scanned the surroundings, taking in every detail with meticulous precision. She noted the irregularities in the stonework, the patches of moss clinging to the damp surfaces, and the occasional rusted sconce that held the flickering lanterns. Beside her, Aermo's ears strained to catch any sound beyond their own footsteps, alert to any potential threat.

As they moved deeper into the underground space, the stone walls gradually disappeared and gave way to smooth, cold metal. The transition was subtle at first: a few patches of exposed metal here and there, but soon, the entire corridor was lined with it.

The metal walls were covered in patches of rust, their surfaces marred by years of exposure. Aermo reached out a hand and brushed against the cold metal. He grimaced slightly at the sensation, the chill seeping into his skin. "This whole place is covered in this stuff. Do you think the entire underground is made like this?"

Sera grimaced slightly upon seeing the metallic surroundings, her distaste evident. "It would appear that's precisely the case. Quite troublesome, really."

"Will it be harder for you to use your powers here, Boss?"

"It won't make things easier for me, that's for certain. But don't worry, I'll manage."

Eventually, they reached the end of the corridor and stepped into an unexpectedly opulent space. Crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling while velvet drapes adorned the walls, their deep, luxurious colors creating a stark contrast with the cold metal of the corridor they had just left behind. Plush carpets muffled their footsteps, adding an air of sophistication to the space.

Yet, despite the luxurious surroundings, many of the patrons were a stark contrast. The room was filled with shady-looking individuals, many covered in tattoos and sporting various scars.

Still, the waitstaff were all well-dressed at the very least. Each server was impeccably dressed in tailored suits or elegant dresses, adding a touch of class to the otherwise rough crowd.

A beastkin waitress approached Sera, her tray balanced effortlessly on one hand. She wore an elegant dress that accentuated her movements. "Welcome, first drinks are on the house."

Sera declined with a small shake of her head. Aermo, however, accepted a glass and nodded his thanks. Afterwards, the waitress moved away gracefully, her footsteps barely making a sound on the plush carpet.

While Aermo was enjoying his drink, Sera looked around the area. Her gaze moved from the luxurious decor to the patrons as she tried to make sense of things. This place is much larger than I imagined. It's more like an underground complex, and I'm not even in the arena yet.

"Anyone stand out to you?" she asked out loud.

Aermo took a sip of the wine, the rich liquid swirling in the glass before he set it down on a nearby table. "Not really, maybe we could spot him in the arena during a match?"

"Agreed, that sounds like a sound idea," Sera said.

She walked up to another waiter, a young man with a neat haircut and a polished demeanor. "Excuse me, can you tell me where the arena is located?"

The waiter nodded respectfully. "Of course, madam. Please, follow me."

***

Sera and Aermo followed the waiter through a large corridor, its high ceiling amplifying the distant echoes of the bustling arena beyond. As they approached a set of heavy double doors, the sound of the crowd grew louder, a cacophony of shouts and cheers seeping through the cracks.

The waiter opened the door and revealed the arena. It was a vast, circular space, its metal walls gleaming dully under the harsh light of many overhead lanterns. The arena grounds were made of rich, dark soil, packed firmly underfoot and giving off a thick, earthy scent.

The floor was packed with rowdy spectators. Some leaned precariously against each other, already visibly inebriated thanks to the many waiters and waitresses weaving through the crowd with trays of frothy beer. The tangy scent of alcohol mingled with the pungent aroma of sweat, creating a heady atmosphere.

In stark contrast, the VIP area was elevated above the general seating, enclosed by a low railing draped with rich, velvet curtains in deep burgundy. Plush, cushioned seats lined the area, each one upholstered in luxurious fabric and spaced comfortably apart to allow for easy movement. The air here was cleaner, the noise slightly muffled by the distance and the heavy curtains, providing a more refined and exclusive viewing experience.

The waiter led them through the throngs of people until they reached an old lady manning a small stall just outside the VIP section. Her weathered face was etched with lines of experience, and her keen eyes sparkled with a shrewd intelligence. The stall was adorned with various trinkets and parchments, each one meticulously arranged.

The waiter exchanged a few quiet words with her, and soon, the old lady nodded. She reached for two pieces of parchment from a neatly stacked pile. Each parchment was meticulously numbered with seat assignment in thick dark ink.

"Your seat numbers, please enjoy the show," the waiter said.

Sera took her parchment, glancing at the number before meeting the waiter's gaze. "Thank you," she said, her voice calm and measured.

Aermo nodded as he accepted his parchment, then turned to Sera. "Are we actually gonna watch the match, Boss?"

She moved over to her seat, maneuvering past a few other spectators who barely glanced up from their conversations. She settled into the plush cushioning, senses still on high alert. "Nothing much to lose since we're already here. Just keep yourself on alert."

Aermo sat down next to Sera, looking towards the arena below. "You really think this fight's gonna be interesting?"

Sera shrugged, her gaze fixed on the center of the arena. "We'll have to see."

An announcer's voice boomed across the arena, amplified by various magical crystals propped up around the arena's walls. "Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the Meat Grinder!"

"For those new to tonight's special event, allow me to explain. The Meat Grinder is a test of survival, pitting our brave contestants against the fiercest of beasts. Will they succeed or become free meals for the beasts? Let's find out!"

Two armed men shoved a beastkin man into the arena from one of the gates. He stumbled forward, fear etched across his face as he tried to regain his balance while the crowd jeered and laughed.

From the opposite gate, a monstrous beast was wheeled in a massive cage. It was a hulking creature covered in matted fur and scars. Its eyes glowed with a menacing red light, and its fangs were bared in a snarl.

Aermo leaned closer to Sera, his voice tense. "I… don't like where this is going."

Sera's gaze remained fixed on the arena. "You're welcome to leave if you're uncomfortable. I'm still curious."

The announcer continued to rile up the crowd, his voice echoing loudly. "Are you all ready?"

The crowd responded with a resounding yes. The beastkin man in the middle of the arena was visibly terrified. He tried to run back to the gates behind him, but they had already been shut tight. His desperation only drew more laughter from the crowd.

Aermo clenched his fists, his knuckles turning white. "I can't watch this."

Sera's eyes flicked to the people around them, their curious and suspicious glances landing on Aermo. "Calm down, we're being watched," she murmured.

Aermo took a deep breath, his muscles visibly relaxing as he returned to his seat. "Boss, it's probably best if I head out before I do something really stupid."

Sera let out an exasperated sigh, her eyes narrowing slightly. "Fine, what do you intend to do?"

"I'll go snooping around the other areas of the underground," Aermo replied, his voice low but determined. "See what I can dig up and report back when I can."

"Don't bother reporting back to me," Sera said, her tone firm. "It's unlikely we'll be able to find each other in this maze. Instead, wait for me back at the entrance in the slums once you're finished."

Aermo nodded, understanding the practicality of her instructions. "Got it. I'll be off now."

As he stood to leave, Sera reached out and touched his arm. "Do you want to take some of my seeds with you for protection?"

Aermo shook his head and let out a small smile. "I'll be fine, Boss. Thanks, though."

He gave her a respectful nod before slipping away. Sera watched the beastkin slinking away and disappearing into the shadows of the corridor. Then, she turned her attention back to the crowd, scanning the faces in the VIP section, hoping to spot Vega. Her eyes swept over the sea of spectators, but she saw no sign of him.

In the meantime, the announcer's voice boomed across the arena, reverberating through the massive stone structure. "Ladies and gentlemen, prepare yourselves for the ultimate test of survival! The countdown begins now!"

A massive timer made of magical energy materialized above the arena, casting a bright glow over the spectators. The numbers ticked down from ten, each digit pulsing slightly as the countdown started.

When the countdown reached its final moments, the arena fell into an almost eerie silence. The heavy iron bars of the beast's cage lifted, the mechanisms groaning and creaking ominously. The beastkin man stood in the center of the arena, eyes wide with terror. His gaze darted frantically, searching for an escape route while his breaths coming in short gasps.

"Three... two... one!" The announcer's voice rang out.

Then, with a thunderous crash, the cage door slammed open, and the monstrous beast bursted out of it with a primal roar. The beastkin man bolted across the arena, trying to run away as fast as he could. The beast, however, was even faster. Its powerful limbs propelled it forward with terrifying speed, each step shaking the ground.

Before long, the creature pounced and used its massive jaws to clamp down on the man's leg. The sickening crunch of bone and the man's blood-curdling scream filled the air. The beast shook its head violently, lifting the man off the ground and thrashing him like a ragdoll. Blood sprayed from the wound, the crimson droplets scattering like mist.

The crowd erupted into a frenzy, their cheers and screams merging into a chaotic roar. Some watched in horror, unable to look away, while others reveled in the brutal spectacle. Despite this, Sera watched on with a neutral expression. If I could be the one in charge of these type of events in the future, it could be a decent way of acquiring talented enough sacrifices for the Spirit Tree.

As the beast continued its savage attack, Sera's eyes flicked to the opposite end of the arena. There, she finally spotted a group of men entering. One man in the center was flanked by four members of the Black Eagles. Unlike the rest, who wore red hooded cloaks, this man wore a black hooded cloak and had purple tattoos snaking across his exposed skin. Based on the description in Zoha's journal, this man should be the one called Vega.

Sera watched intently as Vega spoke with some members of the crowd. His entourage distributed potions and packets of herbs, the exchanges quick and discreet. The sight of the potions reminded her of the Black Eagles' notorious reputation for dealing in such substances.

Determined to confront him, Sera began to slowly make her way through the crowd. She moved with deliberate caution, careful not to draw attention to herself. She edged closer, weaving through clusters of spectators who were too engrossed in the spectacle to notice her.

But before she could get close, Vega and his entourage had already begun to move. They slipped through a side exit, disappearing from view. Sera cursed under her breath, frustration gnawing at her. She couldn't afford to lose him now.