The World-ruling Dungeon

"Oi, the fuck is wrong with that guy?"

"The heck do I know! He's been there, drinking, for over a day already."

"Over a day?! Without sleep? And drinking like that? How the hell is he still alive?" Two men spoke in hushed whispers at a busy bar. Not only them, but all eyes were focused on a single man.

"The hell do I know?! He seems like a—"

*THUD*

"Hiiii- Let's go, let's go, he's gonna do something!" The two quickly got up and left. After all, there was no such thing as a tab at this place.

But the man they were talking about struck the table with his empty mug hard enough the floor itself shrieked.

"Come on Morhat, don't break my tables."

"Yeah, yeah, just give me another one."

The sound of coins rolling echoed in the dead silent tavern. Only to be drowned by the murmur of the dozen voices talking at the same time.

"Come on Mor, I've been your friend for far too long, what the fuck happened?" The bearded tavern master sat down across from him. He was worried, but more than anything, he was curious. At such a place like this dark tavern in the outskirts, information was worth the weight of one's alcohol in gold.

"They killed her Dunhan! They fucking killed her!" The man raised his voice, almost crying. And chugged down the whole mug of ale in a single breath.

"Easy man, easy! You're gonna kill yourself!"

"I'm already dead, Dun. I'm already fucking dead. They killed her."

"Whom? Lea? Or Maize?"

"Both, man. They killed both of them! In front of my eyes... And I did nothing to stop it."

'Oh, shit.'

"Come on, Mor. I know it sucks but you couldn't do anything even if you tried. How many mages were there?"

"The whole fucking clergy."

"See... You'd only get yourself killed."

"Your point being?" He straightened his back and, for the first time, stared into the eyes of his old friend.

"Holy mother of—Are you okay man? How many days haven't you slept?!"

"Too many to count, Dun. Too many to count. Just give me another fucking ale."

"Easy man! You've already drunk more than my entire life's savings. Where the fuck have you even taken all this money from?!"

"My kid's future, Dun. My wife's savings. Everything I could sell before they started looting the place."

"You were..."

"Yes, I was one of the men who were sent to pick them up." He rested his elbow onto the table, holding his temples with his fingers as tears dropped onto the table. "I thought they'd take her to the camp like they'd been doing. I just grabbed everything through the back with the hopes to smuggle them out of there by bribing someone."

"Then what happened?! Wasn't that the plan all along, since you joined the army?"

"It was... But the camp got full... So they threw them in the pit."

"Sweet mother of— I... don't even know what to say, my friend."

"Say no more, just bring me another drink. Something stronger to make me forget all of this."

"I will... But what about the army?"

"FUCK THE ARMY!" He jumped up, dropping his stool onto the floor as he slammed the table with both fists, cracking the solid maple table in half. "Fuck them and their fucking God! I'd kill even that scum fucking pope if I had the chance!"

"EASY BOY! SIT THE FUCK DOWN!" Dunhan, the tavern owner, pushed his friend back down while pulling a nearby chair. "Don't worry about him people, just a drunkard. Enjoy the show." He addressed the onlookers, before sitting back down. "Don't fucking do that!? You want us both to get killed?"

"Sorry... Though I'm already dead if they know who I am..."

"You haven't—"

"I have. I deserted. I killed all who tried to stop me from leaving. I'm already sentenced, Dun. I'm as good as dead, might as well spend all my money on alcohol while I still can." He threw a coin to the publican. Dunhan stood aghast, as he realized this was a gold coin, enough to buy this whole business.

"Morhat..."

"This is for the damages and lost clients, now just give me booze until I pass out."

The man stroked his beard, and stumbled his way to his counter in silence. There was nothing more he could do... Other than offer him his deepest condolences, and his best alcohol.

'Poor man... He didn't deserve any of this...' He thought one last time, before returning to his everyday job.

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"How damn far do I have to walk?! My ankles hurt."

"Shut up, Gloria. You know the size of this dungeon."

"I do, I do, but it didn't feel this big from looking at the maps!"

"Tough luck. Now, please, just let me double check the stuff. We're almost there.

"Gun?"

"Yeah, Mih?"

"How did I loose the shackle?"

"Huh?! What do you mean?"

"Like... One of them is missing." Mihara pointed to one of her feet, where one of the shackles was nowhere to be seen."

"I... I don't really remember but..." He used his other self to scan the rooms though which she'd passed. "You somehow removed it in the room you drank the potion."

"Eh? How can that be?"

"Superhuman Strength."

"What?!"

"Excuse me?!"

"Come on guys." Gloria acted as if her previous sentence was supposed to be commonplace. Yet, both others were completely dumbstruck. "She's a Ghoul. Ghouls can use all their strength disregarding their own safety. She could probably rip the shackles with her bare hands."

"The fuck?!" Gunther stared at her in disbelief. "Then why did she do nothing when Gahan attacked her?"

Mihara started trembling from remembering what had just happened. Her mind was still amiss. She didn't really understand what she was being doubted about.

"I guess she kind of liked what he wa—OW! OW! OW! OOOOOOOOOWWWW!!! STOP! I WAS JOKING!"

"Better shut up, next time it won't end with me just pulling them."

"Sorry, sorry... She was probably too scared to even imagine being able to do something."

"The elephant chained to a small pole..."

"Precisely."

"Huh? Elephom…? Are you guys talking about me?" Mihara's ears moved up and down as she tilted her head, not understanding where the conversation was going.