After three days of flying over the inner border of the underworld to the land of men, we finally reached the ocean that separated the underworld from Quel'thalas.
The sky had been merciful up to that point, but the real challenge lay in crossing the seemingly endless blue waters. Unlike the common route that most took to reach Quel'thalas, which involved sailing the Parting Sea, this was far more dangerous. The weather could shift without warning, giving rise to tempestuous storms, and the sea below was filled with abominations that prowled the depths, eager for anything that dared come too close. We weren't in the mood for those dangers, and like in the underworld, we stayed well above the clouds, keeping the ocean at a safe distance.
After two more days over the expanse of blue, our destination began to draw near. We finally caught sight of the southern corners of Quel'thalas, the fabled land of the elves. Yet, as expected, we weren't greeted by any signs of civilization. Far from it. What lay before us was a tropical jungle, as endless as the ocean we had just crossed. The thick canopy below stretched far and wide, the trees towering like ancient giants. I had Veilleuse-19, my trusted wyvern, keep our course further south. We had a clear destination in mind, and from memory, I knew it was only about half a week away, back then. With Veilleuse's current speed it would only take us one days.
It had been almost a day since we reached Fiendfell, and though we were closing in on our destination, the jungle below was vast, and there was little else to see besides the sprawling trees. Now that we had left behind the dangers of the underworld and the ocean separating the elven and demon continents, I had Veilleuse-19 descend, lowering us beneath the clouds. Finally, we could take in the scenery instead of the monotonous skies. Unfortunately, the view wasn’t much more exciting.
The trees were enormous, easily reaching lengths of fifty meters or more. Their trunks were wide, some so thick that entire villages could likely have fit within their bases. A dense fog clung to the forest floor, giving the jungle an eerie, almost otherworldly atmosphere. Every beat of Veilleuse-19's massive wings caused the fog to swirl and part, granting us a circular view of the land below. But aside from the impressive scale of the trees and the haunting fog, there wasn’t much to take in.
I wasn’t surprised by the scenery. I had prepared for this kind of environment, knowing well what to expect from this corner of the continent, having lived on these corner for a time. Dungeon Master 05, on the other hand, didn’t seem as ready for it. He looked disappointed, or at the very least, bored. He yawned more times than I could count, and eventually, I found myself joining him in the yawning. To stop the cycle, I decided to strike up a conversation.
Over the past few days of traveling together, I’d gotten to know Dungeon Master 05 better. Licht as he is commonly know was an odd character. Well, perhaps "odd" wasn’t the fairest word to describe him—more like "atypical" compared to the dungeon masters I was used to. If I were to place him on a spectrum, his personality would fall somewhere between Dungeon Master 07 and Dungeon Master 02. He had the seriousness of 07, that much was clear, and like all dungeon masters, he seemed eager to contribute to our mission. However, I could tell that, for him, the one whose approval really mattered was Dungeon Master 07. Licht brought him up constantly, which wasn’t surprising.
Licht, like Dungeon Masters 01, Dungeon Masters 04, Dungeon Masters 11, Dungeon Masters 12, and Dungeon Masters 14, had been spawned into Fiendfell the old way—reborn into random families to grow up and eventually make contact with other dungeon masters. For them, Dungeon Master 07 was like a beacon, a leader they all looked to for guidance. I, too, once saw him that way. In fact, I might still do. It made sense that Licht would idolize him to some degree.
Aside from that, Licht was very mindful of his image. Not in an overt way, but it was clear that he had gotten deep into his persona as an adventurer, just like Dungeon Master 07 had when he was known as Vittorio. The amusing thing was that, despite his serious nature, Licht wasn’t nearly as paranoid as Dungeon Masters 07, though I could tell he was trying to be. It wasn’t natural for him, and I found that amusing.
It was obvious that Licht was trying to be guarded around me, likely due to something Dungeon Master 07 had told him. But he wasn’t very good at it. His apprehension felt forced, much like how Dungeon Master 02 had acted when I first met him. Back then, I had wrongly assumed that 02’s awkwardness was because I was a girl, but I soon realized that wasn’t the case. I had confronted him about it, and though it was a bit of a misstep, at least things weren’t awkward between us anymore. The last thing I wanted was to accidentally traumatize a fellow dungeon master.
Licht, on the other hand, didn’t seem to need that kind of intervention. Despite his guarded behavior, it wasn’t as severe as 02’s. In our many conversations, I had tried to bring up a certain topic, but his apprehension always caught my attention. It became clear that talking to him wouldn’t be enough—I would have to show him what I meant. To have confront that thing, corner him with it seemed to me like the only way to do it. So I decided to not to mention that topic yet.
"So, since we're no longer in the land of men, with no more Kings or Empeoror around to slow down your leveling, have you thought of a secondary class already, seeing as you're level 42?" I asked, letting the conversation shift naturally to something I had been curious about.
Licht paused, tilting his head thoughtfully. "A secondary class..." he mused. I watched him, knowing what a pivotal moment that question represented for anyone at his level.
In this world, especially for Verdenkind and to some extent for Highbreeds, there are crucial milestones for increasing one's strength. For them, reaching level 42 meant they had already passed two of several major class milestones.
At level one, everyone picks a core class, something foundational. Then, somewhere between levels twelve and eighteen, depending on their class, comes the choice of a subclass or specialization. Those two decisions are permanent—etched in stone until one reaches the level 25 milestone. That milestone was... a gamble. It offered the option to change classes and even reallocate all attribute points to better suit the new class. But that second chance came with an often crippling drawback: all skills and abilities tied to the previous class were lost. For someone whose class change shared no traits with the old one like mage to barbarian, it was like starting from scratch. Sure, your attributes remained, even grew stronger with reallocation, but starting fresh without any of the skills or abilities you’d spent years mastering? For most, it wasn't worth it.
For me, it certainly hadn’t been. I saw no point in resetting my life for a class that I wasn't sure would actually fit me. That milestone was worthless to those who didn’t regret their choices.
Anyway, that was the third major milestone. Once you reach level 50, you hit the dual-class milestone. As the name suggests, it's when you can pick a second class on top of your first. Though it’s also optional since if you don’t choose, you keep leveling normally, and you move from level 50 to 51 instead of becoming "50 and 1" like those who dual-class.
It was important to mention that distinction because it affected everything—from the way someone leveled, to the experience requirements. Dungeon Master 05 was at level 42 now, which meant he was oddly close and yet pragmatically still far from that decision. But for him, who had spent literal decades trapped at level 42 thanks to the Emperor and his damn kings, I was sure he had spent a lot of time thinking about it. Daydreaming, even, as I had, back when I was at his level.
"Frankly," he said after a long pause, "I’ve been hesitating between going mage or sorcerer."
I raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"
"I already have a few light and wind-based attacks," he explained. "I was hoping that if I become a mage, I could specialize in wind or light magic. Or, if I go the sorcerer route, I could become a Luxomancer or Aeromancer. What do you think?"
I shrugged slightly. "You're asking me, but I can’t really give you a prognosis here. What I can say is that knight and mage—or sorcerer—makes for a well-balanced build. It’s smart. The MP-centric class would complement your SP-centered one. It’d give you solid offensive capabilities, both in close-quarters and long-range."
Licht nodded slowly, clearly considering the idea. "I thought so too."
I smiled, feeling a bit more connected with him in that moment. "I would've gone the same way."
He looked at me skeptically, a frown creasing his brow. "Really? You had the chance to, yet you didn’t."
I smirked, amusement tugging at the corners of my mouth. "So you've heard about that, huh? From where?"
"From Dungeon Master 07 first, and then from your battle against the Emperor’s third king."
“Oh..." I wasn’t particularly surprised. Licht had probably heard many stories about me, both true and twisted.
"Unless..." he added, his voice trailing as if inviting me to correct him. "Unless it’s not true that you chose mage as your secondary class. Your first one being Hexcaster."
"Oh, that's right. I did choose mage as my second class," I admitted, a nostalgic glint in my eyes. "I was very anxious about that choice, but in the end, that’s what I went with at level 50."
It might not have seemed like the smartest decision on paper—after all, I could’ve chosen a martial class like knight or paladin to offset the inherent weaknesses of being a Hexcaster. I could’ve even chosen monk, which would’ve helped me overcome the low defense value my class came with. But there was a method to my madness. You see, right off the bat, mage and Hexcaster shared similar attribute distributions. By choosing a class like sorcerer or mage on top of my original, the synergy between the two made me stronger, faster. The benefits were immediate.
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It wasn’t such a stupid choice after all, especially since I already had the prerequisites to be a powerful mage. I was confident the choice would pay off—and it did. The variety of my acquired skills and abilities skyrocketed after that.
I was about to share to him one of the more interesting, if not outright game-breaking perks of my build—a fun little gimmick I’d discovered—but something in the corner of my vision caught my attention. A flicker in the distance.
Upon recognizing the familiar surroundings and sensing a distinct pulse of magic, I glanced at Dungeon Master 05 with a wry smile. "My young friend," I announced, sarcasm evident in my tone, though it flew right over his head, "behold—elven civilization."
He peered ahead, his frown deepening as he scanned the endless canopy. After a moment, he looked at me, clearly unimpressed, with an expression that begged, where? I didn’t bother answering right away. Instead, I had Veilleuse-19 slow her flight, lowering us to just two dozen meters above the treetops. There was no sign of civilization to his untrained eyes, but I hadn't lied—it was there, just incredibly easy to miss.
After a minute of silent flight, we passed directly above it. And this time, it was impossible to ignore.
The elven village sprawled below like an intricate web, seamlessly woven into the towering trees. Giant trunks, thick as castle towers, rose from the forest floor, each crowned with clusters of huts. The homes were perched on wooden platforms encircling the massive trunks, connected by rope bridges that swayed gently in the breeze. The roofs, made from dried leaves and thatch, blended into the lush canopy above. Even from our height, I could see the elves moving gracefully between the homes, tending to their daily tasks along the elevated paths.
It was a breathtaking scene of harmony—until our shadow fell across them.
The moment they spotted us atop Veilleuse-19, chaos erupted. It was like tossing a stone into still water. Shouts rang out, high-pitched and frantic, as the elves scrambled in every direction. Mothers clutched their children, rushing toward their homes. Others grabbed whatever weapons were nearby, barking orders as they scrambled across swaying rope bridges.
The serene village became a frenzied mess, resembling a disturbed anthill. Elves darted about in sheer panic, clearly mistaking Veilleuse-19 for a wild, untamable beast about to descend upon them.
Dungeon Master 05 turned to me, his expression screaming accusation, as if I was solely to blame for the chaos. Excuse me, this isn't my fault, I thought, though a small part of me knew better. It wasn’t intentional, but I hadn’t expected this level of panic either.
Sighing, I nudged Veilleuse-19 into an ascent, pulling us away from the village to put some distance between us and the commotion below. As we rose, I spotted a couple of figures emerging from the canopy, humanoid silhouettes floating upward, evidently coming to meet us in the sky.
“To think that this small village has elves with flying capabilities now," I mused aloud. "That’s quite the change from last time."
Back then, when I used to fly by, there hadn’t been anyone rising to meet me in the sky like this. Of course, there also hadn’t been a village-wide panic like today. The elves had been familiar with my presence back then—Veilleuse-19 and I were part of the landscape.
Leaving the flying elves behind, we headed further north, toward our true destination. Just as the village faded behind us, I saw something unusual ahead—another silhouette rising fast from the canopy. The figure was on a broom, ascending rapidly, and my [Identification] skill picked up several active abilities. My frown deepened. Looks like someone’s ready for battle.
I braced myself for a confrontation, prepared to respond in kind. But as we closed the distance and I caught sight of the figure’s face, I hesitated, surprised by the familiarity. Adjusting Veilleuse-19’s course, I opted to fly past the broom-riding elf, sparing a sidelong glance at the figure who, noticing us, promptly disengaged her combat skills and abilities.
As we passed, I gave her a smile—more of a smirk really—before continuing northward. Dungeon Master 05 remained silent beside me, though I could feel his tension. I glanced over, noticing him eyeing the elf warily. He didn’t recognize her. Not surprising—they’d never met.
"First time seeing an elf?" I asked, breaking the silence.
"First time? No," he replied, deadpan. "I’ve met a Charlie before."
I chuckled at the casual way he dropped the slur. The way he said it made it clear he had no idea it was offensive. "Just a word of advice," I said with a smirk, "avoid using Charlie on this continent. You can do it in front of us---no you know what nevermind. Just don't."
"Why?" he asked, genuinely curious.
"Let’s just say there’s a category of elves that don’t particularly appreciate being called that. And, funnily enough, the one we’re about to meet is one of them. But not for the same reason as the other elves."
He took a moment to digest that, then nodded slowly. We flew in silence for a while, the only sound the rhythmic beat of Veilleuse-19’s wings. After what felt like an eternity, he broke the silence again.
"Can you tell me more about the other Dungeon Masters we’re to meet here?"
I winced at the question, thinking about a certain topic I'd been avoiding. "What did Dungeon Master 07 tell you?"
"He told me that five of us would be involved in this mission," he said, unaware of the shift in plans.
Internally, I winced. Great. I had the lovely task of correcting that misconception. Outwardly, I kept my expression neutral and nodded for him to continue.
"I was supposed to rendezvous with you, Dungeon Master 09, and Dungeon Master 13 at the Voidborne Catacombs. From there, the four of us would journey to Quel’Thalas to meet the final Dungeon Master."
"That was the plan," I admitted with a shrug, "but things have changed. And frankly, there’s no way we could have made that journey with Dungeon Master 08."
He took that in stride and, after a moment, asked, "So, what do can you tell me about them? What kind of Dungeon Masters should I expect?"
I couldn’t help but laugh at the question. "Wouldn’t it be more fun to find out for yourself? That’s usually the best part of meeting other Dungeon Masters."
Before he could respond, the landscape below us shifted. The seemingly endless forest began to give way, revealing something sharp and angular amidst the wild. At first, it was just a sliver of stone peeking through the trees, but as we drew closer, the full structure came into view.
An estate stood in stark contrast to the elven village we had left behind. Where the village had blended with the forest, this manor imposed itself on the landscape. Towering stone walls, draped in ivy, loomed ahead. The sharp rooflines and grand arched windows clashed with the wild canopy surrounding it, as if the estate sought to dominate the forest rather than coexist.
"We’ve arrived," I muttered to Dungeon Master 05, as Veilleuse-19 let out a low growl, recognizing the place.
Flying in circles, Veilleuse-19 slowly descended, its powerful wings flaring wide as we neared the ground. Below us, a carefully manicured garden sprawled out like a patchwork quilt of deep greens and vibrant flowerbeds. From up here, it seemed so small, almost comical compared to the wild forest just beyond the estate’s borders. The pristine lawn stretched in neat patterns, contrasting sharply with the untamed wilderness that surrounded it.
As we descended, the gusts from Veilleuse-19’s wings sent ripples through the well-kept lawns, flattening hedges and flowerbeds in every direction. The sound of snapping branches and crushed blooms echoed in the air as we touched down with a resounding thud, its claws sinking deep into the soft earth, leaving gouges in the once-immaculate ground.
Taking a moment to survey the now-ruined garden—petals scattered, grass uprooted—I dismounted, my boots sinking slightly into the freshly disturbed soil. The scent of cut grass and blooming flowers filled the air, a fragrance that seemed out of place given the destruction Veilleuse-19 had just wrought.
"Quite the contrast, isn’t it?" I remarked, glancing over at Dungeon Master 05 as we walked toward the manor that loomed ahead. "From elven grace to... well, human grandeur."
Veilleuse-19 rumbled lowly behind us, its golden eyes scanning the estate as if in agreement. The wyvern seemed just as out of place as I felt. The stately stone manor stood tall and imposing against the twilight sky, its sharp angles and fortress-like appearance clashing with the wild beauty of the forest surrounding it.
From the grand entrance of the manor, a figure emerged with a deliberate, measured pace. As he came into clearer view, his silver hair, slightly tousled, flowed back naturally, accentuating his sharp, defined features. A neatly trimmed beard framed his face, adding a touch of ruggedness to his otherwise noble appearance. His elongated, tapered ears confirmed his elven heritage, and his intense gaze carried the wisdom of someone seasoned by countless adventures.
He wore a long, dark blue coat with a high collar trimmed in white, its metallic buttons catching the fading light as they gleamed in perfect rows down his chest. The dark blue trousers tucked into worn, sturdy brown boots hinted at practicality beneath the elegance—boots that had clearly traveled many miles, yet retained an air of sophistication.
"You’ve ruined my garden," he said, his voice deep, filled with barely concealed irritation.
I glanced back at the trampled flowers, the torn earth and gouges left behind by Veilleuse-19’s claws, then looked back at him, utterly unapologetic. "Maybe," I said, crossing my arms, "but whose brilliant idea was it to make my landing ground a damn garden?"
His silver eyes narrowed, his expression momentarily hardening into what might have passed for genuine fury. His jaw clenched, nostrils flared—and for a brief moment, He guenuily looked like he might actually snap. But then his lips twisted into a bitter chuckle.
And then he moved. Fast. Too fast for even Dungeon Master 05 to react. In a blur, he closed the distance between us, his arms wrapping around me in a tight, almost desperate embrace. The hug lingered a bit too long, the intent behind it far removed from the cold greeting of an old acquaintance.
When he spoke again, his voice was low, a whisper that only I could hear, thick with pain. "I’m sorry, Ma'am."
"I know."
"That bastard… He got Charlie."
I sligtly stiffened at the stiffened at the nickname. "I know," I replied softly, my voice barely more than a breath.
His grip tightened, and he leaned in closer, his next words even heavier, barely held together by a voice cracking with grief. "He got Frank too."
I closed my eyes, feeling the tremble in his arms. The confident, authoritative elf from a moment ago was gone, replaced by someone drowning in guilt and loss. His voice, once commanding, was now fragile, broken by the weight of what he had to admit.
"I know," I repeated, my tone gentler than before.
He pulled back slightly, enough for me to see the raw emotion in his silver eyes. Tears brimmed at the edges, threatening to spill over as he searched my face, as if looking for some kind of absolution.
"I’m sorry, for what happened. For Charlie, Frank, the authority," he whispered, his voice full of regret. "I messed up."
I shook my head slightly, steeling myself. "I’m not here for apologies." My voice hardened as I met his gaze. "I’m here to retrieve our beloved goddess’s authority and bring justice for Dungeon Master 10—Julian. I promised him I would. That’s why I’m here."
Hearing this, he finally released me, stepping back, his demeanor filling with a renewed sense of purpose. His hands clenched at his sides, his posture straightening as determination replaced the sorrow in his eyes.
"In that case," Dungeon Master 06 said, his deep voice returning, though the emotion still stubbornly lingered. "Welcome back, ma’am."
I gave him a firm pat on the shoulder, my tone lightening as I grinned. "Worry no more my little Goblin. Mommy’s back."