Chapter 21: The Aftermath

The Silver Gray Beard Guild buzzed with excitement. News of Jest's party conquering three dungeons in a single day had spread like wildfire through Graybourne's adventuring community. Veterans and novices alike crowded the hall, their usual routines forgotten as they debated the impossible feat.

"Three Gold rank parties tried the Crystal Caverns last month," a scarred warrior was saying. "One didn't make it back. The second barely escaped. And the third lost a member and failed their attempt."

"And the Howling Depths?" another adventurer chined in. "That place changes its layout weekly. No one maps it properly."

"The Serpent's Coil though..." A poison specialist shook her head. "That's what gets me. The toxic concentration should have killed them just from breathing."

At the main counter, Jest and his party—Marina, Kestrel, Rook, and Thorn—stood as Victor Draven addressed the gathered adventurers. The guildmaster's expression was carefully neutral, but there was a tension in his shoulders that betrayed his unease.

Draven folded his arms. "Three dungeons. One day. No casualties. You do realize most teams take at least a week to clear one?"

Kestrel smirked, spinning an arrow between his fingers. "What can I say? We work fast."

"And we don't leave loose ends," Rook added, his earth-attuned senses still tingling from the day's exertions.

A few adventurers murmured, some impressed, others skeptical. Gorn, a Silver-ranked axe-wielder known for both his strength and his grudges, pushed through the crowd. His massive frame, scarred from years of dungeon-diving, towered over most present.

"No way you pulled that off legit," he growled. "Even top-ranked Gold parties don't move that fast. And you're telling me a fresh team with a silver-rank buffer did it?" He spat. "I've lost too many friends to those dungeons to believe that."

Jest leaned against the counter, his mask reflecting the guild hall's lamplight. "You're free to check the dungeon floors yourselves. I left them spotless." There was something in his tone that made even Gorn pause.

More murmurs rippled through the crowd. Marcus, a veteran adventurer who'd been with the guild for twenty years, stroked his gray beard thoughtfully. "I heard Jest soloed a dungeon before forming his team. Maybe that's how?"

"The mask," someone whispered. "No one's seen his face."

"They say he appeared out of nowhere..."

Marina tilted her head, her barrier magic humming just beneath her skin. "Luck? We fought through three dungeon bosses with zero injuries and cleared the entire map. That's not luck—that's skill."

"And tactics," Thorn added quietly. The young buffer's presence had changed since their dungeon run. He stood straighter, more confident, his enhancement magic leaving subtle ripples in the air around him.

Gorn's knuckles whitened around his axe handle. He opened his mouth, but any further discussion was cut short as Victor Draven raised a hand for silence.

"Regardless of opinions," Draven's voice carried authority earned through decades of leadership, "the results speak for themselves. With Jest at Platinum rank and the rest of you meeting the Gold standard, I am officially registering your team as a Gold-Rank Adventuring Party under the Silver Fang Guild."

A hush fell over the guild. Then—cheers erupted from those who had supported Jest's team, while others exchanged worried glances.

"Took 'em long enough," Kestrel grinned, though his eyes never left Gorn's hostile form.

Rook fist-bumped Jest, the earth mage's solid presence a counterpoint to the tension in the air. "We're climbing fast. Next stop, Platinum."

"One step at a time," Jest replied, but there was an edge to his voice that made several nearby adventurers step back.

The crowd began to disperse, breaking into small groups that whispered among themselves. Some spoke of celebration, others of suspicion. But all of them knew—something was changing in the adventuring world, and Jest's team was at the center of it.

Draven's office proved a stark contrast to the guild hall's chaos. Maps covered the walls, each marked with notes and symbols that tracked decades of expeditions. Trophy cases held remnants of legendary monsters—a drake's fang, a golem's core, the crystallized essence of a wind spirit. But it was the bookshelf that drew Jest's attention.

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"This book has been in my possession for thirty years," Draven said, pulling a weathered tome from a hidden compartment. The leather binding bore no title, but strange symbols were worked into its surface. "It's called the Tales of a Dungeon King. Most think it's just a story, but I've always believed there's truth in it."

He laid it carefully on his desk, the pages crackling as he opened them. The illustrations inside were unlike anything Jest had seen—intricate drawings of vast underground complexes, shadowy figures commanding armies of monsters, and strange symbols that seemed to shift when viewed directly.

"I found it in the ruins of an ancient library," Draven continued, turning pages with practiced care. "Most of the text was illegible, but the illustrations..." He paused at a particular page. "Well, see for yourself."

Jest leaned in, scanning the old illustrations—sketches of vast dungeons, shadowy figures, and armies of monsters. His gaze stopped on one particular image—a giant rat-like creature wearing a jagged crown, surrounded by an endless swarm of smaller rats.

His breath hitched.

It was the Rat King.

"This... This is my familiar," Jest said softly, studying the exact details that matched his own shadow-enhanced beast.

Draven raised an eyebrow, though he didn't seem entirely surprised. "I thought so. That confirms my suspicion." He turned to another page, revealing an illustration of a serpentine creature wreathed in shadows. "Just like these confirm other things I've noticed."

Jest looked up sharply. "Suspicion?"

"The Dungeon King wasn't just a legend—he was real, or at least something close." Draven tapped another illustration, this one showing a masked figure standing atop a mountain of monster corpses. "He didn't just conquer dungeons. He ruled them. Changed them. Made them extensions of his will."

Jest sat back, staring at the pages that seemed to mirror his own recent achievements. "So what? Are you saying I'm supposed to follow in his footsteps?"

Draven's gaze was unreadable as he studied Jest's mask. "I don't know. But you're walking a path few have tread. Be careful, Jest. If this book is right, there's a price to power. The last pages..." He hesitated. "They're stained with something that might be blood."

As Jest emerged from Draven's office, Gorn stood waiting in the hallway, his massive axe propped against the wall.

"You think you're special?" Gorn's voice carried years of bitterness. "I've seen plenty of 'prodigies' die in those dungeons. Your fancy mask doesn't make you different."

Jest's shadow rat emerged, its third eye studying the larger man. "Move."

"Make me." Gorn grabbed his axe. "In fact, let's settle this properly. I challenge you to a duel."

The surrounding adventurers fell silent. Duels were rare in the Silver Gray Beard Guild - too much risk of losing valuable members.

"Training hall," Jest said simply. "Now."

The guild's underground training hall was vast, its walls reinforced with magic to contain even the most powerful abilities. Torchlight cast dancing shadows as adventurers crowded the observation areas.

"Standard duel rules," Draven announced, having followed to officiate. "First to yield or become incapacitated loses. Death strikes are forbidden."

Gorn hefted his enchanted axe, the blade gleaming with stored power. "Let's see what you're really made of, mask-wearer."

Jest said nothing. His shadow rat circled him once, then vanished.

"Begin!"

Gorn charged immediately, his axe trailing blue fire. He was fast for his size, and the attack would have split a lesser opponent in half.

Jest didn't move.

Just before the axe struck, a massive form materialized between them. The Shadow Revenant, its armor drinking in the torchlight, caught the axe with one hand.

The hall fell silent.

The Revenant lifted Gorn off his feet, axe and all, with contemptuous ease. The Silver-rank adventurer's eyes widened as he dangled helplessly.

"Impossible," he choked out. "No summon is this strong—"

The Revenant slammed him into the ground. Once. Twice. On the third impact, Gorn's axe clattered away and he went limp.

"Yield," Jest commanded.

"I... yield..."

But Jest wasn't finished. Dark mist filled the hall as his other familiars manifested. The Void Serpent coiled around the walls, its scales absorbing light. The Shadow Prism hovered above, reality bending around its crystalline form.

"You wanted to know how I cleared three dungeons?" Jest's voice carried to every corner of the suddenly darkened hall. "I could have done it alone. These are just a fraction of my power."

He approached the fallen warrior, shadows writhing around him. "Remember this moment, Gorn. Remember what true power looks like." His mask seemed to glow in the darkness. "Next time you challenge me, I won't be so merciful." Following this Jest pulled out 2 daggers from his back and left Gorn with a nasty Scar as he made his face look like jests mask as he carved his face from lip to the end of his jaw bone. "Let this be a reminder of my mercy." Said Jest.

The familiars vanished, light returning to the hall. Gorn lay trembling, his proud defiance shattered. Around them, adventurers whispered in awe and fear.

Jest turned to address them all. "I am different. I don't seek your friendship or approval. Cross me, and you'll learn exactly how different I am."

He left them there, his shadow rat's third eye gleaming with satisfaction. Behind him, Gorn's quiet sobs echoed in the suddenly empty hall.

The message was clear. Jest wasn't just powerful - he was dangerous. And Graybourne's adventuring community would never forget it.

Meanwhile, in Etheria's royal palace, a very different conversation was taking place. King Alistair sat upon his grand throne of obsidian and gold, the crown of the realm glinting in the light of enchanted crystals. The throne room's vast windows showed the capital spreading below, but the king's attention was fixed on the cloaked figure kneeling before him.

"Your Majesty," the spy reported, their voice carefully modulated, "an unknown adventurer called Jest has conquered three dungeons in a single day. His team has reached Gold Rank, and there are... unusual reports about the dungeons themselves."

King Alistair tapped his ring-clad fingers against the armrest, each ring holding enough magical power to level a small town. "Three dungeons... And no injuries?"

"None, Your Majesty. But the dungeons have changed. The Serpent's Coil no longer produces poison. The Howling Depths' winds have quieted. And the Crystal Caverns..." The spy hesitated. "Reality itself seems altered there."

A long silence followed, broken only by the subtle humming of the palace's defensive wards. Then, Alistair turned his gaze toward the knight standing beside his throne—a towering warrior clad in steel-gray armor that seemed to drink in light.

"Garret Valst," Alistair said, his voice calm yet carrying the weight of royal command. "Find this 'Jest' and test him."

The knight, known throughout the realm as the Steel Dragon of Etheria, placed a hand over his chest in salute. His armor made no sound as he moved, a testament to its magical nature. "As you command, Your Majesty." His voice was deep, resonating with power that matched his fearsome reputation.

As Valst strode from the throne room, whispers followed in his wake. The Steel Dragon hadn't been deployed since the Demon Lord's invasion five years ago. Whatever Jest had done, he'd caught the attention of powers far beyond the usual adventuring circles.

Later that night, Jest sat alone in his private quarters, consulting his system. The day's events played through his mind—the guild's reactions, Draven's book, and the subtle signs he'd noticed of being watched.

A familiar blue screen hovered before him.

[Skill Points Available: 60]

He had yet to use any, saving them for the perfect moment. His eyes flickered over the available options, scanning for something useful. Then, one skill caught his attention.

[Dungeon Transverse – Cost: 20 Skill Points]

Creates corridors that link conquered dungeons, allowing for instant travel between them.

Jest's fingers hovered over the selection. This would be a game-changer. With his three conquered territories, the tactical advantages would be enormous.

Jest thought to himself, "What kind of broken ass skill is this?

He confirmed the purchase.

A surge of energy coursed through his body. His mind expanded, his perception shifting as new pathways formed between every dungeon he had cleared.

A slow grin spread across his face.

"This changes everything."

His shadow rat's third eye gleamed in the darkness, sensing the new connections forming. Tomorrow, they would test this power. But for now, Jest had plans to make.

The game was evolving, and he intended to stay several steps ahead.