Natalia scribbled in her notebook, processing everything I had told her.

“So, let me get this straight.” she began, glancing at her notes as if to confirm the details. “You’re saying that Ragnok used a skill called Bull Charge, which allowed him to enhance his speed and physical strength, basically turning him into a living battering ram. You also mentioned Bullhorn Throw—a long-range attack where he hurled his axe with incredible force.” She paused, tapping her pen against the page. “That skill was particularly devastating, wasn’t it?”

I nodded. “It nearly took my head off.”

“And finally, there was that last one—Minotaur's Mighty Cleave—a wide, destructive arc that could cleave through anything in one swing. You’re lucky you survived that one.”

I couldn’t help but smirk. “Lucky’s one way to put it.”

Natalia’s expression didn’t change; she remained professional, her pen flying across the page as she repeated back everything I’d told her, making sure no detail was left out.

“Well, that’s quite a collection of brutal skills,” she said, flipping her notebook shut. “No wonder the man’s reputation is what it is."

Natalia stared at her notes for a moment, tapping the edge of her pen on the table, clearly deep in thought. “It’s strange though.” she muttered.

“All of Ragnok’s skills seem to follow a specific theme—bulls, minotaurs. They all connect back to the same source. It’s most likely tied to a specific floor.”

Of course it was and i already knew which one.

The 60th floor—the Labyrinth of the Horned Lord.

A notorious zone where demonic bull-like creatures roamed, and at the heart of it all was the Minotaur, the fearsome boss of the floor.

Natalia continued, her voice more pensive now. “It’s almost certainly tied to the 60th floor. That floor is infamous for bull like creatures that embody pure, raw power. But what’s truly surprising is that Ragnok somehow managed to get his hands on the Minotaur’s Awakened Crystalized Heart.”

“That would explain how he was able to upgrade his Cleave skill.” she continued, flipping through her notes. “When you use a boss’s awakened crystalized heart to upgrade a skill, the skill doesn’t just improve. It transforms, taking on new properties that reflect the power of the heart. That’s why his skill is now called Minotaur’s Mighty Cleave—the prefix indicates the essence of the Minotaur’s power embedded into the ability.”

I nodded slowly, understanding exactly what she meant. It was similar to what had happened to me.

When my Summon Slime skill upgraded after I used the Viscous Overfiend's heart, it didn’t just stay the same. The skill evolved, gaining the new name Summon Slime of Shapeshifting to reflect its added capabilities.

But the real question was how a level 30 adventurer like Ragnok had managed to get his hands on such a high-level crystal. I frowned, turning that thought over in my mind.

Acquiring such a powerful boss’s heart should have been impossible for someone of his level.

I wasn’t alone in my confusion.

Natalia, now pondering aloud, voiced what I had been thinking. “How in the world did he get his hands on that heart? It’s a drop from the 60th floor, and he’s only at level 30… It doesn’t make sense.” She paused, clearly trying to piece it together. “There are only two possibilities—he either purchased the crystal from someone, or… he has a powerful backing.”

As I mulled over Natalia’s words, everything started to click into place.

A backer… it had to be. There was no way Ragnok could have gotten his hands on something as rare as an Awakened Crystalized Heart from the Minotaur on his own. The sheer value of an item like that was beyond imagination.

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No adventurer, especially one at Ragnok’s level, could have afforded it or acquired it the normal way.

Someone with deep pockets is backing him, nurturing him, increasing his strength.

I leaned back, thinking it through. If that was true, there had to be a bigger reason behind it.

The city of Arn’s was dominated by three main guilds, each with almost unfathomable authority, rivaling even the government and the religious faction.

New guilds popped up all the time, but most of them were affiliated with one of those larger guilds.

If Ragnok is getting this strong, someone with serious influence is preparing him for something...

And that something could only be one of two things.

Either they were preparing for a large-scale expedition to push deeper into the dungeon, or—more likely—they were preparing themselves for war. A power struggle between the factions.

I watched Natalia as she sat deep in thought, her expression serious, no doubt processing the same conclusions I had.

But, to be honest, I didn’t care. Guild politics, power struggles—it wasn’t my problem.

I wasn’t affiliated with any guild, and I couldn’t care less what they did to each other. My focus was survival, plain and simple.

With that in mind, I allowed a faintly carefree expression to settle on my face, leaning back slightly as the tension in the room began to ease.

Natalia eventually stood up, brushing down her outfit and gathering her things. "Well, Leon." she said, "thank you for the information. I’ll let the government registry know about your discount. Just make sure to pay off your debt by the end of the day. Penalties are quite unpleasant."

She turned toward the door but paused mid-step, casting a glance back at me.

Her eyes were sharp, a clear warning. "One more thing—Ragnok isn’t someone who takes humiliation lightly. You’ve made an enemy out of him, and he's not the type to let that slide. Watch your back, whether you’re inside the dungeon or out."

I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding.

Ragnok... I knew she was right. He was a dangerous man with a reputation to uphold. And now, I was in his crosshairs.

With that, she left the room, the door clicking shut behind her.

As soon as it did, the door opened again almost immediately. This time, it was another woman—her appearance starkly different from the official who had just left.

She wore a modest uniform, its design simple and unadorned save for a small symbol embroidered on the upper right corner.

It depicted a pair of interlocking hands holding a radiant sun—an unmistakable mark of the religious faction, known as the Order of the Radiant Dawn.

The emblem represented their core belief: that through unity and faith, one could channel the light to heal and protect.

The sun, shining brightly between the clasped hands, was said to symbolize divine warmth and the light that guides and heals all.

I recognized it immediately. It seems I had been brought to one of their medical centers for healing. The woman, her demeanor soft and welcoming, smiled as she approached.

"Ah, you’re awake." she said kindly. "I’m glad to see you're in good shape. You’ve recovered well."

I nodded, unsure how to respond. Her warmth was genuine, and yet, there was something unsettling about dealing with members of the religious faction.

They were kind, yes—but their unwavering beliefs and rigid demands could often be,... less than compassionate.

The woman continued, "Since you seem to be all healed, you’ll need to vacate the room within the hour. And, of course, there’s the matter of the fees for using our healing services." She handed me a small slip of paper, the fee clearly shown: 10 credits.

Internally, I crumbled. Ten credits!? That was more than a little steep. But I knew better than to argue. After all, I was still alive, and I certainly wouldn’t have been without their intervention. It wasn’t their responsibility to cover the cost just because they brought me here without my explicit agreement.

I sighed, accepting the slip. “Right... I’ll make sure to pay the fee.”

The woman’s smile remained, as though she could sense my internal grumbling but chose not to acknowledge it. "Good. I’ll leave you to gather your things. May the light guide you." She bowed slightly, turned, and exited the room, leaving me alone with my thoughts.

I hated having to fork out credits I barely had, but at the end of the day, it wasn’t like I could refuse. If I did, well… let’s just say their true colors would show real quick.

They might dress themselves up as a benevolent religion, always speaking of unity and the warmth of their light, but I knew better.

The Order of the Radiant Dawn was nothing short of a cult, one that abused its authority to drain money and power from anyone they could, all under the guise of spiritual salvation.

To what end? I’ve never been able to figure it out. Maybe I didn’t want to.

But it was clear to anyone paying attention—what they were doing wasn’t just about faith. It was about control. Influence.

As long as the government, which was already busy directing society into a rigid hierarchy—a system that was basically slavery through debt—kept cooperating with them, it was obvious something darker was at play.

They weren’t just turning a blind eye; they were in on it, working hand-in-hand. And the religious faction? They didn’t just condone it, they supported it, offering their so-called "Goddess’s Gift" artifacts to assist in enforcing this twisted system.

How anyone saw them as good was beyond me.

To me... they seemed worse than the monsters lurking in the dungeons.

At least those creatures didn’t pretend to be something they weren’t.

They were true to their nature—violent, dangerous, and monstrous.

But the Order of the Radiant Dawn? They wrapped themselves in cloaks of righteousness, preaching salvation and care, all while tightening the leash around society’s neck.