Riona took off her shoes and socks and dipped her feet into the subterranean lake. However, after barely touching the water's surface with her toes, she quickly pulled them back. Then, cautiously, she immersed her feet up to her ankles.

“Kuu~ it's cold!! But it feels so good after walking for so long!”

The mirror-like water surface, which had not a single ripple, stirred slightly. A few others followed her lead, going barefoot and dipping their feet into the water.

“You're right. It feels so refreshing.”
“This is great. Clears my head too.”
“Ahaha! This feels like a picnic!”
“Whoa, hey! Don't splash around so much!”

Riona smiled and spoke to them.

“Ah, but be careful, okay? It’s hard to sense the presence of aquatic monsters when they’re submerged.”

“Ueh!? Even for Belzhein?”

“Yeah. You really can’t tell at all. Ah, but with water this clear, we can probably spot them visually. Strange ripples appear sometimes too, so as long as you stay alert, you’ll be fine.”

“I see! Yeah, that makes sense!”

They began playing noisily. More and more people were joining in.

“Hey! Don’t get your uniforms wet! They won’t dry that easily!”

Ilga waved a hand as he called out a warning to them.
Beside him, Bernald was assembling some crafting wood he had taken from their heavy luggage. It seemed Fix was preparing to ignite it with magic.

Void found a flat spot, laid down on his back, crossed his legs, and fell asleep.
Be it the rooftop tower or a dungeon—this guy could fall asleep anywhere. In a way, that’s a talent. During retLehants after defeats, people like him are the ones who survive.

They hide in thickets in the mountains or forests to sleep, tear apart small animals or frogs, and feed themselves. I lived that way many times in my previous life. Well, in the end, I died a stupid death. Sorry, Lili.

As for Oujin, he was still swinging his sword even in a place like this.
That signature form of the Karaburi Ittō-ryū—it looked like a sword dance.
But he didn’t seem focused at all, probably because Monica, seated on a rock, was watching him with a dreamy expression. ...Ah, he slipped on the rocky surface and fell. Told you so.

“Oh, it lit.”
“Yeah.”

Turning at the cheerful voices, I saw flames dancing among Bernald’s firewood. Fix held both hands toward the fire.
She wasn’t warming herself—she was controlling the fire.

“We don’t have much to burn. Fix, adjust the flames.”
“Got it. I’ll keep it burning slowly so it doesn’t go out.”

Bernald sluggishly pulled a massive pot from the heavy luggage. He walked to a spot away from the water-playing group and drew water from the underground lake.
Looks like he planned to boil it.
Using the rocks that Team Five had gathered, they built a fire ring and placed the water-filled pot over the fire, suspended across the stones.

Letis asked Bernald,

“Is this water safe? Won’t it upset our stomachs?”

“If boiled, it’s fine. Frontier tribes survive this way. Besides, this groundwater is clearer than Lake Mardius. You can't even see tiny creatures that fish usually feed on.”

“That means there are no fish, and no aquatic monsters that eat them either, right?”

Fix muttered, and Bernald nodded broadly.

“Most likely. No food source means no organisms. It’s just spring water. There may be microorganisms invisible to the naked eye, but most of them die when heated.”

A hand was placed on Bernald’s broad shoulder. It was Ilga.

“It may not be an ancient artifact, but this is a valuable discovery in its own right. It could be a safer water source than surface springs. If this water can even withstand threats like the ‘Westwill Incident,’ His Majesty will be pleased if we report it.”

“Indeed. Perhaps this dungeon was created for that very purpose.”

Another voice joined Bernald’s musing.

“No, I don’t think so.”

This time it was Seneca.
She seemed to have ventured a bit farther and returned with two male members of Team Five. In her arms, she held what looked like a flat slab of rock.

After glancing around, Seneca stepped into the center of those gathered by the fire and held up the slab so everyone could see it.

Ilga widened his eyes.

“Is that... a stone tablet? And it has ancient script engraved on it…!”
“Yes. I couldn’t decipher most of it, but—”

Seneca traced the ancient letters with her finger.

“This one here, I know for sure—it represents ‘magic arts’.”

“Let me see it. If it’s a magical text, I might be able to read it. I’ve read a bunch of magic tomes.”

Fix leaned in.

“Magic arts, research, organism, habitat—this might be a location. ...I can only make out fragments, but... Magical Creature Research Facility?”

For a moment, a chill ran through us.
We were all remembering that malformed dragon. Not just me—everyone’s expression had changed.

As if speaking on behalf of them all, I spat out my thoughts.

“Hey, seriously… Should we really be digging this place up? We might be opening the door to bio-weaponry like those homunculi.”

At my muttering, Ilga looked up.

“But the Republic has already, to an unknown extent, put homunculi into practical use. If the Kingdom does nothing, we’ll be overtaken.”

“Wait a minute—are you saying the Kingdom should possess biological weapons too!?”

Seneca pressed Ilga, but Bernald shook his head.

“That would be a blasphemy against the living.”

“O-of course I know that much. But still… to counter threats…”

It all comes down to Kilpus’s judgment. Or maybe... we just keep our mouths shut and destroy the evidence here and now.

Crack, crack. The quiet popping of firewood and the lively splashing of water echoed through the seventh floor of the Lehan Dungeon.