I look around and move a few steps forward, deciding to take the lead in the discussion.

"I need to know what level everyone here is at, first," I say. "I really don't think we should split up into smaller groups at all."

"Okay, what makes you say that?" Vyrrak asks, stepping back, giving me space to take control of the conversation.

"Even if you guys can punch through Peak-Platinum or even Early-Diamond monsters, you would be expending too much power to keep up that level of output for the whole dungeon. I think we should all move as one cohesive unit. If I can get to know what everyone's Roles and strengths are, we could easily form one large team of Champions supported by our Squires that will continually rotate through fresh fighters as we delve. If we manage our time and energy well, we will either fall prey to the hordes of monsters attacking us or take too long to complete this Quest. If we waste weeks—or heaven forbid, months—we might fail our courses back at the Academy. Vice Principal John said it's our responsibility to manage our time. I think this is what the Vice Principal was hinting at when he told us to manage our time."

Everyone nods at my words, but a silence hangs in the air. Finally, Princess Iskara speaks up.

"I'm a Support," she declares.

Everyone looks at her with eyes widening in disbelief.

"In any normal group, I'd be considered a Breaker," she explains. "But my Class's primary function is to empower myself and others. My specialty is physical buffs, which also makes me a strong hand-to-hand fighter."

"I'm a Dagger," Vyrrak says curtly.

"I'm a Breaker," Asterion says, almost disappointed after finding out that both Iskara and Vyrrak don't simply rely on their overwhelming power to fight.

"I'm a Shield," Kai says.

"Me too," Sabrina Margrave agrees.

"Breaker," Orrivane coughs. "I can't really do much else. My spells are too… destructive. I'm almost useless outside of combat."

"I am the same," Boomgar says, slapping his chest. "But I don't specialize in small attacks like the mage here," he continues, pointing at Orrivane. "I'm a Breaker of Hordes."

"Breaker," Kaelrik says curtly, looking at me.

"I'm a Guide and a Support," Zibrek sighs. "My specialty is in Magical Engineering as you might already know."

I can sense a hint of dissatisfaction in the Goblin girl's voice. I expect it's because she thought she would lead this group since she's the only Champion to say she is a Guide so far.

In total, it looks like we have one Support, one Dagger, four Breakers, two shields, and two Guides, including me.

I listen as all the Squires explain their own powers, and then I look back at Lancelot and the Elves.

I need Lancelot to become stronger quickly. He'd be an excellent Breaker. With the Elves being a Dagger, Breaker, and Shield respectively, we're almost a balanced party. Perhaps, if we work on our coordination, we could jump directly to Monster Felling 401 soon.

* * *

A few hours Later in a secluded cave

"Do we know if they are coming yet?" Malrik, a man clad in black robes with a tightly contained Diamond-Rank aura, asks.

"They've just disembarked," Taron, Taron, an enormous man, as wide as he is tall, with an aura that lags just behind Malrik's in strength, replies. "I can sense it, the Generation of Legends is coming. The divination was successful, sir."

"Good. They will have no idea what is going to hit them. They will never have experienced the kind of traps we've set for them in the Dungeon. Who are these Champions, anyway?" Malrik spits on the ground. "They're all spoiled brats with no idea of how the world really works. As soon as our Lord wakes up, we'll regain our rightful place in the world."

With blood spilling from his palm, Malrik makes several hand gestures and, with a twist of his mana, causes blood mirrors to manifest around them. The blood mage's constructs show multiple-angle views of clear images of the Champions as they enter the Tomb of Fate.

Malrik looks down at the parchment in front of him, reading the hastily scrawled notes contained within.

"Those three," he says, pointing at the three leading the group, "are the Infernal Princess, the Dragonkin King, and the Highblood from the Tribe of Stars."

Then he frowns, squinting harder at the blood mirror.

"Who's that other kid at the front with them?" His eyes scan the parchment, causing his frown to deepen when he can't easily find the information. Fortunately, his ability to feel their auras from the mirror enables him to investigate further.

"It isn't the Void Mage, nor the swordsman. Is he Kai Valemont, perhaps? But why would he be leading the expedition?"

"No, sir," Taron replies, "the Valemont Champion is the one with the large sword on his shoulder. Up the back there, the one who looks like a brute."

"Wait. It can't be, is that the False Champion?" Malrik's eyes stop on the last entry on the report.

[Jacob Cloud: passed the Champion's Selection through sheer luck. The Champion with the weakest power level of the Generation of Legends. Role: Guide. Power level: Peak Gold-Rank. Infernal Class Set based on the Hellfire's Sword Skill.]

You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

"He's just a Peak Gold-Rank?" Malrik says, stunned. "Is this a joke? Did we somehow get faulty intelligence again?" He says, waving the scroll in Taron's face angrily.

"No, sir. I've double-checked all the information contained within. Cloud is definitely weak. All sources point to him being the most useless Champion from this generation."

"And they let him lead? How arrogant," Malrik sighs. "They must really believe that our dungeon is going to be a cakewalk for them. They mustn't know that we've already made extensive preparations for this moment. I'm glad we can finish this mission early, as the very first bridge they cross will spell their doom."

* * *

We bypassed a large city and settled outside the Tomb of Fate.

From the outside, the Tomb appears as a gigantic black portal inside two massive stone doors carved into the side of a mountain. The whole look of it is extremely ominous.

Since we already have all the supplies needed for this mission, I look at everyone and jump into giving directions.

"My team," I say, looking at Lancelot, Althir, and the other two Elves, "stay behind me."

"I would like Sabrina on my right and Kaelrik on my left. Followed by Asterion on one flank of the group, and Kai on the other. Boomgar, Orrivane, and Zibrek, I'd like you holding up the rear. Zibrek, you have great eyes, right?"

The Goblin girl nods.

"Okay, can you make sure nothing sneaks up on us? If you see anything, alert everybody. If we encounter large threats, we'll adjust our positioning on the fly. Everybody else, unless specifically named, you're to surround and escort our core group. Are there any questions?"

"Cloud, we are meant to protect the Princess, not some—"

"Princess," I say, turning to Iskara. "Are you ok with my arrangements?"

Iskara nods and shoots a withering glance at Eliskar, who shuts up immediately.

"Alright, then, here we go."

I move to enter the portal and look at Sabrina.

"Ladies first," I smile cheekily, gesturing for her to enter.

Sabrina Margrave shoots daggers at me with her eyes, but she's beaten into the Dungeon by Princess Iskara, who casually steps through the portal without protest. Not wanting to be one-upped, Sabrina Margrave follows immediately after her.

I follow them through the portal and feel my eyes widen as I witness the most apocalyptic scenario I've ever seen.

There are black clouds that flash with lightning above us, which are complemented by an oppressive presence from this place. One by one, we appear on a large platform made of black stone. In front of us, there is a creaky rope bridge connecting to what appears to be a basin at the foot of a tall, dark mountain range.

The surrounding landscape is desolate and barren, and is mostly rock with no greenery in sight.

"The Tomb of Fate is starting to feel like an apt name," I mutter to myself while scanning the surroundings for threats.

"Boss, are you sure you actually need me for this mission?" I turn while Lancelot continues. "Can't I just go home? I actually have this terrible stomachache. I'm really sick, boss. I swear. You've got all these Champions, you'll be fine."

I grab Lancelot by the collar of his large shirt as he starts backpedalling toward the entrance.

"You're not going anywhere," I tell him. "You told me you wanted to get stronger, didn't you? Then be quiet and compose yourself. All the weaker monsters are going to be handled by the Squires and our Party, so get ready."

As soon as everybody has come through the portal, I notice Vyrrak stepping forward.

"I'll go scouting," he announced, moving towards the bridge.

I look at the bridge with more attention and manage to place a hand on his chest to stop him from moving.

"One second."

Grimoire. Analysis.

[Analyzing]

[Mediocre Bridge (Cursed)]

[Curse of the Weary (True Diamond Rank Skill) - Level 79]

[Curse of the Weary: once it strikes the target, it slowly seeps into their blood, muscles, and bones, draining the target and empowering the curse further until the target is left with no mana and stamina.]

* * *

"Look! They're about to step on the bridge!" Malrik says, rubbing his hands together gleefully, while watching the Champions.

This is how he killed all the Knights who had entered previously. They didn't have the presence of mind to go back to the entrance before his Curse sapped them of all their energy, instead choosing to continue along the bridge. Curse of the Weary has a secondary effect on people's cognition, with their thoughts growing more clouded as they become more tired. That's what made so many people try to push through.

And even though there are a Dragonkin, Infernal, and Highblood in the party, Malrik knows that they're not immune to Curses of his strength.

This is one of his most powerful Curses available at Diamond-Rank. He received the Skill as a Blessing from his Lord, to recognise the sacrifices he made for Him.

"They will soon be drained, and we'll be able to make short work of them. We'll use the strong karmic bonds from their blood to wake up our Lord sooner than anticipated!" Malrik laughs like a crazed man, with Taron smiling from the side.

When only the Guide of the group, the False Champion, and the Dragonkin step closer to the bridge, Malrik and Taron look questioningly at each other. When they're followed by only the Goblin Engineer, they start questioning aloud.

"Why are they waiting? Should we have made it more convincing by repairing the bridge more?" Taron asks.

"It's a Dungeon-made bridge," Malrik frowns. "Plus, they can secure themselves with ropes of their own before crossing. Heh, whatever. The Goblin Champion is an Engineer. She's probably just making sure of the structural integrity. But she has no way of catching that there's a True Diamond Curse placed on it. The moment they touch any part of the bridge, the Curse is going to stick to them and start infecting their blood! AHAHAH!"

However, as seconds become minutes, Malrik grows more and more suspicious of their behaviour. He again makes a series of complex hand signs, causing sound to start coming through the blood mirrors that surround him.

"—I'll take care of it."

He hears the Dragonkin say, and then he sees the young man open his maw and spit a veritable ocean of fire over the bridge.

"WHAT ARE THEY DOING?!" Malrik says, dismayed.

Dragonkin fire is so powerful that it can actually destroy Curses. Curses are like Enchantments, but their subtle nature makes them easily destroyed if you can perceive them. But no one there, no one below a True Diamond-Ranked Knight, should have been able to detect the Curse!

The bridge disintegrates under the Dragonkin's terrifying fire, and so does the curse.

The remaining Champions all stand there for a moment as if waiting for something. Malrik and Taron watch, stunned as the Goblin girl raises her hands, causing runes to appear around her. In an instant, the stone starts bending from behind them, and it forms a beautiful, arched bridge between the starting platform and the Dungeon proper.

"HOW DID THEY KNOW?!" Malrik howls, trembling with rage.

"WHATEVER! IT IS NO PROBLEM. WE HAVE SO MANY MORE CURSES AND TRAPS LAID OUT FOR THEM! THEY'LL BE TAKEN TO THE ABYSS BEFORE THEY EVEN REALIZE IT!"

At that point, he noticed the False Champion staring straight into one of the mirrors and smiled at them, almost as if he could see them through his constructs.

But Malrik knows that's impossible. His blood magic is far too refined for anyone at mere Gold-Rank to notice such a thing.

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