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Code: RChdBYypva


Rimuru was shaken awake.

"What did you do!?"

Quickly shaking off his drowsiness, he checked his surroundings. In front of his face was the Blade's own, whose expression was none other than sheer panic. He looked at the ceiling above and saw two distorting portals. Ah. Those must be the historical dungeons.

Ciel sensed a sidetrack incoming, so she activated Accelerated Thought, which he didn't even notice.

Historical dungeons were a sophisticated kind of art. Its creation was a culmination of both Ramiris' and Zegion's dungeon designing strategy and ideas that took millenia to complete. It was basically a dungeon catered to each individual that entered it. It didn't create a completely new area for the individual. No. Instead, it created a nearly perfect copy of a historical event that the dungeon deemed appropriate for the individual to experience. Of course, Ciel played a part in determining which individual had to go through which event.

The main problem they discovered was that the amount of magicules needed to stabilize the dungeon cost way more than the magicules needed to create it, which by itself was already ridiculously high. The current Voice of the World on this planet didn't have that many magicules to spare. The portals above him began to vibrate unevenly. Yep. Unstable.

Meanwhile, the Blade was panicking over the sudden appearance of not just one, but two whole dungeons! Both portals sucked the three kids in before they could even react. The only one who could explain this was the blue haired woman who was rubbing her eyes lazily.

"What the fuck happened!?"

He tried to pull on her collar, but she moved aside swiftly.

"Those," the woman pointed, " are what happens when you recklessly try to form soul corridors without much knowledge, and then fuck up badly."

This wasn't exactly true, but it was a much easier explanation.

"How in the fuck do we even fix this?" asked Volgoa, pointing at the transdimensional holes. "I wouldn't exactly feel assured if those things are stuck under the same roof where my niece and nephew sleep."

Vic shared her agreement.

Rodrick's mind was far too broken to even process what was happening. Poor fool.

"Well, there are two options. One, we let the kids sort it out. Let them complete the dungeons all by themselves. The other is to help them by entering the portals ourselves. But--"

"Hup!" the Blade shouted.

Rimuru blinked.

"He just jumped in behind me, didn't he?"

At their nods, he sighed.

"I'm coming to save you, Felicia!" yelled Rodrick as he sprinted to where the portals were, only to be knocked out by Rimuru with a chop to the neck.

"All right, does anyone else want to ignore my warnings?" asked Rimuru as he threw the downed man on the bed.

The Goa siblings shook their heads.

"As I was saying, these portals are very unstable and are unlike any other dungeon you know of. I won't get into details what consequences these things bring, but of what happens when you enter them. In short, when you enter, your spawn point is randomly determined, meaning that there is no way of telling where you're going to land. For all I know, you might just land into the boss area without knowing. The other is the time dilation. Because of some complicated reason regarding the dimension's size and this world's size, along with its instability, the time dilation is quite large. As we speak, the Blade has probably been hours long into his search."

Rimuru paused to let that sink in before asking, "So, who's coming with me?"

Neither answered. Volgoa coughed and said, "Uhh, I think you and the Blade have got this one covered. B-But we'll guard the entrance, at least."

"All right then," he nodded. "So, which one did the Blade enter?"

Rimuru wasn't that worried about what would happen to Jack. The best thing about the historical dungeons was that they completely understood your skills and character. It meant that as long as Jack stayed true to himself and that he put his skills to use wisely, he'd be fine. What he was worried about was Felicia's side. The reason was because historical dungeons only catered to one person and one person only. Having multiple people come in would put a lot of strain on the dungeon along with its consumption. Combined with the fact that these things were unstable, there were several terrible, terrible things that could happen inside. One, the dungeon's difficulty would increase exponentially because a far stronger being appeared, i.e. the Blade. Another was that the dungeon would malfunction and start devouring the three's magicules, killing them in the process. The last and worst was, similar to the second, the dungeon would malfunction, but this time would begin to deplete the world's magicules at an extreme rate. The Voice would be of no help because it would be the first thing to be severely affected. The only reason he wasn't afraid entering was that historical dungeons were unable to cater towards him, possibly because his sensory defenses were too high for them to even detect him, or that there was no point in history that could give him a challenge. He'd known about this because he'd subjected himself to this test. In fact, he was the reason they'd created this concept in the first place. He'd been so bored of the fact that nothing could ever challenge him that he wanted something that could have even the remote chance of giving him a challenge without threatening the people around him, so he pitched a meeting with the two most experienced dungeoneers, Ramiris and Zegion.

{Master, I can safely deactivate them if you—}

Perhaps Ciel felt guilty that she essentially gave him a chore to do, or that she thought of a better idea than this, but he wasn't having any of it.

" Now, just hold it for a minute. This was your idea. You should at least see through it until it ends. If not both, then at least Jack's part."

After being told which one it was, Rimuru jumped in to help.


Jack coughed. This room was definitely not used very often. The still white brick walls that surrounded him added to the fact. He was currently sitting on a metal chair, his hands cuffed to a metal table. On one side of the room was a door and a wide rectangular mirror. He would've been convinced he were alone if he didn't hear muffled noises from the one-way mirror.

"Can I be the bad cop this time, boss!?" said a female voice.

A gruff masculine one replied, "No! This is a serious matter! We can't risk you screwing this up!"

"B-But, he's just a kid. A-And you promised last time..." the voice shook.

"Wait, wait! Don't cry!"

As the voice started to sob, the male one relented, "All right, all right! You can be the bad cop this time."

"Yay!"

The female then asked, "So, what should I say?"

The male sighed and said, "Repeat after me: Surrender all your information willingly, or face consequences!"

"'Kay!"

The door handle then twitched—not unlike how Jack's eye did—before the metal door opened.

A green blur entered the room, quickly shouting, "We surrender!"

Jack didn't need his skill to recognize the sound of a facepalm.

"Ah, I messed it up!"

Before the door was a green skinned woman wearing neat clothing, followed by another equally green man in a fine brown overcoat. Though Jack was skeptical of their competence, the both of them quickly closed in on him and immediately started questioning him.

"Who do you work for!? You may look like a short scrawny kid, but how do I know you're not just some dwarven spy!?" shouted the woman as she pointed at him accusingly.

"Whoah, whoah, easy there!" said the man as he calmed the other down.

He sighed once more and said, "I think we got off on the wrong foot. We're not here to harm you or anything. We just want to know why you've been snooping near the city. A normal kid wouldn't have survived long in Jura, you know?

"But before that, let us introduce ourselves. I am Gob-Grassland-Four-Hundred-Twenty, but you can call me Ford. The one with me is—"

As if turned by a switch, the woman's countenance changed. "Gob-Grassland-Four! But my friends call me Four-chan!"

A big smile etched itself on her face, as if she didn't just shout to his face something about short spies. Just thinking about it annoyed him.

"I'm not short. I'm still growing," grumbled the boy.

He wondered if he should refrain from giving them his name, but remembered he already gave it to the other one earlier. Mom also said to be polite to those who were polite to him.

"Name's Jack. People call me, well, also Jack."

"All right Well-Also-Jack, if that's even your real name, tell us where you hid the treasure!"

What the heck was this chick smoking?

(A/N: Now, this chapter's far from complete, but the guys (and gals and the non-binary pals) on the Discord server told me to separate it into smaller chunks. Coupled with the fact that it's a holiday today, I figured I'll just post this part now. It's a bit infodumpy, so, sorry 'bout that. If you wanna join the server, link's above the chapter and also in my Bio!)