Huh

Keaks leaned against the cool stone wall, arms crossed, trying his best to drown out the uneasy murmurs of the other adventurers around him.

Sure, the ground shaking wasn't exactly normal here on the 18th floor, but why get rattled over something that didn't even concern him? Life was good. He had the best Familia, the Hermes Familia, with good friends and a place that felt like home. Asfi was even starting to warm up to him… eventually.

And besides, today was supposed to be a break from all the craziness—the whole reason he'd come down here to Rivira was for a taste of that spicy wine the dwarf sold in the marketplace, a brew worth every risk.

But, as always, something had to go wrong. Some dumbass, mortal or divine, had probably triggered the Dungeon's wrath, because entrance to the 17th floor had sealed itself tight. Whatever was going on down there was big—Dungeon big, the kind of trouble he usually made a point to avoid.

A deep rumble rolled through the ground beneath his feet, and Keaks shifted his stance, cursing under his breath as the tremors grew stronger, spreading ripples through the thin puddles pooled in the stone's cracks. The far-off sounds of what could only be the Goliath's bellow rumbled up through the walls, loud enough that he could practically feel the noise buzzing through his bones. Just perfect. The damn thing had respawned. And judging by the fury in its roars, someone was facing off with it, probably pinned in the worst of situations.

But that wasn't his problem. No, Keaks wasn't looking to die today. If the poor souls fighting down there lost, it would just mean the barrier would lift and spill whatever mess they'd left behind right up here.

He started pacing, keeping a calculated distance from the sealed stone archway that led to the 17th floor. The other adventurers were a mix of pale faces and nervous laughter, huddling around each other, their hands twitching toward weapons. Level twos and threes, but a notch or two weaker than him; the ones who could handle the 18th floor but weren't crazy enough to go solo on the 17th.

"Think it's over yet?" a guy muttered to his friend, voice a little too high-pitched to be casual.

Keaks shot him a sidelong look, lips twisting into a smirk. "You go check if you're so curious."

Just then, another quake rocked the floor, sending a deep, rumbling shudder through the walls. This one felt different, final somehow—like a closing fist. And then… silence.

Dead silence. The kind that pressed in around you, so heavy it made even breathing feel risky. Keaks stopped in his tracks, eyes fixed on the sealed stone, a pulse of apprehension cutting through the calm he'd been clinging to. His mouth felt dry. He swallowed.

A few adventurers around him exchanged uneasy glances, and then, as if on cue, one of them broke away from the group and took off toward the path back to Rivira, his hurried steps echoing through the cavern. The others hesitated, and then one by one, they followed, muttering under their breath about how they hadn't signed up for this.

Keaks watched them go, a wry chuckle escaping him. "Yeah, run while you still can, cowards."

But as he turned back toward the entrance, the stone barrier shuddered, cracks webbing out from its center. He barely had time to brace himself before the seal shattered, shards of rock tumbling to the floor in a clattering avalanche, leaving the way to the 17th floor open and dark.

For a second, he squinted into the shadows, expecting the hulking silhouette of the Goliath to loom from the darkness. But there was… nothing. Just the yawning mouth of the stone passage and an empty stretch of floor, undisturbed. No blood, no debris, no sign of a fight. Even the familiar scent of monster guts or charred earth was missing. Just… nothing.

He took a few tentative steps forward, crossing the threshold into the arched room that marked the start of the 17th floor, the cavern wide and hollow, its silence stretching unbroken from one side to the other. His confusion flared, but it quickly ebbed, replaced by a dry, creeping indifference. Whatever mess this was, it was above his pay grade, and he wasn't about to go poking his nose into it.

He shrugged, his shoulders relaxing as his face slipped into a smirk.

 "Not my problem," he muttered, the words punctuated by a low whistle as he turned on his heel, hands tucked casually behind his head. There was a saying he'd learned early on in his adventuring days: some hornet nests were better left alone, unless you wanted a sting that'd take you down faster than any monster's bite. The Dionysus Familia was one such nest—not that he'd had any firsthand experience, of course. That would've been suicide.

Whatever had happened here was no different. Someone else's problem, someone else's mystery. He'd just tell Asfi when he saw her, and she could figure out what to do with it.

Keaks strolled back toward the path leading to the 18th floor, a spring in his step as he started whistling a tune he'd picked up from a bard ages ago.

The thought of that spicy wine pulled him forward, a reminder of the simpler pleasures he'd come all this way to enjoy. As for whatever chaos had stirred on the floor above… let it rest with the stones and shadows. He had better things to worry about.