An Extra’s POV
chapter-449

[Day of The Dungeon Conquest]

[Location: West of the City, Entrance Of The Grand Calamity Class Dungeon]

"YEAAHHHHHHHHH!!!"

The evening was bursting with life was every Adventurer in the area roared with incredible vigor.

Thousands upon thousands of Adventurers could be seen, all in their respective gear, as they roared with both exhilaration and determination.

The time had finally come—the climax that had been building up for the past few days.

Everyone's face, the ones that weren't hidden underneath helmets, masks, or hoods, depicted excitement.

Many had greedy looks in their eyes. Some appeared scared, while others just slightly unnerved.

Some Adventurers knew they were not qualified to enter the Dungeon, but held onto the hope that as long as the top-class Adventurers were present, they could just leech off them and enjoy whatever leftovers they could get.

They were especially glad to see that the Heroic Rank Adventurers were standing right in front of everyone—leading the march to collective prosperity.

The Scavengers were also present, though they preferred to stay at the rear.

Their approach was to wait and see just what kind of reward they could benefit once everyone had gotten their full or became complacent.

It astronomically reduced the risk on their end, and as long as they held out for long enough, they could gain a lot of spoils—all without hardly lifting a finger.

Just as Guildmaster Richard estimated, the number of Adventurers in the vast western desert was almost ten thousand.

A total 9,870 Adventurers were present for the Conquest—nearly twice the number that showed up during the last one of such a kind that took place three hundred years ago.

Not only did they have more members, but the number of Heroic Rank Adventurers was also astronomically higher.

All in all, they had surpassed their ancestors.

It was their duty to see this though to the very end and make them proud.

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"Looks like some people didn't listen and get their face masks…" Sherlock said with a sigh.

He stood among the rest of his peers, the Heroic Rank Adventurers. It felt a bit odd, seeing as he was the shortest among them, but he chose to ignore the fact and hoped everyone also did the same.

Thankfully, no one brought it up.

"They must be confident of their tolerance level. I mean, look at us." Richard smiled at Sherlock. "We're also not wearing any."

"That's because we're stronger, obviously." Britta sighed.

The quality of their Mana was a lot greater than Miasma that would be drifting in the air, so there was really no chance for them to be poisoned with such a method.

Besides, even though none of them went out and said it, all the Heroic Rank Adventurers had masks among the load they carried. Not only that, but they had Mana Potions of all kinds so they could treat Miasma Poisoning if it ever happened to them.

Of course, given the limited amount they carried, it was doubtful that they would share their goods with careless Adventurers.

"I suppose this is a good opportunity for peddlers to make some money." Sherlock shrugged. "I even saw a bunch of them on my way here."

It wasn't strange for peddlers to enter Dungeons, especially if it was a large scale operation like a Raid or Conquest.

That way, they could sell their goods at absurdly high rates. Depending on the difficulty of the Dungeon, and the desperation of the Adventurers inside, their rates could go from three times more than the usual market price to up to ten times.

The Adventurers involved would have no choice but to buy those items—whether it be Potions or Enchanted Items—due to their precarious situation.

That alone made it a profitable venture; enough for peddlers to risk their lives by entering dangerous Dungeons… just to make a lot of money.

"Well, there's no need to focus on those behind us. It should be the opposite, don't you agree, Jet?"

As the Guildmaster's words echoed amongst the strong, everyone cast their gaze on the man in his dark coat and gentlemanly hat.

Even now, he held his briefcase like a traveling businessman, and he gave off an air of formality.

More importantly, he had remained quiet for most of the conversation.

Until now.

"I wouldn't say I agree, but… I do know one thing." Jet glanced left and right, ensuring his eyes met every single one of his comrades.

Then, he stared ahead, at the massive entrance of the Dungeon.

"A Dungeon does not discriminate between the strong or weak. If we don't focus on the task at hand, we could be the ones to die."

His words had a grim tone attached to them as he spoke the grim truth.

There were cases of strong Adventurers dying in Dungeons, just as there were circumstances where weaklings were slaughtered.

Most Adventurers, strong or weak, perished this way.

As a result, the hubris of the strong was something that had to be cut off as soon as one possibly could.

Within a Dungeon, there were unknown creatures that lurked in the dark.

Human understanding could not comprehend them, just as they could not understand the nature of their home.

Till today, Dungeons largely remained a mystery.

"I have a question for you all." As tension rose in the air, and the moment of reckoning drew near, Jet's calm voice once again echoed out.

"What do you think is the most primal aspect of man? Our most base nature?"

The faces of many displayed surprise. Still, some attempted to answer, giving a unanimous answer that most would agree with.

"Fea—"

"Many will call it fear, but I disagree." Jet added, his voice somber and dark.

"Man's most primal nature is ignorance; a blank slate that knows nothing about the world or how it works."

Even babies had this integral, base nature of man.

"But, how then do we get to fear?"

The answer was simple. It existed in the process in-between

"Ignorance breeds curiosity… the desire to know more about the world… to understand how it works."

But it didn't stop there.

"Curiosity breeds knowledge. And that knowledge…" Jet cast his gaze on the Dungeon with intense eyes.

"… It leads to fear."

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