◈ REAPER SCANS ◈
Translator: Regressed Translator
Editor: leef
Discord: https://dsc.gg/reapercomics
◈ Return of the Disaster-Class Young Lord ◈
Chapter 39 | Dungeon Break (2)
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“Some said you possessed enough divinity to join the ranks of the Eight Renowned and Six Malevolents, but it turns out it was all empty talk.”
Silence lingered.
At first, it was merely a coincidence—just something Arsha happened to overhear while passing by.
“They threatened everyone, saying we’d all die, but now they’re just cowering alone and watching from a distance.”
“In the end, they must’ve been too scared to fight. They ran away, making excuses.”
It was silent again.
Yet in the cramped corridors, in the dining hall while receiving rations, even right in her face—
The same remarks echoed closer and closer, repeated without hesitation.
One thing was clear: the atmosphere in Devil’s Tree Manor was as cold as it could possibly be.
“Hmph, there’s no way such a coward is from one of the Hundred Great Houses.”
“Just wait and see. Once I return, I’ll pull every connection I have to expose the White-Masked Young Lord’s worthless reputation.”
More sneers. More scorn. More contempt.
Those cold, fish-like gazes pouring in from all directions were all too familiar to Arsha.
Back in the Five Heroes' days, she had sunk to rock bottom after losing the World Tree. Every day, she had faced ridicule like this.
And yet… why was it?
Why did this time—something so predictable, so ordinary—feel so painfully sharp?
Why was it so provoking that she considered snapping back for a brief moment?
But she never uttered a single retort, no matter what anyone said.
She simply went about her duties: caring for the slaves, attending to Dion, quietly helping him set up magic circles in secret, and devoting herself to carrying out his orders.
Because she believed that, one day, all these preparations would prove their worth.
But…
I never expected something like this to happen, though.
Standing amid the ruins of Devil’s Tree Manor, now half-buried in heaps of blood and corpses, Arsha felt conflicted.
Most of the participants, including the high-level awakened, were either dead or had fled.
Of the hundreds of Forest Spiders that once swarmed the place, barely a hundred remained.
The outer walls were riddled with cracks, the living quarters were in ruins, and there was no end to the injured.
It was hard to believe that, just hours ago, this was the same Devil’s Tree Manor—whole and intact.
Even seeing it with her own eyes, it was difficult to accept.
More shocking was the fact that all this carnage had stemmed from failing to block just seven monsters.
Granted, each of those monsters possessed 3-star power and had arrived alongside hundreds of others.
For a Summoner—whose strength lay in commanding vast numbers of beasts, enduring prolonged battles, but lacking the firepower to strike down a single formidable enemy—perhaps this outcome had been inevitable.
“In all seriousness, what do you mean by that?”
The panic in Chabera’s voice was evident as he practically leapt forward, alarmed.
Arsha, however, remained composed. With an exceptionally calm tone, she replied, “My lord said this will be the last time he assists you.”
“You’re telling me… from now on, no matter what happens, he plans to stand by and watch?”
“That’s right.”
“Do you seriously think that makes any sense?!”
Chabera’s voice rose in frustration. It was understandable.
Devil’s Tree Manor’s forces had already been halved.
The thought of a high-level awakened openly refusing to help must have been unbearable.
Even more so because that awakened was the White Masked Young Lord—who had just obliterated five bosses in an instant.
But despite Chabera’s outrage—or perhaps because of it—Arsha remained firm.
“Why wouldn’t it make sense?”
“How could—!”
Thud.
A heavy footstep echoed as Dion entered the room, his boot pressing firmly against the bloodstained floor.
“I have every right to join a hunt if I want,” he said flatly, “but I have no obligation to protect the Devil’s Tree Manor.”
Chabera’s mouth opened, but no words came out.
Arsha turned to greet him. “Welcome back, my lord.”
“Yeah.” Dion exhaled, tossing something onto the table. “I was worried the magic stones might have been destroyed, but luckily they’re safe.”
Blood was smeared across his clothes, likely from rummaging through the remains of the bosses he had slain.
He accepted Arsha’s touch naturally as she wiped his face clean with a handkerchief.
Chabera stared at them in disbelief. “You... you’re really serious about this?”
Dion slumped into a chair, resting his elbows on the armrests. “Still talking, I see?”
“My apologies,” Arsha murmured.
Dion waved it off. “No need to be sorry. As long as you’ve conveyed the essentials.”
“But…”
Arsha hesitated, wanting to apologize for failing to finish the meeting before Dion arrived—thanks to the chaos that had befallen Devil’s Tree Manor. But before she could finish, Dion swiftly dismissed it.
Instead, he simply pulled her slender waist closer.
And…
Chu.
“Thanks for all your hard work.”
She stared at him with wide eyes, frozen in his grip.
A soft sensation brushed just above her navel, where her clothing had shifted to reveal her skin. Heat surged into Arsha’s face.
Watching the boy who held her close, chuckling quietly, Chabera gritted his teeth angrily.
“Young Lord, are you really saying you have no intention of defending Devil’s Tree Manor?”
“You must’ve heard it from her already, why ask?”
“You…! You think you’ll be safe if the Devil’s Tree Manor falls?!”
“Yup. I’ve had a way out from the start even if this place collapses.”
For an instant, Chabera felt at a loss for words.
Logically, it made no sense.
Yet his instincts told him that what the boy said was true.
Dion’s easygoing manner, even as Devil’s Tree Manor plunged into carnage—those crimson eyes peering through the cracks of his white mask—made it clear.
No matter what happens, he’s certain he can leave this place alive.
“Is that… is that really true?”
Likely sensing the same thing, Rea spoke from the wide-open doorway, her voice trembling.
“If you truly do have a way, we won’t dare negotiate any terms or conditions…”
Dion didn’t answer.
“Please, we beg you. Save our clan.”
All the wealth in the world,
Their entire domain,
Even her daughter—
She was prepared to give whatever it took to survive this crisis.
Practically pleading, Rea spoke, while Chabera, his face twisted with shame, could not deny her words.
For the first time, the two rival heirs of House Hara were in agreement.
Dion watched them both for a moment, then smiled faintly.
“Finally. You’re ready to have a real conversation with me.”
“How impressive…”
A blindfolded woman—Pandora, the Disaster Bride—spoke up inside a dark prison cell.
“Allow me to offer my congratulations.”
“No need for that. It’s really nothing special.”
“It is special enough indeed.”
Pandora tilted her head slightly, her hidden gaze resting on the black glove covering Dion’s hand.
Softly, she murmured, “Not only did you claim House Hara’s treasured heirloom, you practically claimed the House itself.”
“Eh, that’s not quite right.” Dion waved a hand dismissively. “I just promised to protect Devil’s Tree Manor in exchange for a suitable price, that’s all.”
The suitable price was the key point, though.
Arsha, standing behind him, said nothing. She knew Dion had planned this all along. He had watched, cool and composed, as Devil’s Tree Manor was cornered—only stepping in when the time was right.
“And so, what brings you here today?” Pandora asked.
“Do I need a reason? It’s not like this is the first time I’ve dropped by.”
“In times like these, perhaps you do need one?”
“Well, that’s a little cold.”
Dion smirked slightly, but Arsha’s eyes narrowed darkly.
He had always responded to Pandora’s invitations to tea.
Even after the late Lord Las died and Pandora had been locked up here, Dion still visited her daily.
And yet, now she was questioning his motives. She certainly seemed frosty.
“Though in fairness,” Dion admitted, “I do have a small request.”
“Speak. What do you want from me?”
“Nothing huge. I’ll set you free, so just promise you won’t get involved in any fighting.”
“…Promise not to get involved?”
“Yeah. If you step in now, everything ends in total ruin.”
Pandora remained silent.
“And that wouldn’t be what you want, right, Pandora?”
Pandora the Disaster Bride.
Among the Eight Renowned and Six Malevolents, she was Master of Malice.
If she went all out, she wouldn’t just destroy Devil’s Tree Manor—she could bring down the entire labyrinth.
But she was incapable of protecting or saving others. She could only bring ruin.
So Pandora didn’t deny Dion’s words. She only murmured quietly, “If this domain is ever on the verge of collapsing, I’ll have no choice but to take action.”
“Don’t worry. That won’t happen while I’m away.”
“Even so…”
Something about Dion’s words made Pandora pause mid-sentence, as though struck silent.
And that expression... it amused him.
Indeed, it was only natural.
No one could have guessed what Dion was about to do.
◈ REAPER SCANS ◈
Translator: Regressed Translator
Editor: leef
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“What do you mean by ‘away’?” Pandora asked.
“You can’t survive in a labyrinth by just playing tower defense.”
She stared at him.
“If you can’t run, and there’s no way to hold out, there’s only one remaining solution, right?”
Pandora stiffened. “You don’t mean…”
“Yes. I do mean it.”
She must have realized.
In fact, she must have known all along.
There was only one way to save them from this predicament.
It was just too reckless, too suicidal a plan for anyone to seriously consider.
Hence her single, astonished question.
Dion smiled brightly.
“I’m going to conquer this labyrinth.”
After all, what solution could be more perfect?
Listening to Dion declare this lofty ambition, Pandora summarized her response in a single sentence.
“You’ve gone mad.”
Arsha silently concurred.
Her lord was just a bit too bold.
A labyrinth was a magical realm beyond comprehension.
A land of death that devoured and destroyed all sapient races.
From the Old Kingdom era until now, entire nations and domains have been lost to labyrinths, so many that no one can begin to count them.
Yet it was also true that even a mouse will bite a cat when cornered.
Sentient beings hadn’t always been mere prey to labyrinths.
Some wanted to protect their homeland.
Others sought revenge for their families.
And some who were driven by pure ambition and greed.
Such people threw themselves into these deathtraps, and on rare occasions, they devoured the labyrinths in turn.
That was known as a conquest.
Not just slaying monsters, but collapsing the labyrinth itself—a miracle among miracles.
But it was precisely because that success was so miraculous that it was nearly impossible.
For every hundred who attempted a labyrinth, a hundred would perish—and that cycle repeated again and again.
Even a high-level awakened could easily die in a 2-star labyrinth.
Of course, that followed simple logic.
Labyrinths had infinite variation in how they could be ‘cleared’:
Maybe you had to annihilate every monster.
Or defeat the boss.
Or destroy a hidden core.
Or perform a certain ritual…
No one knew how to clear them with certainty. And with only one life, testing every possibility was nearly impossible.
That was why the Five Heroes—who had conquered countless labyrinths and driven out the Seven Disasters—had become legends in the Centuriate Cities.
Everything’s going as planned so far.
For Dion, who had just proclaimed he would conquer the labyrinth, it was perfectly normal that everyone looked at him like he’d gone insane—whether it was Pandora, Rea and Chabera Hara, or anyone else in Devil’s Tree Manor.
But Dion himself remained unruffled.
Eliminate all named bosses? That’s a lot easier than I expected.
He cracked a smile.
Sure, for anyone else, conquering a labyrinth was practically impossible.
But Dion was different.
He possessed two game-breaking traits:
The Status Window, which laid out the labyrinth’s conditions for victory.
And Class Changer, which lets him freely swap out classes.
He had spent his second cycle conquering all sorts of labyrinths with the “voice” that guided him.
So for him, conquering something on this level was purely a matter of time.
The only concern was whether Devil’s Tree Manor could hold out until he wiped out all the remaining named bosses…
“Arsha, this place is in your hands, okay?”
“…Yes.”
Orr Kai, the kobold slave girl, nodded enthusiastically.
Meanwhile, Arsha, her expression more complicated, steadied herself.
Then, with firm resolve, she answered, “Until you return, my lord, I’ll ensure Devil’s Tree Manor still stands. You have my word.”
“Great. I’m counting on you.”
Dion let out a small laugh, accepted the bag Arsha handed him, and ruffled Orr Kai’s hair once. Then, with a light step, he left the blood-drenched manor behind and ventured deeper into the labyrinth, where colossal branches twisted together in a maze of leaves and boughs.
Arsha watched him go in silence.
And in that moment, a voice spoke behind her.
“You seem to have tremendous faith in your lord.”
“…Is that how it looks?”
“Frankly, I still find it impossible to believe that the young lord can truly conquer this labyrinth.”
Arsha didn’t respond.
“He even said he’d finish it by tomorrow. That’s simply…”
Everything Pandora said was perfectly logical. A labyrinth conquest could take months, cost hundreds or thousands of awakened lives, and fail more often than not.
So the notion of a single person conquering it in just a single day...
No matter how you spun it, it was preposterous. The ravings of a lunatic.
Rea, Chabera, and the rest of Devil’s Tree Manor’s people were casting openly suspicious looks, as if wondering whether Dion was just using the labyrinth as an excuse to flee.
“Rest assured.”
At least one person knew better.
Arsha had seen the impossible feats the boy had already achieved. She had witnessed him face down hundreds of soldiers and emerge victorious.
Thus, the dark elf spoke with unwavering confidence.
“My lord—no, my husband—will surely conquer the labyrinth and return.”
Orr Kai nodded enthusiastically.
“Cheep, I agree with the Lady, yep.”
“I can’t imagine Master dying in some labyrinth. Grrribbit.”
The kobold girl and the frogman slave soldiers nodded in unison. Pandora slowly looked up.
“I see. Then I shall believe you.”
Having said her piece, Pandora turned to step back into the manor.
But then, Arsha spoke.
“Lady Disaster Bride. Are you still convinced that the one who killed the previous lord was the Master of Myriad Transformations?”
“It’s only a guess, not a certainty.”
“And do you think the Master of Myriad Transformations might threaten us as well?”
Pandora shook her head. “That won’t happen.”
Double contracts were the gravest taboo among assassins. If the Master of Myriad Transformations failed to uphold that basic trust, he wouldn’t remain the premier assassin of the Unnatural City.
Besides…
“This is the middle of a labyrinth.”
If Devil’s Tree Manor falls here in the heart of the labyrinth, even that infamous assassin would find escaping nearly impossible. If he values his life, he won’t try to sabotage them.
Arsha stayed silent.
“So I wish you all the best of luck.”
Leaving those quiet words, Pandora disappeared into the manor.
Arsha turned her gaze toward the others.
Orr Kai was brimming with energy.
The thirty slave soldiers clad in wooden armor, waited for Arsha’s instructions.
Then she looked toward Rea, Chabera, and around 50 others of House Hara, plus their 100 mount beasts.
Then, the handful of other participants— like Naru, who looked half-dead, clinging to his lute—each of them seemingly forced to remain here.
And finally, the far side of the battlefield.
From the enormous branch supporting the manor to the thick tangle of leaves high above and the distant trunk below, countless monsters were creeping closer once again, having fled when the bosses fell. They were gathering in droves.
Taking in the sight of all those eyes, Arsha calmly declared, “Everyone, remember this.”
A hush fell over the group.
“If we can last just one day, victory will be ours.”
* * *
It itches.
It itches, it itches, it itches.
Perhaps it was because he’d been soaked in monster blood.
Or maybe because he hadn’t washed with purified healing water.
Dragging his heavy feet along the thick branch, the half-troll—once a half-troll, anyway—scratched at his itching body and lamented.
This is awful.
He hated everything about this.
He hated that the Hunting Festival he’d paid so much to join had turned into a disaster.
He hated that he had to flee from boss-level monsters.
He hated the labyrinth’s bizarre layout, the ceaseless monsters popping up all around.
And he hated the mana corruption clogging his lungs like sludge with every breath.
He hated it all so much.
He wanted nothing more than to smash something, tear it apart, and feast on it until the rage subsided.
But that would be too bestial. Unfit for a rational member of the sapient races. So he held back.
Thus he reasoned with himself.
At least I’m still fine.
The others who had fled with him had gradually disappeared, leaving him alone. But that didn’t matter.
His only real complaint was the itch.
Not having purified healing water was infuriating.
He scratched harder, pouring all his frustration into it.
Skin.
Flesh and muscle.
He tore at himself, again and again, until bone showed through.
Once the mana corruption seeped into his very marrow, that agonizing itch transformed into something soothing.
He exhaled in relief.
No more itching.
His mind, once turbulent, settled.
Even if I’m rational, maybe I can’t leave this labyrinth without purified healing water.
So he turned around calmly.
He headed back toward Devil’s Tree Manor, intending to devour the flesh and blood of other intelligent beings.
To hunt the divine beast and eat it.
By doing so, he would only grow stronger,
And the labyrinth would become a more comfortable habitat.
Such was his objective, reached by a perfectly rational mind.
Thus, the half-troll… no, the thing that had once been a half-troll, ventured deeper into the labyrinth once more, drawn onward by the intoxicating scent of corrupted mana.
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