Chapter 260: The Herd Approaches

The greatest challenge in exploring underground ruins, labyrinths, and architectural complexes has always been logistics.

Even with space bags, their storage remains severely limited; if an accident occurs, the most agonizing death for explorers and adventurers is not being killed by monsters, but dying underground from starvation and thirst.

Thus, unlike adventurers in stories and games who run as far as they can, real-world explorers tend to act with extreme caution.

They don't wait until half their supplies are consumed to consider retreating—they turn back immediately if even one member is injured.

After all, an injured member weakens the team's functionality, creates a vulnerability, and often leads to catastrophic losses; deaths in the underground world frequently begin with some fool getting hurt through carelessness.

One person gets injured, another must tend to them, and someone else must take on extra duties not their own—resulting in escalating strain and a chain of accidents.

But the result of everyone playing it safe is near-zero progress; everyone lingers in the safe zones, gathers enough loot, and returns home.

This never happens in normal underground labyrinths or ruins.

Because the shallow layers are stripped clean, later arrivals are either compelled or choose to venture deeper.

Yet here, the labyrinth can regenerate; as long as you hunt in the safe zones, you can reliably obtain arcane materials—what a profitable arrangement.

"We must completely clear the underground ruins within two years and eliminate the threat to this city."

At first, Princess Talia S Daer 's speech was met with resistance from all adventurers.

They were content with their stable lives and had no desire for adventure—but societal change cannot be blocked by individual will.

A flood of powerful outsiders poured in: noble bodyguards, high magi from the Arcane Tower, even noble clerics from the Church District—all willingly entering this mud pit, squeezing the "lazy pigs" who had been wallowing in it, until they could no longer bear it. The shallow layers held no valuable monsters anymore, yet they had to hunt to survive.

Yet their lives had clearly improved; their inferior gear had been outright replaced, paid for by the big shots.

All they needed to do was serve as low-risk guides.

"Can people in our line of work actually become famous?!" More rumors gradually stirred this stagnant pond.

Contrary to most people's assumptions, adventurers—especially underground explorers—find it extremely difficult to gain fame; even if they perform brilliantly underground, they are still looked down upon by most "regular troops" upon returning to the surface.

But in this era, fame can buy you everything: recognition from high nobility, grants of low-ranking titles, endorsements and positions from major organizations, and even if you become famous, no one will scorn you for courting women.

"What's the point of risking your life to go deep? You might just die down there."

But now, the "Mirror Demon" livestreams have dramatically changed the situation; even major nobles like the Lord Mayor frequently watch the exploration missions.

If someone could appear on-screen—or even stand out—there was a chance they might earn the favor of some big shot and escape their miserable, life-or-death existence.

Organized exploration and freelance adventurers are not even in the same league when it comes to rewards and stability.

"Progress has accelerated noticeably; someone encountered a Scorpion-Lion, and the one who beheaded it not only earned over three hundred gold coins but was also hired by the Labol family as a professional bodyguard."

Encountering powerful monsters often means venturing deeper into the labyrinth.

News of the lucky few spread throughout the industry, while the unlucky ones who died below remained unknown.

But what is about to happen today seems to be an exception.

"What is that?"

At the same moment, at least five adventurer teams encountered some strange individuals.

It was a tall figure draped in a massive gray cloak, wearing a white monocle mask; behind it often followed small, snow-white beasts.

"Stop right there!!"

In the underground world, encountering someone dressed like this—no matter how harmless they seem—is clearly abnormal.