The Dimensional Swordmaster C4

Chapter 4 How I Ended Up in Another World (4)

Yurian’s reflection glimmered faintly on the dark lenses of the man’s glasses. Could anyone actually see through those things? He tamped down his curiosity and answered obediently.

“Yurian.”

“Ah, then may I call you Mr. Rian?”

“No. Just Yurian.”

“Of course. Just Mr. Yurian, then.”

The tone was oddly sarcastic. Yurian shrugged lightly.

“You can just call me Yuri, if that’s easier.”

“Of course, Mr. Yuri. According to Hunter Gong Siyoung, you were discovered inside a newly manifested A-rank dungeon. Is that correct?”

“Oh, so that’s what you people call a ‘dungeon.’”

So that strange, ash-filled place was what they referred to as a dungeon. Whether he liked it or not, he was slowly piecing together information about this “other world.”

Yurian looked around curiously. If that was called a dungeon, then what would this place be? The outside of the dungeon? Whatever it was called, the difference between the two was stark.

The environment, yes—but more than that, the density of mana was entirely different. Inside that so-called dungeon, mana had overflowed, filling the air. It was that abundance that had allowed him to subdue the hellhounds so easily, even without a single mana stone.

But here? It was nearly nonexistent. Still, there were faint pockets of mana here and there.

For example, in the black glasses worn by the man across from him—Gong Sijin. There was a concentrated flow of mana gathered around them, visible to Yurian’s eyes.

It wasn’t that he had particularly keen perception. Any decent sword-user could see the flow of ki and energy at that level.

And it wasn’t just Gong Sijin. Every man in the room wore some object—something faintly humming with energy, disguised as an accessory but unmistakably a weapon. Or at least, weapon-like. Perhaps magical tools, perhaps not—but certainly not ordinary.

Still, Yurian had no intention of letting on that he knew. Opening his mouth needlessly would only raise suspicion. Sometimes it was wiser to play dumb, to pretend you hadn’t seen what you had.

“Yeah, I was caught in that dungeon and dragged all the way here.”

They must have had a reason for bringing him, something they wanted. But what could it be? Yurian’s gaze lingered on the expressionless face behind those black lenses.

“Well, that’s fine. I just want to confirm one more thing. Will you cooperate?”

“As much as you want.”

Gong Sijin smiled faintly at the friendly answer. But his next words were cold and sharp.

“There’s no record of you ever entering the dungeon. Did you, by chance, deceive the Bureau and sneak in?”

He paused. At the same time, mana gathered faintly near his glasses. Watching the flicker with his eyes, Yurian scratched his head.

“I doubt it. I’ve never deceived anyone…”

But if they asked how he’d gotten here, he wouldn’t have an answer. He couldn’t possibly explain what he didn’t even understand himself.

Leaning back in his chair, he crossed one leg over the other, bouncing his foot lazily.

“I only just learned that place was called a dungeon. Don’t know what this Bureau thing is either, and I’ve never tricked anyone. I don’t even remember entering that dungeon or whatever you’re talking about.”

“Then how did you end up inside? You fought off monsters alone and cleared the dungeon. You’re not going to tell me you don’t remember that too, are you?”

Cleared it?

What was that supposed to mean? Asking would probably make things worse, so he swallowed the question.

The men surrounding him began to look sharper, their gazes tightening. Suspicion mingled with hostility, growing thicker by the moment.

It was almost fascinating. From their perspective, it was only natural to be wary of a stranger who’d fallen from the sky. They’d want to know who he was, what he’d done in that dungeon. That much, Yurian could understand.

But what baffled him was how civilized they were about it.

They had captured a man with no identification, no proof of origin—and yet, instead of torture or imprisonment, they were calmly questioning him over tea?

Are these people angels?

If this had happened back in the Empire, what would it have been like? He’d have been thrown in a dungeon cell, beaten half to death for starters. Or maybe they’d have gone straight for cutting off a limb.

All they needed was the tongue intact for answering questions—everything else could be chopped off and reattached later.

He knew that well, having gone through it more than once. After enough nights of “interrogation,” whether it was torture or treatment, you’d end up spilling every secret you’d ever known.

By comparison, these people were downright saintly. How could he not like them?

And so, for the sake of these “angels,” Yurian told them everything he knew.

“I was in the middle of a monster subjugation battle, about to die. Then suddenly this black veil appeared out of nowhere, sucked me right in—and when I opened my eyes, I was inside that dungeon or whatever you call it.”

He didn’t forget to mention the hellhounds that had followed him through, and how he’d dealt with them himself.

Spinning his chair lazily, Yurian looked around at the men in the room.

“Does that answer your question?”

No one replied.

“I told you he’s insane.”

“Why overthink it?” Gong Siyoung said casually, increasing the treadmill speed beneath his feet. His strides quickened, as though trying to shake off the conversation.

“I heard him too, rambling about some subjugation war or whatever. The guy’s a lunatic, delusional.”

That man—Yurian, or whatever his name was—had said plenty of ridiculous things on the way back from the dungeon.

He’d freaked out over the car, gasping and shouting the entire ride. Then, gawking out the window at the city, he’d said—what was it again?

“If you build towers that tall, how do you defend against griffins or wyverns? What if a harpy attacks? You’d all die!”

Siyoung hadn’t even understood half of it. Eventually, he’d lost patience and put in his noise-canceling earphones.

But one thing was clear after that ride:

The man he’d brought back from the dungeon—Yurian, or Yural, or whatever—was definitely crazy.

How could he not be? The overreactions, the nonsense he spouted—it was all beyond reason.

“Even among Hunters, you get those types sometimes. The unstable ones. Probably escaped from some psych ward and got lucky enough to hide in a dungeon.”

“No. I’ve already confirmed—he wasn’t lying.”

Gong Sijin shook his head. He pulled a pair of sunglasses from his pocket. The glossy black lenses swung slightly between his fingers, making Siyoung narrow his eyes.

“You even used an item?”

“For something like this, I had to be sure.”

The “Mirror of Truth” in Sijin’s possession was an A-rank artifact. It discerned truth from lies in any being it beheld, unaffected by rank or power.

And every word Yurian had spoken had registered as truth.

“Siyoung, think about it. If he really came from beyond the dungeon—if he was summoned here with the monsters—then we might finally learn the truth about what dungeons really are.”

Yurian hadn’t lied. He really had crossed over from somewhere—alongside the monsters. This might be the first real clue to what the system and the dungeons had been hiding all along.

But Siyoung only looked more irritated, slamming the treadmill stop button with a harsh jab. His glare was sharp enough to cut.

“Fine. Let’s say you’re right. Let’s say that crazy bastard’s story is true, and there’s some big secret behind it. So what? What the hell does that have to do with me?”

He might’ve been the one who found the man, but Siyoung had zero interest in getting involved any further.

He barely had time to handle his dungeon runs as it was—why should he waste time babysitting some lunatic?

“It’s because we don’t know his rank.”

Sijin gave a small shrug. He hadn’t wanted to dump this on his younger brother either—but what choice did he have?

Every analysis skill they’d used on Yurian came up the same way: Unknown.

His skills, his status, even his classification—everything was hidden. Unidentifiable.

They couldn’t just leave him locked up indefinitely. Yurian might hold invaluable information, and to extract it safely, they needed to maintain at least a semblance of trust.

Sijin had already requested a secret rank evaluation from the Bureau—but until the results came back, someone had to keep watch over Yurian.

And for that, Gong Siyoung was the perfect candidate.

As an S-rank Hunter, he could easily subdue Yurian if anything went wrong. And personality-wise, Siyoung was too detached to be easily manipulated.

“Besides,” Sijin said, patting his brother’s shoulder, “you’re the one who brought him in. Technically, you picked him up. You pick something up, you take responsibility for it.”

His tone was that of an older brother scolding a careless sibling for bringing home a stray dog without permission.

And, frankly, the comparison wasn’t far off.

“I don’t want to. I’ve got dungeon runs to handle. You know we’re on high alert right now.”

“Don’t worry. It’ll only be a day or two. I’ll handle the rest.”

“What about emergency dungeons? I need to check—”

“It’s fine. We’ve got team members for that. The world won’t end because you’re gone for a day.”

Sijin’s hand tightened on his shoulder. His smile was pleasant—but the kind of pleasant that hid a threat.

“So, Siyoung,” he said sweetly, “would you rather agree now, or would you prefer I beat some sense into you first?”