Chapter 16: Joint Quest

The entrance to the "Hollow of Weeping Veins" loomed like a jagged, festering wound in the hillside. The air around the opening pulsed with a faint, rhythmic purple mana, smelling of ozone and wet earth. It was a "living" dungeon, one that breathed and shifted to trap the unwary.

The joint party of six stood before the threshold in a silence so thick it felt like physical weight. Viktoria already regretted every life choice that had led her to this moment. Her gear felt too tight, her nerves were frayed, and the sheer hostility radiating from the silver-haired woman to her left was enough to make her skin crawl.

Seraphina hadn’t stopped glaring at her since they left the gates of Stonebrook. The healer’s obsession with Leon was no longer a secret; it was a performance. She hovered inches from his shoulder, her fingers constantly twitching as if she were tempted to cast a shield spell over him just to keep the wind from touching his skin. Elara, the princess, was more subtle, but her eyes never left Viktoria, calculating every curve of her body with the clinical coldness of a butcher. Mira’s beastkin ears were pinned back, and Serena, the warrior, simply gripped her greatsword, her gaze fixed on the dark tunnel as if she were picturing Viktoria’s head on the end of a pike.

Leon, ever the optimist, tried to play peacemaker as they crossed the threshold.

“Alright, let’s stay coordinated,” he said, his voice echoing against the damp stone walls. He flashed that bright, heroic smile that usually made women swoon, but it only made Viktoria’s stomach churn. “Viktoria, Lena—you two have the best local experience. We’ll take the front in a standard diamond formation, and you support from the mid-range. Let's keep the communication clear.”

Viktoria grunted, her hand resting on the hilt of her black-iron dagger. “Fine by me. Just make sure your 'support' actually does their job instead of playing house.”

Seraphina hissed, but Leon’s presence kept her from snapping.

The first few floors were a tedious slog. The dungeon threw waves of weak skeletons and slime variants at them. Lena’s arrows were a blur of motion, finding eye sockets and core-centers with practiced ease. Viktoria moved with a new, explosive power, her daggers carving through bone and gelatinous flesh. However, the tension was a constant, suffocating companion. Every time Viktoria moved, she could feel the weight of her own body—a consequence of the potion's cruel "gifts"—working against her.

On the third floor, the dungeon’s true nature revealed itself. A group of Undead Knights, clad in rusted, cursed plate armor, erupted from the floor tiles in a coordinated ambush.

Viktoria saw an opening and moved to flank the lead knight. She pivoted on her heel, aiming for the gap in its gorget, but as she shifted her weight, her heavy chest threw off her center of gravity. The momentum of her own body carried her an inch too far to the left. The skeleton’s rusty blade hissed through the air, grazing her side and slicing through her leather armor.

“Shit!” she hissed, stumbling back as blood began to bloom across her ribs.

Seraphina’s voice cut through the clash of steel like a shard of ice. “Pathetic. Can’t even dodge a basic swing with all that useless fat bouncing around. You’re a liability, 'mercenary.'”

Before Viktoria could retort, Leon stepped into the fray. He moved with a grace that was almost supernatural, his sword glowing with a faint blue light as he cleaved the Undead Knight in two with a single, clean strike. He immediately turned to Viktoria, his eyes wide with genuine concern.

“Viktoria! Are you okay? That looks deep.”

“I’m fine,” she snapped, pressing a hand to the wound. The pain was sharp, but the humiliation was worse.

Seraphina immediately surged forward, her hands glowing with golden mana. But she didn't move toward Viktoria. She grabbed Leon’s arm, checking him for nonexistent scratches while ignoring the bleeding woman standing three feet away. “Leon, my love, be careful! You shouldn't have to risk yourself for someone so clumsy!”

Things spiraled on the fifth floor.

The party entered a wide, vaulted chamber draped in thick, sticky webbing. A trap sprung—the very floor tiles beneath them collapsed into a pit filled with Giant Venomous Spiders. The fall was sudden. Viktoria landed badly, her ankle twisting with a sickening pop against a pile of discarded bones.

A spider the size of a carriage lunged from the shadows, its mandibles dripping with paralytic ichor, aimed directly at her throat.

Before Viktoria could even raise her dagger, a blur of silver and blue intercepted the monster. Leon dove into the pit, his arms wrapping around her waist. In one fluid, powerful motion, he scooped her up into a full princess carry, shielding her with his armored body as he used his free hand to slash the spider's head from its thorax.

For one brief, agonizing second, Viktoria was pressed hard against his chest. Her massive breasts were squished against his breastplate, and she could feel the heat of his body and the steady, calm beat of his heart. She hated it. She hated how safe he made her feel, and she hated the "protagonist" scent of cedar and ozone that clung to him.

Leon set her down gently on a stable ledge once the immediate threat was neutralized. “Stay behind me. You’re hurt.”

The reaction from the "harem" was immediate and visceral.

Seraphina’s face went from pale to a mottled, furious red. Golden healing mana flared wildly around her hands—not in a soothing glow, but in jagged, crackling sparks. She stared at Viktoria with a look of pure, unadulterated murderous intent.

“How dare you!” Seraphina screamed, her voice echoing through the chamber. “You disgusting cow! Throwing your filthy body at him like a common whore just to get his attention!”

“I didn’t throw myself anywhere, you crazy bitch!” Viktoria snarled back, her own temper finally snapping. “It was a trap! I was falling!”

Elara’s expression had gone stone-cold, her eyes narrowing as she gripped her staff. Mira’s ears were flattened against her skull, a low growl vibrating in her throat. Even Serena was gripping her greatsword with white knuckles, looking as if she were deciding which part of Viktoria to chop off first.

The rest of the run was a descent into psychological warfare.

Viktoria’s twisted ankle slowed her to a limp. Every time Leon tried to check on her or offer a hand, one of the girls—usually Seraphina—would physically intercept him. When Viktoria finally took a hit from a poison dart trap on the sixth floor, Seraphina "performed" the healing, but she intentionally dampened the mana. It closed the wound, but left the poison’s nausea and weakness pulsing through Viktoria’s veins.

Lena stuck close to Viktoria’s side, her bow drawn and her eyes darting toward the Voss sisters with a clear warning. But even Lena knew they were outnumbered and outclassed by the "Hero's" chosen.

On the seventh floor, they reached the mini-boss: a massive Shadow Troll, a creature of regenerative malice that stood twelve feet tall.

The fight was a chaotic mess of steel and magic. Serena took the brunt of the troll’s attacks, her greatsword clashing against the beast's club. Leon moved in for the finishing blows, while Viktoria and Lena harassed the flanks.

At a critical moment, the troll roared, swinging its massive stone club in a 360-degree arc. Viktoria, weakened by the lingering poison and her bad ankle, was a half-second too slow to roll clear.

Leon moved like lightning—the "Hero's Instinct" in full effect. He tackled Viktoria out of the way, once again ending up with her in his arms as they tumbled across the cavern floor. This time, they rolled further, coming to a stop with Viktoria’s face buried in the crook of his neck, her soft, heavy chest completely crushed against his chest.

“Got you,” Leon breathed, his voice ragged from exertion. He helped her up, his hands lingering on her waist for a second too long as he ensured she could stand.

Seraphina officially lost her mind.

“THAT IS ENOUGH!” she shrieked. The air in the chamber turned cold as she channeled a massive amount of light mana. “You disgusting, bloated sow! Stop using your body to seduce him! I’ll burn that filth right off your bones!”

Golden chains of binding magic—meant for high-level demons—shot from Seraphina’s fingertips toward Viktoria. Lena barely managed to tackle Viktoria out of the way in time, the chains shattering the stone wall where Viktoria’s head had been a second before.

Elara had to physically grab her sister’s arm, her face a mask of royal panic. “Seraphina! Stop! Not here! We are in the middle of a raid!”

Leon looked genuinely horrified, his hands trembling as he stepped between the two groups. “Seraphina, what is wrong with you?! She was about to be crushed! I’m the leader of this party, and I will not have you attacking our allies!”

The healer’s eyes were wild, her pupils blown wide with jealousy. “She’s doing it on purpose, Leon! Look at her! Those fat udders, that whore’s ass—she’s using them as weapons! She’s trying to steal you!”

Viktoria pushed herself up from the ground, her daggers drawn and a dark, dangerous light in her eyes. “I’ve had enough of your delusional, psychotic bullshit. I didn’t ask for him to touch me, and I certainly didn't ask for your 'help.' Touch me with that magic again, and I’ll show you exactly how 'pathetic' a C-rank mercenary can be when she stops caring about the law.”

“Enough!” Leon’s voice boomed, carrying the weight of his growing "Hero" authority. “We finish the troll. Now.”

The mini-boss was eventually brought down, but the victory tasted like ash. They cleared the rest of the dungeon in a silence so hostile it was a miracle the walls didn't crumble. Viktoria and Lena stayed twenty paces behind the others, their weapons never truly sheathed.

When they finally stepped out into the twilight hours later, Viktoria was a wreck. She was limping, covered in dried blood and bruises, and her mind was a whirlwind of rage and calculated vengeance.

Lena put an arm around her, supporting her weight as they began the long walk back to Stonebrook. “That was worse than I ever imagined. That woman is a ticking time bomb.”

“Tell me about it,” Viktoria growled, her voice like grinding gravel. “I knew teaming up with them was a mistake. The 'Golden Boy' and his pack of rabid dogs.”

Behind them, she could hear Seraphina’s high-pitched, frantic whispering as she tried to "apologize" to a clearly shaken Leon. Mira kept glancing back at Viktoria, her expression a confusing mix of jealousy, territorialism, and a strange, flickering curiosity.

Viktoria clenched her fists until her knuckles turned white. She had spent three months building herself up, transforming from a joke into a warrior. But being near Leon reminded her that in this world’s "narrative," she was still just a side character to be mocked or a villain to be crushed.