Orario has many faces.
Heroes who live as symbols. Adventurers who desire fame. Some chase women and some genuinely fall in love. Some struggle just to live.
And some?
Just exist in the way they know how.
Elara chose one of those ways.
She gathers herbs and converts them into something useful to others.
---
The door to the Blue Pharmacy was already open when she arrived.
Dim inside. Quiet. The kind of place that smelled like dried herbs and old wood, where dust floated lazily through slanted afternoon light. Shelves lined every wall—jars, vials, bundled plants tied with string. Organized chaos.
Behind the counter, half-slumped over a ledger with her chin propped on one palm, was Naza.
Her eyes were barely open. That perpetual drowsy look—like she'd just woken up or was about to fall asleep. But her gaze tracked Elara the moment she stepped inside.
Sharp. Calculating.
Elara approached the counter and set her pouch down. "Last quest items. White wood root and yellow dot mushroom."
Naza reached for it, but Elara knows how Naza operates.
Naza's eyes closed for a second. Then she produced a scroll. "This has the recipe you asked for."
Elara opened the scroll and examined the contents. "Looks legitimate."
"It is."
Elara placed the pouch containing the materials on the table.
A moment of silence.
"I have another quest. Need to collect materials," Naza said.
"Is this for that new recipe?"
"No, but it may give some clues."
"The items?"
Naza's eyes narrowed. Sharp.
"Moonbloom Sap. Dungeon spring water."
"Two samples of sap. Spring water from the seventh floor or deeper. Fresh."
"Price?"
"Fair."
Elara looked at her.
Naza sighed, straightening slightly. One finger traced a lazy pattern on the counter.
"How much are you thinking?"
"Enough that I don't regret the trip."
"Mmm." Naza's lips curved—not quite a smile. More like appraisal.
"I could get someone cheaper."
"You could try."
Silence stretched between them.
Naza leaned back, eyes drifting half-closed again. Then—
"I swear on Lord Miach's name. I'll pay the agreed amount. No tricks. No cuts after."
Elara nodded once.
"Accepted."
That was enough.
"I'll need some of those materials myself," Elara added. "For my own work."
"Fine. Gather extra. Keep your share."
"And one more thing." Elara paused. "That double potion. Give me pointers. If I find anything useful, I'll inform you."
Naza sat up properly this time, interest genuine.
"Deal. Half the price for the trip."
"Deal."
Then, almost lazily:
"Seventh floor isn't easy solo. Pantry gets crowded. Goblins cluster. Kobolds flank. You'll want another pair of hands."
"I've managed before."
"Waste of effort," Naza replied. "Raska came by yesterday to restock supplies. Werewolf. Level two."
"Raska…" Elara rolled the name once in her head. "She good?"
"Good enough." Naza waved a hand. "Your call."
Elara adjusted her pouch.
"Alright."
"Don't die," Naza said, eyes already closing. "You owe me sap."
The door chimed softly as Elara left.
---
Two days later, they met at the Dungeon entrance.
Babel loomed above them—that impossible tower thrust up from the earth like a god's promise.
The Dungeon swallowed them whole.
Raska walked ahead, rolling her shoulders, cracking her knuckles like she was warming up for a brawl instead of a dive. Her tail swayed behind her—thick, gray-furred, restless. Taller than Elara. Broader. Muscle packed tight beneath light armor.
Her short sword hung at her hip.
Still sheathed.
"Seventh floor, huh?" Raska said. "Been a while since I went that deep just for materials."
"It's a job," Elara replied. "Pays well enough."
"Better." Raska grinned. "I don't work cheap."
Elara adjusted the strap of her pouch.
"You'll get paid."
Raska's ears flicked. A beat passed.
Then, as they descended, she glanced sideways.
"Do you really think Naza will keep her word?"
Elara didn't slow. Didn't answer immediately.
She trusted oaths sworn on a god's name. She didn't trust merchants. But Naza had sworn on Miach—and that meant something.
"You can keep all the drops," she said. "Call it upfront payment."
Raska snorted once. "Heh. Fair."
---
They descended quickly. First floor. Second. By the third, the walls grew rougher, damp, moss clinging to the stone like memory.
A goblin shriek echoed ahead.
Movement.
Elara slowed.
Raska did too.
Near the far wall—a goblin lunged.
Not at them.
At someone else.
A boy. Hood pulled low. No armor to speak of.
The goblin's foot slammed into his face.
Hard.
The sound echoed through the chamber like a crack of bone on stone.
Blood burst from his nose as he dropped to one knee.
Raska stopped walking. Watching.
Elara's hand stayed on her sword hilt—but she didn't move.
The boy looked up.
His eyes swept across them.
No embarrassment. No panic. No reaction at all.
He stood.
The goblin lunged again.
The boy moved.
Fast.
A short sword—broken, chipped—thrust forward. The goblin twisted mid-leap.
Too slow.
One step. Downward plunge.
The blade cracked through its skull.
Dead.
He pulled the sword free. Wiped it on his sleeve. Knelt. Cracked open the chest with practiced efficiency and pulled the magic stone free.
Pocketed it.
Then he turned and walked away.
No hesitation.
No glance back.
Just left.
Raska tilted her head, ears twitching.
"Huh."
Elara stared after him. No words came out.
She'd seen him before.
Not like this.
---
The seventh floor opened wide.
Moist stone. The air tasted faintly metallic. Goblins clustered near the walls. Kobolds prowled the edges.
Raska grinned.
"Finally."
She charged.
Her fist crushed the first goblin's face. Bone snapped. The second folded under her elbow. No sword. Just raw force.
Elara moved cleanly—sidestep, arc, thrust. Efficient. Controlled. The blade cut true.
They cleared the area quickly.
Raska laughed as she cracked stones free from fallen monsters.
"That kid earlier though. Got kicked in the face and didn't even flinch."
"People handle things differently," Elara said.
"Sure." Raska grinned. "Still weird."
They gathered sap. Drew spring water from the dungeon springs. Finished the job.
Professional. Clean.
---
They climbed back toward the surface.
The Dungeon breathed behind them—that slow, patient rhythm of stone and hunger.
Raska slowed once, glancing back.
"…You wanted to help back there," she said lightly.
Then, quieter,
"Just remember—sometimes knowing when to give up is how you stay alive."
Elara didn't answer.
But she knew what it meant better than anyone else.
---
Author's Note:
Moonbloom Sap - A dungeon material harvested from the stumps of Moonbloom trees, which grow in the mid-floors where natural light never reaches. The trees produce a faintly luminescent blue sap, as if the Dungeon itself is attempting to recreate moonlight in its depths. The sap has nourished dungeon monsters for ages, becoming part of the ecosystem that sustains them. The sap is valued by alchemists for its unique properties in potion-making.
The name reflects one of the Dungeon's strange mimicries—creating ecosystems that echo the surface world but remain fundamentally *other*. Beauty existing in a place that shouldn't allow it. Light where there is only darkness.