Chapter 41 - The Whisperer

A/N: Sorry for not uploading chapters for the past two days—my exams were going on. ????????

But to make up for it, I'll be dropping 3 chapters! ???? Hope you guys enjoy! Let me know what you think in the comments. ????

***

Everything is going according to plan, Ash thought, narrowing his eyes at the Black Market members, who were relentlessly bombarding the massive stone door with a barrage of spells and weapons.

Sparks of mana flared against the ancient surface, but the door remained unmoved.

Ash shrank deeper into the pillar's shadow, its towering silhouette hiding him completely.

But why isn't it opening?

In the novel, when Ray stepped inside the dungeon, the monsters vanished. The dungeon practically rolled out the red carpet to him—no traps, no guardians, just an empty path to the boss room.

He could practically hear the line from the book echo in his head:

But when I entered, it was different, he said inwardly as he thought about all the things he had done before entering the dungeon.

**

Hours earlier…

Ash left the blacksmith's shop behind and made his way deep into the slums. Eventually, he arrived at a dilapidated park no larger than a basketball court.

Crumbling benches, graffiti-scrawled walls, and dim, flickering streetlights barely kept the encroaching shadows at bay.

A few kids, no older than Ash himself, loitered near a rusted seesaw.

The moment Ash entered, silence swallowed the space. Their eyes widened, fear clear as day, like prey cornered by a predator.

What's with those looks? Like they've seen a ghost, Ash thought, bemused.

He didn't realize it, but under the moonlight and the way his face was covered in darkness slightly—paired with the grim reputation of this district—it was as if the night itself whispered doom to them.

Quiet as mist, Ash stepped forward and dropped two leather pouches onto the cracked concrete, followed by two sealed letters stamped with the sigil of a coiled snake circling a staring eye—the insignia of *The Whisperer*.

"Ten gold coins each," he said flatly. "One letter goes to the old watchtower near the West Gate—drop it off with the City Guard liaison."

He pointed toward the second.

"The other, at the Raven's Roost Tavern in the Eastern Market. Ask the barkeep for 'Midnight Ale' and leave it under the table."

The kids paled further. These were infamous drop points, especially the second. Everyone who does shady business knew Black Market eyes were all over that tavern, specially in slums.

"You know where they are, don't you?" Ash asked in a low voice.

They nodded hurriedly.

Ash's voice sharpened. "Good. Don't read them. Just deliver."

He didn't need to say the rest. The fear in their wide eyes told him they understood.

Without another word, the group of four bolted like shadows in opposite directions, letters clutched tightly in their small hands.

The Whisperer...

Ash's eyes followed the kids as they disappeared into the maze of alleys.

No one really knew what The Whisperer was. A lone ghost? A hidden faction? Hell, maybe a relic of the old world. Not even the novel spelled it out.

But one thing was known to everyone who knows that name.

Their Information was never wrong.

They didn't just leak information for fun. Whenever The Whisperer spoke, it was always about something massive—world-shaking.

They didn't care who got the information—Elves, Dragons, Dwarfs, Humans, black market or other criminal organizations. If one side had too much power, The Whisperer made sure the other side got enough of a blade to balance the scales.

The novel described them as a "balancer." Ash's lips curved into a half-smile. An unseen hand keeping the world from burning too fast.

No politics, no bias—just balance.

But here's the catch—they only ever moved twice in the entire story. First, when the Demon King was about to crawl into this world, and second, when the angels descended.

And even then, they did nothing but send one message... one warning... and disappeared like smoke.

Everyone trusts their intel, Ash mused. They have no reason to suspect a fake. Besides, it's not like The Whisperer will care… right?

With a sigh, he whispered.

"Now, all that's left is to watch the sparks fly."

After that, he moved towards the dungeon.

It didn't take Ash long to reach the place.

As he neared the dungeon, the air clung to his skin like damp cloth, thick with mana, humming through his bones. A low hum pulsed beneath his feet, resonating with the mana-infused stones framing the ancient gateway.

Shrouded in darkness, he became a fleeting shadow, momentarily blending into the gloom.

It's shifting… His eyes narrowed as he halted just meters from the entrance, sensing the change in the air.

The once dormant gate now pulsed with eerie light, its surface etched with glowing runes that hadn't been there moments ago. The sharp tang of mana in the air intensified, sending shivers crawling up his spine.

It's reacting to the Runes I'm carrying, he realized. So the trigger starts even before stepping inside?

The guards stationed nearby took notice as well, their casual posture snapping into alertness. One of them cursed under his breath and immediately ran toward the city to report the anomaly.

Ash's gaze lingered on the guards for a second, but then he smirked faintly beneath his cloak.

Good, this will get everyone moving faster than I expected.

Without hesitation, Ash stepped inside.

The instant he crossed the threshold, the dungeon's gate groaned, widening with a mechanical clatter as raw mana surged outward like a living tide.

The light dimmed, the temperature dropped, and an oppressive pressure settled over the space, heavier than before.

The hidden trial is opening, he thought as the world around him blurred slightly, like a veil being lifted.

Let's just hope it reacts the same way it did in the novel…

But just as he completed the thought—

"Did I jinx myself?" he muttered bitterly, seeing the scene in front of him.

Lining the vast hallway ahead of him were legions of stone soldiers, lined up like an army ready to march. Their bodies were etched with intricate carvings and crimson markings that pulsed faintly in sync with the dungeon's mana.

In the novel, Ray's entry caused these very sentries to vanish, clearing the way straight to the boss room.

And here I am, with two damn Runes… and still, they're everywhere.

If it weren't for the Shadow cloak wrapped around his frame, masking his presence like a second skin, he would've been shredded to pieces the moment he crossed the portal.

The stone soldiers stood tall and silent, but the menace radiating from them was palpable—like statues carved from malice itself.

Ash exhaled slowly, watching his breath curl like smoke in the chilly air.

Damn things... they're not supposed to be here, he thought bitterly.

With a frustrated sigh, he again melted deeper into the shadows, moving like liquid night as he slipped behind a fractured pillar at the far edge of the grand hall.

The massive structure loomed over him like a crooked fang, barely wide enough to conceal his presence.

From this vantage point, Ash scanned the hall. The sentinels lined the walls like grim wardens, their hollow eyes faintly glowing red, heads locked in an eternal stare toward the center of the dungeon.

Safe… for now, Ash reassured himself, though the growing knot in his stomach said otherwise.

He clenched his jaw and forced his racing thoughts into order, piecing together fragments of the novel and what lay before him now.

Why? His eyes darted over the room. Why is it different this time?

Ash's thoughts burned as flashes of the book played in his mind.

That line.

He gritted his teeth. He'd read it before, countless times, but now—sitting here, with death a few steps away—he noticed something he had brushed off.

The sentence was incomplete. The author never finished the thought.

"Or..."

The missing fragment hung like a guillotine above his head.

Then it hit him, creeping cold and sharp into his bones.

Or… maybe it's Ray himself.

The realization was like swallowing ice.

So it's not the Runes… it's not the timing... It's him. His fingers curled into a fist. The dungeon reacts to Ray personally.

But why?

His lips pressed into a thin line as he leaned his head back against the pillar, staring at the cracked ceiling above.

Which means, without him, the hidden trial's guardians stay active.

He could practically hear the dungeon laughing at him.

Great. Just fucking great, he thought sarcastically.

A heavy breath left his lungs. His shoulders slumped slightly beneath his cloak.

Without that bastard, getting through this dungeon will be a damn nightmare.

His blue eyes glinted faintly in the shadows.

And of course, no one in the novel bothered to explain why Ray's the golden child of this dungeon.

Ash scoffed under his breath. The situation was a sick joke—but the punchline hadn't landed yet.

Sigh, I feel like shit right now.

The oppressive silence weighed heavily on him, broken only by the occasional grinding of stone as one of the sentinels shifted its stance ever so slightly. It was almost like they were waiting... watching... but for what?

Ash closed his eyes briefly, gathering his thoughts.

Fine. I'll wait here. His tone, even internally, had that sharp edge of reluctant patience.

So, he waited. Patiently, hidden within the dungeon's chilling embrace.

Waiting for the next poor soul to walk through the gate.

***

A/N:

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