He stepped onto the shore, where the sand was fine and pale. Tiny crystal-like flecks shimmered in the grains, a far cry from the rough dirt and mud he was used to.
Water ran from his hair and clothes, leaving dark streaks on the glowing sand before quickly drying in the warm, humid air. He stood still for a moment, letting his gaze wander across the strange, beautiful expanse of Floor 18.
The air was alive with vibrant sound. He could hear the steady chirp of insect-like creatures, the low hum of glowing beetles, and the distant cry of something bird-like echoing through the massive cavern.
Zamasu began to walk. His boots, still damp but cleaner than they had been in days, sank lightly into the soft, moss-covered ground. Somehow, the grime from the upper floors had faded in this pristine place.
The quiet beauty of the forest caught him off guard. It wasn't just peaceful—it was disarming, almost surreal after everything he had seen above.
A rare feeling brushed the edge of Zamasu's awareness.
It was quiet.
He took a breath. The air was heavy with the smell of damp earth and moss, touched by a faint sweetness from unseen flowers.
For the first time since entering this world, he felt something close to peace. Strange. Delicate. Completely unexpected.
Zamasu moved deeper into the forest, following no set path.
He was guided only by the shifting light that filtered through massive crystals embedded in the dungeon walls high above.
Nearby, pale aquamarine crystals lit a patch of towering ferns in shades of turquoise.
The silence was peaceful.
The only sounds came from the forest itself: soft hums, distant calls, and the rustle of unseen life.
It was a world away from the roar of waterfalls, the shrieks of monsters, or the endless dripping in the darker tunnels above.
He paused beside one of the massive Glowcap trees and placed a hand on its trunk.
The bark was cool and damp, covered in soft moss that gave off a faint green glow.
Under his palm, the light seemed to pulse gently—steady and alive, like a heartbeat.
'It's beautiful,' he thought, the word rising before he could stop it. 'But… something about it feels off.'(am I the only one who thinks it's weird or was it stated in novel cause I haven't red that in like 3 years)
The contradiction settled clearly in his mind.
This lush, glowing sanctuary was deep inside the Dungeon—a place built to kill people.
It was thriving in the heart of something meant to destroy. Like a jewel buried in a battlefield. Or life blooming inside a slaughterhouse.
'Eden in a beast's stomach,' he thought. The phrase stuck with him. It felt right.
The peace he felt didn't comfort him—it unsettled him. It felt too perfect. Like bait. A beautiful trap.
'The Dungeon let this place exist. Why? To lower people's guard? To hide something worse?'
Whatever the reason, the beauty here wasn't reassuring. It was the kind of beauty you found in a gilded cage—or a lone flower growing on blood-soaked ground.
It didn't ease his guard. It sharpened it.
Beneath all of this was still the Dungeon. And it hadn't changed.
He pushed away from the tree and kept walking, still wandering without any clear destination.
The forest floor was soft and quiet, the thick moss and sturdy plants muffling every step.
He crossed shallow streams so clear he could see every glowing stone beneath the surface. He walked past bubbling hot springs that gave off gentle clouds of steam, carrying a sharp, mineral scent.
Massive boulders stood here and there, their surfaces covered in glowing lichen that formed strange, delicate patterns.
Along the way, he saw creatures unlike any he'd seen on the upper floors. A group of deer-like animals grazed on glowing mushrooms, their coats shining like silver thread, their antlers glowing with a soft blue light.
Birds with shimmering feathers moved silently from branch to branch, while large, colorful insects crawled slowly across the ground, sparkling like living gems.
None of them seemed alarmed by his presence. Some glanced his way with wide, glowing eyes, but they quickly went back to what they were doing—as if he belonged here.
As if he was no threat at all.
It was peaceful. Almost too peaceful.
After maybe an hour of walking alone, something changed.
It wasn't the forest. The shift came from the air.
A faint scent drifted in—woodsmoke, leather, and something metallic. Human scent.
A moment later, he heard it: the steady crunch of footsteps on moss. More than one person.
He slowed, instincts kicking in. The calm vanished, replaced by quiet focus. Alert and ready.
Carefully, he stepped around a curtain of glowing vines and into a wider clearing.
They looked like adventurers—worn but experienced. Their armor was solid, mostly leather reinforced with steel plates.
It was clean and well-kept, but not new. The scuffs and patches spoke of regular use in the Dungeon.
Each wore practical clothing beneath the armor—simple tunics and trousers suited for travel and combat.
On their breastplates and the shields strapped to their backs, a symbol was clearly displayed: the head of an elephant, detailed and bold.
Zamasu recognized the emblem, it was the head of an elephant on a shield. It reminded him of one of the gods at the meeting some time ago.
'What's his name again? Ganesha?'
They turned as one when he approached, hands drifting toward their weapons out of habit—but then hesitated.
Their brows rose slightly as they got a good look at him.
The lake had washed away most of the grime, and the clean air had helped, but it wasn't enough to hide the truth.
His clothes still looked worn from battle. His white pants were stained with old blood and dust. The crimson sash around his waist was darker now, damp with water.
His mythril greaves were scuffed and dulled from use.
He had no backpack. No bedroll, no food, no extra gear—nothing that suggested he was traveling long-term.
And he was completely alone.
The one who seemed to be the leader stepped forward.
He was a man with short brown hair, a weathered face, and sharp grey eyes. His posture was careful—alert, but not openly aggressive.
The other two moved with him, one on each side. A younger man held a spear loosely in his grip, ready but not raised. The woman beside him had a bow slung across her back, her hand resting near it.
All three watched him closely, their faces showing a mix of caution and curiosity.
"Hail, traveler," the leader called out, his voice firm but neutral. "You move quietly for these parts. Didn't hear you approach."
Zamasu stopped a few steps back, keeping his face calm. "Yeah, this place kind of swallows up noise. You don't hear people coming until they're close."
"Aye, that it does," the leader said, his eyes drifting over Zamasu again. He paused briefly on the cracked mythril bracer peeking out from beneath his sleeve and the high-quality greaves.
"Sorry for being cautious, but solo divers on Floor 18 are pretty rare—especially ones who look like they've just come through a fight ten floors down."
"I'm Bordan, captain of Ganesha Familia's 4th Scouting Unit. These are Lira and Kael."
He nodded toward the spearman and archer, who gave quick, curt nods in response.
"Zamasu," he replied, offering nothing more.
The name seemed to land with a tangible impact. Bordan's eyebrows shot up. Lira sucked in a sharp breath, and Kael tightened his grip on his spear haft.
"Zamasu?" Bordan echoed, disbelief and sudden intensity in his voice. "You mean the one who caused a commotion a week ago?"
Bordan exchanged a quick, loaded glance with his companions. The atmosphere shifted from cautious curiosity to heightened alertness, tinged with a hint of curiosity.
He studied Zamasu with renewed focus. "Your familia? Where are your companions? Surely you didn't come down here alone?"
"I never joined one," Zamasu stated plainly.
Silence settled over the glowing clearing, broken only by the soft splash of the nearby waterfall and the faint hum of the forest.
Three pairs of eyes fixed on him, disbelief giving way to something closer to confusion—and unease.
"No familia?" Lira, the archer, whispered, her voice tight with shock. "But… how? You wouldn't even be blessed by a god. How are you alive down here?"
"Impossible," Kael muttered, his grip tightening on his spear. "The monsters would've torn you apart on Floor Two, let alone this deep."
Bordan shot his companions a sharp look, quieting them, though his own expression had grown more guarded.
He stepped a little closer, his eyes narrowing slightly as he studied Zamasu.
"No familia. Alone. Right…"
His tone wasn't harsh, but there was an edge to it now—skepticism replacing curiosity.
He let out a slow breath.
"Zamasu, that's… unheard of. And incredibly dangerous. How did you make it down here? The main routes from Floor 17 are all watched—familia checkpoints, patrols, outposts. We would've heard if someone came through solo."
Zamasu glanced past them, toward the direction of the distant roar overhead.
"I jumped down the cliff," he said simply, his voice calm, like it was no big deal.
Another beat of stunned silence followed.
"The… the cliff?" Bordan repeated, his voice rough with disbelief. "You mean the Great Fall? The straight drop?"
His eyes swept over Zamasu again, looking for wounds—broken bones, bruises, anything—but found only worn gear and scuffed armor.
"You jumped?" he asked, voice rising slightly. "Into the abyss lake? Are you insane?"
Lira let out a small, choked sound. Kael just stared, his earlier hostility replaced by pure shock.
Bordan ran a hand over his face, struggling to process everything. His mind raced between security worries, disbelief, and a growing, reluctant respect.
A solo adventurer, without a familia, had not only made it to Floor 18 alone but had done it by jumping down the Dungeon's deadliest natural trap—and come out without a scratch.
"Most direct…" Bordan muttered, shaking his head slowly. His eyes narrowed as he looked at Zamasu—not with awe, but with deep suspicion.
"By Ganesha's will… you realize how hard it is to believe this, right? A solo, familia-less adventurer showing up this deep in secured territory, claiming to have come down that way…"
He paused, voice low and serious. "It doesn't add up. We have to report this. Someone like you can't just slip through unnoticed."
"Go ahead and report," he shrugged. "Doesn't bother me either way."
Bordan studied him for a long moment, the gears turning behind his eyes. The calm attitude, lack of hostility, and the sheer, terrifying fact that he'd survived argued against him being an immediate threat—but marked him as something profoundly other.
"Right," Bordan said at last, his voice regaining firmness. "We'll report your presence—and your… method of arrival—to the Familia outpost. Be aware, others will want to confirm this."
He glanced around, lowering his voice.
"This floor, peaceful as it seems, has dangers. Monsters here are subtle, sometimes symbiotic—until they're not. Don't let the glow fool you."
He paused.
"And… tread carefully, Zamasu. What you've done draws attention. Not all of it friendly."
Zamasu gave a single, slight nod of acknowledgment. "Sure."
Bordan returned the nod, his eyes holding a mix of wariness. He signaled to his companions.
"Move out. We've lingered long enough."
Lira and Kael tore their eyes away from Zamasu, still visibly shaken, and fell in behind their captain.
They gave Zamasu a wide berth as they passed, heading deeper into the forest along the stream. Their footsteps soon faded into the glowing greenery.
Zamasu watched them go.
He turned away from the clearing and the stream, looking for deeper solitude.
For half an hour, he walked alone. Then he found a massive tree root, wide like a city street, curving up to form a mossy bench beside a still, dark pool. The pool reflected the faint light above, creating an illusion of endless depth.
Zamasu approached the giant root but didn't sit right away.
He stood still for a moment, breathing in the thick, living air, feeling the soft glow on his skin, and listening to the deep hum of the ancient forest.
He acknowledged the contradictions around him—Eden and Beast, peace and danger, beauty and abyss—but now wasn't the time to dwell on them.
Instead, he intended to use this rare calm to focus inward. He lowered himself onto the thick cushion of glowing moss.
Crossing his legs into a lotus position, he straightened his back and relaxed his shoulders, poised yet calm.
He rested his hands lightly on his knees, palms open, and slowly closed his golden eyes.
The last images burned into his mind were the flickering reflections on the dark pool and the glowing patterns on the ancient bark.
Here, in this stillness, he would concentrate on mastering his god ki—learning to feel, control, and shape the divine energy within.
Chapter 32 end