I am the Demon King of the Dungeon!

The afterglow of the setting sun.

Arthas carried the three corpses down the mountain step by step, until he reached the dirt road leading to Graystone Town. He turned into a grove of trees by the roadside and found a quiet clearing.

The open space was small, with a thick layer of pine needles covering the ground. Unidentified wildflowers grew all around, and sunlight filtered through the gaps in the tree canopy, casting dappled shadows on the ground.

Arthas gently lowered the three men off his shoulders and placed them neatly side by side on the pine needles.

Then, they started digging the hole.

He wasn't sure how humans were disposed of after death in this world, but it was the only thing he could do right now. After all, bringing three corpses back to town would attract too much attention.

Arthas first drew a rectangular area on the ground with his sword, then began digging with his bare hands. He didn't want to use magic because it was out of respect for the dead. Fortunately, the soil was soft, so digging wasn't too strenuous.

But the pit must be big enough for three people to lie down side by side, and deep enough that wild animals cannot dig it open and rainwater cannot wash it away.

After digging the pit, Arthas placed the three people into it one by one. He placed the round-faced youth's hands in front of his chest, straightened the greatsword man's severed arm, and pushed the female archer's hair to one side, so that her empty eye sockets faced the sky.

He stood up and began filling the hole with soil.

One shovelful after another, one shovelful after another.

The sound of the soil falling was muffled.

After filling the pit, Alsace moved a large stone from the side and placed it in front of the mound.

There is no tombstone, no name.

"Rest in peace here for now."

……

Greystone Town, East Gate.

Two guards are yawning.

Seeing Arthas approaching from afar, she didn't think much of it at first, but when she saw that he was shirtless, her expression immediately turned serious, and she asked with concern, "You, what's wrong with you...?"

"Injuries sustained during a mission," Arthas said as he walked through the guards. "It's nothing serious."

The two guards exchanged a glance but did not stop him.

Arrive at the Adventurers' Guild.

The moment the door was pushed open, everyone in the hall turned their gaze to it.

Arthas was shirtless, his dragon scales gone, but a few faint red marks remained on his skin. These were "battle marks" he deliberately left to cover them up. His shirt was torn to shreds and had long been lost somewhere. His boots were covered in mud, and brown mud stains were stuck between his fingers.

The hall fell silent for a moment.

"Dick!"

Raine's voice boomed from the corner. He sprang up from his chair and rushed over in three strides, grabbing Arthas by the shoulder and looking him up and down with wide, staring eyes.

"What happened to you? Where are your clothes? Are you hurt? Blood? Is this blood?!" Renn's restless hands wandered over Arthas's eight-pack abs.

"It's not my blood." Arthas brushed Renn's hand away. "Don't touch me."

Oris also came over, her gaze sweeping from Arthas's face to his feet, then back to his face, finally settling on the dirt under his fingernails.

Her pupils contracted slightly, but she didn't speak. Instead, she took the water bag from her waist and handed it over.

"Have a sip of water first."

"Thanks."

Arthas took the water bag, tilted his head back and drank deeply, water dripping down his chin and onto the floor.

Ryan calmed down and asked, "Dick, what about the businessmen? Did you take them to the hospital?"

"They're all dead," Arthas replied, setting down his water pouch. "Not a single one is left."

Several adventurers who were nearby exchanged glances upon hearing this. Some put down their wine glasses, while others put away their smiles. One female adventurer in leather armor even placed her hand on the hilt of her sword.

"What do you mean?" The staff member behind the counter poked his head out. "What do you mean 'all dead'? Mr. Dick Reynolds, please explain yourself clearly."

Arthas did not answer immediately. He walked to the counter, took off the top-grade black iron badge, and placed it on the counter.

"I need to see the person in charge."

"The person in charge is not here today..."

"Then let's call the person in charge."

"This..." The staff member paused for two seconds, then turned and walked into the back office.

Less than half a minute.

A middle-aged man came out from behind the door.

He wore a dark blue uniform with a gold-level badge pinned to his chest. His hair was meticulously combed, his beard was neatly trimmed, and he walked with a steady and powerful gait, clearly a seasoned adventurer.

"Hello, I'm Harold Blake, the vice-president of the Graystone Town Adventurers' Guild." Harold's gaze fell on Arthas, then swept over the top-tier black iron badge on the counter. "You're Dick Reynolds?"

"right."

"Come with me."

Harold turned and walked into the office.

Arthas followed.

Renn wanted to join in, but Oris grabbed him.

"Wait here."

"But……"

"Haven't you touched it enough?"

"You, I..." Renn opened his mouth, but seeing Oris's expression, he finally shut his mouth, obediently sat back in his chair, and hugged his knees with both hands.

……

The office wasn't big, but it was very tidy.

An oak desk, two chairs, a map of the area surrounding Greystone Town hanging on the wall, an unidentified green plant on the windowsill, and sunlight filtering through the blinds, casting dappled patterns on the desk.

Harold closed the door, sat behind his desk, and gestured for Arthas to sit down.

"Speak."

Alsace did not sit.

He stood in front of his desk and recounted everything that had happened since he left Greystone Town.

The traps in the Windwhisperer's Forest, the caravan massacre, the maned wolfhounds, the cult in the mountains, the sacrifices, the corpses with their hearts ripped out, the black-robed man, the gold-robed man, the female assassin who knew six martial arts, and finally, the word "Samigina".

Harold's expression changed when he heard "Ouroboros," and when Arthas uttered the words "Samigina," his fingers gripped the quill pen on the table tightly, the tip piercing the parchment and spreading ink into a black stain.

"Are you sure?" Harold's voice was low. "Are you sure it's 'Samigina'?"

"Sure."

"How did you deal with those believers?"

"Kill them all."

Upon hearing this, Harold fell silent. He stood up and walked to the window, his back to Arthas.

"Did you know that the name 'Samigina' has been sealed away for thirty years?"

Arthas did not answer.

"Thirty years ago, a cult was active in the southern part of the continent of Ashu. They worshipped a being who called himself 'Samigina' and captured civilians everywhere to perform human sacrifices. It took the kingdom's army and the Adventurers' Guild three whole years to wipe them out."

"Exterminate them all." Harold turned around, looked at Arthas, and there was something indescribable in his eyes. "At least that's what we think."

"Now they've reappeared."

"Yes." Harold walked back behind his desk and drew a symbol on the parchment.

The snake's body is coiled into a figure eight shape, and its head is biting its own tail, exactly the same as the pattern on the mountain.

"The symbol you just mentioned is the emblem of the Samigina Order. Thirty years ago, any adventurer who saw this symbol would immediately draw their sword, but now..." Harold gave a wry smile, "I'm afraid very few people recognize it."

"The information you brought back is far more valuable than you imagine. According to the rules of the Adventurers' Guild, those who provide important information can be promoted to higher adventurer ranks."