Dungeon of Lust: Managing Otherworldly Beauties

Chapter 328: A Dark Sense of Purpose

‘How pathetic.’

Vale didn’t rage. He didn’t ball up his fist, scream out, dig his nails into his obliques, no… He simply resigned himself to his failure.

Allowing Mias’ plan was a mistake. But it was a mistake he wouldn’t dare take back. For he felt it was a correct mistake.

By sacrificing the few, he could save the many.

Was that not a good trade-off?

In a world of numbers, it absolutely was.

But put a name to each individual number. Then, go and tell that named individual to die. And watch them happily accept without question.

Vale was upset that he’d be ordering his warriors to die, but more so, he knew his warriors would gladly go along with such a plan. They’d die for him without a second thought. Perhaps even with a smile on their face that their master saw a use in their life.

All for what?

‘So I can protect the others I care more about? End this war sooner?’

Hypocritical…

Using lives as tools went against his principles — the foundation upon which he was raised. One of the few (meaningful) lessons his father taught him… Was now really the time to go against it?

‘I wish they at least resisted, showed more of a will beyond my own.’

Then, at least, it would have been harder to agree to Mias’ plan.

‘If I wasn’t in such a rush to end this damn dungeon war…’

Sighing, Vale looked around Floor Two, his eyes settling upon the wall in the distance, behind which Naiad and the unconscious Awilix lay.

Then his eyes drifted a little away from there, toward Toy, who was leisurely leaning against a tree, her gaze darting from Awilix, to Vale, to the Workers, to the Dungeon Core, then back to Awilix and repeating.

Once again, he was reminded of Diligence’s prophecy…

Mias’ proposal and his subsequent acceptance were almost like a foreboding shadow that stretched toward that ultimate choice.

It was as he thought of all he cared about that Vale sat down. He crossed his legs, and then placed his elbows on his thighs and closed his eyes. Before he knew it, his mind drifted inward, searching for an answer.

‘…’

‘I am a treacherous man. A man who will truthfully lie at the drop of a hat. There’s nothing more dangerous than receiving a promise from me — the imps I let die are evidence of that. Yet, I still feel it in me to keep making promises. Even more, I try to make good on promises I have already broken. Why? I try to protect nameless summons. Summons I organize by number while giving only a few a name. Why? What makes those few with a name special?’

…

‘There’s no denying that poignant truth. For it is a truth I have long acknowledged. It’s not because they matter more to me emotionally, but because they’re useful. They’re the strongest and smartest. So then… Why does a Warrior have to be strong to earn a name from me? Is strength truly the decider of worth?’

‘And what right do I have to give them a name?’

‘Their souls are equal in weight. All souls from former humans, beasts… people who’ve died. What right do I have to order them around? What right do I have to send them to their deaths for a second time? I am an individual, no different than they are.’

What gave him that power?

Purpose?

‘Nothing.’

‘I have no reason to hold authority and dominion over their souls. Their will.’

Vale thought about what Greed had said, “Your Champions, Workers, Warriors, and whatnot are not people, but property of the dungeon. And you are the owner of the dungeon.”

Was that it? The reason wasn’t grand or anything, but because he ‘owned’ them?

‘I have the right to control their life because the world, fate, decreed it so?’

Such a sentiment filled Vale with the foulest sense of purpose. The most wicked way to live was at the expense of another. Yet…

Was there any other choice?

Was taking something not the law of existence?

If you wanted to eat, you took another’s life. Even if one argues a plant’s life doesn’t count, taking that berry means another animal who might have needed that berry wouldn’t get it.

What it boiled down to — how to measure wickedness then — was how much the wounded party was affected. How directly had they been harmed.

‘And this decision I’ve made… it’s one rung lower than the most direct form of harm that exists.’

So then…

‘Truly, what a miraculous mistake I’ve made. What an awful joke…’

Vale sighed. As he did, he felt something within him fundamentally shift. His realization twisted into something sinister. Not by his will, but the nudging will of another that long slept within.

…

‘But then again, if I’m not the one inflicting suffering, then I’d be on the receiving end, right?’

An equivalent exchange with nothing reciprocal about it.

Trying to resist that truth wasn’t a show of defiance or strength, but of weakness and surrender.

‘Right…?’

‘No… no!’

‘What am I…?’

‘What was I…?’

‘Wait— yes?’

‘Why do I…’

‘Why am I special? Am I some saint because I try and treat my Legion like people? Is there some award for having a good nature in the afterlife?’

‘Seriously. Seriously, seriously…’

‘Life is war. Living day to day is a constant battlefield. Honor, morality, what does it mean in the end? What use is holding onto such things if it leads to my death?’

Yes…

It was all… making sense.

A lot of sense.

His Legion…

They were his force. His army. His tool to survive.

There were those within his Legion that mattered more — those he considered extensions of himself. They were precious. They were things to protect…

The rest?

‘They’re the method of protection.’

Vale opened his eyes. Around him, the world moved on the same as always, but something was different.

Something had been lost.

Something vital to his self.