I Died and Became a Noble's Heir

Chapter 604 604: I Cleared the S-Rank Dungeon

Laurence's eyes tracked across the growing stacks, his mind clearly calculating what this volume of materials meant for his province's development.

The beast hides alone could outfit his entire guard force with armor superior to what they currently wore.

The serpent scales could be sold to capital artisans for enough gold to hire additional troops and improve fortifications.

The magical plants could fund alchemical research or be traded to the royal academy for favors and political connections.

This wasn't just generous compensation for handling distribution.

These were transformation-level resources that could elevate his minor noble house into legitimate provincial power within a generation.

"I don't..." Bale started, then stopped to clear his throat. "What exactly was the field boss at the end of this dungeon? The final floor guardian that guaranteed this level of... quality ingredients?"

Rhys's expression didn't change. "A Dryad. Ancient, powerful, and deeply integrated with the dungeon's ecosystem. Elysium's royal assessment team graded the environment as S-rank based on the entity's capabilities and the overall threat level of the floors leading up to the beast."

Bale's eyes widened further, his mind clearly trying to reconcile the massive material haul with the knowledge that an S-rank boss had been defeated and harvested with such thoroughness that almost two thousand crates of materials had been extracted.

"And Jack Kaiser cleared this himself? With his bound demons and supernatural army?"

"No," Rhys stated simply.

The silence that followed stretched for five full seconds as Bale processed the single-word response and tried to extrapolate meaning from Rhys's completely neutral expression.

"Then... who cleared it?" the young lord asked carefully, his tone suggesting he wasn't entirely certain he wanted to know the answer but couldn't stop himself from asking.

"I did," Rhys confirmed, his voice carrying no pride, no satisfaction, no emotion beyond a simple statement of fact delivered with the same detachment he might use to confirm he'd walked from one location to another.

Bale stared at him.

His gaze then shifted to Brutus, who had momentarily ceased his oversight responsibilities to direct a stare at the young lord.

This look conveyed the alpha minotaur's profound lack of deference for human aristocracy in general, and for this specific individual in particular.

The red sparks dancing off Brutus's eyes intensified into miniature lightning bolts that left small scorch marks on the ground where they struck stone.

Then back to Rhys, whose expression remained completely neutral despite having just claimed solo responsibility for clearing an S-rank dungeon.

"You're telling me," Bale said slowly, each word carefully enunciated as if he were testing whether speaking the claim aloud would make it sound more or less believable.

"That you personally cleared an S-rank dungeon. Alone. Without assistance from Jack Kaiser's beast army or any support whatsoever."

"Yes," Rhys confirmed.

"That's..." Bale's voice trailed off as his mind tried to process the claim and reconcile it with everything he knew about dungeon diving.

Party composition requirements and survival rates of solo delvers in environments graded above B-rank were scarce.

The basic tactical reality is that S-rank environments were called S-rank specifically because they required coordinated teams of exceptional individuals to survive.

"That's impossible," he finished, the words emerging with certainty born from conventional wisdom and decades of accumulated knowledge about what constituted feasible versus suicidal dungeon delving strategies.

Brutus's snort carried so much concentrated contempt that several nearby guards flinched, their hands instinctively reaching for weapons, only to have their survival instincts override training and force them to remain still.

The alpha minotaur directed an unpleasant gaze toward Young Lord Bale, akin to one observing an unsavory discovery on the sole of a hoof after traversing a barnyard.

The red sparks crackling from his eyes exploded into arcs of crimson lightning that danced across his horns, creating small electrical discharges that made the air smell like burning stone.

"You call it impossible because you are weak," Brutus stated, his voice rumbling through the courtyard with force that made the words feel like a physical impact against everyone's chest.

"You look at the S-rank dungeon and see only death because you are not strong enough to survive past the entrance hall before being torn apart by creatures that would use your bones as decoration."

He took one step forward, his massive frame casting a shadow that swallowed Young Lord Bale completely.

"Rhys cleared it alone because he is not pathetic like you. Because he possesses actual strength instead of pretty clothes and polished boots. Because when he faces death, he does not surrender like a coward who hides behind guards too weak to defend him."

The offensive remark permeated the atmosphere and was delivered with an air of detached cruelty. Transforming the verbal aggression into an assertion of an observable reality.

Bale's face flushed deep red, his hands clenching at his sides as pride warred with self-preservation instinct that recognized arguing with a seven-foot-tall minotaur who was sparking with electrical discharge was a catastrophically poor tactical decision.

His mouth opened, but he failed to produce any sound beyond a small choking noise.

One of the nearby guards shifted his weight slightly, his hand moving fractionally toward his sword as if considering whether defending his lord's honor was worth potential death.

Brutus's head snapped toward him with speed that shouldn't have been possible for a creature of his size.

His focused gaze was so potent a threat to the guard that he became entirely immobilized.

"Do not," Brutus stated, each word punctuated with a small electrical discharge. "I would enjoy an excuse to demonstrate why humans should not challenge beasts to combat. Your lord is weak. You are weak. Your entire province is weak. This is the truth."

The guard's hand moved away from his weapon as fast as he opened his mouth.

He'd just realized he was seconds away from being reduced to a bug.

Rhys decided to intervene before the situation escalated from verbal humiliation into violence that would complicate the delivery and potentially damage materials that Jack had specifically allocated for Young Lord Bale's use.

"I have proof," Rhys stated, his voice cutting through the tension with clinical efficiency that made everyone's attention snap toward him. "If you require evidence beyond the material volume and Brutus's confirmation of my capabilities."

Bale's attention focused on Rhys. His expression showed that he was extremely grateful for an excuse to stop being stared at by a minotaur who had just called him pathetic, weak, and cowardly in a single breath.

"Yes. I would... very much appreciate seeing proof. For the official records and contract documentation."

Rhys gestured toward one of the larger crates positioned near the courtyard's center.

The container was roughly eight feet long and four feet wide.

It was significantly larger than the beast hides and serpent scales filling the standard-sized boxes.

"Open that one," Rhys instructed, his tone carrying no particular emphasis beyond simple direction.

Two guards moved to comply, their hands working the crate's securing mechanisms while their eyes tracked nervously toward Brutus to ensure the minotaur wasn't going to interpret them.

The lid came free with the protesting creak of stressed wood, hinges groaning as the top was lifted to reveal contents.

Young Lord Bale approached cautiously, his steps were careful as if he were walking toward something potentially dangerous.

His expression shifted from residual embarrassment to genuine shock as he registered what the crate contained.