"Ignorance is a sin."

  An ancient philosopher once uttered these words.

  There are various interpretations of what this phrase means, but fundamentally, it suggests that when one finds comfort in their own interpretation of what they do not know, overconfidently clings to that belief, and charges ahead recklessly, irreparable consequences can occur.

  Thus, ignorance is a sin.

  Here, there was a boy who was overly confident in himself.

  The boy carefully kept a key tucked in his pocket.

  He checked it repeatedly, grinning to himself each time, though no one was around to see. In his excitement, he occasionally lost his bance, quickly regaining it before repeating the cycle.

  Normally accompanied by his entourage of boys, today he was alone. He had borrowed a donkey from a shady merchant and was heading southwest with a vague sense of direction.

  He was aiming for a secluded pce.

  Somewhere no one would be, where no one could interfere.

  "Hmph, with this, everyone will have to acknowledge me as a hero."

  The reason for this statement cannot be understood from these words alone. Let us rewind a few hours.

  He had tried to use a Goblin Dungeon key he had obtained in his own home.

  He wanted to use the dungeon key in his room, a pce where no one would disturb him, where he could come and go as he pleased.

  But his father appeared and caught him.

  His father, recognizing the Goblin key in his hand, discovered his pn to use it at home and immediately began to lecture him. He was told that if he wanted to use it, he had to do so in a designated area. Reluctantly, he gave up for the day.

  Grudgingly, he made his way to the area managed jointly by the Adventurer's Guild and the military, where dungeon keys could be used.

  There, he encountered soldiers and guild staff.

  The boy, Dassé, tried to use the dungeon key on the spot, but was stopped by a staff member who expined the rules for using it there.

  The main rule was that the area where the key could be used was determined by the threat level of the dungeon, and prior notification was required.

  Dassé thought it was unnecessary to be so strict, but he held his tongue, thinking that as long as he could use it, it was fine.

  But then.

  "And if the dungeon isn't cleared within a certain period, we will form a party to clear it to prevent a stampede."

  Dassé couldn't accept the female staff member's words.

  "Huh!? I found this key!! Why should someone else clear it!?"

  For Dassé, this key was the first step on his path to becoming a hero. He wouldn't tolerate anyone getting in his way.

  "That's why I said it's to prevent a stampede. Unless it's an exception, if a dungeon isn't cleared within a certain time, it evolves, becoming deeper. After a certain level of evolution, monsters will spawn in rge numbers inside. When the dungeon becomes saturated, the monsters will overflow and rampage outside. This is called a stampede. Higher-level dungeon keys have more time before evolution, but lower-level keys can start evolving in as little as a month, sometimes even sooner, reaching saturation in less than two weeks."

  But causing a scene here would mean not being able to use the key he had worked so hard to find. His rationality barely held him back, and he listened to the staff member.

  However, Dassé understood less than half of what was said. No, he didn't even try to understand.

  To the staff member, these were common-sense rules. But to Dassé, they were inconvenient truths.

  For someone who believed the world should revolve around him, this expnation wasn't just irritating—it was downright annoying.

  The staff member, perhaps sensing this, looked slightly exasperated. Letting a child use a dungeon key alone was dangerous to begin with.

  But Dassé was infamous in a bad way, and his father was also known for being less than reputable.

  Not wanting to get involved in trouble, the staff member gave up on further warnings.

  She thought that if he entered the dungeon and got hurt, he'd learn his lesson. This was an unfortunate misjudgment.

  "So, how long do I have with this key?"

  "For a Goblin key, it's one week."

  The key he showed her further skewed her judgment.

  "One week!?"

  Goblin keys are rare drops from goblins, which are commonly hunted. The difficulty of a Goblin Dungeon is such that a novice adventurer party could clear it with some experience, albeit with some risk.

  "Veterans can clear it solo. Among lower-level dungeons, it's of moderate difficulty."

  The staff member underestimated Dassé. She was too bound by common sense.

  She assumed he was overconfident and would brag about clearing it within a week, only to fail miserably. She pnned to just send a rescue request if needed.

  If used within the managed area, anyone could clear it, and it could be handled. She believed that any compints from the child could be dealt with using the guild and military rules.

  But her assumptions were too grounded in common sense.

  "......"

  Contrary to the staff member's expectations, Dassé quietly looked at the key.

  "Hey."

  "I won't use it today!!"

  After looking around, he said this and left the dungeon area.

  The staff member didn't know—no, she did know, but her assessment was too lenient. Dassé had an infted self-esteem.

  Yet, he also felt some unease.

  He was confident he could clear the dungeon easily. But at the same time, he feared that if he failed, someone else would take over the dungeon.

  He wasn't worried about losing his life. He was sure he could retreat easily if things went wrong.

  It was as naive as a child pying a game, thinking they could just reload a save file and continue if they failed.

  His actual experience of fighting and defeating goblins had made him overconfident.

  So, he changed his approach to where he would use the key.

  If there was a chance of interference, he would use it somewhere no one was watching.

  To Dassé, the rules of adults held little value.

  Children who obediently follow the rules when told something is dangerous pce a high value on adult rules.

  But to him, those rules were unimportant. If he didn't like them, he believed it was fine to break them. If he got scolded, it wasn't his fault—it was the rules that were wrong.

  His sense of common sense was skewed. But no one had ever corrected him.

  Sadly, that was the reality. And the fact that only those in power were allowed to enter dungeons further twisted his sense of common sense to suit his needs.

  His actions, which could be described as cking a sense of danger, were, to him, the right path.

  He believed he would be fine, that he could handle anything. Everything Dassé did was right.

  Thus, he began to use his brain in a way he normally didn't.

  How could he use the dungeon key without interference, in a way that suited him?

  Using it in the town was out of the question. There were soldiers, adventurers, and acquaintances around.

  "......"

  Suddenly, Dassé remembered the two friends who usually followed him around. He briefly considered asking them for help, but immediately dismissed the idea, thinking that the glory should be his alone.

  Moreover, he despised the thought of his timid friends getting scared and reporting the dungeon to the adults, ruining everything.

  So, what should he do?

  "Outside. If I go outside, no one will find out."

  A simple conclusion. A pce where no one was around, where no one would come.

  All he had to do was get there.

  With that decided, he thought about how to get outside.

  The soldiers' carriages were off-limits. Even Dassé understood that military equipment like carriages couldn't be used freely.

  "Now that I think about it, there's a shop that rents out riding beasts."

  So, what to do? The alternative came to him quickly. He had that much knowledge—or rather, it would be more accurate to say he had too much knowledge.

  It was a common enough business, one that even Dassé could consider common sense.

  He decided to go to the shop, and with the money he had earned from goblins, he first visited a nearby shop in the east.

  "Why not!? If the riding beasts are tamed, anyone should be able to ride them!!"

  "Kid, even so, these are our tools of trade. Who would lend them out knowing they'd be treated roughly? Sorry, but just because you have money doesn't mean we'll lend them to anyone. Try another shop."

  But he was rejected three times.

  It turned out that riding beasts were harder to handle than Dassé thought. Having only ever ridden in carriages, Dassé had no experience riding or handling tamed monsters, even if they were riding beasts.

  At first, the shopkeeper offered a beginner's riding beast since Dassé was paying, but Dassé compined about its speed, appearance, strength, and reliability, insulting the shopkeeper's prized beasts until he was deemed not a customer.

  Only because his father was a captain in the military was he merely kicked out.

  "Dammit, damn it!"

  Angry and frustrated, he walked away, considering whether to just head outside when—

  "Hehe, kid, you need a riding beast?"

  A suspicious man approached him. He was smiling, but his shadiness outweighed his charm. His clothes were clean but somewhat outdated.

  "Yeah, that's right! Are you a tamer?"

  To Dassé, who was frustrated and narrow-minded, the man's shadiness didn't matter.

  "Hehehe, something like that. I don't have anything great, but I've got something usable. How about this one? You can use it roughly; it's no problem if it gets worn out."

  What he offered was a donkey—a good-quality donkey, at that.

  "......Don't you have anything better?"

  But to Dassé, who aspired to be a hero, a donkey was unimpressive and not to his liking. He immediately asked if there were any other riding beasts.

  "Hehehe, kid, sorry, but this is the only one I've got right now."

  "Then—"

  "If you turn this down and try elsewhere, you'll just get the same response. That's how it'll end."

  The man immediately said there were no others, and just as Dassé was about to leave to try another shop, the man smirked and spoke.

  "Tch."

  "Kid, this is an opportunity. Compromise here, achieve results, and those who rejected you before will come crawling back to you."

  "!?"

  It was a sweet, convenient line, but to Dassé, it was the most pleasing thing he could hear.

  "By the way, kid, I know a good pce for you to use that thing you're so eager to use."

  The man pointed at the key Dassé was carefully hiding under his clothes. Dassé flinched, wondering how the man knew, but the man just chuckled.

  "After all the commotion in the square, word gets around."

  Hearing the reason, Dassé nodded, though still looking dissatisfied.

  "Don't be so wary. I also have some issues with how the guild and military handle things. It's quite troublesome not being able to use them freely."

  As if to comfort Dassé, the man quietly pulled out an old piece of paper from his pocket and handed it to Dassé.

  "This pce is secluded. No one will disturb you, and you can challenge the dungeon in peace."

  It was a map—hand-drawn, but easy enough for a child to understand.

  "And here, take this too."

  He also handed over the donkey's reins.

  "......"

  "You're wondering why, aren't you? Well, consider it a little help for a young man challenging the future. No need to thank me. If you become a hero in the near future, just buy me a drink, and I'll be happy."

  With everything he needed suddenly falling into his p, and the man's words hinting that he could become a hero, Dassé's mood quickly improved.

  No one else believed in him.

  In the midst of that, this man was the only one who acknowledged him, filling Dassé's heart with a sense of specialness.

  "Hmph, even if you ask for it back, I won't return it!!"

  "Sure, that's fine."

  Whether it was his natural personality or a result of his upbringing, Dassé's rude attitude didn't faze the man. Dassé pulled the donkey away and left the man behind.

  Without chasing after Dassé, the man turned around and disappeared into a nearby alley.

  "You foolish brat," he said, as the wind swept through the hem of the suspicious man's clothes as he walked.

  At that moment, though no one noticed, a glimpse of a tattoo was briefly visible.

  The color was purple, and it was the tail of a snake.

  If one could have seen the entire design, they might have witnessed a chimera with three wolf heads, the body of a lion, the wings of a giant eagle, and the tail of a serpent.

  Liberta would have understood.FBO is a game.

  And in games, enemies often exist.

  So, it’s only natural to assume that this world might have its own enemies as well.

  Their existence is quite straightforward.If there are gods who rule the world, then there must also be gods who have been defeated.

  It is because they worship these defeated gods that they are called this:

  The Cult of the Evil Gods.

  Was the hand that such a man extended to a young boy truly a human hand?