Rise of the F-Rank Hero-Chapter 159: The real treasure

After her figure distorted and vanished into the ether, a small object clattered to the stone floor where she had stood.

Cling.

It was a ring. A simple band made of a dark, unidentifiable metal, inset with a small, deep-blue gem that looked like a frozen piece of the night sky.

Oliver walked over and picked it up.

"It... looks normal."

Physically, it was nothing special. But considering Selina had just dropped a bombshell about "hiding from the Gods," this couldn’t be just jewelry.

He slid it onto his finger. Instinctively, he channeled a thread of his mana into the gem.

ZING.

His mind was instantly assaulted by a vast, white void.

"Holy..."

It was a Dimensional Ring. But not a standard adventurer’s bag that held a few potions and a tent. This was a sub-space vault. The storage capacity was astronomical.

And it wasn’t empty.

"Ha... haha..."

Oliver started laughing, a dry, disbelief-filled sound.

Inside the ring were mountains—literal mountains—of gold coins. Platinum bars stacked like firewood. Gems the size of goose eggs. There were racks of weapons glowing with high-tier enchantments, rows of ancient artifacts, and shelves of grimoires that exuded terrifying magical energy.

"She lied," Oliver grinned, his eyes gleaming with greed. "That sly witch lied. She kept the fortune."

This was the real treasure. This was enough wealth to buy the Holy Empire three times over.

But as his hand reached out to grab a fistful of coins from the mental projection, he stopped.

"Wait."

He pulled his consciousness back to the room.

If Isolde, Amy, and the Knights arrived here and found an empty room with just a portal, they would be suspicious. Even if they trusted him, the Empire would interrogate them. If the "Hidden Dungeon of the Archmage" turned out to be empty, Oliver would be the prime suspect.

"I need to leave some crumbs," Oliver muttered. "Big, shiny crumbs."

He walked to the center of the hidden chamber.

He focused on the ring.

"Open."

Crash! Clatter! Thud!

He released about a quarter of the ring’s contents. 𝙛𝓻𝒆𝒆𝒘𝙚𝓫𝙣𝙤𝒗𝙚𝓵.𝙘𝙤𝙢

A waterfall of gold coins poured out, burying the portal platform. He dumped a few chests of jewels, a rack of A-rank swords (he kept the S and SS ranks), and a few flashy-looking spellbooks that were powerful but not "world-breaking."

Even just this 25% was enough to fill the entire hidden chamber and spill out into the outer study. To any normal person, this would look like the haul of the century.

"Perfect," Oliver nodded, admiring the glittering mess. "Enough to satisfy the Empire, enough to make the Knights rich, but the real power stays with me."

He then turned his attention to the outer room.

He hurriedly gathered all the "Works of Art"—the smutty novels—and the white lace panties.

"These are critical cultural artifacts," Oliver muttered shamelessly as he shoved The Elf Queen’s Secret Garden and the crotchless panties into his subspace ring. "Can’t let the innocent Saintess see these."

Once the room was staged and the evidence secured, he walked back to the heavy stone door and deactivated the lock.

Rumble.

The door slid open.

"Master!"

Seraphine stood there, her vibro-blades fully extended, looking ready to carve through the wall.

"Sensors indicated mana fluctuations," she stated rapidly. "Status report."

"Mission accomplished," Oliver smiled, patting her shoulder. "We secured the payload. But we need to play dumb. No one knows about the ring, got it?"

"Acknowledged. Secrecy protocols engaged."

"Good. Now, transform."

"Affirmative."

Seraphine’s body liquefied once more, shrinking down until she was nothing more than the elegant silver feather brooch. Oliver clipped it back onto his coat collar.

He took one last look at the treasure-filled room, smirked, and dived back into the underwater tunnel.

*****

Thirty minutes later.

Oliver sat under a towering, bioluminescent mushroom tree on the shore of the underground lake. He had dried off using a low-tier fire artifact he found in the ring.

The silence of the cavern was peaceful. Too peaceful.

"They’re taking their time," Oliver muttered, looking at the ceiling where he had fallen.

Boredom began to set in.

He glanced at the new ring on his finger. A mischievous thought crossed his mind.

"Well... might as well pass the time."

He summoned one of Selina’s books.

Poof.

A thick, velvet-bound book appeared in his hand. The title was embossed in gold leaf:

[Bound by Tentacles in the Dungeon: The Paladin’s Fall]

He looked around to make sure he was truly alone, then leaned back against the tree trunk and flipped to a random page.

His eyes scanned the text.

...Lady Alara bit her lip, her holy sword clattering to the damp stone floor. Her armor, usually a symbol of her impenetrable defense, now lay in scattered pieces around the chamber.

"Stay back!" she cried, her voice trembling not with fear, but with a heat she couldn’t suppress.

The Slime Lord didn’t listen. A thick, translucent tentacle, glistening with viscous lubricant, slithered up her greave-less inner thigh. It felt hot against her skin, leaving a wet trail that made her shiver.

"You entered my domain, Paladin," the monster gurgled, the sound vibrating through the stone floor and straight into her groin. "Now you must pay the toll."

Alara tried to crawl backward, but another tentacle wrapped firmly around her waist, lifting her hips into the air. She was displayed like a feast. The slime pulsed, shifting its shape, forming a bulbous, veined head at the tip of the tentacle that hovered inches from her soaking wet entrance.

"No... I am sworn to purity..." Alara gasped, her hips betraying her by twitching forward.

"Purity is just a wall waiting to be breached," the Slime whispered.

With a wet SCHLOP, the tentacle drove inside her. Alara’s back arched, a scream of pleasure-pain ripping from her throat as the thick appendage stretched her tight walls, filling her completely. It didn’t stop. It pushed deeper, past her cervix, filling her womb with its warm, pulsating weight.

"Ahhh! It’s too big! It’s too deep!" she wailed, her eyes rolling back as drool spilt from her lips.

But the Slime only thickened inside her, the ridges on the tentacle grinding against her sensitive walls with every thrust. In and out. Squelch and slap.

Oliver turned the page, his eyes glued to the text.

"Damn," he whispered, wiping a bead of sweat from his forehead. "The prose is surprisingly eloquent. Selina really had a talent for... textures."

He continued reading.

Alara’s resistance crumbled. Her hands, which had been pushing against the slime, now gripped it, her nails sinking into the jelly-like flesh. She began to grind back, meeting the monster’s rhythm.

"More..." she moaned, her holy vows forgotten in the face of overwhelming lust. "Fill me... ruin me..."

Oliver nodded appreciatively. "Classic corruption arc. A bit cliché, but the pacing is solid."

"Hoh..."

Oliver turned the page, his eyes glued to the text.

"The prose is surprisingly descriptive. The way the author describes the viscosity... truly high art."

He nodded solemnly, completely engrossed in the scene where Elara’s breastplate is dissolved by a specific acidic secretion that only affects metal, leaving her heaving bosom exposed to the cold dungeon air.

"Selina Solomon," Oliver whispered reverently. "You truly were a woman of culture."

****

While Oliver was having his fun, on the other side, the expedition team were dead tiered.

The descent to the 45th Floor had been a nightmare of endurance.

"Move! Don’t stop moving!" Isolde shouted, severing the head of a gargoyle on the 44th floor stairs.

The group was ragged. Their armor was scorched, their mana reserves critically low. Jason was pale, his newly attached arm held tight against his chest. Daniel was gasping for air, leaning heavily on his sword.

But they didn’t stop. They couldn’t. Not with the Vampire Princess threatening to leave them behind—or kill them—if they slowed her down. And not with the Saintess radiating a desperate, terrifying silent will.

Finally, they breached the threshold.

[Floor 45: The Abyssal Garden]

The air changed instantly. The dry, dusty smell of the upper tombs vanished, replaced by a thick, humid heaviness that smelled of rot, ozone, and wet earth.

They stepped out onto a ridge overlooking a vast, subterranean cavern.

"By the Gods..." Gerrick whispered, wiping grime from his visor.

It was a jungle. Miles and miles of towering, bioluminescent mushrooms, twisted black vines, and ferns the size of houses. The only light came from the glowing moss on the distant ceiling and the phosphorescent plants below.

"It’s huge," Daniel muttered, looking at the expanse. "How are we supposed to find one man in this?"

"We scan," Amy said, her voice hoarse. She raised her staff, her hands trembling slightly from mana exhaustion. "My detection magic... I can’t cover this whole area."

"We don’t need magic," Isolde said, her crimson eyes scanning the tree line below. She pointed with her rapier. "We just need to follow the blood."

"Blood?" Lisa asked, horrified. "Is it... Oliver’s?"

"No," Isolde smirked, "It’s not human."