That's right, that's what adventure is like!

Edmund Casimir, the most famous bard of Broken Rock, fell into that dream after drinking his third cup of "Blue Tears" vintage wine.

He was sitting on the second floor of the Golden Vein Tavern, in his own private spot closest to the fireplace.

Outside the window, it was night, and the crisp sound of rain was drowned out by the crackling of the campfire. He draped his velvet coat over the chair, and leaned against a silver-inlaid seven-stringed harp.

The day's work had just ended, and although the story of slaying the dragon was old-fashioned, his magical recitation still earned him dozens of gold coins and applause.

At this moment, all he wanted was to soothe his weary throat with the mellow wine and then attend to the new waitress.

However, before the burning sensation of the wine had dissipated, a damp chill gripped Edmund's heart, and his consciousness was dragged into darkness.

He "experienced" everything.

The feeling of fingers brushing against the cold parchment of the quest board, the nauseating sensation of the cheap night vision potion churning in the throat, the scorching heat wave when the Black Ash Storm first appeared, and the pungent smell of the burnt carapace...

He "heard" the scales floating in the air, radiating golden light, uttering a strange voice: Left, right, left, right, center—three people ahead, harboring ill intentions.

The process was so real it defied logic: the excruciating pain of a cold arrow piercing flesh, the sticky warmth of blood soaking into the armor... and his own cold retaliation.

The blade ends the treacherous enemy.

Thus, he saw the unformed monster embryo in the nursery, the terrifying and chilling hints in the manuscript, and the triple-ring mark that "peeks into the brokenness of reality."

In the grand and eerie magic circle hall, corpses are picked up by living armor and exchanged for hideous monsters in the crimson magic circle—that is the truth of the dungeon's life cycle.

The orc companions' faces were blurred, yet they were manipulated by the celestial chart. Fortunately, "he" held fast to his beliefs and turned his courage into decisive salvation.

Finally, the story ends with a familiar voice.

"Coo coo coo... Have you ever seen my master?"

"Ho—"

Edward sprang up from the wooden chair, knocking over a wine glass. The expensive wine soaked through the carpet, leaving dark stains.

He was panting heavily, his silk shirt soaked with cold sweat, and his fingertips trembled uncontrollably.

The hustle and bustle of the tavern, the warmth of the fireplace, and the familiar smell of tobacco enveloped him once again, but the chill of the dungeon in his dream, the acrid smell of the exploding black embers, and the stench of blood still lingered deep within his soul.

Gudong!

He swallowed his saliva unconsciously, and in a daze, he saw an old man, weathered by life, standing in the distance with a cane, smiling at him.

That is Farran, the guardian of wanderers and songs, the god worshipped by travelers, merchants, messengers, and all bards who seek stories and truths on the road.

My heart was pounding in my chest, almost shattering my ribs. The fear and shock I felt earlier were now overwhelmed by awe, enlightenment, and a tremendous sense of responsibility.

Why did Frann show him these things? Was it a warning? A revelation? Or perhaps a request?

He staggered, ignoring the astonished looks of the other patrons, and pushed open the window, letting the cold wind, carrying fine rain, lash against his body, cooling his burning forehead and chaotic thoughts.

Everything in the dream—the sticky sensations, the pungent smells, the eerie images, the divine symbols—became even clearer under the gaze of the great deity, without becoming blurred in the slightest.

It seems that this is his mission.

Edward turned abruptly, returning to his position with a strange, sacred quality to his movements. An unprecedented focus emanated from the amorous poet, transforming into a continuous stream of inspiration.

Carefully unfold a piece of parchment with a sandalwood scent, and the mithril nib is dipped in ink.

He put down his pen.

I walked into the velvety silence.

"The potion gave the stone walls a faint glow."

"The balance scale uses a metallic trill to indicate the way:"

"Left, right, left, right, center—"

"A shadow is creeping ahead."

……

"Before parting, the scales still lamented."

"—Have you seen my master return?"

"I unfolded the yellowed manuscript, letting it know."

"The past is now desolate."

……

"Singing this story, not for glory."

"Just to be remembered by the world:"

"The river of all things flows in cycles."

"Only exploration can dispel confusion..."

The last line of the poem, like a pebble thrown into a calm lake, creates ripples in the air.

Edward's voice deepened, blending into the continuous crackling of the campfire in the fireplace, its lingering echoes mingling with the breathing of the people in the tavern.

A brief silence.

Then came an explosion of applause, the excited cheers almost lifting the roof off the low-ceilinged tavern, accompanied by the occasional clatter of wooden cups hitting the table.

The adventurers' faces were flushed, their eyes burning with anticipation. Some had already grabbed their weapons and were eager to explore the Black Ash Dungeon.

Residents who came upon hearing the noise whispered among themselves, repeatedly using words like "dungeon," "loop," and "exploration." The children's eyes shone brightly, seemingly captivated by the mysterious and magnificent experience.

Several people from the town government office frowned and exchanged meaningful glances.

In the midst of the commotion, Edmund slowly bowed, his solemn expression fading to reveal a sense of relief that his mission was accomplished.

Instead of accepting cheers or tips as usual, he pressed the badge of the traveler's god on his chest and headed to the next tavern.

In return for the gift from the gods, he has decided to spread this poem to every corner of the town today.

At the very edge of the hall, in a corner concealed by a huge stone pillar, Roland sat alone in the shadows, his lips twitching almost imperceptibly.

The beer in front of him was still full, and water droplets were beginning to seep out from the warmth of the fireplace, but that couldn't hide his inner astonishment.

Unexpectedly, the panel would "spread" this story in the name of a deity.

But... it's still acceptable.

The story contains almost no information about the Shadow Society's conspiracy or the Association's plans, nor any description of his or Torg's physical appearance.

Even regarding the name, the bard simply explained: "The great Frann never mentioned it; perhaps He wanted to protect the traveler's privacy and let him immerse himself in the next exploration."

so so.

This was the conclusion Roland ultimately reached.

The story, titled "The Ember Poems," will likely have little impact beyond surprising some informed members of the association's management.

The only organization that might take this seriously is the Shadow Society, but they are probably already in dire straits themselves and wouldn't investigate based on just one story.

not to mention……

The story "The Secret of the Black Ashes" is being spread. If participants in the story do not proactively reveal information, you will not be considered a protagonist.

This is a guarantee from the Golden Finger.

In addition, Roland's third story also brought about a completely new change last night, which surprised him somewhat, but also felt as expected.

[Note: Your story has spread across this continent for the first time; your attribute panel has been unlocked.]

Name: Roland Gullor (Nolan)

Job Level: Trainee

Strength: 5 (muscle strength, body load capacity, explosive power, etc.)

Agility: 6 (reaction speed, physical flexibility, alertness, etc.)

Constitution: 5 (Endurance, physical fitness, wound recovery speed, resistance to negative effects, etc.)

Perception: 6 (observation, magical perception, five senses, judgment, etc.)

Charisma: 5 (approachability, intimidation, temperament, interpersonal skills, etc.)

Skills: Parry Counterattack, Heavy Slash, Time Gap

Honor Points: 12/100 (The story is spreading and accumulating...)

Note: For an average adult male, each character has 5 attribute points.