Eye Contact Means Battle

"Finally back, Sally. Did you have fun out there?"

Count Philip's expression instantly softened with affection—this youngest son was his favorite.

Turning to look at the doorway, the newcomer had rosy lips and a powdered face (strikethrough). Though the wording was off, the arrival was a man—or rather, a youth—who could be described as "bewitchingly beautiful."

Unlike the Bede family's hereditary brown hair, this youth named Sally had silver hair like a pale moon, tied simply into a ponytail at the back of his head, giving him a dashing and capable air. His travel-worn clothes were also quite refined, carrying the dust of the road. He looked like a handsome young man.

That is, if you ignored his soft features and height of one meter sixty.

Calling him a cross-dresser wouldn't fit, because he had a certain masculine spirit. But calling him a tough guy would waste those beautiful features. So he could only be described as an effeminate, handsome youth.

The more Philip looked at this child, the more he liked him. The boy had perfectly inherited his late mother's beauty and the Bede family's legendary wisdom. At a young age, he already had unique insights into business, even capable of leading a merchant caravan on his own. No matter how you looked at it, he was the best candidate to inherit the Bede family.

Unfortunately, he was a bastard.

He was the child of Count Philip and a commoner, only brought into the Bede family five years ago after his mother's death.

Out of guilt toward his mother, Philip always subconsciously favored Sally. But this only made Sally the target of hostility from his two older brothers, and even the servants held a poor opinion of him behind his back.

So after his coming-of-age ceremony, Sally often traveled for business and rarely came home. In the end, he actually built a profitable merchant caravan.

"How much did you earn this time? Come share your joy with your father," Philip greeted warmly.

"Same as usual, nothing much," Sally said, standing on tiptoe to hang his coat on the rack. He noticed the report on the table. "I heard that dungeon has undergone some changes. Have you finished exploring it, Father?"

"Heh, this time it might be tough," Philip laughed heartily, pushing the thick stack of reports toward Sally. "Here are reports from the family's hired experts and adventurers, plus some scattered intelligence. Take a look and help me figure out how to crack this hard nut."

"Is it really as dangerous as the rumors say?"

Sally picked up the reports and began reading. The slight smile on his lips gradually flattened, until finally he put down the reports with a blank expression, a faint frown on his brow.

Seeing Sally—whose wisdom was no less than his own—make that face, Philip actually felt a bit pleased. After all, he shouldn't be the only one with a headache.

"See? Isn't it hard? No clue where to start."

"It's indeed different from what I imagined."

Sally rubbed the jeweled ring on his right hand, frowning. "It's too simple."

"What?" Philip wondered if he'd misheard. "Too simple?"

His intuition told him that this son of his might actually have a way to break the deadlock.

"Remember the letter I wrote you, Father? I said I made some friends during my travels and wanted to bring them home as guests."

"Could it be that your friends can—"

"That's right. I haven't told you who they are yet, have I?"

Sally smiled faintly, a look of certain victory on his face.

"They're [Heroes]."

"Ah-choo—"

Gong Qiying sneezed violently, scratched his head, and muttered to himself, "Can undead catch colds?"

He stared intently at the crystal ball, watching the adventurers clear the dungeon—it had become his favorite show. No TV program from his past life was as entertaining as this.

Among the adventurers, there were always some incredible beings who found ways to clear the dungeon with wild imagination.

One person used a flying pet to light the beacon instead of going himself, solving the Fortress Gate without taking a single point of damage.

Another used some kind of magic to transform into a fishman and blend into the monster horde. But after lighting two beacons, he was surrounded by fishmen. It turned out he had turned into a female fishman, while all the fishmen in the dungeon were male.

The result? The humiliated adventurer committed suicide.

Someone discovered that when Skeleton Monsters fell apart, two things could happen: sometimes the skull landed face-up, sometimes face-down. Combining the two, they created a perpetual motion machine!

But the rotation was too fast, extinguishing the soul flame in the skull, and the Skeleton Monster died.

Besides these gimmicks, there was one type of person that never failed to show up—the brute-force clearers.

The most typical was an adventurer with a bit of giant blood. This berserker, about three meters tall, downed a bottle of rage potion, grabbed two axes, and chopped his way from the teleport gate all the way to the fortress gate. Out of his mind, he furiously hacked at the door, nearly breaking through by force. It scared Gong Qiying so much he considered pulling the Crucible Knight over to deal with him.

In the end, the heroic Curse Frog army took him down with Curse of Death spray.

Curse Frogs are truly the greatest creatures in this world. Hands clasped in prayer.

"I really should add more monsters with instant-kill mechanics. Brute-force players are too terrifying."

Gong Qiying's gaze shifted, and when he caught sight of a certain scene, he suddenly let out a "Huh?"

"What the hell is this guy doing?"

The figure on the screen looked familiar—a lean build, pale face, refined clothing. It was none other than Vierde.

"This guy still hasn't died yet?" Gong Qiying remembered him. He'd originally thought the guy was just a template arrogant minor noble brat, but he'd actually survived until now. He'd entered the dungeon as soon as it opened, and now it was almost closing time—and he still hadn't died out?

A noble brat surviving this long wasn't that surprising. What amazed Gong Qiying was what the guy was holding in his hand. Round, red and white...

Wasn't that a Poké Ball!

"I remember hiding that Poké Ball in a very concealed patch of grass, with Bulbasaur guarding it. How did he get his hands on it?"

Well, a Poké Ball wasn't that big a deal. With good luck, anyone could grab one. But—

"Go, Pikachu! Use Discharge!"

Vierde planted one hand on his hip, hurled the Poké Ball at a Living Dead Soldier wandering nearby, and struck a rather flamboyant pose.

The next second, light flashed—and a real Pikachu actually popped out of the ball!

"Pika-pika—CHUU!"

Yellow electricity surged forth, instantly roasting the Living Dead Soldier crispy on the outside and tender on the inside. It let out a gah and crumpled to the ground, dead as dead could be.

"Well done, Pikachu! As expected of this young master's partner!"

"Pika."

Though Vierde was brimming with excitement, Pikachu couldn't be bothered with him and simply hopped onto the top of his head.

"No way—how could he have caught a Pikachu? There's no way he could beat one in a fight."

Gong Qiying couldn't figure out where the problem lay. He'd imagined that adventurers might capture Pokémon, but he never expected a pampered young master with zero combat ability to do it.

Could Vierde really be a One-Ball Superhero who could catch Pokémon even at full health?

And on top of that, the moment he caught Pikachu, they were already fighting in perfect sync. The chemistry was so strong that even if Pikachu got one-shot the next second, it felt like it would force itself back up just to keep its trainer from feeling sad.

"This guy has real talent—at least when it comes to training Pokémon."

Suddenly, Gong Qiying wanted to battle Vierde too.