The secret area should be around here somewhere.

For Jerome, crawling through the areas of this dungeon became as natural as navigating the hallways in his own home. He had been here so many times. This time, however, was different.

He was completely alone, and there was a good reason. One of the newbies he bullied out of their silver told him about a secret area that contained many treasures.

You see, Jerome was not the kind of hero that most people conjure to mind when thinking about adventurers. Jerome had no interest in heroics. All Jerome cared about was profit. He found, through trial and error, that the best way to get funding, as he called it, was not to make a party and probe the deepest levels of the dungeons. Rather, it was to make a party of newbies, go to the deeper levels, and once there, threaten the newbies into giving up all their pricely possessions and coin.

But Jerome did not stop there. He would order these pups, under threat of punishment, to only praise Jerome's name. And so, Jerome became famous as a pup helper. So famous, that all the newbies, the so-called pups, wanted to party with him.

Business had never been better, or so Jerome would think, until he met that pup who had something even more valuable than silver or magical items; He had information. Secrets! Jerome loved secrets. They were the most profitable.

Left, down this corridor, then right. Avoid rare monsters.

One of Jerome's tricks was a witchpowder. It was extremely expensive, but it prevented monsters of a certain class and rarity from recognizing him as a threat. It was extremely expensive, and only guilds would generally use them to train their pups. With this witchpowder, Jerome could lead the newbies into the deepest levels, and threaten to leave them there, or aggro all the monsters, if they don't cough up their goods.

Jerome was not ashamed of himself; He was pragmatic. Why should he play the fool and fall on his own sword? For what? Glory? Glory doesn't put food on the table. Silver does.

Jerome snorted proudly at the thought, and kicked a pebble in his path. The pebble bounced off the perfectly chiseled wall and then struck something that echoed with a dull, metallic sound.

Jerome did not pay any heed to it at first, but after three steps he began reconsidering his position on the matter. Metallic meant valuable.

Also rare monsters.

Jerome slowed down as he pondered this thought.

It is most likely one of the dead pups. It sounded too deep to be armor. What could it be? The monster might not even be there anymore. I should check...

Laying his hand against the pommel of his sword, Jerome decided to take a peek. As he rounded the corner, his eyes went wide.

Laying before him was a pile of discarded items. Swords, shields, pieces of protective gear, pendants, rings... most of them were magical too!

Ah, I get it! This happens all the time. A heroic adventurer who graduated from this dungeon must have felt nostalgic and returned here. He dropped all these items to help out the pups of this generation. What a good person!

Jerome's lips curved into a cruel smile.

Thank you, kind adventurer. This will go into my retirement fund.

Jerome picked up one of the pendants that seemed extremely valuable, and noticed something odd. There was a white powder on it. No, not a powder. It was grains. It looked like salt.

Jerome leaned in closer, and noticed that underneath all the pieces of dropped gear was a large pile of... salt.

Why salt?

"Hmm," Jerome hummed as he pondered the strange anomaly. Why would a high-level adventurer drop a pile of salt with all this free gear?

Jerome noticed a glimmer in the darkness of the corridor, and before his brain could even process the optical signal, his head separated from his body.

[Logistics: Materials absorbed.]

[Logistics: Discarding non-viable materials.]

[Discarded: calcium, sodium, chlorine, phosphorous, other trace elements.]

[Neural Pathway reconstructed.]

[System online.]

[Disengaging autonomous defenses.]

[Data line C41755 active.]

[Gate voltage: optimal.]

[Reactor Status: Online.]

[Codename: Devourer.]

[Designation: Undefined.]

[Gate voltage: Danger.]

[Diagnostics: Error in memory module.]

[Diagnostics: Purging data.]

>

All things sing his burning name.

To see his mien is to become blind.

To hear his voice is to become deaf.

To feel his touch is to become salt.

[Salt: Sodium Chloride. NaCl. Electrically neutral. Greek: Halas.]

[Halas: Aspect of Annihilation attributed to one of the five Angels of Punishment: Uriel.]

[System: Data recovered.]

[Designation: Halas.]

Congratulations. You are now a level 1 adventurer.

Congratulations. You are a Class-K Calamity.]

That day, an eclipse wreathed in fire usurped the sky and its portent was clear to all: A calamity had been born into this world.