Endless Dungeon: The Misadventures of a Gunslinger Who Can’t Shut Up [LitRPG/Dungeon] Chapter 13: Pain, Pain, and… Pain

Noah pushed the door open, and a low creak rolled into the silence like it had been waiting for soone to notice it. The room beyond was simple, split clean down the middle by a sense of symtry that felt a little too intentional.

Two beds faced each other from opposite walls, white sheets stretched tight over thin cushions that looked more decorative than comforting.

A single window broke the middle of the far wall, its fra wide enough to invite in the scene outside—the bustling marketplace of the Bottom Lair.

Beyond the glass, the lamps lining the crooked paths below flickered like restless fireflies caught under glass. The entire market sprawled beneath a vast stone do, massive and ancient, with veins of darker rock webbing across its surface like ti had etched them there for fun.

The mont Noah stepped inside, the wall-mounted lamps flared to life with a soft hum. Warm light poured into the room, chasing away the dimness with a slow, deliberate glow.

He crossed to the bed nearest the window, eyeing the flimsy pillow like it owed him money. Then he dropped down onto the mattress, letting out a long, winded groan that said everything his words didn’t.

Eve drifted soundlessly across the room, her presence more like a breeze than a person. As she approached the second bed, her light-draped figure shimred softly. The glow that wrapped around her dimd, folding inward like mist drawing back at dawn.

In its place, her human form unfolded once more—graceful, composed, and quiet. Blonde hair cascaded like poured silk, spreading gently over the folds of her robe that glead faintly in the lamplight. Her face, serene and untouched by emotion, returned like a painting rembered in perfect detail.

Noah leaned back, eyes tracing her reflection through the softened glow of the wall lamps. The golden light caught the edge of her features, dancing across her skin like it was unsure whether to worship or observe.

He’d noticed it before, but seeing her now made it clearer—Eve looked his age. Not in the way humans aged, but in that odd space where youth still lingered, but ti had brushed by once or twice.

If no one had told him what she was, if the word artificial had never been whispered into the air between them, he would’ve never guessed.

To him, in this mont, she didn’t look made. She looked like soone who had simply always been.

[Guardian Spirit: Status: Dormant.]

Noah’s gaze sharpened, his eyes narrowing as faint letters shimred to life above Eve’s head. The words floated in the air, crisp and silent, casting a gentle glow that flickered like soft candlelight against the ceiling.

Eve sat with poise on the opposite bed, her posture calm, unmoving, almost too perfect. The soft dip of the mattress beneath her barely made a sound.

[What?]

Noah leaned forward slightly, the ghost of a smirk pulling at his lips.

"So you’re a Guardian Spirit now? Fancy title."

[That’s just a placeholder. I don’t own the title yet. Not officially.]

[You’ve got to grow stronger first. Only then can you claim it for .]

Noah gave a slow nod, his gaze locked on Eve as if studying a puzzle he didn’t quite know how to solve.

His curiosity wasn’t loud, but it filled the space between them, silent and steady, flickering behind his eyes like a question waiting for the right mont to be asked.

Eve’s arms wrapped around herself with slow deliberation, as if shielding her calm from sothing unseen.

Her eyes narrowed.

[Whatever you're imagining, stop it. I see one wrong move and I’m coming for your eyes.]

"Huh? Are you serious right now? As if I'd be interested in checking out that artificial body of yours. Please. I’m going to bed."

With that, Noah flopped backward onto the mattress with the grace of a falling log. The springs creaked in mild protest before silence reclaid the room. Within monts, the soft rhythm of his snores rose like lazy waves, steady and unbothered.

Eve didn’t move. She simply watched him, the slow rhythm of his breath rising and falling against the hush of the room.

The lines around her eyes softened, barely noticeable, like a weight she hadn't realized she was carrying had just slipped away.

Whatever tension had held her still began to fade, unraveling with quiet grace.

There was no danger in the room. No alarms in her mind. Just the sound of Noah snoring, steady and unbothered.

Noah had made it through the day.

And for reasons she didn’t bother naming, that was enough.

With one last glance, she lowered herself onto the bed, the mattress barely stirring beneath her. The quiet wrapped around her like a thought half-ford. And in that hush, she finally closed her eyes.

•••••

A voice—sharp, strained, and trembling with pain—echoed through the quiet space of Noah’s mind. It wasn’t loud, but it pierced deeper than any scream could. The kind of voice that carried mories, heavy ones.

"It's all your fault!"

The words ca like waves, crashing over monts he thought he’d buried. But the sea of mory had no rcy. It dragged him back without asking.

"It all happened because you didn't say anything! You didn't do anything!"

"Everything is your fault, Noah!"

The voice didn’t belong to a stranger. It was familiar—too familiar. It wrapped around him like smoke from a fire long gone cold, and yet the burn still lingered.

Noah opened his eyes.

No flinch. No gasp. Just a slow, practiced blink.

He lay there, still as the room around him, the quiet pressing gently against his skin. That dream again. The one that ca like clockwork. The one that had worn out its welco but refused to leave.

He was calm. The kind of calm that only ca after seeing the sa nightmare too many tis, until it beca part of the night itself.

Noah sat up slowly, his movents quiet and asured, as if waking was a ritual he’d gone through too many tis to rush.

He pressed both hands against his face, fingers dragging across his skin in a motion that spoke more of habit than need. The silence of the room clung to him, undisturbed but not comforting.

Across from him, Eve stirred. The mont he moved, she responded. Her eyes opened in a steady blink, not surprised.

She rose to a seated position, graceful and unhurried, her gaze settling on him without question.

[Is sothing wrong? Or are you just scared of the dark now?]

The torches lining the walls flared to life with a soft pulse, their light spilling gently over the room and casting long, still shadows.

Noah gave a small shake of his head, shoulders relaxing just enough to suggest he wasn’t holding onto the dream too tightly.

"I just had one of those dreams again. You know, the kind that thinks it’s being funny but forgets how to deliver the punchline."

[That expression on your face? Yeah, no. That wasn’t a cody. Spill it. What kind of nightmare was it? Sothing that crawled out of your mories? Or just your worst fear dressed up in drama?]

Noah let out a quiet laugh, the kind that barely reached his chest. It wasn’t loud, but it carried sothing warm, like a breeze brushing over cooled ashes.

"What could my biggest fear be, huh? I’m a walking disaster with a punchline for a soul. Take a wild guess."

Silence stretched between them, not heavy, just there—resting in the space the words left behind.

The torchlight painted their faces in soft, flickering gold, shadows gently dancing across cheekbones and brows. Neither moved. Neither rushed the quiet.

[Speaking of... what’s the deal with that weird fear file of yours? Sothing about a fat uncle in a tiny pool? Honestly, that’s a new one. What even happened there?]

"You actually rember that? Wow. Do you really want to know, or are you just collecting new material to roast with?"

[I’m bored. You’re awake. That’s enough reason. Besides—if even soone like you refuses to joke about it, it must’ve been legendary levels of awful.]

She watched him, but there was no push in her gaze. Just curiosity, idle and harmless, like a cat poking at sothing it couldn’t quite na.

"You don’t want to know."

[That’s exactly why I do. Fears that specific don’t just show up. They co with history.]

"You know what? Might as well update my fears. New number one—waking up to you hovering over with a pillow, deciding it's finally ti to turn into digital dust."

He laughed, casually brushing off the weight of the conversation like it hadn’t tried to settle on his shoulders. The sound was easy, even light—but it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

Eve didn’t move. Her silence didn’t feel cold—it felt focused. Like she was holding the mont still, not letting it slip away just yet.

[When that invitation appeared—when that notification offered you this world... why did you tap it without thinking? Why so fast?]

"Because I was—and still am—an idiot with a curiosity problem."

[That wasn’t curiosity. That was escape. There’s sothing in your world you were too desperate to leave behind—so much that you didn’t even hesitate.]

Noah’s hand moved slowly to his face, dragging down as if trying to scrub away thoughts that clung too tight.

When he finally looked at her, all traces of humor had vanished. His eyes held none of the usual fire, none of the playful spark he used like a shield.

"Stop. Just… please. Stop."

The words were soft, but they carried the weight of sothing buried deep—sothing too close to the surface tonight.

She had seen his face twist in irritation, smugness, even fake despair for the sake of sarcasm—but this… this was different. The pain wasn’t loud. It didn’t scream. It sat quietly in his expression, honest in a way that unsettled her.

Eve opened her mouth, and for the first ti, it wasn’t just thought pressed into his mind—it was her voice. Soft. Almost uncertain. But warr than anything she’d ever let slip through before.

"No matter what it is you’re running from… it can’t reach you here. Not anymore. And if sohow it does… we’ll face it. You and I. If you can’t hold the line, if this world turns its back on you… then I won’t. I’ll protect you. Even if I lose everything doing it."

Her voice trailed off, settling into the room with a softness that didn’t waver.

On Eve’s face—so often untouched by feeling—an emotion had finally surfaced. Not hesitation. But sothing solid, unmoving. A quiet fire that refused to burn out.

It was commitnt. Unshaken. Absolute. All of it pointed at Noah, like she'd drawn a line around him and decided nothing would ever cross it.

Noah t her eyes. Whatever words might’ve ford in his mind faded before they reached his lips. He gave a small nod instead, slow and tired, but honest.

A breath slipped from him, and with it, so of the weight he always carried.

"I'm going back to sleep."

He turned, lying back onto the bed, letting the silence return and fill the room like a blanket being pulled up once more.