Endless Dungeon: The Misadventures of a Gunslinger Who Can’t Shut Up [LitRPG/Dungeon] Chapter 17: The Dungeon’s Prettiest Time Bomb

The Dungeon Center of Bottom Lair was chaos wrapped in stone and steel. Its towering gates lood like the jaws of so ancient beast, always open, always hungry.

Players packed the entrance like sardines with gear—chatting, yelling, bartering, begging.

So were fresh-faced, still slling like starter quests, waving wooden wands or oversized training swords as they pleaded to be let into a party.

Others stood tall in flashy gear, barking out class requirents like auctioneers in a hurry.

“Looking for a Tank! Need soone who won’t run at the first AoE!”

“LFM! Healer, DPS, we move in five!”

“Please, just a single gold coin... I’ll pay you back, I swear!”

Noah strolled through it all like he was walking through a video ga lobby—because, technically, he was. And honestly? He kinda loved it.

Then a hand shot up in the crowd like a bear paw punching through a haystack.

“Noah, my friend! Over here! Like lighthouse in storm, yes?”

It was hard to miss him. Dimitri was a walking mountain, the kind of guy who could make a Greatsword look like a butter knife. The crowd thinned around him like nature respected his personal space.

Dimitri walked over with his usual light-hearted energy, a gentle giant in a sea of tension and noise. But the mont he caught sight of the tiny companion on Noah’s shoulder, his eyes lit up like he’d just discovered a kitten wearing a helt.

“My friend, what is this lovely little creature you have? So small, yet so full of spirit!”

Noah gave a proud little smirk, tapping the round tal companion with two fingers.

“This is Robocrab. My Clockwork Familiar. Built for trouble, wired with personality.”

Dimitri bent slightly, getting a closer look with admiration written all over his face.

“Ah, a crab! Round like the moon and brave like a lion. He looks like he’s guarding your shoulder with his whole heart. Very noble.”

Noah tilted his head toward Robocrab, half-amused.

“Alright, buddy. Show him your claws.”

Robocrab lifted both arms slowly, the tiny chanical claws extending outward in a smooth, deliberate motion. They stopped mid-air, frozen in a pose that might’ve looked threatening if it wasn’t so dramatic.

Dimitri placed a hand over his chest.

“Magnificent. He is small, but his courage is bigger than a mountain. You are lucky, my friend—he must care for you very much.”

Noah shifted his weight slightly, eyes flicking around before settling back on Dimitri.

“So, rember what we talked about?”

“Of course, my friend. I did more than rember.”

Dimitri's voice carried the warmth of soone excited to share good news. There was a proud sparkle in his eye, the kind that only showed when he truly believed in sothing—or soone.

“I have found a player already. This one has the fire of a golden lion... if golden lions could cast magic that bends the sky. She's sharp, focused, and her spells? Beautiful like sunrise, but with more explosions. A very good fit for us, I believe it with all my heart.”

“That’s what I like to hear. Alright, bring to her. Let’s see what kind of fire she’s packing.”

With a nod that felt like the beginning of sothing important, Dimitri turned and started walking.

He turned away from the noisy crowd and led Noah toward the quieter side of the Dungeon Center, where the air felt lighter and the chatter faded into the background. It was the kind of place where people talked in low voices and walked like they had a plan.

Dimitri led the way without a word, his steps quiet but sure. They moved past the flow of players and into a more withdrawn corner of the Dungeon Center, where the atmosphere shifted—less noise, more pause.

A small bar sat tucked against the wall like it didn’t care if anyone noticed it. No neon signs, no crowd. Just a few tables, so empty stools, and the kind of silence that invited thoughts to stretch their legs.

The lighting in this corner didn’t bother trying to be dramatic. It simply existed—gentle, even, and just dim enough to make every reflection in a glass look like a mory. It didn’t glow. It rested. Like the bar itself had decided to stop pretending it was part of the busy world outside.

At the counter sat a young woman, her back straight, her posture light, as if the weight of the day didn’t apply to her. One hand held a glass with an amber drink, and she brought it to her lips with the kind of grace usually reserved for royalty at garden parties.

Her hair was blonde, casually tied back, but strands fell loose like they’d chosen to ignore the rest of the style.

Her eyes—blue and clear—were quiet, watchful, not distant but not exactly present either.

She wore the default tunic that everyone got after clearing the tutorial, but even that rough, basic fabric didn’t hide the sharp lines of her fra or the elegance in the way she moved.

She looked like soone who didn’t need attention to own a room. The bar didn’t fall silent because she was there—it stayed silent because she preferred it that way.

[Player — Level 2.]

Dimitri raised a hand, his voice soft but certain.

“June.”

The woman turned her head with the calm precision of soone who had done it thousands of tis in front of an admiring mirror.

Her hair followed the motion like silk trailing behind royalty. Then, with fluid ease, she stood—every movent quiet, deliberate, and practiced to perfection, like she didn’t walk so much as glide.

Her gaze slid toward Noah, and for a mont, she said nothing—just observed. Eyes cool, curious, and just the tiniest bit unimpressed.

“And who, pray tell, is the gentleman with that odd little spider clinging to his shoulder?”

“He’s not a spider. He’s a crab. And the na’s Noah.”

She gave the smallest nod, as if Noah’s introduction had earned him permission to remain in her presence.

Then she folded her arms—not as a challenge, but as a declaration, a quiet drumroll for what was clearly her favorite part of any conversation.

“You may address as Lady Juniverette Cavendish-Harrow. The genius. The beautiful. The unrivaled Sorcerer, and a proud wielder of the Chaos Channeler subclass.”

“Or just June,” said Dimitri.

Floating near her shoulder was a jagged, flickering shard of crystal. Its edges glowed faintly, shifting colors like it couldn’t decide what mood it was in. The thing pulsed with unstable energy, almost as if it were listening and judging the conversation on its own.

Noah tilted his head, the corner of his mouth tugging upward.

"Well, if it isn’t Her Royal Highness, gracing us with that Buckingham accent and enough perfu to gas a ballroom. What’s the matter, tea kettle not boiling fast enough today?"

June's eyes narrowed like she was deciding whether to hex him or just educate him.

“You are one stereotyping son of a peasant. Tell , how’s your health care system? Still a steaming ss of broken dreams, I imagine. Now then—what’s your class?”

“I am a Gunslinger.”

June let out the kind of sigh that felt rehearsed, like she’d been saving it for this exact mont.

“Of course you are. I don’t even know why I asked. Gunslinger… Arica… it all lines up. Yeehaw and whatnot. Am I right?”

Dimitri chuckled, the sound warm and entirely unbothered.

“She actually got you there.”

Noah shrugged like soone who had lost a small bet but couldn’t be mad about it.

“Touche. Anyway, Dimitri, have you actually seen her fight?”

“No, not yet. We t just earlier. But she’s got the spark, you know? The energy. Just look at her.”

June lifted her chin, shoulders back, her entire presence swelling with the kind of pride that could power a small city. Her smirk settled into place like it had been waiting for a spotlight.

“You didn’t have to ntion it. But I’ll allow it.”

Noah blinked. Then blinked again. His jaw edged open like his brain was still buffering.

“I’m starting to question your criteria, big guy… And I’m also starting to suspect you’ve spent more ti in this bar than in the dungeon itself.”

[Chaos Channelers are one of the most, if not the most, unpredictable magic users walking the land. Not dangerous in the impressive, awe-inspiring way—more like handing a toddler a box of fireworks and hoping for the best. That thing circling around her? That’s her subweapon, a Shard. It floats like it’s daydreaming, but every hum it gives off sounds like a warning. These Shards channel unstable energy and like their owners, they don’t always listen. Chaos Channelers are walking disasters. And not the cool kind. Add in the fact that most of their spells have area-of-effect explosions? Yeah. Friendly fire is basically part of the subclass description.]