Endless Dungeon: The Misadventures of a Gunslinger Who Can’t Shut Up [LitRPG/Dungeon] Chapter 18: A Healer in Highland Encryption

“I assu you’re not in a party yet.”

June swirled the last of her drink, as if the amber liquid might offer applause.

“I had a party. We heroically conquered those botherso little wolves—barely worth the effort, mind you. But alas, I was unceremoniously kicked out. Apparently, they couldn’t handle the brilliance of my ambition. I said we’d climb to the higher floors together, and they looked at like I suggested invading heaven.”

“So… they couldn’t handle your rotten attitude?”

She paused, lips parting slightly as if she’d just been slapped with a glove made of poor manners.

Then her expression softened—not into humility, but into sothing far more dangerous: smugness.

“I was simply the only one with vision, charm, and talent. Naturally, they felt threatened.”

[An unstable Sorcerer with a throne-sized ego—that’s the kind of presence that turns simple quests into legendary catastrophes.]

Noah studied June for a beat longer than needed, as if ntally bracing for the inevitable chaos. Then his gaze shifted to Dimitri, and his expression ward with amusent.

“I’m starting to think you’ve got a sixth sense for finding trouble wrapped in talent. I take it all back—you might actually be good at this recruitnt thing.”

Dimitri offered a cheerful thumbs up, like a man who’d just introduced fire to kindling and was excited to watch it burn.

Noah turned back to June with a playful nod.

“Alright, Lady Greatness. Congratulations. You’ve just been drafted. A Sorcerer’s exactly what our party needed.”

June tilted her head, a soft hum escaping her lips as though she was mulling over whether this new arrangent deserved her presence. Then she gave a small, self-satisfied smile that could lt mirrors.

“You should consider yourselves blessed. My agreent is the real treasure here.”

“Now that we’ve got soone who deals in flashy magic and large-scale explosions, we’re only missing one very important piece of the puzzle.”

“What is it, my friend?”

“I checked the potion stalls earlier. Five gold for a single bottle of Small HP Potion. Five. For sothing that barely keeps your heart from giving out.”

Noah exhaled like the mory itself was financially painful.

“If we’re going to survive the second floor without going bankrupt or bleeding out every five minutes, we’re going to need a proper healer. A real one. Soone who doesn’t confuse bandages with buff spells.”

Dimitri went quiet, a thoughtful look crossing his face. His brows dipped slightly as if sothing promising was floating just out of reach—but after a few silent seconds, he blinked and gave up on the thought like a balloon that drifted too high.

Then, slowly, June raised her hand. Not dramatically, not with her usual flourish—just a subtle lift, paired with a rare flicker of uncertainty in her eyes.

“I do know a healer. Quite capable, actually. I was tead up with her before she got kicked out of the sa party that foolishly discarded . Tragic mistake on their part.”

She paused, her confidence wobbling for the briefest mont, like a feather in the wind.

“But… there’s a catch.”

“Is it the attitude? Because if it is, trust —I’ve already built up emotional armor. Cos standard when hanging around self-proclaid prodigies.”

June gave a look that hovered between amusent and mild offense, then glanced off to the side, as if searching for words that didn’t exist.

“It’s… difficult to explain. You’ll understand when you see her. Let just call her.”

She reached into the air, fingers gliding through her interface with smooth familiarity, her expression unreadable now—half curious, half cautious.

Then they waited.

The seconds stretched, unbothered by urgency, as the quiet hum of the bar returned to fill the space between them.

June remained perfectly still, her chin slightly lifted, as if awaiting an entrance cue to a performance only she understood. Yet, for a brief second, one finger tapped against her side—lightly, rhythmically—like a lody of doubt trying to hide behind her usual flair.

And then, she arrived.

Her steps were light, almost soundless, as if the ground beneath her softened just to welco her presence. She looked to be around nineteen or twenty, yet carried herself with the quiet grace of soone who moved through the world at her own rhythm.

Long curls of red hair frad her face, catching the flickering torchlight on the walls like strands of fire dancing in slow motion. Each step brought a shimr to her locks, a soft glow that followed wherever she turned.

Her eyes were green—deep, vivid, and full of sothing gentle yet steady, like the still center of a storm.

Her smile blood easily when she saw June, her lips tinted with just enough red to make the expression glow.

Her skin, pale as untouched snow, added a softness to her presence, the kind that didn’t ask for attention but quietly drew it anyway.

June extended her arm with practiced flair, as if presenting royalty.

“Gentlen, this is Fiona. Main class: Druid. Subclass: Circle of the Land.”

[Player— Level 2.]

Fiona’s smile bead like it had been waiting all day for this mont. There was sothing in her eyes—gentle, earnest, overflowing with warmth—that made it almost impossible not to smile back, even before she spoke.

When her voice ca, it wrapped around them like the countryside after a sumr rain—soft, thick, and nearly impenetrable.

“Ah’m real pleased tae et ye both! Been a wee while since Ah’ve had folk tae walk beside. If ye’ll have , Ah’ll keep ye patched up faster than ye can say ‘ow!’ Can’t shapeshift just yet, but Ah’ll dae best so ye won’t even miss it!”

Noah stared. There was a full second of silence where he looked at Dimitri, then back at Fiona, then at the general concept of language itself.

“I… I think her settings are on ultra-encrypted. That was definitely English, right?”

[This isn’t normal. The system’s translation filter is supposed to ensure perfect comprehension across all languages. But in her case, it’s only partial—so of her words remain muddled, like corrupted data. Sothing’s interfering, and it’s not just a glitch.]

Fiona’s smile faltered—just a touch. The kind of crack that appeared only when soone had seen too many puzzled stares and not enough understanding. Her voice grew smaller, her hands tightening behind her back.

“Ach… nae again. Ah always try tae be clear, but it cos oot like porridge sotis. Please dinnae let this change yer mind. Ah promise—Ah’ll gie it everythin’ Ah’ve got. Cross heart.”

Even through the accent, the sincerity rang louder than any translation ever could.

[This one is interesting. Druids—especially from the Circle of the Land—are notoriously versatile. They don’t just patch up wounds or throw vines at things. They adapt. They respond. They shift between roles like the seasons they draw their power from. Heal, defend, strike, support—they do it all. The jack of all trades in a party, and sotis, the quiet ace no one sees coming.]

Noah looked at Fiona with a smile that was half amusent, half trust. There was sothing about her—beneath the incomprehensible accent and the polite nervous energy—that felt dependable. The kind of person who would stay when things got ugly.

“I don't fully understand what you just said, but you can definitely understand , right? So that’s good enough. My na is Noah. Welco to the team. We’re lucky to have you.”

Fiona’s reaction was imdiate—her whole body bounced with joy, hands clapped together like a child receiving good news. Her smile lit up the room more than any torch ever could.

Noah couldn’t help but chuckle, watching her excitent like soone enjoying the sunrise after a long dungeon crawl.

“Now that we’re complete... it’s ti to crush things.”