The dungeon's lowest level, a dimly lit core room. Moss grows thick on the cracked walls, and a barely lit magical lamp faintly illuminates the chamber. The massive dungeon core emits a dull glow, and before it stands a silver-haired woman. She folds the jet-black wings on her back and quietly closes the notebook in her hand.

Her crimson eyes narrow, appraising you. She tears a page from her notebook and dispassionately reads off the numbers.