Leon observed the eager crowd, their anticipation almost palpable in the air. Every face was turned toward him, waiting for the answer that would determine their fate.

"I will return soon," Leon announced, his divine voice cutting through their fervent whispers. "Within a few months. No more than three."

A wave of mixed reactions swept through the crowd.

"Three months?" someone groaned.

"So long to wait!"

Many of the younger fighters, including Rudy, clenched their fists in frustration and desire to go inside the dungeon and prove themselves.

They were boiling with the urge to enter immediately—their bodies practically vibrating with barely contained energy. Three months feels like an eternity, Rudy thought, his newly restored confidence making him impatient. I want to go now, to prove myself, to gain power!

Max's dark eyes narrowed slightly, though he maintained his calm exterior. Even he felt that burning desire to enter immediately, to finally gain the power that might match the hatred simmering in his core.

But Leon continued, unmoved by their impatience. "This time is not a delay—it is preparation. Use these months wisely. Train your bodies, organize yourselves, and prepare mentally for what awaits you. The dungeon will not show mercy to the unprepared."

As his words sank in, the crowd began to calm itself. The initial disappointment was still there, but discipline won out. They had waited six years—what were a few more months?

However, scattered throughout the crowd, a small percentage of people felt something entirely different—relief.

An older woman near the back let out a quiet breath she didn't know she'd been holding. Thank God for this time, she thought, her hands trembling slightly. I'm terrified, but I can't miss this chance. These months... I can prepare myself, not just physically but mentally.

A young man who had never won a fight in the arena felt his racing heart slow. Everyone acts so excited, but I'm scared, he admitted to himself. These few months might be the difference between death and survival for someone like me.

These people—perhaps twenty percent of the crowd—appreciated the delay deeply. They knew that despite their fear, they couldn't miss this opportunity. They would regret it for the rest of their lives if they let cowardice stop them from attempting to transcend mortality. The preparation time was a gift that might save their lives.

"Additionally," Leon said, gesturing toward the mountain of supplies, "among the items I've brought are seeds for various plants and vegetables. I want you to attempt cultivation. See if they will grow in this environment. Experiment with different areas, different methods. I want you to reach a point where you guys can be self-sufficient."

Several people immediately moved toward the seed packets with interest, already planning where they might establish gardens.

The soup they eat daily is delicious, yes. Those who have experienced hunger to its limit never get bored with it because of its taste, yet the thought of having different vegetables and other things excites them.

Leon raised his hand, and the familiar silver-white portal began to shimmer into existence behind him. The swirling vortex of energy cast ethereal light across the arena, reminding everyone once again of the divine nature of their God.

"Three months," Leon repeated, his form beginning to move toward the portal. "Use them well. When I return, those who wish to enter the dungeon will have their chance. Be ready."

Seraphine followed him silently, casting one last glance at the crowd. Their faith was indeed something to behold—even those who were terrified still planned to enter the dungeon.

Just before stepping through the portal, Leon turned back one final time. "Remember—organize the supplies properly. Build your houses. Plant the seeds. Train yourselves. Create something more than just survival here. When I return, I want to see growth."

"Yes, God!" the crowd roared in unison, many dropping to their knees again.

James remained kneeling even as others began to stand, his mind still reeling from Leon's promise of future battles against unimaginable enemies. Strong enemies... enemies I've never witnessed before... The thought was the only thing keeping him from complete despair at being unable to enter the dungeon.

With that, Leon stepped through the portal, Seraphine close behind. The silver-white vortex swirled for a moment longer, then collapsed in on itself with a soft swoosh, leaving nothing but empty air.

The crowd stood in silence for a heartbeat, then erupted into activity.

"Three months!"

"We need to organize training schedules!"

"Who knows about planting? We need to try these seeds!"

"Help me move this lumber—we're building proper houses now!"

Rudy immediately grabbed his great sword, determination burning in his eyes. Three months to get stronger. Three months to prepare. Maybe I still won't beat Max, but I'll be ready for whatever the dungeon throws at me.

Max quietly retrieved some of the new weapons, his dark eyes calculating. Three months to master these superior arms. Three months to prepare for real power.

The older woman who had felt relief began organizing others who seemed nervous, creating an informal support group. "We'll train together," she said firmly. "Fear is natural, but we won't let it stop us."

The transformation was immediate. What had been a crowd watching entertainment became a community with a singular purpose. Everyone had three months to prepare for the most important—and possibly final—moment of their lives. Some approached it with excitement, others with fear, but all with the unwavering determination that their faith had given them.

The seeds Leon had provided were quickly claimed by those with farming knowledge, eager to test whether this strange dimension could support agriculture. The construction materials were divided among work crews. Training schedules were drawn up.

Three months. It would pass in the blink of an eye, yet it might make the difference between life and death in the dungeon that awaited them.

The silver-white portal shimmered and deposited them back into the material world, inside the massive merchant tent where they had disappeared from earlier. The transition from the endless grassland of the dimensional space to the opulent silk and cushions of the tent was jarring, even for Leon, who had created the passage.

Swoosh. The portal closed behind them with a gentle whisper of displaced air.

They barely had time to adjust before the tent flap was thrown open dramatically. The merchant lord rushed in, his expensive robes swishing as he dropped into an exaggerated bow. Sweat beaded on his forehead—he had clearly been waiting anxiously for their return.

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