The last bits of light in the sky slowly faded as the sun descended below the horizon among the Styx mountains.
The night wind blew cold and harsh, the snow and hail crashing in waves of particles and dust before blending into a painting of seamless white and ash. Beyond the harsh weather in the night, deep within one of the mountains, was a dungeon.
A broken portal of vivid purple stood as a vigil at its entrance; serving as a warning for anyone curious or daring enough to breach it. What lay beyond its protective front, no one could guess.
Yet, through the hallways, there were sets of golden cloaks strewn hither and thither, discarded over the dungeon's snow-logged terrain. These belonged to a group of rather enterprising folks; those with the daring and power to delve into the depths of this dungeon.
One of them stood over the others; giving orders.
"We've gathered all the materials needed for the ritual."
"Let's not waste any more time, then!" Drax, the leader of the expedition, proudly declared.
As his silver eyes swiftly scanned the ritual chamber, they briefly touched upon each of the catalysts needed to conduct the ceremony properly. Candles placed in a circular formation, a silver dagger with purple runes engraved on its blade, and lastly, the sacrifice itself, a virgin female.
Drax did not let his eyes linger any further on the sacrifice, especially its empty eyes. There was no life left within it, after all: only the body was needed to conduct the ritual.
Because of the sudden emergence of this dungeon, next to no one was able to react in time for its formation. Serendipitously, Drax and his team were already holed up in the settlement bordering it; the advent of this dungeon was right under their noses.
Drax, though, had other plans: for all of his travels and achievements were placed towards the cause of elevating his position in the cult, maybe even acquiring an ordination.
That was why he bid his team capture a random female orphan that would fit the criteria for their summoning ritual.
Her last minutes were probably spent stealing from a passerby, who turned out to be one of his team members. She was captured, brought with them to the dungeon, and promptly sacrificed with the sharp blade.
Such was the way of the world: if you had the misfortune to be born a sheep, the only thing you can do is count your blessings and wait for the inevitability of being hunted and slaughtered.
This way of thinking motivated Drax: his relentless drive towards growth, the accumulation of achievements, ascending in the food chain, and always planning three steps ahead. That was all in preparation for the day when the hunters came: he would be among the packs of wolves and jackals, stomping over the weak even as he hunted prey.
Today was just another day like that.
Drax's face curled into a sneer before the chants caught his attention.
He turned towards his team, even as they intoned sacred words that echoed throughout the walls of the ritual chamber.
Freshly-shed blood pooled over the green altar before dripping into a puddle that had been forming for quite some time on the stone floor.
The slab the altar was on was now beginning to pulse with power, with lines of purple light throbbing all over it.
Behold: you reap what you sow.
Sure, there were extensive and relentless efforts through the years, but luck also played a part: the dungeon core materializing had fallen into their laps, and with the settlement fearful for what may happen should the dungeon fully manifest, tasked Drax and his team to resolve the anomaly.
As Drax remembered how the fearful settlers asked for their help, he felt the air start to warm: a contrast from the freezing air from the blizzard outside.
He clicked his jaws, revealing a fading scar near his lips, on the right side of his face.
If it hadn't been for his extensive efforts throughout the years, he would not have been the first one to stumble upon this opportunity.
As that thought flashed through his mind, Drax felt the air warming, and the chilly, almost freezing air current from the outside blizzard, reducing to no more than steamy flutters.
Drax loosened his jaws.
"Excellent!"
"Keep the ritual going. We can't afford failure at this juncture… this will be our greatest accomplishment!"
And with this, my future as a priest will be as good as guaranteed…
…and I'll have access to powers and resources beyond what mere enforcers can dream of.
Over the glistening emerald slab, near the dagger that had taken its life, the motionless body of the female sacrifice shook.
The surface of the altar began to glow with a resplendent light. Drax took in the brightness, and his eyes nearly moistened at the sight. The temperature within the ritual chamber began to rise, while the air blowing within sped up sharply, a contrast to the blizzard blowing outside.
The members of the exhibition team cried out.
"So… so strong!"
"The ritual…?"
And just like that, the chant was interrupted.
Spheres of light of various sizes began to rise from the altar, and began to float upwards, shrinking into particles before converging to a single spot above the dead girl's body.
It started slowly at first, but gradually sped up, even as the blood from the slab began to dry up, even as a small crystal piece began to take shape from the particles.
Drax's eyes narrowed, even as the power of the ritual blew his graying silver hair out of his face.
"This… this is it!"
"The core of the dungeon is beginning to form!"
For several years running, new dungeons had not manifested in the world: all the current ones had been occupied by various higher beings. Before this drought, though, a new dungeon manifesting would take a day or several to gather sufficient pure mana in order to form its core, after which its designated leader, or the dungeon boss, would be created.
However, if the location where the dungeon manifested itself contains insufficient pure mana, the dungeon takes too long to filter out the impurities, or the process of core formation would take more than twenty-four hours… then the dungeon would become unstable and unmake itself, given its inability to maintain its manifestation without its core.
While an uncommon occurrence in years past, this situation was now happening regularly, to the point where no new manifesting dungeons could be spotted.
It's why Drax considered this a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity: he had the idea to supply the dungeon with their own mana on top of what the dungeon could accumulate; just enough to accelerate the process and ensure it manifests in a stable manner.
After the dungeon's core would be completely formed, they would use the crystal's powers and summon their Lord!
As the wind within the ritual chamber blew, Drax surveyed the area with sharp grey eyes. His team of cultists had halted the chant due to the strong wind, and were left scattered, in disarray. The light from the candles had already gone; the only light left was coming from the dungeon's materializing core.
While he and his team had put everything away, there was still debris being blown around the ritual chamber, and Drax had to lift his arm up to shield himself.
He gnashed his teeth in frustration and glared at his hesitant subordinates.
We have to make sure every step is followed.
"Complete the chant!" he bellowed. "Hurry up and finish it!"
Right as his voice reached them, the cultist's team began to chant once more. They were continuing where they had left off during the ritual.