Kin's eyes locked onto the trio of red goblins, their wiry, crimson-skinned forms twisting out of the damp crevices of the tenth floor. With a chorus of high-pitched screeches that echoed sharply off the low stone ceiling, they lunged. The first beast swung its serrated blade in a frantic, desperate arc. Anticipating the trajectory, Kin shifted his weight—a micro-adjustment of his heels against the slick bedrock. The crude iron whistled past his linen shirt, missing his chest by a hair's breadth; he could feel the cold draft of the displaced air against his skin.
Before the momentum of the first could reset, the second goblin struck from his blind spot, driving its weapon downward in erratic trajectory. Kin dropped his center of gravity, rolling his right shoulder forward as the steel sliced through the empty space inches above his hair. The third scavenger capitalized on his awkward posture, leaping from a nearby boulder for a definitive, lethal plunge. Kin's sharpened perception fired; catching the airborne creature mid-flight, he drove a heavy, grounded kick straight into its sternum. A hollow, breathless wheeze escaped the monster's throat as its yellow eyes rolled back in sheer agony. It crashed heavily to the stone floor, its grip loosening from its hilt, though its clawed fingers immediately began to twitch, scraping the dirt to reach back toward the weapon.
They're not slow, Kin calculated, his breath shallow and hot in his throat. But compared to the terrifying speed and weight behind the ogre's swing, their movements are nothing.
Suddenly, the first goblin recovered with vicious agility, lunging with a desperate thrust that blurred in the dim, blue luminescence of the cavern walls. It was a blindingly fast recovery. Yet, to Kin's heightened perception, the blade's path seemed to stretch out in slow motion. He twisted his torso, but the narrow walls restricted his movement; the cold, chipped edge of the dagger bit across his ribs. A searing spike of white-hot pain flared through his side, forcing his features into a tight, vein-popping grimace.
"Tch, that would've killed me..."
The stinging heat of the shallow wound snapped his focus into overdrive. Instead of holding his ground, Kin used the momentum of his twisted torso to spring backward, his shoes skidding across the slick stone floor. He put three vital paces of distance between himself and the incoming threat, buying a fleeting moment of breathing room. Across the narrow corridor, the stunned goblin he had kicked was only just scrambling back to its feet, shaking its head, while the blade-wielding attacker paused for a fraction of a second to recalibrate its stance after the missed thrust.
In that newly carved pocket of space, the ambient hum of the dungeon seemed to vanish into absolute, dead stillness.
"Focus."
He anchored his back foot firmly against a ridge in the stone, channeling the momentum from the ground up through his hips. As he pivoted, his body snapped like a release spring, pouring every ounce of his newfound strength into a single, compact punch. His knuckles connected squarely with the closest goblin's protruding jawline. The distinct, brittle crunch of shattering bone echoed through the corridor. Time violently surged back to its normal pace as the impact sent the creature reeling backward into the shadows, its fingers going limp and dropping its dark, iron dagger.
As the disarmed goblin stumbled, its jaw hanging uselessly at a broken angle, Kin dove forward, his fingers clawing through the gravel to snatch the discarded hilt. The foreign, unbalanced weight of the weapon had barely registered in his palm when the sudden rush of displaced air warned him of an attack from behind. Remaining low to the ground from his dive, Kin pivoted on his hands, swinging his trailing leg upward in a powerful, sweeping arc that clipped the advancing goblin squarely on the temple.
The blunt trauma bought him a fleeting fraction of a second to scramble back to his feet and square his shoulders. Now armed, Kin raised the dark blade just as the final standing assailant closed the distance. Their daggers met head-on in a violent collision of steel.
Tsching! A bright spark erupted from the clashing metal, briefly illuminating the grim, narrow corridor in a flash of harsh, blinding light.
The deafening, metallic ring of the blades instantly pressurized in his ears, before stretching out and softening, dissolving into the gentle rustle of a summer breeze. The searing white glare on his retinas bled seamlessly into the brilliant, golden wash of an afternoon sun. The oppressive, stagnant stench of the tenth floor completely evaporated, replaced by the crisp, sweet scent of sodden earth and blooming clover.
"299... 300... 301..."
The numbers left his lips in a rhythmic, whispered grunt. Kin's teenage palms were pressed flat against the cool, neatly kept grass of his family's garden, his muscles burning with a satisfying, deep ache from the endless push-ups. Sweat dripped from the tip of his nose, darkening a small patch of soil beneath him, his breathing heavy but perfectly controlled under the wide expanse of a cloudless blue sky.
"Kin, again with the training?"
The gentle, familiar voice cut through the localized rush of his heartbeat. A long shadow stretched across the lawn, eclipsing the harshness of the sun over his back. Kin paused, locking his elbows to look up from the dirt. His mother stood over him, hands resting lightly on her hips, her expression a warm, complicated tapestry of maternal concern and fond amusement. A soft, breathless sigh escaped her lips as she watched him.
Kin pushed himself up into a cross legged posture, wiping his slick brow with the back of his forearm. "Mum, I want to be strong just like the R-"
"Yes, yes, the Raiders. I know, Kin," she interrupted gently, her voice tilting with affectionate exasperation. She smiled down at him, tilting her head slightly as the afternoon breeze caught the stray hairs framing her face. "You haven't stopped going on about them since you could walk."
Her smile faltered slightly, her shoulders dropping as she exhaled a sharp, troubled breath. Her fingers nervously picked at the fabric of her shirt as the warmth in her eyes gave way to a creeping, protective anxiety that she had tried for years to suppress.
"I bought you those dungeon journals and history books, but maybe it was a bad idea," she admitted softly, her gaze drifting past him toward the makeshift wooden sword leaning against the garden fence. "All you do is read them and train! If you could enter the dungeon today, you would, wouldn't you?"
Kin let out a small, sheepish chuckle. He reached up, rubbing the back of his neck, his cheeks flushing slightly with a mix of embarrassment and absolute honesty. He couldn't deny it; the pull of the depths was already written into his bones.
Seeing his silent admission, his mother's posture softened further, and she took a deep, steadying breath to anchor herself. The playful lightness of the afternoon completely vanished from her features.
"Listen, Kin, you're 14 now, so I think I can tell you this... But some raiders don't make it out of the dungeons. It's a dangerous job!"
The wind surged gently past them, its movement heard alongside the faint, peaceful ambiance of the bird's morning chirps in the distance. The contrast between her terrifying words and the serene environment was stark. Kin, deeply cherishing his mother, looked up at her, the fire in his chest completely unwavering. His eyes remained fixed on her, determined and filled with passion.
"I know, Mum... but even so... This is who I want to be." His eyes are determined and filled with passion.
The lingering resolve in Kin's own voice was still echoing in his mind when the peaceful garden dissolved, the image of his mother's worried face fading rapidly into the harsh, violent reality of the tenth floor. The warmth of the afternoon sun vanished in a heartbeat, instantly replaced by the suffocating chill of the cavern and the guttural, screeching roar of the incoming goblins.
Kin's heart raced, a fierce adrenaline surge flooding through his veins as the goblins closed in. With the dark iron dagger now firmly in his hand, its cold, metallic hilt grounding him, he steadied his footing against the uneven bedrock. The first goblin leaped at him with a bloodcurdling roar, unleashing a frantic, slash that hacked downward through the misty gloom. Instead of retreating, Kin lunged inside the weapon's reach with explosive speed. The flash of his blade cut a clean, lethal line straight through the monster's midsection, sundering both through armor and skin. The creature went entirely limp, its forward drive collapsing instantly before it hit the rocky floor with a sickening thud.
Before Kin could even catch his breath to clear the hot copper smell of blood from his throat, the two remaining goblins launched a coordinated assault, attacking together from the gloom. One came at him entirely without a blade; its savage, yellow eyes filled with a feral desperation as its claws extended, while the other sprinted right beside him, their combined shadows stretching wildly across the cavern walls as they rushed toward Kin.
Kin didn't hesitate, capitalizing on the low stance from his forward thrust, he dropped his weight completely, his fingers brushing against the grit of the floor as he quickly reached down, his grip wrapping securely around the handle of the second dagger still resting in the hand of the fallen corpse.
In one seamless, explosive surge, Kin wrenched the second blade free and propelled himself forward. Sweat stung his eyes, mingling with the heavy cave mist, but his body instinctively tracked the closing proximity of the dungeon walls, gauging to the inch exactly how much room he had left to maneuver. He charged straight through the narrow gap dividing the two red goblins, catching them completely off guard. Their yellow eyes dilated in sudden shock as he blurred right between them. They lashed out wildly, but their claws cut nothing but empty air, catching only the ghost of his momentum as he slipped past.
Before they could recover, Kin's arms snapped outward in perfect symmetry. He drove both daggers home simultaneously, burying the cold iron deep into the soft tissue of their throats. The solid impact vibrated right up his forearms. The red goblins' synchronized rush dissolved into a horrific, wet rattle as their lungs instantly filled with fluid. Kin ripped the blades free with a sharp, crosswise snap, and the two goblins pitched forward, crashing heavily onto the cracked stone. Silent and entirely dead.
Kin stands there unmoving, hearing a familiar sound.
A sharp, melodic chime "Badadum!" reverberated directly inside his mind as a translucent notification screen flared to life against the gloom of the tenth floor.
[System Alert: You have reached Level 8.]
Simultaneously, a sudden surge of revitalizing energy pulsed outward from his core, rushing through his bloodstream. The stinging, white hot throb in his sliced ribs immediately dulled to a faint, manageable ache, and the heavy exhaustion weighting down his limbs evaporated in an instant.
Kin blinked away the sweat still clinging to his eyelashes, focusing his gaze on the glowing lines of text floating in the dim air. His eyes scanned straight down to his attributes section, where the numeric parameters were actively recalculating. The Brave skill had fully came into effect. The passive skill had applied a massive modifier to his core attributes, forcing his physical limits even higher than a standard level-up allowed.
Seeing those amplified numbers solidify in the glowing interface, a small, satisfied smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. The grueling training in the garden and the life-or-death gamble in the corridor were finally paying off. With a thought, he dismissed the status menu back into the shadows, taking a short, deep breath of the damp, stagnant cave air as the last of his adrenaline began to settle.
The blue light of the system screen flickered out, plunging the corridor back into its natural, oppressive gloom. But the darkness didn't feel quite as heavy as before. Kin looked down at his hands; had smoothed out into a steady, vibrating power.
He stepped over the nearest red goblin, the soles of his sneakers sticking slightly to the cooling blood on the bedrock. With a short, sharp flick of his wrists, he sent a spray of dark droplets flying from his blades, clearing the worst of the gore from the blades edges. He then wiped the remaining grime against his denim trousers, his movements becoming more rhythmic and certain, less like a panicked boy, and more like the Raiders he had spent years reading about.
Around him, the cavern seemed to let out a low, echoing groan, the dungeon shifting as if acknowledging his victory. He kept the daggers loosely held at his sides, his eyes scanning the empty shadows of the tunnel ahead with a new, predatory focus. The path forward was no longer just a terrifying gauntlet; it was a series of obstacles he now knew he could break.
A faint, cool draft began to tickle the back of his neck, carrying the scent of ozone and distant, open space the telltale sign of a floor transition.
"Right," he whispered, his voice sounding deeper, more grounded in the silence. "The exit for the 10th floor should be near. I better get going..."
Kin turned toward the faint draft marking the exit, the flat rubber soles of his sneakers squeaking softly against the damp stone floor as he moved deeper into the dark. The cold shadow of the tunnel didn't just fade; it cut instantly to a sunlit entryway miles above, where a completely different kind of chill had taken hold.
Shinoh stood entirely paralyzed just inside the threshold of the kitchen. He wasn't wearing heavy armor, just a pair of scuffed high-top sneakers—their structured, multi-paneled leather and thick ankle collars coated in a fine layer of grey dungeon dust that left faint smudges on the clean floorboards. Kin's mother was standing by the sunlit counter, but Shinoh couldn't bring himself to meet her eyes. His jaw worked in tight, uneven hitches, his throat tightening as he fought to drag the words past his lips across the quiet expanse of the room.
When he finally spoke, the utterance fell into the domestic space. The weight of the words sinking into the air between them.
"Kin is missing."
The quiet in the room grew heavier, the amber light from the window casting a long, sharp beam across the scratched wood of the dining table. Suddenly, the restless looping of her hands stopped. Her fingers lay completely still against the oak as she slowly turned her face toward the backyard pane.
From her seat, the glass framed the empty lawn where the golden hour was fast dissolving into twilight, illuminating the fence where the training sessions used to happen.
She says, "I remember making dinner... and Kin would Be out there"
Her gaze remained locked on the glass, looking nostalgically at the garden window as if she could still see his silhouette darting through the grass. Her shoulders dropped an inch further, her voice carrying a fragile, hollow resonance that seemed to age her on the spot.
"Playing with his makeshift sword and reading all those stories about raiders... I just never thought he would..."
The final word barely escaped as a breathless, fractured whisper. The fragile composure she had been fighting to maintain completely shattered right there. A single tear spilled over her lashes, catching the last of the evening light before the dam broke entirely.
Her shoulders heaved, and she buried her face into her trembling palms, her forehead sinking all the way down to the scarred oak table. The heavy silence of the kitchen vanished, replaced by the raw, agonizing sound of her weeping. Tears slipped through her fingers, pooling on the dark wood as her entire frame shook under the sudden, crushing weight of her grief.
Across from her, Shinoh remained completely mute. His hands clenched into tight, helpless fists against his knees, his large shadow stretching across the floorboards as he sat in agonizing stillness, unable to do anything but listen to her heartbreak.
Shinoh's knuckles turned a bleached, bloodless ivory as his fingers locked together, the fine grey grit from the dungeon still caught in the deep creases of his skin. He didn't stay paralyzed in the shadows any longer. He moved with sudden intent, the rubber soles of his high-tops gripping the floorboards as he pressed his chest against the edge of the oak table, leaning deep into the light. His voice, though rough and thick with his own suppressed fear, carried an unbound conviction that cut through the sound of her weeping.
"I don't know if Kin's alive or not, but he knows the dungeon better than anyone. And those experienced raiders don't know him like I do! If there is anyone that can survive those deeper floors, it's Kin!"
The kitchen fell into a heavy, airless lull, marked only by the dry, incessant snick of the wall clock as the last slivers of orange withdrew from the room. Kin's mum eased her face from her palms, her gaze locking onto Shinoh's as she sifted through his expression for any trace of a lie. Fresh tears gathered and spilled over the curve of her cheeks in a steady, silent track, yet even as they fell, a faint, uneven lift of her lips broke through the exhaustion of her grief.
"Thank you,"
The relief in her voice was bittersweet, a sharp spark of hope piercing through the weight of the room. She reached across the scarred wood of the table, her arms wrapping around his broad shoulders as she pulled him tight. Hugging him, she shook with a heavy, pulsing tremor against his chest, her tears soaking into the fabric of his shirt, but the suffocating chill of the kitchen finally seemed to recede, replaced by a quiet, newfound comfort found in the absolute faith of his words. Shinoh held her close, lingering in the embrace for a second longer as a wave of guilt tightened in his throat. He looked over her shoulder at the empty kitchen, his chest burning with the unspoken reality that he had returned to the safety of the surface while his closest companion was still down there, fighting alone in the dark.
The quiet comfort of the embrace and the dry snick of the kitchen clock snapped away, replaced instantly by the biting, high altitude wind of a mountain ridge. The fading orange sunset vanished, swapped for a harsh, overcast morning sky hanging over a rugged stone terrace cut directly into the peak.
Towering right before them was the dungeon itself, the colossal hole torn straight into the rock face of the mountain, its massive, yawning perimeter swallowing the daylight and plunging into a dimly lit blue hue deeper inside.
An ominous woman is standing in a line side by side with four other raiders, her posture as unyielding.All with top grade battle-worn gear, they carried the physical proof of the deeper floors: matte-finished plates scuffed with deep grooves from serrated claws, frayed carbon-weave belts, and heavy weapon hilts wrapped in sweat-stained leather. They stood as a single, silent unit facing the dark maw, their boots firmly planted on the weather beaten mud.
With their group leader composed, he stood at the front, his heavy, reinforced heels anchoring him to the threshold of the mountain hole. He projected a calm, immovable authority, his eyes laid on his fellow raiders with a quiet intensity that searched for any loose strap or nervous flicker before leading his elite squad past the rim and down into the abyss...
"Is everyone ready?"
The captain's question dissolved the chaotic drone of the packed staging area. His words carried no artificial strain or theatrical volume, yet they possessed an arresting resonance that instantly anchored the frantic energy of the crowded mountain hub.
In an unerring, singular heartbeat, the five raiders spoke as one.
"YES!"
The collective roar exploded outward, a unified wall of sound that vibrated through the stone floor and overrode the clanking of merchant wagons, the shouting of scouts, and the general clamor of footsteps.
As the captain turned, his iron-rimmed plates churning the damp earth, the squad fell into a flawless, rolling formation behind him. They marched toward the gargantuan opening of the subterranean world, their stride carrying an undeniable presence that commanded the entire threshold.
All along the perimeter of this high-traffic entrance, where battered parties staggered out from the darkness and anxious groups prepared to enter, the hundreds of independent raiders, mercenaries, and scouts drew back. A sudden hush cascaded across the sprawling mountain plaza before dissolving into a running wave of whispered murmurs. The rookies and intermediate climbers parted, staring at the veterans with absolute fascination.
"Is that the Legion's Captain?" a low-level skirmisher whispered from the shadow of a supply wagon, leaning forward so far he nearly dropped his basic iron buckler.
"Ohh, I think it is," an older vanguard answered beside him, his wide eyes tracking the measured sway of the squad's weapons.
"Wow, look at their gear!" someone else muttered from the fringes of the dirt path, their voice trembling with a mix of envy and adoration. To eyes accustomed to cheap iron and common merchant drops, the rare equipment of the elite squad looked like relics of a completely different world. Every serrated scar proving they had mastered nightmares the crowd couldn't even fathom.
"Did you hear the captain is over level 90?" a younger mage asked, her voice cracking slightly in disbelief as she clutched her wooden staff.
"90!? No way," came as an immediate, awe inspired reply from a nearby duelist, his gaze locked onto the captain's unshifting shoulders.The whispers traveled like wildfire, a low hum of reverence tracking the five veterans as they crossed the final boundary, leaving the frantic hub of the living behind to plunge directly into the dark, waiting belly of the mountain.
as they head to the entrance of the dungeon. Surrounding raiders couldn't help but stare. With the murmurs spreading quickly.
Their collective stride had barely carried them past the checkpoint; marking the portal that defied human understanding. To this day, the mercurial shift of their environment which stood in clear contrast to their own world never ceased to draw awe and curiosity from the group - it served functionally as an indicator that they should remain on-guard and ready for danger no matter what stray erroneous thought emerged. Itzu, trailing just a half-step behind the vanguard, interlaced his fingers behind his head. He rolled his shoulders back and leaned away from the descent absent mindedly, looking less like a veteran entering a lethal labyrinth and more like a man lounging in a beach chair. He nonchalantly asks "Hey, Cap, could you remind me what floor we are going to again?"
The captain sighed, fondly feigning exasperation. "Ugh, Itzu, you never listen in the briefing, do you?"
"Nope," Itzu casually replys, his grin flashing bright in the gathering gloom of the gateway.
The captain looks onwards, he takes his time in responding to Itzu, waiting a calculated beat to allow the echoing footsteps of their boots to fill the tunnel before he answers "We are gonna head into the 31st floor,"
Itzu stops for a moment, his eyes widening in shock, his boots skidding against the damp earth as his hands slid down from his head, his posture instantly straightening. "WHAT?! No raider in 100 years has gone that deep."
Itzu's feelings mixture with excitement and interest. A sharp, grin split his features, a visible tremor of pure thrill rippling through his frame as his grip tightened on his gear. "Awh man, I'm getting all fired up!"
His outburst hit the curved stone walls of the tunnel, magnifying as it funneled directly back out onto the packed staging grounds, causing the murmurs from the crowd to further grow in volume. The effect outside was instantaneous; a turbulent, surging roar of speculation renewed among the merchants and mercenaries in a frantic scramble as the echoes bounced back into the light.
The captain gently smiles as they continue to make their way through the dungeon's gate, letting the shadows swallow their figures whole. Plunging them into a century of uncharted peril, the low drone of the subterranean world vanished, replaced instantly by the delicate chime of polished silver brushing against fine porcelain. Played by the true masters of their exploits, who sat miles away, completely untouched by the damp stone and terrors of the dungeon.
Above outside the reach of the dungeon walls. A room was grand, with high ceilings and rich tapestries lining the walls. Gilded pillars soared upward into the vaulted architecture, while the thick, masterfully woven threads of the artwork acted as a sound barrier, completely insulating the occupants from the desperate scramble of the mountain plaza below. The long table was filled with the most exquisite dishes, their aromas wafting through the air. Savory meats glistening with rich, reductions, tiered platters of unblemished, imported fruits, and delicate pastries formed an expansive spread, their warm, sweet vapors mingling under the soft glow of the chandeliers. At the head of the table sat the Legion Guild Leader, a commanding presence, accommodated by the other Guild leaders. Unlike the scarred, claw-grooved armor of the vanguard downstairs, these men possessed smooth, unblemished hands decorated in gold bands, their tailored silks flowing elegantly as they sat entirely detached from the grim reality of the abyss.
"This food looks delicious!" one of the guild leaders remarked, dying to take a bite.
The complimentary words hung briefly over the silver platters before the delicate social masks of the elite began to shift. Another leader, clearly more focused on the bigger picture, leaned forward. "It indeed does, but why exactly are we here?" looking curiously to the Legions Guild Leader. His gaze traveled across the expanse of the mahogany table, passing right over a sprawling mountain of vibrant emerald salad greens tossed with crisp peppergrass and translucent, dewy heirloom radishes, drilling directly into the host's unreadable expression.
The Legion Guild Leader chuckled softly, his eyes glinting with a mix of amusement and mystery. He rested his chin on a gloved hand, glancing casually toward the exact center of the table where a gargantuan, deep-crimson lobster rested on a bed of shaved ice and lemon wheels, its massive cracked pincers overflowing with pristine white meat that glistened under a warm drizzle of clarified butter. With an elegant wave of his hand toward the decadent centerpiece, he murmured, "Let's save that for after we eat."
"Ah, good," The third guild leader says, digging in with relish. He immediately reached across the embroidered silk runner, spearheading his fork directly into a magnificent prime steak seared to a rich, mahogany crust. A aromatic glaze of melted rosemary butter and dark wine reduction pooled beneath the succulent meat as he dragged a massive portion onto his porcelain plate, entirely oblivious to the silent chess match developing right next to him.
The other Leaders curiosity turns into slight suspicion as he turns to his food. His movements slowed to an incremental crawl. He picked up his silver fork, but rather than going for the rich meats or the prized lobster, he merely pushed around a delicate, translucent leaf of the dressed greenery on his plate, his ears strained to capture any shift in the room's atmosphere. He knew that an evasion from the master of the city's ultimate vanguard was never a matter of simple hospitality it was a calculated tactical delay, meant to soften them up with luxury before delivering a massive paradigm shift.
Again the third guild leader speaks, his mouth already full of the richly marbled steak as he reached back out toward the secondary platters, "I'm starving."
The scene shifts as the food is devoured, the table slowly clearing, leaving only empty plates and the faint sound of satisfied sighs. Sometime had passed, transforming the magnificent spread into a silent landscape of culinary aftermath. The vast plates once full of the rich foods now sat entirely empty, littered with the stray crumbs of what was left behind. Flaky golden pastry shards were scattered across the embroidered runners, bruised peppergrass stems lay abandoned on porcelain stained with grease, and the once colossal lobster was reduced to a hollow, broken shell drained of its luxury. Uniformed attendants glided through the shadows with quiet efficiency, whisking away the wreckage to leave the bare, dark mahogany exposed.
A moment of silence passed before one of the guild leaders questions "I appreciate the meal. But now, why did you bring us here?" He dabbed his mouth with a silk napkin, his posture instantly discarding the lazy comfort of a satisfied guest. He leaned forward, setting his hands upon the edge of the wood as his eyes locked onto the host, demanding that the pleasantries finally come to an end.
The Legion Guild Leader's expression grows serious. The relaxed, amused demeanor vanished from his face, replaced by a focus that seemed to alter the entire mood of the grand hall. The faint clink of remaining crystal died instantly as he unclasped his fingers and placed his palms flat against the tabletop, anchoring the attention of every politician in the room.
"Yes, about that. I have put a team of my best raiders on an expedition to the 31st floor," the Legion Guild Leader says.
The final syllable of the announcement lingered for a fraction of a second before the political composure of the room splintered entirely.
"WHAT?" The shock was evident among the guild leaders. A collective gasp stirred the room as several men instinctively gripped the edges of their seats as if the floor beneath them had suddenly dropped away.
"You can't be serious!?" another one exclaimed, their tone a mix of disbelief and concern. He stared blankly at his host, his eyes scanning the master of the Legion for any sign of a joke, but finding only an absolute, intimidating certainty.
The Legion guild leader's gaze, resolute as he explained, "It has been far too long, and we have been far too afraid to enter into the deeper floors. It's about time we do."
Across the table, a rival master stood halfway out of his chair, his fine silk robes rustling aggressively against the dark timber. His face flushed with sudden color, his composure failing under the massive implications this choice held for the global balance of power.
"But even the highest-level raiders of my guild report the 30th floor being extremely difficult, with the number of magical beasts increasing significantly! How can you be so reckless to send your best raiders to die?!" his voice tinged with alarm. His outburst echoed loudly against the rich tapestries lining the walls, vibrating with a deep dread of the abyss that they all secretly shared.
The Legion guild leader remains calm, his tone deliberate. He did not flinch at the accusation, nor did he raise his voice to match the panic around him. Instead, he maintained his grounded, unshakable presence, exuding a serene confidence that seemed to anchor the panicked energy of the room. "I understand your concern, but we are taking precautions. We have an extremely high-level mage who can detect magic beasts from vast distances. If they come across anything that they could not defeat, they have been instructed to retreat."
An absolute silence descended upon the grand hall. The politicians glanced at one another in a rapid series of calculations, realizing that if this expedition succeeded, the Legion would monopolize resources untouched for a century. Then, a low, frozen timbre emerged from the furthest shadows of the long table, halting every running thought.
"So why tell us this anyway?" The Phoenix guild Leader, who had been silent up until now had finally spoken. His voice was plain, but blunt...
The effect of those words was instantaneous. the Phoenix guild leader was known to be almost mute at all times so The Legion guild leader was surprised, as was every other leader. Every head turned in unison toward the enigmatic figure who historically ignored their squabbles, the sudden sound of his voice catching them completely off guard. moments later the master of The Legions guild smiles gently.
The brief ripple of astonishment dissolved behind a mask of smooth, masterful benevolence. He leaned back slightly, extending his hands in an open, welcoming gesture that made the terrifying gamble sound like an act of pure charity.
"Well. It's to share the knowledge we gather, of course! The more we share our intel, the faster we can uncover valuable technologies and tools we may not know about. I will be giving you all a copy of the map my raiders will be making for your own teams when you're willing to explore the 31st yourselves." The Legion Guild Master's voice carried finality, marking the end of the discussion.
—Meanwhile, on the dungeons 6th floor…
The air here carried a distinct, damp chill, a vast relief from the suffocating atmospheric pressure of the zones immediately below. As Kin moved through the winding stone corridors, his mind drifted back to the passages of his favorite leather bound guide book. The text had explicitly detailed a fundamental law of the labyrinth: the power levels of the monsters experience a massive, jump after every ten floors.
Crossing the threshold from the brutal, claustrophobic trials of the tenth floor back into the ninth had proven those written pages entirely correct. The drop in enemy ferocity had been immediate.
Each step, Kin encountered more foes like snarling kobolds, slow moving amorphous slimes, and even a wandering armoured skeletons navigating aimlessly through the shadows, but none posed any real threat. A wild lunge from a kobold fell miles short as Kin simply leaned out of the trajectory, his movements fluid, allowing him to bypass their clumsy advances without losing his momentum. He hardly needed to think. An effortless flick of his wrist sent his blade gliding through bone, leaving the monster crumbling into a heap of static dust and dissolving essence. The combat had transformed into pure muscle memory. He hardly needed to think anymore.
The twin hilts of his newly acquired weapons felt perfectly balanced against his palms, their polished edges catching the faint luminescence of the cavern walls.
"So, I learned a few things about the dungeon," Kin reflected, a quiet sense of accomplishment settling over his stride. "Like the strength of 10th floor beasts made the 9th floor monster seem like a kid's game. Maybe it's because I levelled up, but these monsters feel almost laughable now. With my two new daggers, I can rest easy... I am Level 14 now, and I am just about to get to the 5th floor..."
He paused at a wide cavern junction, his eyes tracking the structural architecture where the rough, stone began shifting into perfectly straight, square lines of chiseled masonry blocks. A peculiar, faint warmth drifted up from the descending stairwell, carrying a low, muffled hum that vibrated so deeply through the floor it was impossible to identify.
"You're wondering what's on the 5th floor?"
"It's got its own human city... one of the only places in the dungeon with any real sense of stability. Guards cover the entrances, keeping raiders safe enough to sleep, eat, and shop for gear. It's the only floor where you can find real rest... and rare items. I've read there are more like it on the 15th and 25th floor..."
Right on cue, his belly rumbles. "Ah, I could use a good meal..." Kin murmured, pressing a hand flat against his midsection as the sharp pangs reminded him of his empty stomach, completely overriding his lingering adrenaline.
Kin looks at his map and sees that the 5th floor should be on his left. As he turns, he sees a bunch of light crystals covering the walls and a sea of them following a stone-like entrance. These luminous nodes were mounted symmetrically along both sides of the corridor, arranged in meticulous geometric rows with perfectly even spacing between each radiant stone. This orderly sequence continued consistently without a single interruption, casting an unbroken grid of white brilliance across the floors and walls, continuing onward until the pristine light pooled directly at the feet of the distant checkpoint. He sees guards in the distance and heads towards them.
As Kin drew closer, his relaxed stride faltered slightly. These men did not look like ordinary outpost sentries; they looked like full blown medieval knights. They were encased from head to toe in massive plates of polished steel armor that gleamed brilliantly under the geometric crystal grid. Ornate crests towered over their helmets, and dark iron visors completely hid their facial features, making them look like giant, immovable statues. Their posture was entirely unamused, their gauntleted hands resting with cold authority upon the pommels of the massive broadswords sheathed at their hips.
They say, "Stop. name and level." The voice bellowed from behind the steel faceplate, sounding hollow, deep, and completely uninviting.
Kin blinked, meeting their faceless scrutiny with a look of calm surprise. While the unexpected roadblock was deeply awkward, his posture remained upright, the inner strength earned from surviving the deeper levels supporting his frame despite his basic clothes. He answered clearly, completely unfazed by their imposing size. "Oh, it's Kin, sir, and I'm level 14."
The guard thinks to himself, "With no gear, just two red goblin daggers?"
A long, deadpan silence filled the corridor. The lead knight slowly tilted his armored head downward, visually mapping out Kin's complete lack of protective equipment. His gaze lingered with obvious skepticism on the pair of low tier crimson blades strapped to the boy's belt. The total absence of chest plating or even standard leather pauldrons made the level claim sound completely ridiculous to the veteran soldiers.
"Where is your party?" the guard asks, his tone sharpening with immediate suspicion.
Kin offered a calm, casual shrug, his eyes moving between the two towering figures as he explained the absolute absurdity of his situation without a hint of fear. "I fell into a hole on the 1st floor and ended up on the 10th. My party is probably out of the dungeon by now." Kin says.
The two knights exchanged a quick, profoundly unamused look, the subtle shifting of their armored shoulders broadcasting their absolute disbelief.
"Oh? Is that so? Hold still."
The guards approach him, their movements tense, hands reaching for the cuffs with swift efficiency. The sudden, metallic clank of their advancing armor echoed loudly against the stone. Kin freezes for a moment, a knot tightening in his stomach as the cold iron restraints emerged from the guard's belt.
"What did I do?" surprised by their actions, his voice tightening in genuine confusion rather than fear as he instinctively tried to step back, only for a massive gauntlet to lock firmly onto his shoulder.
The lead guard scoffed, a dull grunt of irritation escaping his helmet. "Falling from the 1st floor and landing on the 10th? What are you? A bird? Yeah, right. We're taking you to the sheriff." They then start to walk, forcefully guiding a thoroughly bewildered but entirely composed Kin forward through the radiant archway.
Before Kin can catch glimmer of the city after passing the city walls he was forceablly tugged leftward into a narrow alleyway that hand a wooden door with metal hilts on the top and middle section of the door with two different locks. Kin barely had a second to look around before the sudden change in direction. The massive stone barriers of the checkpoint disappeared from view as the guards redirected him. As one guard held Kin still confused by the whole ordeal the other unlocked the door placing him in a room with one light crystal, centred on a plain metal table, as the rest of the room was completely empty apart from another door that seemed to lead further into the building and a chair identical to the one he sat on also made of metal on the other side of the table. The guards left closing the door behind him and relocking the door going back to their daily duties.
Kin waits for several minutes until eventually The sheriff walks in, wearing a fully blacked outfit a leather jacket and baggy black trousers with sunglasses on to boot holding a piece of paper. The moment the door swung open, a potent, aggressive wave of expensive pine and dark cedar cologne swept into the cramped interrogation room, hovering around him and immediately overpowering the damp, metallic smell of the room. Kin watched him closely, his mind clouding with a quiet curiosity as he tried to make sense of his situation.
"So, you're Kin, huh?" Glancing at the report paper in his hands as he sits across from Kin. The man slid into the opposite metal seat, the dark lenses of his glasses reflecting the single light crystal overhead, hiding his expression completely.
"Yep, that's my name" Kin utters very casually while exhausted and starving. Though his stomach ached and fatigue weighed on his shoulders, his eyes remained alert, tracking the officer with an inquisitive but silent focus.
The Sheriff staring at his report "So, you claim that you dropped into a hole from the 1st floor and somehow landed on the 10th somehow as a level 14 and survived?" The officer tilted his head slightly, scanning the written text again as if trying to find a logical explanation.
"Well, I said nothing but the truth," Kin says adamantly.
Looking at Kin deductively wonders for a moment seeing if he can gauge any falsehood in kins demeanor. The sheriff studied the line of the boy's jaw and his straightforward gaze, searching for any twitch or nervous tell that would give away a lie.After a brief contemplation he gently takes off his sunglasses and places them on the metal table as his cadence altered "I mean, that story is so ridiculous... If it was less ridiculous, I would probably think you're lying." A faint, genuine smirk broke across the lawman's face, replacing his stern mask as he recognized the sheer absurdity of the truth.
He continues "Well, even if I believe you, we still have to follow procedure..." as he stands up with the report on one hand and swiftly picking up his sungless with the other, his leather jacket creaking softly in the quiet room."Just a moment" leaving the room and coming back in what felt like seconds.
"I've sent a letter to the Gatekeeper to get some more information about you." The Sheriff says honestly. "Thanks to our postal system, it shouldn't take more than a few hours"
"Postal system?" Kin inquires
"Yes, phones don't work down here. So, we resort to sending letters. But you know, a hole being on the 1st floor dropping all the way to the 10th is so hard to believe..." Leaning his hands on the table staring at Kin. The room met with silence and a subtle tension filled the air. The sheriff pressed his palms flat against the metal surface, leaning forward as the scent of his cedar cologne drifted across the space between them. Kin remained still, his mind spinning with internal questions about how a dungeon city functioned, though he kept his mouth shut and simply watched the man.
The Sheriff dropped his act once again, "Ah well. Just sit tight. If you're who you say you are, then you will be released soon enough." As he closes the door behind him leaving Kin to himself, the click of the lock sealing the room once more.
Kin sat alone in the interrogation room, watching the steady luminescence of the light crystal on the metal table. An electronic ring tone sounded. The blue light from the crystal shifted, its glow replaced by the pulsing blue display of a phone vibrating on a cluttered desk, creating a rhythm to the ring.
The digital tone vibrated against the wood of a cluttered desk where Shinoh sat with his face buried in his palms. His room was completely disorganized, littered with unread labyrinth layout guides, crumpled maps of the first level, and denied request forms for official search expeditions. Ever since Kin had slipped through that structural fracture weeks ago, Shinoh had been entirely consumed by a fierce, relentless desperation to find his closest companion. The thought of his brother trapped alone in the deep dark left him entirely sleepless, a suffocating weight pressing down on his chest every hour of the day. He was fiercely committed to the search, pouring every ounce of his soul into a rescue mission that everyone else had abandoned as a lost cause.
Shinoh's phone rings loudly. He sees the screen ID: Gatekeeper slightly hesitating, he answers.
His hand seized the plastic frame, his breathing completely halting as he pressed the glass to his ear.
"Hello?" he says, nervously.
"Is this Shinoh?" A woman's voice, slightly muffled due to signal, came through the tiny speaker with a low layer of static.
"Yes, it is." Shinoh answers. Every muscle in his upper body locked into place, his immense fatigue instantly burning away under a sudden surge of pure focus.
"It's about your friend Kin." His belly turns in twisted anticipation. A cold wave of adrenaline flooded his entire chest, his mind instantly short circuiting with a wild mixture of terror and overwhelming hope as the realization washed over him. "Can you come here right now?" she asks His mind racing, yet his voice firm "I will be there right away."