The first goblin lunged at Damien with a shriek that cut through the hallway like a damned soul's scream. Its jagged blade slashed for his throat. Damien spun with fluid grace, his enchanted sword slicing through the damp air. The magic-forged steel met green flesh in a burst of golden sparks, severing the creature's head in a clean arc. It rolled across the moss-stained stones, leaking dark blood.
Pinned to the wall by his overloaded gear, Kael watched with a morbid awe. This was his first time seeing battle at arm's reach. The synchronized brutality stunned him.
Elena lifted her combat staff and whispered an incantation in the old tongue. Flames flared from the crystal tip, swirling into a hypnotic spiral before bursting forward as blazing orbs. Each projectile struck with surgical accuracy. Goblin torsos vanished in clouds of steam and charred flesh. The stench of burnt meat filled the corridor, sharp and sickening.
"Triangle formation!" Marcus barked, slamming his shield against the stone floor.
Lysa leapt upward with feline agility and perched on a rocky ledge. Her composite bow drew in one smooth motion. Arrows whistled across the confined tunnel. Every shot landed true: left eye, throat, heart. Goblins dropped one after another, their dying screams mixing with the snap of bowstrings.
Damien danced at the center of the melee. His sword painted lethal arcs, leaving glowing trails in the air like scorched magic. He sidestepped a spiked club with practiced ease, deflected a sneaky stab with a flick of his wrist, and drove his blade through two aligned goblins. Green blood splattered across his black-scale armor. He kept smiling, thrilled by a fight that demanded so little effort.
Marcus remained a fortress. His shield blocked stray shots while his hammer shattered skulls with bone-cracking force. Each strike echoed like thunder in a storm.
The white wolf simply watched. Hidden in the shadow of an alcove, its icy eyes tracked every motion with strategic focus. The creature held itself back from the slaughter. That predatory intelligence chilled Kael more than all the gore surrounding him.
In under three minutes, silence reclaimed the corridor. Twelve goblins lay scattered on the uneven ground, smoke still curling from their corpses. Only the white wolf had vanished again, slipping deeper into the dungeon like a survivor who understood the rules.
Systemic Humiliation
"Hey, porter!" Damien snapped like a whip. "Planning to stand there all day? Pick everything up."
Kael stepped forward, his legs shaking under the burden. Claws, teeth, scraps of hide — the forgotten collected every piece that held profit. He handled the work of the invisible.
"Look at him," Elena scoffed. "Shaking like a leaf. Did the big bad goblins scare you, little boy?"
Lysa clicked her tongue. "Pathetic. Living without powers must feel like walking blind and deaf through life."
"Worse," Elena added. "It means existing without purpose."
Kael remained silent. He kept gathering materials with unwavering precision. The blood and humidity pressed against him like a weight.
"Tell me, porter," Damien said with a fake curious tone. "That sick brother of yours… Mara mentioned a frail little kid. Wouldn't it be easier if he just died already? You would stop wasting your time."
Kael froze for one breath. Damien noticed. His grin widened.
"Struck a nerve. Cute. Rage looks even cheaper on someone with no worth."
Lysa poured her canteen over Kael's head. "Better. Now you stink less like failure."
Kael did not react. Something pulsed inside him. A dull heat. A growl suppressed in his chest. Rage demanded release — but he swallowed it.
"At least cleaning suits you," Damien mocked. "Keep earning your charity."
Marcus placed a firm hand on Damien's shoulder. "Enough. We move."
Kael lifted his bag, face blank.
"Yes. Let's go."
The Gate of Fate
An hour later, the dungeon changed. Rough stone faded into walls marked by pulsing red runes etched in a black, unknown metal. Mana thickened the air. Breathing felt heavy.
"Something is wrong here," Lysa whispered. Her ears twitched. "The energy is too dense."
A colossal door waited at the end of the corridor. Forged of the same metal, engraved with shifting symbols. Words burned above it:
ARE YOU READY TO FACE YOUR FATE?
The letters moved like living things. Even Damien hesitated.
"No turning back," he declared, planting his hand on the gate.
The runes erupted in light. A deep rumble shook the dungeon. The door split apart with a metallic scream that made the earth vibrate.
The Ancient Abomination
A vast circular chamber opened before them. Bones piled in the center formed a throne for what rested above.
A dragon. The word felt too small.
Its scales were ink-black streaked with violet veins. Living runes crawled across its hide. One eye glowed a molten red. The other socket boiled with dark vapor.
The roar that followed broke the air like the world itself tearing apart.
"NO WAY!" Damien screamed. "S-Rank! A MONSTROUS ABOMINATION!"
Elena summoned a barrier. It vaporized instantly. The beast's breath swept forward — a tide of corruption. Elena's skin blistered into moving plaques. Her scream drowned in bubbling gurgles.
Lysa fired arrow after arrow. Each dissolved before reaching its mark. Marcus charged. The tail snapped into him like a battering ram. His armor and bones crumpled against the wall.
Damien struck wildly. His sword bounced off the dragon's scales like a toy. Darkness surged again. Everything vanished in howling agony.
Their perfection collapsed into panic. Their arrogance melted into death cries.
Instinct to Survive
Kael was already running.
The pack hammered his back as he sprinted through the corridor. The dragon's roar tore at the walls. Damien's orders twisted into desperate screeches. Then wet sounds silenced the noise of command.
Kael kept running. His lungs burned. His boots scraped stone. Tears blurred his vision.
Running meant life.
Running meant Liam would keep breathing.
Silence settled again. Utterly wrong. Utterly final.
Kael slowed, gasping, hands braced on his knees. The darkness seemed alive around him. Something moved. Heavy steps. Careful. Ancient.
Not the dragon. Too quiet. Too intelligent.
He straightened slowly, fingers tightening around the worn hilt of his rusted sword.
Two icy blue lights appeared in the shadows.
The white wolf had returned.