The corridor led them to an even larger set of doors. From the other side sounds of battle echoed. The clash of metal. Heavy footsteps. Roars of pain and effort.
Alejandro exchanged glances with his teammates.
"Someone's already fighting the boss," Marco muttered.
Emilia grinned. "Sounds like a mess."
Sofia, ever cautious, spoke next. "We should be careful. If the fight is still going, it means the boss is strong."
Alejandro nodded. "Let's go."
With a firm push, he swung the massive doors open.
—
The Boss Room was a massive, circular arena of cracked stone, torches lining the walls casting a flickering orange glow across the battlefield.
And in the middle of the room—
A colossal hobgoblin swung a massive stone warhammer, sending three hunters scattering.
It was at least 2.5 meters tall, its gray-green skin marked with scars. Unlike normal hobgoblins, this one had scraps of metal and bones fashioned into makeshift armor, covering its chest and limbs.
Its eyes burned with intelligence.
This wasn't just a stronger hobgoblin.
It was a Hobgoblin Warlord.
—
At the edges of the arena, several hunters were already engaged in combat.
Alejandro immediately recognized the man leading them.
Leonardo Moretti, also a B-rank, a rising talent from the Iron Fangs, Italy's third-largest hunter guild.
He and his team, along with a few independent hunters, were holding their ground—but barely.
They had suffered no casualties, but their movements were slowing. Their attacks were still precise, but it was clear—
They were running out of stamina.
"Tch. A Hobgoblin Warlord?" Marco muttered. "No wonder they're struggling."
Sofia frowned. "We need to decide—are we joining the fight or waiting?"
Before Alejandro could respond, a figure surged forward from the melee. Leonardo Moretti, his gauntlets flashing in the torchlight, launched a series of rapid, devastating blows. The impact of his strikes resonated through the arena, the sound of metal against hardened flesh echoing.
"Iron Fangs formation, Delta!" a gruff voice echoed, the command cutting through the din of battle.
The melee fighters, a cluster of agile figures surrounding Leonardo, moved with synchronized grace. They darted in, delivering rapid, stinging blows, then retreated before the warlord could retaliate. Their speed was their weapon, a constant, harassing assault that kept the creature off-balance.
From the periphery, the ranged fighters unleashed their own barrage. crossbow bolts, thick as a man's forearm, slammed into the warlord's flanks, each impact a thunderous crack. Gunfire, sharp and precise, punctuated the air, the mana-infuse bullets tearing into the creature's exposed flesh. Mages, their hands glowing with arcane energy, weaved intricate spells, arcs of lightning and searing flames adding to the cacophony of destruction.
"Impressive," one of his temporary teammates murmured, their voice barely audible above the roar of the battle. "Their coordination is flawless."
"Moretti's gauntlets," Sofia observed, their eyes fixed on Leonardo's movements. "They're clearly enchanted. The force he's generating is… significant."
"The Iron Fangs," a third member stated, their tone laced with a hint of respect. "They live up to their reputation. Italy's third-largest guild, and rising. They're known for their brutal efficiency."
The Hobgoblin Warlord, enraged and wounded, thrashed wildly, its massive limbs tearing at the air. But the Iron Fangs, like a pack of wolves, were relentless. They pressed their advantage, their attacks a relentless storm of steel and magic.
Leonardo, his face grim, launched a final, devastating blow. His gauntlets, glowing with a faint, internal light, connected with the creature's head. The impact was a resounding crash, the force of the blow sending tremors through the arena floor. The warlord staggered, its eyes rolling back, before collapsing in a heap of mangled flesh and bone.
A collective cheer erupted from the Iron Fangs, their voices echoing through the arena. Leonardo, breathing heavily, stood over the fallen warlord, his gauntlets dripping with its ichor. The fight was over, and the arena fell into a tense, expectant silence.
As the echoes of battle faded, the only sound left in the arena was the heavy breathing of exhausted hunters.
The Hobgoblin Warlord lay motionless on the cracked stone floor, its skull caved in from Leonardo's final blow. Dark ichor pooled beneath its massive form, its crude warhammer slipping from its lifeless grip.
Alejandro and his team stood at the entrance, watching the aftermath.
The Iron Fangs—Moretti's team—were slowly lowering their weapons, their shoulders rising and falling with exhaustion. Some of them sat down to catch their breath, while others quickly checked for injuries among their ranks.
But soon, one by one, they began to notice the newcomers.
The tense silence that followed was almost heavier than the battle itself.
Moretti was the first to speak.
He turned, sweat glistening on his forehead, his breathing still labored from the fight. His eyes locked onto Alejandro with an unreadable expression.
"Didn't expect to see you here, Spaniard."
Alejandro smirked. "Didn't expect to walk in on you struggling, Moretti."
A few of the Iron Fangs chuckled at that. Even Leonardo, still standing over the Hobgoblin's corpse, let out a short breath of amusement.
Moretti, however, only snorted. "We had it under control."
Emilia leaned toward Alejandro, whispering, "Yeah, sure they did."
He fought the urge to laugh.
Marco stepped forward, his expression neutral. "We weren't looking to steal your kill. Just came to see what we were dealing with."
Leonardo, wiping the blood from his gauntlets, nodded. "And now you've seen it. C-rank, definitely. Tough bastard, but manageable."
"For you, maybe," Sofia said, her voice carefully measured. "The two poor souls outside weren't so lucky."
A grim silence followed.
Moretti exhaled. "We saw the bodies on our way in. D-rank and E-rank, right?"
Alejandro nodded. "Yeah. We've got their IDs—we'll hand them over to the Association after we get out."
Leonardo clicked his tongue. "Damn. This dungeon was supposed to be E-rank."
"Clearly, someone messed up."
The tension in the room eased slightly, but Alejandro could still feel the weight of unspoken words between him and Moretti. This wasn't their first meeting and it definitely wouldn't be their last. Moretti wasn't hostile, but he was competitive. Iron Fang was a guild. Alejandro was an independent hunter and in this world, strength mattered.
Even without words, Alejandro could already see the gears turning in Moretti's head.
"He's trying to gauge me."
Leonardo finally broke the silence.
"Well, if we're done standing around, let's grab what we can and get out of here."
Alejandro nodded. "Agreed."
The Hobgoblin's body had already started fading, turning into dark mist—soon, only its loot would remain. And after that they would have to face whatever explanations the Hunter Association demanded once they got out.