As the boat neared the island, the distant roar of waves crashing against jagged rocks filled the air. Within minutes, the vessel docked, and the group disembarked alongside Halstein.
"Welcome to Island Nomad," Halstein announced, his voice cutting through the salty breeze. The group made their way toward the massive gathering of hunters near the towering, swirling mass of the purple gate.
The air was thick with anticipation—hundreds of battle-ready figures stood in formation, their weapons gleaming under the dim sunlight.
A commanding voice rang out."The last party has arrived. Everyone, prepare yourselves. We move in—now."
The one who spoke stood at the center of the gathering, his presence alone demanding attention. A deep scar ran across his left eye, a testament to the battles he had endured. His towering frame was clad in a black cape embroidered with a serpent gripping a dagger between its fangs. A black-and-white hat sat atop his head, casting a faint shadow over his sharp, calculating gaze.
"My name is Victor Graves," he stated, his voice steady and unwavering. "Or as many of you know me—Fanged Serpent of the Frost Guild.
I will be leading this raid, and let me make one thing clear: what I say is law inside that gate. You follow my orders, or you don't come back out."
The weight of his words silenced any murmurs among the gathered hunters.
Stiles leaned slightly toward Dante, lowering his voice. "Who the hell is this guy? Never heard of him before."
Dante's eyes remained fixed on Victor as he replied, "He's the newest SSS-rank hunter. Word is, he's being considered for international recognition. But outside of his name, his guild, and that title—his entire file is sealed. No records, no past missions, nothing. Just whispers about how damn strong he is. I've heard whispers saying he's also stronger than me... which honestly I'm not sure on how to feel about it."
A quiet tension settled between them as Victor turned his gaze toward the gate, the swirling energy within reflecting ominously in his single unscarred eye.
"Enough talk," he ordered. "We're going in."
As Aria stepped forward, just inches away from the swirling, ominous energy of the gate, a firm hand landed on her shoulder. She stopped, turning her head to see Halstein standing beside her, his expression unreadable."If you wish, you can stay out here," he said, his tone measured but carrying an unmistakable undertone of concern.
"Everyone going in is A+ rank or higher… and since we still don't have an exact measure of your strength, I'm giving you the choice. You don't have to do this." The words hung in the air between them, drowned out by the howling of the wind and the low hum of the unstable gate.
Aria stared at him for a long moment, her expression unreadable. It wasn't hesitation that rooted her feet in place—it was the weight of the choice itself.
She wasn't afraid of the gate. She had faced death before, had felt its icy grip trying to drag her down, but she had always stood back up.
Still, she knew that walking into the unknown without a clear understanding of her limits could be reckless, even foolish. But the alternative? Standing outside while the others—Dante, Stiles, SteelArm—walked into danger without her? That was something she couldn't accept.
Aria's lips curled into a faint smirk as she met Halstein's gaze. "Mmm, I appreciate the concern… but a rank alone isn't going to stop me from going in.
My friends are walking into this, and if there's even a chance they won't make it out alive, I won't be the one standing on the sidelines." Halstein exhaled sharply, not quite a sigh but something close.
He had expected that answer. "I figured as much," he admitted, his grip on her shoulder loosening. "But this isn't about pride, Aria. This is about survival. If things go south, I need you to promise me that you'll put yourself and your group before anyone else in this dungeon."
Her smirk softened into something more thoughtful, but she didn't give him a direct answer. Instead, she stepped forward, her figure illuminated briefly by the pulsating glow of the gate.
"Then we better make sure things don't go south," she said over her shoulder before walking through the portal.
Halstein watched her disappear into the swirling abyss, exhaling slowly before stepping in after her.
As everyone went inside the gate, the shift was instant.
The moment they emerged from the gate, an overwhelming stench of blood filled the air. The world before them was a grotesque nightmare—a ruined city where rivers ran thick with crimson, pooling into the cracked streets. Buildings stood broken and hollow, their walls scorched and smeared with the remnants of past slaughter.
Bodies, torn and twisted, littered the ground, some fresh, others long since rotted into husks.
A low, oppressive heat radiated from deeper within the city, carried by the unsettling silence that loomed over them like a specter. Then, in the distance, embers flickered, revealing massive creatures moving through the haze—Flame Bears, their hulking forms wreathed in smoldering fur, their eyes burning like molten embers. Behind them, emerging from the smoke, were Red and Black Orcs—towering brutes with jagged weapons, their armor crude but stained with old and fresh blood alike. Their eyes gleamed with an unnatural hunger, their guttural growls sending a ripple of unease through the assembled hunters.
Victor Graves stepped forward, his black and white hat casting a shadow over his scarred face. His sharp eyes scanned the city before he turned to face the raid team, his voice cutting through the suffocating air. "Listen up," he said, his tone brooking no argument.
"We don't know what else lurks in this shit, but based on the readings, the mana here is unstable—far beyond a normal B-rank gate. We will be treating this like an A+ rank disaster zone."
He jabbed a gloved finger toward the Flame Bears.
"Those things are going to be our first problem. Flame Bears are territorial and extremely aggressive. They won't just wait for us to come to them."
His gaze shifted to the orcs. "But they're not the worst of it. Those orcs aren't just normal variants—Red and Black Orcs are war-born, meaning they're smarter and stronger than your average grunt. If they're here, then expect an actual chieftain deeper inside."
A murmur went through the group. "An orc chieftain meant a structured force, not just a mindless horde. That raised the danger level significantly."
Victor pulled out his dagger, flipping it in his hand before pointing it at the group. "We move in coordinated waves. First unit—long-range attackers—start softening the Flame Bears before they can charge. Second unit—frontliners—hold the line and keep those orcs from flanking us. Third unit—specialists—you're on standby until we know what else is in this damn city."
His gaze darkened as he scanned the faces before him. "I don't care what guild you come from or how strong you think you are. If you break formation and charge in alone, you're dead weight. And I don't carry dead weight." Silence followed his words, tension thick in the air.
Aria's eyes flickered between the ruined cityscape and the approaching monsters. Something was wrong here—more than just the destruction, more than the monsters. There was a presence, something unseen yet pressing against her senses like a whisper in the back of her mind. Something deeper was waiting. Victor turned back to the blood-soaked city and rolled his shoulders. "Alright. Enough standing around. We're going in."
The moment Victor gave the order, the raid team sprang into motion. Arrows and magic surged through the air, striking the Flame Bears before they could react. The massive creatures roared in fury, their burning fur igniting the surroundings as they charged forward.Frontline fighters met them head-on, weapons clashing against thick, fiery hides. The heat was unbearable up close, forcing some to fall back as flames licked at their armor.
The battle erupted into chaos. Aria moved through the battlefield, eyes sharp as she observed the carnage.
Stiles weaved between fighters, his twin blades carving through the tendons of a bear's legs before Dante finished it with a spear thrust. SteelArm barreled forward, his Titan's Stride shaking the ground as he punched an orc so hard it crashed into a crumbling building. Despite their strength, the monsters kept coming. More orcs poured from the alleyways, their war cries echoing through the ruined city. It was an organized assault.
They had been waiting for them. Victor cursed under his breath. "Damn it. I have to do everything myself." Victor said before his dagger extended into a large blade and a suddenly black light appeared in the sky above him, his skill [Darken World], the world went black for the flame bears, their eyes going black and became blind before he used [Dark jet], blitzing through the wave of flame bears.
"Keep holding your positions! Don't let them through!" Victor shouted as he looked behind and saw everyone holding their positions. [Darken World] vanished.
A sudden pulse rippled through the air.