Inside the dungeon, something felt displaced.
No claws scraped against stone. No blood glazed the floor. Four entire floors passed beneath their boots—no drawn blades, no ambushes. And now, at the brink of the Fifth, the quiet had shape.
It wasn't silence. It was a hush that watched.
The air felt thinner here. Not hostile—just hollow. It no longer resembled a dungeon.
It felt like an ossuary. Abandoned. Paused.
Kin's voice cracked the tension, drifting like a pebble into a still pond. "Why haven't we seen anything? Not one monster."
The Master didn't stop walking. "Each floor has a limit. With access to the lower floors sealed, raiders have been… overharvesting."
Senen adjusted his beard, voice low. "Spawn rates shift depending on a dungeon's design. Some floors go dormant for months in this dungeon. But that only usually happens on deeper floors."
Kin squinted. "Dungeons? There's more than this one?"
A long pause.
They didn't laugh—but it passed between them, like two wolves who'd already run that trail.
Then the Master spoke, tone even. "There are nine known dungeons in the world. Each bound to a different region. Each with its own ecosystem… and its own beasts"
Kin's brows lifted, awe unfurling like sunrise behind his eyes.
But before the weight of that could settle, Senen motioned ahead.
"There," he said.
The passage widened.
Crystal lights lined the pathway in perfect intervals, embedded directly into the stone—each one casting a calm cyan glow that stretched in soft bands across the ground. The road ahead gleamed faintly. Structures rose on either side—low-built, cleanly constructed, some with reinforced plating, others showing signs of reinforcement after recent strain. The ceiling above vanished into shadow, high and unfinished, with striations in the stone like stress marks left behind after something had been forced into place.
From somewhere inside the city came the low thrum of voices. Distant. Tense. The kind that meant people were present—but uncertain whether they should be. The Master slowed at the threshold, boots scuffing against the faint shimmer of the path.
His gaze swept the area. "…What's going on here?"
Without hesitation, and with no answers, they crossed into the crystal city.
The Fifth Floor City was unrecognizable.
Steel clinked against steel as armoured figures brushed past one another, weapons strapped to their backs, eyes sharp with anticipation. Market stalls brimmed with supplies: glowing potions, sharpened blades, dried rations, charms carved from bone. Voices layered atop one another in a loud, living static—bargains struck, rumours exchanged, nerves frayed.
Kin kept close to the Master's side, his gaze skating over the bustling city. Lanternlight spilled in ribbons across the stone. Ahead the entrance to the Sixth Floor—walled off. Guards stood in locked formation, halberds crossed, jaws set with the strain of holding position. Above them, a single mark glowed faintly on the stone: the Gatekeeper's seal.
"...How much longer?"
"This is madness. We've been waiting days—"
The voices surged into protest.
Kin's gaze caught on a familiar silhouette among the guards. He raised a hand.
"Shinoh!"
The man turned, eyes lighting up. "Kin? Back again already?"
"Yeah," Kin said, weaving through the crowd. "It's been chaos."
Shinoh laughed, resting his spear across his shoulders. "Tell me about it. I'm off raiding, though. Doing guard work now."
Kin blinked. "Seriously? Why?"
Shinoh's smile softened. "Your mum, actually. She looked so scared after your last dive. Made me think of mine. Realized I couldn't keep doing this—not if it meant someone else waiting like that... anyway what are you doing here?"
Kin opened his mouth to reply—but a voice sliced through the noise like a blade through silk.
"Is that the Master?!"
The crowd turned as one. Whispers scattered like dry leaves.
"No way…"
"It's him—what's going on?"
The crowd parted—instinctive, reverent—as the Master stepped forward, flanked by Senen and the others. His coat flared in the lamplight, document in hand, its seal already broken.
He raised it.
"We've received clearance to proceed into the Sixth," his voice carried without effort, calm but edged with steel. "We're investigating the catastrophe that took place not long ago. For those who have forgotten—many were injured. Many more died. Please be patient until we resolve this issue."
Then—clapping. One set of hands. Then another.
A wave of sound rose, not just loud but respectful. Raiders straightened. Arguments ceased.
Shinoh leaned over, pulling Kin into a brief, brotherly hug. "Man, why are you always around legends?"
Kin laughed, eyes on the gates as they began to creak open.
A guard stepped aside. "Clearance granted."
The team crossed the threshold.
Kin eased into a backward stroll, flashing a grin. He lifted a hand—playfully, before pivoting cleanly into what lied ahead. Shinoh chuckled, raising his spear in a silent farewell.
Kin now back with the group, falling in step beside them—mischief still dancing in his eyes.
And then he was gone—into the dark between floors, the sound of applause fading behind him like a tide pulling out to sea.
The gates closed behind them.
Moments later, a figure burst through the crowd—breath ragged, boots thudding hard against stone. In his left hand, a folded letter clutched tight, edges curled with sweat.
"Has anyone seen an old man... traveling with a Guild Master?" he called, eyes scanning the crowd of faces.
Shinoh turned at the sound. "They just went through the gate," he said, nodding toward the now-sealed entrance.
The courier paused, panting. For a heartbeat, he stared at the shut doors—then gave a quick nod, turned on his heel, and vanished back into the city's noise.
The Sixth Floor opened with the stench of blood and something older—like scorched bone.
The team stepped into a killing field.
Monsters lay strewn across the stone—clawed limbs twisted, broken wings twitching, blood soaking deep into the cracks beneath them. Half of them still bled. Some still breathed, gurgling faint, guttural sounds before falling silent.
But ahead—dozens more waited.
Their eyes glowed faint in the dim light, bodies tense, hunched like wolves sizing up prey that refused to run. A stand-off. None lunged. Not yet. But they would.
Tiren scanned the scene. "What… happened here?"
Senen's expression was unreadable. "A culling. Not by us."
The Master stepped forward, not breaking stride.
"Kin," he said. "We leave them to you."
Kin blinked once. Then grinned.
"Alright."
And he vanished—blurring into motion.
The monsters stirred the instant he moved. A shriek split the moment. Then chaos.
Kin was already inside them—his blade cleaving through the first beast's shoulder, twisting mid-swing to catch another as it pounced from behind. He flipped, landed low, and drove the blade upward through a second chest. Ichor splattered the ground, thick and steaming.
One creature lunged. He sidestepped.
Another bit down—on empty air.
Sye's brows knit faintly. "He's not even high-level yet. Shouldn't we—?"
"He's beyond fine," Senen said, without looking.
Sye gave a low hum of agreement, her eyes on the fight.
He became a blur of flashes— brief sparks, the sound of steel splitting hide, bone, and tendon. Roars echoed off the walls.
Tiren stepped closer to the Master, unease on his face.
Tiren's eyes tracked Kin—one flash, then another. Five monsters fell in as many seconds. His boots never slipped. His breath never caught.
The final beast lunged.
Kin met it mid-air, blade spinning once in a spiral of steel before carving down its centre.
Badadum.
Light pulsed under his feet.
Badadum.
He exhaled slowly.
Badadum.
A final ripple surged through his frame—Three crisp pulses of level-up light surged through his body. He stood alone in the centre of the ruined field, monsters carved around him. Blood steamed against his legs.
The Master said nothing, only stepped forward again, calm as ever. The rest followed—passing by Kin.
Kin eyes shifted, then jogged to catch up—boots crunching quietly over bone and blood as he rejoined the team.
The Sixth Floor watched them disappear into its darkened throat.
They followed the Sixth Floor's winding descent until the air shifted—just slightly, like something unseen had exhaled nearby.
A narrow path broke off from the main corridor, its edges slick with moss, vines veining along the walls as though the stone itself had bloomed. Fresh roots split the floor underfoot, damp and pulsing faintly beneath their boots.
The Master halted, gaze sharp. "That… wasn't here before."
Tiren, Sye, and Kin exchanged a glance.
Sye tilted her head. "It's not on any floor maps."
The Master nodded once. "Eyes open. We're taking a look."
The corridor pressed in on them as they moved forward. The walls glistened faintly with bioluminescent stone, their glow erratic. After a time, the tunnel gave way to a jagged hollow—a tear in the rock, like something had punched straight through the layers of the dungeon.
The Master stood beside the hole. Cool air leaked from it, smelling faintly of iron and sap. He climbed up without a word.
One by one, the others followed.
The opening led to a vast tunnel the ledge giving way to a fractured floor riddled with glowing roots and thorned vines. 30 minutes had passed and finally an opening appeared. Their boots crunching on soft stone and lichen. Thick cords of ivy snaked through cracked spaces within the walls, while the floor itself writhed with subtle movement. The entire dungeon felt awake.
Senen stepped beside the Master, her eyes scanning the terrain. "We're deep. What your guess?"
The Master inhaled, then slowly exhaled. "Judging by the depth… and this overgrowth? Floor 20."
Tiren stiffened. "Already?"
The Master nodded. "This explains how the higher-ranked monsters started flooding upper floors. We're standing in a shortcut—possibly dozens more exist."
Sye's voice was quiet. "But… what could carve something like this?"
The Master didn't answer. His gaze lingered on the edges of the chamber.
Then came the sound. A single, sharp hiss.
Every head turned.
From the far edge of the overgrown hall, vines split with a wet snap.
Something moved.
First, the segmented bodies slithered in—three colossal worm-like beasts, their skin translucent and laced with veins, each the width of a transport truck. Behind them came something far worse: a towering figure, humanoid only in silhouette. Obsidian scales coated its frame, broken only by slabs of forged armour carved with ancient runes—deliberate, unnatural, and unmistakably human-made.
"I think we found who was digging those holes." The Master uttered.
Senen's voice dropped to a whisper. "B-rank plating… that's a Floor Thirty-Two class. It shouldn't be here."
The worms pulsed behind it, bodies undulating with pent-up force.
Tiren stepped forward, the shadows of the creatures spread across his face.
"I'll take this one."
Senen tensed. "By yourself?"
He didn't glance back. "If I'm ever going to pass the Master… I must take this on alone."
The spear left twirled with a whisper. No flair, no bravado—just purpose. Tiren's mind went back to the vow he made. He was going to become stronger, that was a promise.
The Master said nothing… but a faint smile cracked the edge of his expression.
Then—
The lizard-beast roared; the earth convulsed beneath it. The worms began to churn in place, their massive bodies twisting and rising like towers of flesh and sinew.
The lizard-man surged forward, talons sprinting onto stone.
Tiren moved to meet it.
Their shadows collided—
And everything else was swallowed by the roar.