“Commander Sigvid, what’s that brat doing?” Kade muttered, arms crossed.

  Sigvid stroked his beard but said nothing.

  “Isn’t it strange that his party members haven’t arrived?” another man asked. “You think he came here alone?”

  Sigvid chuckled, then broke into a laugh. “Who in their right mind would raid a dungeon solo?” The bearded commander’s tone dripped with amusement. He gestured toward the other groups. “Not even Stormlight or Oleander would dare such a thing. Unless…” His eyes narrowed on the masked student. “He’s actually a B-rank Awakened.”

  “But why would someone like that come to a D-rank dungeon?” another voice questioned.

  “Exactly,” Sigvid said with a snort. “He’s probably a scout. His party shouldn’t be too far behind.”

  The others nodded. It made sense.

  “Well, it doesn’t matter anyway,” Kade said with a grin. “This dungeon’s ours to clear.”

  Sigvid laughed heartily and slapped Kade’s back. “That’s the spirit.”

  Members of Stormlight—the Awakened in trench coats—and Oleander—the women in revealing robes—glanced their way briefly but said nothing.

  Sigvid and his men all belonged to SilverTop, each carrying a polished silver spear among other weapons.

  Adam stood before the towering dungeon, its polished exterior gleaming under the sun. The chatter and laughter of the guild members drifted behind him, but he paid them no mind.

  He brushed his fingers against the dungeon’s surface, only to jerk his hand back as a cold shiver ran up his spine.

  He frowned. The sun’s blazing, yet it’s freezing cold?

  Raising his head, he examined the structure more closely. It wasn’t as tall as a skyscraper, yet it somehow contained an entire world within.

  He’d learned a lot since leaving the Wazar region, but the idea of a separate realm sealed within stone still defied understanding.

  “Hey, kid! Stop staring at the dungeon!” a voice barked.

  Adam turned. It was the same man who had blocked his path earlier.

  “Didn’t Varidan teach you about wait times?” the man sneered. “You look like a damn amateur. You’ll have to wait until tomorrow like the rest of us.”

  Adam gave him a slow once-over, then shook his head and turned away.

  Yeah, not falling into another cliché confrontation. That guy’s got a serious inferiority complex.

  He ignored the jeers behind him, focusing once more on the dungeon’s wall.

  Why were these dungeons created? And by who?

  He placed his palm on the cold surface again—A familiar chime rang in his ears, and a new system notification appeared before him.

  [You have found a dungeon! Would you like to enter?]

  [Yes]?[No]

  Adam blinked. Didn’t that guy just say we had to wait until tomorrow? Did I trigger something weird?

  He glanced back. The other Awakened hadn’t reacted at all. They remained in their groups, watching him curiously.

  He exhaled. Guess I was overthinking it.

  “Kid! Stop embarrassing yourself and Varidan Academy!” the same man called again. “Just wait for your damn team!”

  Adam rolled his eyes, returning his focus to the glowing prompt.

  “I really want to see what’s inside,” he muttered.

  He selected [Yes].

  In an instant, his body vanished.

  The laughter around SilverTop’s camp died.

  Sigvid exchanged uneasy glances with his men. They had all touched the dungeon’s wall before, yet none had ever been able to enter ahead of schedule.

  Across the clearing, the other guilds stirred in confusion.

  “The Goblin Lair has opened!” someone shouted.

  A formless, colorless portal shimmered to life on the wall where the masked student had been standing.

  It wasn’t clear who moved first, but all three guilds surged toward it at once.

  Adam materialized in a dimly lit cave. The air stung with a chill and reeked of rot and decay.

  [You have entered a dungeon!]

  [Goblin Lair]

  “Goblin Lair, huh?” he murmured, his eyes scanning the faintly glowing crystals embedded in the cavern walls—the only source of light.

  Not what I expected, but I’m not about to pass up the chance to go full Goblin Slayer.

  A grin tugged at his lips beneath the mask.

  “System, retrieve the amulet from Inventory,” he whispered.

  A silver amulet with a dull gray sheen appeared in his hand. Pressing it, he summoned a floating display of his student profile. He skimmed through it until he reached the Mission tab.

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  [Mission]

  - Eliminate a Red-Eared Goblin tribe.

  - Obtain the Goblin Chief’s scepter to complete the mission.

  Not sure if that’s supposed to be difficult or not.

  He’d read about goblins in Varidan’s library—and knew plenty about them from Earth—but he wasn’t certain how dangerous they were compared to Awakened humans.

  “But what about the map?” he muttered, glancing at the amulet. “Wasn’t it supposed to be…”

  A holographic map projected into the air. A flickering marker pulsed at its center.

  “That should be me,” he guessed.

  He moved a few steps, watching the marker shift accordingly.

  He pinched outward on the projection, zooming out until the surrounding terrain appeared. Dozens of black crucifixes indicating lesser dungeons scattered across Targarth’s region.

  There are so many…

  He recalled the instructor’s words: there were far too many dungeons for anyone to worry about scarcity.

  One name caught his attention—Stormlight, listed as the representative guild for the area.

  “Stormlight?” he muttered. “Never heard of them. Must be local.”

  He pictured the trench-coated group outside the dungeon. They were likely Stormlight’s people.

  Guess Varidan really meant it when they said no preferential treatment.

  He chuckled softly and dismissed the amulet. It dissolved into particles of light and returned to his inventory.

  Then, he moved forward. His footsteps were slow, deliberate.

  After thirty paces, the path split into four tunnels.

  [Seventy-three Potential Sources of Danger Detected]

  Adam’s brows shot up. Seventy-three? That’s one tribe?

  His gaze slid toward the first tunnel on the left. The bloodlust emanating from within was unmistakable. The air in the tunnel pressed against him, thick and suffocating—like a living thing, pulsing with a ravenous hunger that clawed at his skin.

  The air thickened as Adam moved deeper into the tunnel. The beam from the crystals thinned, their glow paling beneath the creeping shadows. Something shifted in the dark—soft, deliberate, and wrong. His steps slowed. A dozen faint rasps echoed from every side, like sandpaper dragging across stone.

  He raised his head, and from the walls, they crawled.

  Figures peeled themselves from the darkness; thin-limbed, leathery-skinned creatures with spines that jutted from their backs like broken bark. Their hides looked half-cured, dry and cracked, mottled in shades of gray and green. Beady yellow eyes shimmered in the dim light, glinting with a cunning far too sharp for beasts.

  “Goblins.”

  Adam didn’t know the exact species, but he could tell—these things had waited for him. They had let him walk deeper, far enough that the twisting corridors behind him now hummed with movement. The air sealed like a closing throat.

  He chuckled. “So that’s your game.”

  Dozens of snarls answered him.

  With a thought, Cataclysm materialized in his hands—its ominous blades feasting in the light. The creatures crept closer, crawling along the walls and ceiling, saliva trailing from jagged teeth. The first leaped.

  The cave erupted in motion.

  Adam’s eyes turned black behind the mask. He swung his hand sideways—not at the goblin, but through it. The weapon in his right hand vanished mid-swing, reappearing in the air behind the creature. It carved a crescent through its ribs, spraying dark blood that hissed as it hit the cold stone.

  The next wave came.

  Dozens of roughbacks surged from every tunnel, screeching with maddened hunger. Adam lifted both hands, and the axes spun away, streaking through the dark in wide, blood-red arcs. Wherever the crimson blur passed, goblins twisted, flesh shriveling against bone, eyes bulging from skulls before the bodies mummified mid-scream. Others swelled grotesquely, their veins throbbing like worms beneath their skin before they burst, showering the walls in a rain of black-red gore.

  The smell of iron and rot filled the chamber.

  Adam stepped forward. Manipulator pulsed; a whispering hum that resonated through his bones. He caught a crude blade midair, ripped it from a goblin’s grip without touching it, then drove it backward through three others in a single sweep. The weapon spun in the air like a toy, hacking, stabbing, shredding through limbs as if mocking its former owners.

  Those close enough to reach him fared no better. One goblin lunged from his flank; Adam caught it by the throat, bones crunching beneath his fingers, and slammed it against the wall hard enough to leave a stain. Another tried to sink its teeth into his arm, he drove his knee up, crushing its jaw, then grabbed the creature by the skull and hurled it into its kin.

  The cave became a slaughterhouse.

  Goblins trampled over their dead, shrieking and biting at each other in a frenzy to reach him. Their madness was almost admirable—mindless, suicidal devotion to carnage. But Adam was worse. He met them head-on, letting Manipulator weave through his motions. Every gesture was mirrored by a dozen invisible hands that hurled crude spears, swung axes, and tore through flesh.

  A symphony of screams echoed through the stone. Blood slicked the ground, thick enough to splash against his boots. Guts hung from the ceiling like crimson vines.

  Minutes passed before the final roughback gurgled its last breath.

  Adam exhaled, slow and steady. The last twitching corpse fell at his feet. He surveyed the carnage in silence: the piles of mangled limbs, the stench of burnt ichor, the trembling echoes that still rippled through the cave walls.

  Then he saw it.

  One of the creatures, a smaller one, was limping away, clutching a severed arm. It turned once, its yellow eyes wide with fear, before darting into a narrow crevice.

  Adam tilted his head. “Smart one.”

  He followed.

  The tunnels branched and twisted, narrower than before. Water dripped from the ceiling, steaming where it touched the blood-stained floor. As he advanced, faint torchlight began to glow in the distance.

  The passage opened into another chamber; a larger, deeper, and disturbingly quiet space.

  Adam stepped through the archway and froze.

  These weren’t roughbacks.

  Scores of goblins filled the cave, but these were leaner, smoother-skinned, their posture almost human. Their flesh shimmered faintly beneath the glow of pink, bioluminescent eyes that pulsed in unison—dozens of them turning toward the intruder. Their campfires burned low and silent, illuminating carved symbols drawn across the floor in dried blood.

  The pink-eyed tribe.

  Adam smiled beneath his mask. “Seems I found the wrong nest.”

  The first of the tribe hissed, its voice high and wet. Then, as one, the horde moved.

  They came in waves; lean bodies leaping from the shadows, brandishing sharpened bones and stone knives. Adam didn’t retreat. He raised his hand and called the axes.

  They appeared with a shriek of metal and wind.

  The first swing split three in half. He pivoted, the second axe tearing through a line of them, their entrails splattering against the runic carvings. The pink-eyed goblins shrieked louder, their cries echoing through the chamber.

  They swarmed.

  Adam ducked beneath a blade, catching its wielder by the arm, twisting it backward until the bone snapped, then using the severed limb as a club to cave in another skull. One creature lunged from behind—he spun, the axe cleaving it from hip to shoulder. Another jumped from above; Manipulator yanked a spear from a corpse and impaled it midair.

  Blood painted the walls.

  Still, the goblins charged, trampling their dead, driven by something feral and desperate. Adam’s breathing grew heavier, but his movements never faltered. Each step was measured, each strike precise. The axes spun faster, streaks of red carving through flesh and air alike.

  Bodies piled. Heads rolled. The pink light in their eyes began to dim beneath the growing mountain of corpses.

  By the time the last one fell, the cave had turned into a crimson mist.

  Adam stood at its center, chest rising and falling slowly. He wiped a smear of black blood from his arm, his mask reflecting the faint glow of dying embers.

  Then—a sound.

  A faint echo of bare feet slapping against stone.

  He turned toward a side passage. The same roughback goblin from before was there, peering from the tunnel’s mouth. It saw him and shrieked before bolting.

  Adam’s smile returned.

  “Running again?”

  He gave chase.

  The passage twisted wildly, connecting into yet another cavern. But the air here was different, hotter, thicker, humming with energy. A red glow flickered from deep within.

  When Adam stepped inside, he froze.

  Hundreds of eyes glimmered in the dark, red this time, not pink. The sound of guttural snarls rolled through the chamber like a tide. And at the center, atop a mound of bones, sat a massive figure. Its ears burned a deep crimson; its body layered in crude armor of bone and fur; a scepter of fused bone clutched in its clawed hand.

  The Goblin Chief.

  Adam’s grin widened, slow and sharp.

  “Finally.”