In another corner of the dungeon, Gallien trudged through a murky swamp with his squad close behind. Blistering winds slammed against them, carrying the stench of decay. Lotus leaves, glowing faintly crimson, drifted on the shadowy waters. Towering trees, so massive their crowns vanished into the darkness above, rose from the marsh, their tangled branches forming thick meshes that choked the sky.

  “Aaron,” Gallien called, stepping over a mutilated serpent corpse. “How close are we? Are we still in Swamp Viper territory?”

  He had removed his mask the moment he entered the dungeon. His sharp eyes scanned the biofluorescent leaves, the ancient trunks, the dozens of butchered serpents littering the water.

  “Sir, we’re out of their territory,” Aaron answered, eyes glued to a floating holographic map. “The Baccarras’ den is only a few meters ahead.”

  Gallien halted, and his men stopped in perfect unison. “Anyone bitten?”

  The healer shook his head silently.

  Gallien’s rigid posture softened—barely. “Good. You all know your roles. Do not disappoint me.”

  His gaze shifted to a squat man with a thick beard. “Vacatus. Your Blessing is the key. Are you prepared?”

  Vacatus grinned and casually picked his nose.

  “We’ll have ten minutes to kill the queen once Vacatus activates his Blessing,” Gallien said coldly. “Sir Dominic’s life depends on this. Do not fail.”

  No one spoke. They all simply nodded.

  “Take positions. Vacatus in the middle. Aaron at the front.”

  The formation snapped into place like a well-drilled army.

  Once this is over, I’ll finally reach the merit upper-tier list. Gallien brushed a hand through his blonde hair, a faint smile touching his lips. Then I can begin searching for that traitor in Vohmir.

  They marched in eerie silence, only the faint ripples of water and the occasional splash marked their passage. The swamp pressed in around them, alive with unseen things.

  “Sir, twenty meters to the den,” Aaron whispered. “We have only—”

  The ground shuddered.

  The Awakened froze. Gallien’s head whipped toward the trembling trees and bubbling water.

  “What was that?” someone breathed.

  They had crossed this swamp dozens of times. Never had it quaked.

  The rumbling subsided, leaving only fading ripples spreading across the black water.

  “Sir… I don’t like this,” Vacatus murmured.

  “The dungeon’s been acting strange all day,” Aaron added. “Sir, maybe we should—”

  He stopped when Gallien’s cold eyes bored into him.

  “We continue,” Gallien said. “We leave only after the mission is complete. Not before.”

  He raised a hand. “Move.”

  Minutes passed. The swamp slowly gave way to solid ground. Gallien halted again.

  “Vacatus. Go.”

  The stubby man stepped forward. Gallien rested his unsheathed longsword across his shoulders, glancing at Aaron, who tightened his gauntlets with steady hands.

  “Halt,” Gallien whispered. They froze. “Vacatus—good luck.”

  Vacatus smiled. His pupils warped, stretching vertically. His eyes bulged like a frog’s. Webbing grew between his fingers. His throat ballooned grotesquely.

  “You’ll know when it begins,” he croaked—literally.

  He slipped ahead, light on his feet.

  Gallien watched until Vacatus disappeared beyond the bend. His grip tightened around his sword.

  You must succeed.

  Vacatus moved in calm, deliberate steps. A blinding white glow marked the exit ahead.

  “Here goes nothing,” he muttered, stepping through.

  A massive ethereal forest unfolded before him. Mist drifted like silk between towering trees. Flowers of impossible colors bloomed in the haze. Overhead, a colossal rainbow arced across a pristine sky. The distant murmur of flowing water and the jubilant chirping of unseen birds filled the dreamlike world.

  Vacatus ignored all of it, following the trajectory he’d memorized from the cave.

  On his twentieth step, he stopped.

  A chilling breeze swept across his back. Cold sweat trickled down his spine. His throat swelled involuntarily.

  Then he heard it; soft, melodious laughter. The kind that only carefree maidens could make.

  Slowly, he turned his head.

  Through the elegant lattice of trees, a glittering pond shimmered. Five beautiful women splashed and chased one another, dressed in drenched, clinging garments.

  Vacatus swallowed. His throat ballooned further, though he did not croak.

  How can something this beautiful exist?

  His pulse quickened. Breath shortened.

  Each of the five women could have been a goddess, but his eyes locked onto one. A red-haired beauty, radiant like the moon among stars, stared back at him with emerald eyes.

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  “She’s perfect,” he whispered, clutching his chest.

  “You’ve been staring for quite a while,” the redhead cooed. “Won’t you join us?”

  All five women smiled at him, warm and inviting—almost seductively.

  Vacatus took a step. Then another. The gap shrank to only a few meters.

  Focus, idiot. Remember the mission.

  But his legs didn’t listen.

  Less than thirty feet away, Vacatus suddenly crouched low—froglike. His throat inflated to twice the size of his body.

  A piercing, thunderous croak split the air.

  Shockwaves rippled out in all directions. The women’s delicate laughter curdled into guttural screams as their visages warped, beauty melting like wax. Warts the size of pebbles bubbled across their faces. Skin split open, leaking ribbons of foul yellow pus. Their limbs elongated into crooked, unnatural angles; a hunched mass swelled across their backs.

  Even the dreamlike forest couldn’t withstand the distortion. Reality peeled away, the ethereal grove collapsing into a cavernous grotto littered with thousands of bleached skeletons.

  Still crouched, Vacatus did not dare stop croaking. His Blessing strained against the deluge of illusion.

  Any moment now…

  A wet pop cracked through the cavern. The bulging humps on the aberrations burst at once, spraying the air with a shower of pus. Vacatus ignored the stench as something clawed its way free.

  From each torn hunchback, a creature with the head of a goat forced itself out. Curved horns shimmered with an otherworldly luster.

  The Baccarras had revealed themselves.

  Illusionists. Seducers. Flesh-eaters. They preyed on anything foolish enough to enter their territory, weaving hallucinations through pheromonal scents. But Vacatus’ Blessing, sensitive to chemical shifts through skin and eyes, was a perfect counter to their craft.

  “Filthy… human…” rasped one of the goat heads, bleating between words. “We will tear you apart… piece by piece. How long… do you think you can keep us… down?”

  Among the five emerged, one towered above the rest—its horns thickest, its presence oppressive.

  The queen.

  Vacatus ignored her. He kept croaking, throat swelling and shrinking with rhythmic violence.

  Where are Gallien and the others? They should be here already…

  “Human!” the queen roared, both heads shaking with agony. “N-No one will save you. You will tire, and when you do, we will feast until nothing remains but—”

  A thunderous blast cut her words short as the cavern shook.

  “Sorry for being late,” Gallien’s voice rang from behind. “Eliminate the others. The queen is ours.”

  Gallien sprinted past Vacatus, bloodlust radiating from him. Aaron flanked him, expression hidden behind a mask, twin blades extending from his gauntlets like crimson fangs.

  Behind them, Vacatus’ croaks intensified. The ordinary Baccarras shrieked, clutching their goat heads as they collapsed onto the corpse-strewn ground.

  “First squad—finish the unconscious ones!” Gallien barked. “Second squad—protect Vacatus!”

  Ten Awakened charged the writhing creatures. Another seven formed a protective circle around Vacatus.

  Aaron’s blades glowed red-hot, steam hissing from the metal. He darted toward the queen with assassin-like speed. Gallien halted, gauging the battlefield.

  The queen convulsed. With a sickening bleat, the warts coating its body swelled and detonated, releasing a rain of acidic fluid straight toward the squad guarding Vacatus.

  A man stepped forward, blazing with light. A barrier erupted around him, encapsulating the squad. Acid hammered the golden shield, but it held.

  Vacatus loosed another deafening croak. The queen shrieked even louder, staggering under the suppression.

  “Return to the depths from which you crawled!” Aaron bellowed.

  The queen flinched. He materialized above its humanoid half, his blades carving through flesh. He reached for the goat head to sever it, but it thrashed violently and flung him aside.

  Four simultaneous shrieks echoed. Gallien smiled. The other Baccarras were dead.

  “Humans!” the queen wailed. “I will never forgive—AH!”

  Aaron’s blade pierced one of its goat eyes. It swung at him wildly, bleating in pain, but he moved with effortless precision.

  “Rest, Aaron,” Gallien said. “I’ll finish it.”

  Relieved, Aaron retreated, steam fading from his gauntlets. His Blessing gave him inhuman agility, and the gauntlet’s internal furnace heated his blades without ever burning him, but the exertion taxed him heavily.

  “Humans! You will pay for my subjects!” The queen raged again.

  Gallien blurred forward. “For a goat, you talk far too much.”

  His sword erupted in brilliant silver light. The queen froze, all four eyes widening. The cavern trembled, stones raining from the ceiling.

  “W-wait… that aura… isn’t that the—”

  The blade flashed. Both heads fell in a single, elegant stroke.

  Even in death, the queen’s warped features remained twisted in disbelief.

  Gallien lowered his blade, the light fading from its edge. Behind him, his men watched with reverent awe.

  “Those bones aren’t going to extract themselves,” he said coolly. “Move.”

  The squads split. Vacatus’ croaking finally ceased, though he remained in partial frog form.

  Gallien oversaw the butchering in silence.

  Aside from the mess at the dungeon entrance, everything has gone according to plan.

  The party was halfway through removing the bones.

  Let’s hope there are no more surprises…

  “Sir, what about the heart?” one man called.

  “Take everything,” Gallien replied.

  His eyes drifted to an odd section of the stone wall, noticing a faint bulge and discoloration.

  That’s their treasure stash.

  He smirked and sheathed his sword. He clapped sharply, gathering attention. “For your efforts,” he announced, “you have ten minutes to claim whatever treasure you want.”

  Cheers erupted. The pace quickened.

  Gallien motioned to a slender man. “Boko, prioritize the bones.”

  Boko nodded. Kneeling before a mountain of skeletal remains, he loosened the strings of an ordinary-looking waist pouch.

  A rush of suction answered. In seconds, the pile vanished, swallowed whole by the bag’s bottomless maw.

  Gallien nodded approvingly. Then he pointed toward a crooked section of the cavern wall.

  “Their treasures are over there.”

  The cheers intensified as they butchered the last of the bones. Boko’s bag devoured them in one swift pull, and the men sprinted toward the trove with unrestrained excitement.

  Gallien leaned against a nearby wall and retrieved a cigarette from his inner pocket.

  “Congratulations, Sir,” Aaron said, igniting the tip with a flick of his gauntlet.

  Gallien hummed, finally allowing himself a moment of calm. The hard part was over. He inhaled… and paused.

  Is it just me, or is it getting hotter?

  He frowned at the cigarette, as if expecting it to answer him.

  “Sir, the temperature—ouch!” Aaron jerked his hand back from the wall he’d been leaning on. The stone hissed where his palm had rested.

  Gallien’s face darkened. This wasn’t natural.

  He dropped the cigarette to the ground and crushed it under his heel. “We’re leaving. Now!”

  A chain of thunderous explosions swallowed his words. The cave shuddered violently. Heat shimmered in the air, thick and suffocating.

  His men streamed out of the Baccarras’ treasury, drenched in sweat and panic etched across their faces.

  “Sir, what’s happening?”

  “Now is not the time. Move!”

  The cavern had become a furnace. The whole party immediately fell into formation, sprinting toward the exit. Another violent blast roared overhead, shaking loose dust and fist-sized stones. None of them dared slow down.

  Damn it. Why did the dungeon choose today of all days to turn abnormal?

  Gallien’s gaze flicked toward Boko. Nothing can happen to him.

  Lost in thought, Gallien collided with Aaron, who had suddenly come to a halt.

  “What are you—”

  His voice died.

  The swamp stretched before them, but half of it was engulfed in blazing inferno. Charred trees snapped and collapsed into the boiling water. Thick black fumes rolled across the murky surface. Roasted corpses, both recognizable and alien, floated like burnt driftwood.

  And then they saw it.

  Pitch-black, with red-clawed limbs sharper than daggers, over seven feet long, a salamander-like beast drifted dead on the swamp’s surface. Its hide was slashed apart, a quarter of its limbs mummified to brittle husks.

  “What… what sort of monster is that?” someone whispered, breaking the stunned silence.

  Another explosion split the air. This time the sound of a blade ripping clean through flesh echoed across the burning marsh.

  Gallien turned toward the source and narrowed his eyes. Dozens of magma-coated salamanders writhed and fought desperately… against a towering aberration with devilish horns and red-black skin. And beside it, moving with terrifying purpose, a humanoid figure wielding two axes carved through the swarm like a force of nature.

  Gallien’s mouth opened, but no sound came. Because he recognized the silhouette.