Molten chunks of rock fell from the ceiling, igniting patches of the grass upon landing. In no time, the field was ablaze and pillars of smoke rose, obscuring our vision.

  “Follow my voice!” Grace yelled as we neared the field's edge.

  As I predicted, the gap between everyone widened, and the once grassy field became an inferno. Acrid smoke and brutal heat filled my lungs as I turned around, cursing because Joel and Callum were nowhere to be seen.

  Saving them would be a gamble, but if Callum and Joel perished, then their deaths would be at the forefront of any discussion surrounding this venture. I couldn’t have my achievements overshadowed by their demise.

  Agility Burst.

  I covered my face with the edge of my cloak and dashed through a fiery partition, temporarily suppressing the flames with the rush of air that accompanied my speed. Tears formed in the corner of my eyes as I spotted the silhouette of a slow, stupid man carrying another slow, stupid man. I lurched forward through a barrier of smoke, appearing in front of them like the reincarnation of Usain Bolt.

  “Are you trying to die?” I asked, coughing as a gust of ash swirled around us.

  “Callum hurt his ankle,” Joel said, teary-eyed.

  “Get on my back,” I said and grabbed Callum, cradling him in my arms as I waited for Joel to accept my piggyback offer. “Choose now, life or death.”

  Joel snuffed out his remaining dignity and climbed up on my back while Callum the Fearless buried his sniveling face into my shoulders. Despite carrying a whimpering, full-grown man like a baby in my arms, and Joel on my back, the additional weight went unnoticed as I glided across the field, using Agility Burst's buff to its fullest extent.

  At first, I weaved in and out along an impromptu path until the raging inferno consumed the last stretch between us and the dead forest, which seemed resistant to the fire's advance.

  “Cyprus, I'm sorry you came back for us,” Joel said.

  “Dear gods, forgive me for my wrongdoings,” Callum whispered.

  I dug my heels into the dirt. “Just shut up,” I yelled and dashed headfirst into the fire, pushing every muscle and tendon in my legs beyond their limits as I cut through the blaze.

  Embers sizzled beneath my boots, gradually igniting the leather while the surrounding firestorm tested my cloak's heat resistance. The blazing heat evaporated the moisture from the air, stinging my lungs as I blindly rushed forward, reaching the edge of the dead forest with four hundred pounds worth of useless luggage and a lungful of ash.

  Finally we crossed into the northern stretch of cracked dirt and ashen trees, where the fire couldn't gain traction. Although the inferno behind us birthed an endless black smoke, suffocating the dungeon.

  “Can you walk now?” I asked.

  Joel dropped off my back, coughing and wheezing. “Yeah, I can manage. But Callum's leg doesn't look good.”

  “What about my leg?” Callum asked, still allowing himself to be cradled in my arms like a damsel in distress.

  Without the effects of Agility Burst, the extra baggage became annoying. But his leather ankle guard looked like it was welded to the blistered skin along his ankle. He'd be lucky to walk again if he didn't die here. Thankfully, Joel reclaimed some dignity and offered to support Callum the rest of the way, which I accepted without a second thought.

  While we took a moment to recover, I rummaged through my supply pack, retrieving a gray bandana and a canteen. I drenched the bandana with water and tied the damp cloth over my face before packing my belongings away and tied the sack's string to my belt.

  Lung damage from inhaling smoke and ash was more likely to kill us than the fire itself. We continued north, where we had last heard Grace's voice, staying low to avoid the smoke's ever-increasing volume.

  “We'll never make it,” Callum said.

  But we turned past a bend of stunted trees and spotted the rest of the party standing before an iron door attached to a sprawling, smooth wall. Duskblade was the only one standing, while Grace, Tobias, and Oakley were resting with their backs against the wall beside the door, anxiously awaiting our return.

  “Told you they were fine,” Duskblade said.

  “Cyprus saved both our asses. We owe him big time,” Joel said, somehow grinning despite our dire circumstance.

  The iron door was over 20 feet tall and the wall behind it was constructed out of some type of highly processed mineral. The material seemed inorganic when compared to the rest of the dungeon. There was a deep circular socket embedded in the door with a hefty metal ball hanging by a chain underneath it.

  Tobias clapped his hands. “Can we open the door before we all suffocate?”

  “I already tried to lift that damn boulder. It's impossible,” Duskblade admitted.

  Callum shot him a dirty look. “You tried to leave without us?”

  “We're all going to die if we can't get this ball in the hole,” Duskblade shouted, squaring his hips as he tried to pick it up.

  I approached the boulder from the opposite side, mustering all my strength until it lifted a few inches off the ground. Finally, Joel grasped the situation and aided in our struggle. Together, we began heaving it up against the door.

  Grace squeezed between us and pushed from underneath it, with just enough power to force it into the door's socket. A mechanism clicked, and the door slid open, revealing a straight, well-lit corridor. Both the floors and walls were made of the same pristine, processed material as the wall outside. It almost felt like we were about to step foot into a spaceship.

  I entered first, acutely aware of our lack of alternatives. The rest of the party followed when I wasn't eviscerated after a few steps. Once Callum and Joel crossed inside, the iron door slammed shut behind us.

  “I've seen a lot of firsts today.” Duskblade turned and spat on the spotless floor. “Nothing's been right with this place.”

  Grace sighed, wiping ash off her leather pauldrons. “We're going to take a major loss on all those supplies. The loot from the elite goblin knight better be good.”

  “It's not,” Callum said.

  Joel nodded. “Worse than a D rank dungeon reward.”

  I was certain Chaos screwed us on the loot, but was unsure if the forest fire had been his doing, too. Either way, I planned to get strong enough to smack him across his shitty, smug face if I survived.

  “Let's assess our injuries and inventory before we go any further,” Grace said.

  Everyone had their share of cuts, bruises, and minor burns. But Callum's injury was by far the worst and most debilitating. The flesh around his right ankle was bubbled and bloodied, gingerly fused with his charred leather armor. Joel and Duskblade helped lay him down, while Tobias and Oakley assessed his injury.

  “We've got two first aid kits, water, food, and some medicine,” Tobias said.

  Oakley snatched the medicine bag from Tobias and frantically searched through it. “Where are the health potions? We brought eight, ourselves.”

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  Tobias gasped and covered his mouth. “I... I took them out and set them aside when I was getting ingredients for the stew.”

  That gruel was supposed to be a stew?!

  “I never put them back... I'm sorry.” Tobias hung his head.

  “Son of a bitch!” Callum yelled as Oakley peeled his boot off and slathered his peeling skin with a mint scented ointment.

  “It'll still hurt, but it's better than nothing,” Oakley said.

  I stared down the endless corridor, flanked by unblemished metal walls. There were several rows of lights embedded in the ceiling—each fixture a small, glowing rectangle, spaced at precise intervals. Their uniformity contributed to the corridor's sense of infinite length while casting a harsh, white light. The passage's atmosphere was eerily sterile. It was all a bit too perfect.

  “Grace, didn't we have our own healing potions?” Joel asked.

  Grace nodded and said, “But they're in the fifth supply bag back at camp.”

  “These bandages will have to do for now,” Oakley said.

  “Fuck, it hurts, you little asshole!” Callum yelped as they tended to his wound. "Cast a heal already."

  "A minor heal won't do any good. You'll have to wait," Tobias muttered.

  I cleared my throat and noticed it was raw from all the heat and smoke. So, I reached into my supply sack, retrieved a health potion, popped the cork, and took a sip. The potent liquid brought immediate relief to my throat and numbed the various first-degree burns across my body. For an unbeknownst reason, everyone's eyes were trained on me as I pushed the cork back into the bottle and slid the bottle back into my supply sack.

  “We have a long trek ahead of us. Let's continue,” I said, brushing past the rest of the group.

  “But we haven't assessed our remaining supplies,” Grace countered.

  “Isn't it enough to know you're out of health potions? Doing anything besides reaching the end of this passage is a waste of time.” I crossed my arms and rubbed my chin. “My master once shared a sage piece of wisdom with me.”

  Grace scoffed, muttering something about me having a health potion under her breath. However, everyone else was hanging onto my every word.

  “Wisdom comprising three words,” I said, pointing my finger at Grace. “Just do it.”

  The stubborn redhead rolled her eyes, while everyone else chewed on the implications of Nike's mantra like it was Plato. At the moment, it was the best I could come up with to subvert their attention from my nearly full health potion.

  I had carelessly forgotten that people with empathy would go to self-detrimental lengths to help each other. The noble version of Cyprus I was trying to project would've given up the potion. But this wasn't the time or place for acts of kindness. Our healers were already exhausted, and I couldn't cope with the consequences if I needed the potion later.

  I took the lead down the passage with Grace while the others assisted Callum to our rear. She carried herself with a false confidence in her stride, squeezing the hilt of her daggers tightly in her hands, staving off the dread that emerged with each step forward.

  I kept my hands free, ready to unsheathe my sword or take defensive maneuvers. “Your knuckles are turning white.”

  “I can't help it. The architecture here is unnatural. I've seen dungeons containing ancient ruins, corrupted forests, and complex tunnels, but this is something else…” Grace trailed off, glancing up at the symmetric ceiling lights. “I used to agree with the oracles theory.”

  “What theory?” I asked, stopping myself from inquiring about the oracles, not wanting to reveal how I was still 98% clueless about this entire world.

  “Dungeons began appearing nearly 80 years ago. The oracles theorized that they were issued both as a test and a gift from the gods. A test offering other-worldly rewards for those strong enough to pass.” Grace shook her head. “I used to believe it, too. It created a new industry and changed the world. But now I'm certain it's all a curse.”

  “No, it's not a curse,” I said. “I know what a curse looks and feels like. A curse is an unavoidable affliction. You entered here of your own free will, just as I have.”

  Grace clutched her daggers, gritting her teeth. “You wouldn't understand.”

  I shrugged. “It's hard to comprehend why you chose this line of work.”

  Then there was an awkward silence only broken by the subtle echo of our footsteps resounding off the floor's metal alloy surface. I recognized a lifetime's burden of pain behind her gaze. Thankfully, I didn't prod further, not realizing how dangerously close I had been to detonating a landmine of troubled backstory I didn't care to hear. I had just wanted to steer the conversation away from my lack of worldly knowledge.

  “My father was an adventurer,” Grace started.

  No, I truly don't care.

  “Mother never wanted me to follow in his footsteps...”

  While Grace droned on, I estimated we had covered over a mile, maybe two, and there was still no end in sight. Tobias and Oakley lagged behind with Callum, who was being carried by Joel and Duskblade nearly a football field of distance behind us. For the first time since arriving here, I felt trapped. The passage was as wide as a four-lane highway but offered little in terms of cover. If we happened to be overwhelmed in combat, our retreat was limited at best.

  “Four years later, I raided my first dungeon as a supply mule. It was in...” Grace yapped on.

  I trekked onward, conserving my stamina at the cost of being accompanied by Grace, who hadn't stopped vomiting out her life story. Bits and pieces connected, although she rambled off on strange tangents that made it impossible to remain focused.

  Her sad story was of little interest to me. Instead, for some reason, my mind wandered to Viessa's well-being. Soul Viper's insistence on tracking me down was likely due to losing their most expensive piece of cargo rather than an emotional desire for mere revenge against a dumb adventurer who took the quest. I'd be surprised if they weren't looking for her around the clock. However, there were countless inns throughout Ingcaster, and I hadn't revealed to anyone where I was staying. Still, I made a mental note to start switching our lodging on a routine basis.

  “When the time comes, I won't hesitate. I'll kill the man who murdered my father,” Grace finished.

  I glanced over my shoulder, confirming the rest of the party was still far out of earshot. “How many people have you killed?”

  Her eyebrows narrowed, mouth twisting into a contorted frown. Maybe we had more in common than I previously thought. I should've known better than judging someone based on a few surface level interactions. Even Ted Bundy was considered a nice guy.

  “I've never killed a human.”

  Really?

  I'd been here a week, and it felt like I couldn't make it till lunch without offing a few dirtbags.

  “Will you truly be able to seize your revenge? You should give it up and live a peaceful life,” I said, knowing it was hypocritical advice, but noble Cyprus the hero couldn't go around telling people that murder was fun.

  “Of course I'll be able to kill that bastard,” she barked, her posture turning rigid like a provoked beast.

  I shrugged. “I didn't listen to the first part, but I assume your father wouldn't want to see you walk a path of carnage.”

  Grace snorted, laughing with a pained smile. “His exact words were, 'Avenge my death at any cost, walk a path of blood and broken bones.' Yet, I couldn't cut anyone down, even when I needed to. There used to be a fifth Twilight Ranger until another group ambushed us. He died because of my incompetence.”

  “That's presumptuous. You can only be responsible for your own life. Sounds like his own incompetence got him killed.”

  “You don't know a goddamned thing,” she spat.

  A vague outline emerged at the far end of the corridor. Karma’s Gaze automatically activated, providing me the scoop on what appeared as a mere dot in the distance.

  Target: Derulo

  Level: 10

  Karma: -3250

  Additional Data: Evolved Minotaur

  Additional data is unavailable.

  “I know there's a powerful Minotaur up ahead,” I said, pointing at an insignificant dot swallowed by the corridor's near infinite distance.

  Grace strained her eyes, squinting hard before her gaze loosened with doubt. “Are you certain? How can you tell it's a Minotaur?”

  “I can sense its martial energy, which is Minotaur shaped,” I lied, laying a second brick on the foundation of my bullshit backstory, building what would eventually amount to my public image. Cyprus, the talented martial artist and noble adventurer—a highly marketable and family-friendly brand people could trust.

  An ironclad cover was just the first step in my loosely formed plan to root out corruption. I'd bolster my reputation by day and do the dirty work at night. After all, I was single-handedly bearing the weight of carrying out Justice's absurd request on a rapid timeline.

  Since our last meeting, I grappled with the best way to approach such a broad objective. It felt like I was missing too many of this world's variables. Then I realized the people here did not differ from the people on Earth.

  That realization gave me a solid starting point: money, the root of all evil. I would acquire fame and fortune, brush shoulders with the nobles, and siphon influence. In a country with legalized slavery, enacting change wouldn't be possible without influencing the political scene and cutting a few throats.

  “Cyprus, I've seen your combat prowess firsthand, but even an A ranked adventurer can't detect energy at this distance, let alone be able to determine a shape,” Grace said, rubbing her chin.

  Compared to the others, her bullshit detector was properly calibrated. There was no point in trying to convince her with words. I'd have to wait until the Minotaur itself dispelled her suspicions.

  Level 10, huh?

  Was a five-level discrepancy too much for Karma’s Gaze’s passive advantage? And there was still the unspent ability and mastery points I had no way of accessing.

  I balled my right hand into a fist and flexed my arm, evaluating its recovery. Aside from a minor twinge of pain in my elbow, the arm was usable, and I still felt a residual warmth continuing the healing spell's effects. By the time we engaged our opponent, it would likely be fully functional.

  “Do you plan on fighting alone again? Because even if you're a foreigner, you should practice proper etiquette.”

  I turned to face her, shifting my gaze from the narrow horizon. “My apologies. I've been in isolated training for the past 20 years. Master withheld worldly knowledge, only revealing things relevant to my training.”

  “That explains a lot,” Grace mused.

  “We're still a ways off. We'll get closer, then wait for the others and form a battle plan together,” I said.

  Grace nodded and opened her mouth, but the words remained trapped as a faint whistle pierced the air. She sank to her knees before collapsing on her back with an arrow embedded in her torso.