The dungeon’s air was colder than the outside—stagnant, heavy, and strangely hollow.

  Rina moved first, silver hair brushing her cheek, rapier lowered but ready.

  The drone drifted quietly behind her, its blue lens blinking as it streamed every step.

  The five hunters following her tried to match her calm pace, but their boots echoed nervously against the stone floor.

  One of them whispered, “Miss Everhart… this place doesn’t feel like a Rank C.”

  Another added, “It feels… abandoned. Or haunted.”

  Rina didn’t answer.

  Her eyes were fixed on the walls.

  There—again.

  More carvings.

  She stopped, raising her hand.

  The drone zoomed in automatically.

  Slashed into the stone, shaky and uneven, were words in the demon tongue:

  “Forgive us, Flercher.”

  A few steps farther:

  “He is killing us, Flercher.”

  Around the corner:

  “I don’t mean it, Flercher.”

  Rina traced the last line with a gloved fingertip.

  The cut marks were deep—made by someone carving with desperation, not discipline.

  “These weren’t made by monsters,” she murmured. “They’re… pleas.”

  The hunters exchanged uneasy looks.

  “What language is that?”

  “Who’s Flercher?”

  “Some dungeon backstory NPC?”

  Rina didn’t reply.

  But her jaw tightened, and her grip around the rapier subtly shifted.

  She continued forward.

  A sudden roar echoed down the corridor.

  An orc stepped into view—broad-shouldered, carrying a makeshift spear.

  Its tusks were chipped, its armor mismatched, clearly hand-forged.

  The orc saw the humans.

  Its eyes widened in fear, then hardened in rage.

  He bellowed something guttural, raw with desperation:

  “Intruders!

  You will not take our home!”

  The hunters stiffened.

  “What did he say?”

  “Was that a threat?”

  “Hostile—prepare for combat!”

  The orc charged.

  Rina moved like the breath itself.

  One precise step forward.

  A silver flash.

  The orc fell backward, sprawling across the stone—but alive, wind knocked out.

  He scrambled to his feet and ran.

  “Follow him,” Rina ordered. “There are more.”

  The corridor opened into a wider chamber.

  A crude village—inside a dungeon.

  Cots made from stitched hides.

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  A small firepit.

  Carved toys.

  A pot of soup simmering over embers.

  Orc women clutching their children in terror.

  And nearly twenty warriors forming a ring around them, spears and axes raised.

  One hunter gasped.

  “This isn’t… this isn’t a monster nest.”

  Another whispered, “They… live here.”

  The lead orc stepped forward—the same one from before.

  He roared:

  “You cannot take our home!”

  His voice cracked—not with hatred, but fear.

  Rina raised her rapier but kept her tone level.

  “Stand down. We will not harm your young.”

  They did not understand.

  The orcs attacked.

  The chamber erupted into chaos.

  Rina moved like a dancer in a storm.

  Lightning-fast thrusts.

  Precise slashes.

  Never wasteful, never cruel.

  One orc swung a cleaver—

  She sidestepped and struck the pressure point in its arm.

  Another lunged—

  She tapped the side of its jaw with the rapier’s hilt, dropping it instantly.

  Her team fought behind her—less elegant, but effective.

  They toppled warriors one by one, weapons clashing, echoing across the cavern.

  The lead orc charged Rina again, screaming:

  “My family—

  You will not take—!”

  Rina parried gently.

  She whispered, “I am sorry,” though he could not understand.

  Her rapier struck.

  The orc collapsed.

  Still.

  Silence slowly settled.

  The hunters stood amid the fallen warriors, catching their breath.

  Rina exhaled once.

  “Check your HUDs.”

  A hunter tapped his device.

  “Uh… Miss Everhart?

  The dungeon didn’t clear.”

  Another laughed nervously.

  “Maybe it’s a town-type dungeon! You know—like the ones that stay open forever.”

  The others relaxed.

  “Oh! That makes sense.”

  “Yeah, those kinds don’t collapse.”

  “So the orc chief wasn’t really the boss!”

  “Guess this dungeon just… stays here.”

  Rina nodded slowly for the drone.

  “Dungeon analysis:

  Status—possibly a Town-Layer Dungeon.

  Primary combat complete.

  Preparing to exit.”

  The hunters began to celebrate.

  “Nice! A new dungeon was discovered!”

  “This’ll make headlines!”

  “Rank C but with a permanent spawn rate—this is gold!”

  Rina allowed herself a small sigh of relief.

  But then—

  RUMBLE.

  Dust drifted from the ceiling.

  The floor trembled under their boots.

  The drone flickered, static crackling across its feed.

  Rina’s eyes sharpened instantly.

  “Positions!”

  Another rumble—stronger.

  A hunter shouted, “That wasn’t a town dungeon shake—what’s happening?!”

  The walls cracked.

  Moss fell in sheets.

  The ground under the orc corpses began splitting open.

  Rina pointed toward the entrance.

  “Move! Now!”

  The team ran.

  Stone splintered behind them, the sound echoing like bones snapping.

  The drone jolted erratically but kept recording.

  A distant roar—deep, massive, ancient—shook the entire dungeon.

  “What was that?!”

  “Is something down there?!”

  “No way—NO WAY—this is a Rank C dungeon!”

  Rina didn’t look back.

  Her tone was cold and low.

  “Something is waking up.”

  The exit shimmered in the distance.

  They leapt through—

  The world snapped back into sunlight.

  They stumbled out onto the plaza, gasping.

  A.R.E.S. rushed to meet them.

  “Miss Everhart! Status?!”

  “What happened inside?!”

  “Where are the other monsters?!”

  Rina didn’t answer immediately.

  She turned slowly toward the rift.

  It pulsed.

  It groaned.

  It did not close.

  She lifted her rapier.

  Her whisper was barely audible, but the drone caught it clearly:

  “…Why is it still open?”