Lucas woke up to the sensation of ice seeping into his bones. He was curled on a cold stone floor, shivering, every inch of his body screamed in protest. The moment the clarity returned and he recalled what he had just escaped, he bolted upright and took a look at his surroundings.

  He was in a small, square room. The walls were a slate gray, seamless and smooth, with no visible doors or windows. The ceiling was the only source of illumination, radiating a cold, silver light.

  He tried to stand up, but felt something heavy on his feet. Glancing down, he saw Evelyn lying unconscious on him, her body still pulsating with a faint green aura.

  Despite not knowing much about magic, Lucas assumed that if the regenerative energy was still active, he hadn't been out for long.

  He then tried to recall what had happened after the green vortex swallowed him, racking his brain for any detail, but there was nothing. One moment he was being dragged down, and the next, he was shivering on this cold floor.

  Now, he was trapped in this strange place, without even his spear and bow.

  A small wave of relief washed over him as his fingers brushed against the hilt of his knife. It was a toothpick compared to the threats they had faced, useless against the golems or nagvi, but at least he wasn't completely defenseless.

  He turned his attention to Evelyn, whose weight was pinning his legs. He gently shifted her, rolling her onto her back. He braced himself for the sight of gore, flinching internally as he remembered the melted flesh and the milky white of exposed bone.

  But as he looked down, his eyes widened for a different reason.

  Her face was whole.

  The skin on her left cheek was pink and tender, fresh like a newborn’s. It was spotless.

  He stood up, his legs shaking slightly. He flexed his muscles and stretched his back, testing his joints. He felt sore, bruised, and weak, but nothing seemed broken.

  “Where am I?” he muttered. He noticed that his voice didn’t echo despite the room being too small.

  He walked closer to the walls, running his hand over the cold stone. It was smooth, unnervingly so. He circled the room until his eyes caught a patch of faint, etched text on the gray surface.

  “We are in a dungeon,” Evelyn’s low voice came from behind him.

  Lucas flinched and spun around, his hand flying to the hilt of his knife instinctively.

  The mage was sitting up, rummaging through her satchel. She looked tense. She buried her arm nearly elbow-deep into the leather bag until she finally retrieved a small, ornate golden mirror crowned with a cyan gemstone.

  She brought it to her face, her hands trembling as she inspected her reflection, turning her head from side to side. After a long moment, she sighed in relief.

  “I was worried for nothing...” she muttered, lowering the mirror to her lap. She looked up at Lucas and smiled, faintly, but it was there. “Do you know what a dungeon is, Lucas?”

  “No.” He quietly slid the knife back into its sheath, shielding the motion with his body, hoping that Evelyn hadn’t noticed his reaction.

  “No one knows for certain. Some say they are ancient training grounds, others say they are prisons of dead gods. The entrances appear randomly. They can stay open for centuries or close after mere minutes.” Evelyn paused and massaged her jaw, flexing it experimentally to test the new skin.

  “It feels... unnatural,” she whispered and stood up, dusting off her robe. “Usually, the entrance has restrictions - limits on Rank, number of people who can enter, sometimes even Race or sex. But despite the restrictions, one thing is always common - people flood into them.”

  “Is it safe?”

  “Oh, no. Very few people manage to come out alive.”

  “Then wh…”

  “Because those who do come out emerge much stronger.” Evelyn interrupted, a small, seductive smile cutting her expression. “They raise Ranks, gain unique Skills, or find Mythical Grade artifacts that can change the fate of nations.”

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  Lucas looked around the empty gray room again. This time, his worry was tainted with a spike of curiosity. He wanted to get strong - he needed to get strong to survive this world. But after the day he had endured, the prospect of another death trap made his stomach turn.

  “Have you been in a dungeon before?” he asked.

  “I have,” Evelyn responded dryly. She walked over to where Lucas was standing and looked at the faint text etched into the wall.

  “Safe Zone,” she read aloud. “That is what the text says. We are safe... for now.”

  “For now? How long will it last?” Lucas asked. He was quickly getting used to the reality that everything in this world wanted him dead.

  “Until we leave the room,” Evelyn replied, staring at the blank wall. “And before you ask, Qalda and the others cannot reach us. Dungeons are isolated dimensions. Either we stay in this place and starve, or we find a way out.”

  Lucas nodded. It was a bleak situation, yes, but he wasn't alone. With a mage as powerful as Evelyn, his chances of surviving weren’t zero.

  “I don't have any food,” he said. “We should probably move once we recover a little.”

  Evelyn didn’t respond immediately. She studied Lucas for a long, uncomfortable moment. Her black eyes stared at him, as though she were trying to read his very soul. Yet, for the first time, Lucas detected a faint trace of warmth in her gaze.

  “I need to tell you something,” she said finally, voice low. “The spell Roland used... I do not know why he cast it on me, but it sealed my mana. And now... My mana is still locked inside me. Unless we find a dispel scroll or a specific artifact in this dungeon, I cannot cast a single spell.”

  Lucas froze and then laughed.

  Lucas laughed. It wasn’t because he thought Evelyn was lying, but because of the sheer absurdity of it. In a heartbeat, their odds of survival had plummeted. Misfortune had been his shadow since he entered this world, and this dungeon was clearly not going to be an exception.

  “What is funny?” Evelyn asked, frowning.

  “You are really unlucky to be trapped with me, Evelyn,” Lucas said, his smile twisting into self-deprecation. “I attract misfortune like shit attracts flies.”

  “I...” Evelyn paused mid-word. Her face grew grave. She opened her mouth and closed a few times, until finally making up her mind. “There is a reason why very few people survive Dungeons. When a survivor emerges, stronger warriors assume they can do the same with ease. But that is exactly why they die. These places are designed to challenge the limits of those who enter. The more powerful you are, the more dangerous the dungeon becomes.”

  She looked him dead in the eye.

  “Do you understand what that means?”

  The smile froze on Lucas’s face.

  He perfectly understood what she was implying.

  Even without his spear, Lucas was roughly at his peak. He was low-level, sure, but his combat prowess hadn’t declined significantly just because he lost a weapon.

  Evelyn was different. She was a Gold Rank mage. If the Dungeon analyzed her high stats and vast mana pool rather than her current, sealed state, it would adjust the difficulty to her level, not his. But right now, she was weak - just a scholar in a robe.

  Lucas wasn’t delusional. If they faced monsters scaled for Gold Rank, he wouldn't stand a chance. He would be vaporized.

  “Lucas.”

  Evelyn pulled him out of his spiraling thoughts. She placed her hand on the wall next to the text. The stone groaned, shifting and receding until a rectangular door frame slowly formed.

  “If you choose to go alone, I will not blame you. Your chances will be much better by yourself than with me.”

  Lucas opened his mouth, then closed it again. His first instinct was to refuse, to play the hero. But a cold, quiet voice in the back of his mind whispered that she was right. Bringing her was a mistake.

  He was conflicted. He understood that this world wasn't Earth. It was brutal, unforgiving, and hungry. Every single day, his life hung by a thread. If bringing Evelyn meant the dungeon would scale to a Gold Rank entity, then walking through that door with her wasn't bravery - it was suicide.

  Yet, he hesitated.

  He had been raised by a father who sacrificed his life to save complete strangers. Not a single day had passed without Lucas feeling an immense pride for what his father had done. He had always viewed the man as his ultimate role model, the compass by which he navigated his moral life. Even though he had never truly understood the weight of risking one's own life for others, he had idolized the concept.

  But now that he was given the chance to follow in his father's footsteps, he froze.

  It was one thing to risk his life for a fighting chance; it was another entirely to jump blindly into the maw of certain death.

  He took a deep breath, forcing his heart rate to slow. He tried to analyze the situation coldly, stripping away the guilt and the fear.

  Logic, he told himself. Use reason.

  First, he had no guarantee that the dungeon would adjust its difficulty only after they left the safe zone. Most likely, the adjustment happened the moment they arrived. The difficulty was likely already set.

  Second, Evelyn was a library of knowledge. She knew the monsters, the traps, the place itself. Without her, he would be lost.

  And finally, even if he hadn’t formed a bond with the Unbowed yet, leaving a human being, who had saved his life before, to starve and die… it felt wrong to say the least.

  Lucas looked at her. She was no longer shimmering with green light; she just looked tired and resigned. Leaving her only made sense if the Dungeon hadn't adjusted yet, and that scenario felt increasingly unlikely.

  “I apologize for hesitating,” Lucas said, catching the shadow of disappointment that had begun to darken her face.

  He stepped away from the wall and nodded toward the door.

  “Let’s go.”

  Hello everyone!

  Sorry for not posting on Wednesday... My cold turned out to be much more serious than I thought. I sleep most of the time and barely have any energy at all.

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