He sat there, staring into the fog for the rest of the night. The silence pressed in, thick and heavy, broken only when the clatter of armor began to echo around him, the others waking, shifting, preparing. River rubbed his eyes, refocused, and rose to his feet.

  As Iska, the delve leader, stepped to the front of the group, she spun sharply on her heels. Now facing the others, she raised her voice and said, “This is a Tier Two delve. It’s been mapped and tagged. Watch out for the antlike creatures; they’re fast and have sharp legs that can cut through armor. The boss shouldn’t be too hard. It’s a brute: slow but strong.” Amalia and Albert stood beside him. They shared a glance, and for a brief, shining moment, it felt like the three of them could take on the world. Thankfully, he wasn’t alone this time in watching for traps. A pair of delvers at the front were already scanning the floor and walls, muttering codes and warnings as they moved. For once, that responsibility didn’t fall solely on his shoulders.

  Eventually, the tunnel split, a fork, each path vanishing into darkness. The group came to a halt. All eyes turned to Iska, waiting for her command. But River already knew. He stepped forward, approached her, and tapped her lightly on the shoulder. She turned sharply, a flicker of annoyance crossing her face at being interrupted mid-plan. But River ignored it and continued. He pointed down the right tunnel. “The dungeon core is that way.” Iska raised an eyebrow. “How?” River hesitated. “I can… smell it.” She studied him for a moment, not mocking, not dismissive—just… uncertain. Then she turned, faced the group, and pointed down the right-hand tunnel. Iska led the way. Before long, they were set upon.

  Large, ant-like creatures emerged from the walls, their legs ending in sharpened metal spikes. The clatter of their limbs scraping the stone sent a chill through River’s bones. But he barely had time to react. The delvers ahead of him struck like lightning. Blades flashed, magic surged, and within seconds, the creatures lay still, twitching on the ground. River blinked, then hurried after them, stepping past the still-twitching bodies strewn across the ground. They entered a cavern next—wide and dimly lit by a flickering fire. Huddled around it were multiple goblins. Not the small ones from their first delve; these were the same hulking beasts they’d once faced as a final boss.

  They sat grunting in low tones, their voices thick and guttural.

  As the delvers entered, the goblins spun around with a snarl, rising to their feet with massive, rusted weapons in hand. They let out a chorus of yelps, then charged. The ground trembled beneath their stampede. River stepped forward and focused. He willed the earth beneath the goblins to soften—and like sinking into wet sand, their heavy forms began to slow. It was all the others needed. Steel clashed with flesh, and spells lashed out in blinding arcs, and within moments, the goblins were down. At their feet, the fire still crackled.

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  River exhaled.

  The sheer speed and coordination of these delvers stunned him. Their precision. Their power. It inspired awe and comfort. He wasn’t alone in here. Iska and the others quickly spread out, scouring the room for supplies. River helped where he could, grabbing a few pouches of essence crystals and what looked like enchanted goblin trinkets. When everything was packed, Iska signaled them forward again. This dungeon was massive. Far bigger than the Tier One cave they’d cleared before. The next few hours passed in a steady rhythm: battle, search, brief rest. And then on again. They were winning. No one had even come close to getting hurt. And with every fight, River felt just a little more certain they might make it out of here alive.

  Then they arrived. The door was unmistakable. Black and red stone arched over the threshold, pulsing faintly. Just like the first dungeon core room, only heavier, darker. River didn’t need to reach out with his senses. The air had thickened, tinged faintly red—like heat shimmering before a firestorm. Whatever was inside… it was distorting everything. Iska raised her fist, the silent signal to gather. Everyone huddled in close. River stepped forward, ready for orders. She spoke in a low, even tone, quiet, but clear enough for everyone to hear.

  “Long-range attackers at the back. Frontliners, when we enter, form a defensive line immediately. We’ll be facing a large scorpion-like creature—likely the core guardian — and a swarm of smaller ant beasts. We cannot let anything past the front. Area-of-effect attacks will be best against swarming creatures, but we have to make space for the backline.” Everyone nodded. No questions. No panic. Just calm, trained readiness. Albert stepped forward without hesitation.

  Of course he did.

  He liked being front and center, and more than that, his magic had adapted to it. His nature spells created powerful shields and buffs, reinforcing himself and anyone near him. He was made for the front lines now, in every way. Amalia shifted back a few steps. She wasn’t a pure mage or a tank—more of an agile striker, weaving between roles. Quick, quiet, and lethal, she was perfect for finishing off stragglers and cutting down anything that slipped through. Her water magic made her versatile; able to freeze, displace, or block enemies in key moments. River moved toward the rear. It made sense. He was best as a mage. His magic worked better at range, and he still wasn’t fully comfortable with a sword in his hand. Not in a real fight.

  And besides… someone needed to watch everything unfold. He could read the field. Support from behind. Control the flow. It wasn’t flashy—but it mattered. He only hoped that he didn’t mess anything up.