The fire had gone out. The comforting warmth was gone, replaced once again by the glacial cold seeping into every corner of the room.

  Only the whispers of trickling water remained… and the quiet, barely audible breaths of Veil and Alynia.

  A shiver ran down Veil’s spine. He slowly opened his eyes, still groggy from sleep.

  “Could’ve used a bit more sleep…” he muttered, voice low and hoarse.

  He rubbed his eyelids with a sluggish hand, then turned his head. Alynia was still asleep, leaning against the pillar. Her face looked slightly more relaxed than the day before—less tense.

  He smiled faintly, then reached out and placed a hand on her shoulder.

  “Alynia… time to wake up. We have to move,” he whispered, concern in his voice.

  He gently shook her. Alynia groaned softly in protest and slowly opened her eyes, clearly reluctant.

  She stretched reflexively… then winced immediately, her breath catching sharply from the pain.

  “Tch…” she hissed between her teeth.

  She waited for the pain to subside, then looked at Veil in silence.

  “You holding up?” he asked, still worried.

  Alynia nodded slowly, her gaze drifting for a moment.

  “I wish all of this had just been a dream…” she said in a tired voice.

  Veil didn’t answer. He stood and began gathering their things, but was stopped by Alynia’s voice.

  “Wait. Come here,” she called softly.

  She held out her satchel to him. Veil blinked, confused.

  “I’ve already got mine,” he said, puzzled.

  He hesitated, glancing from his own bag to hers, not understanding.

  “This one’s a little special. It’s enchanted. Holds more than it looks like it should,” she explained calmly.

  His eyes widened slightly. Now that she mentioned it… he’d always wondered how she managed to pull so many things out of that tiny pouch. But he’d never really questioned it.

  “…That makes a lot more sense,” he breathed.

  He took the satchel carefully.

  “Thanks,” he added sincerely.

  He began packing what little gear they had left, organizing it methodically. Then he returned to her side and handed the satchel back.

  “Alright. Let’s go,” he said quietly.

  Alynia took his hand and stood slowly. Pain still stiffened her every movement, but she held firm.

  Their eyes scanned the empty room, searching for a sign—an exit, a clue… anything. But nothing moved.

  “This is all great and all… but how the hell are we supposed to get out of here?” he muttered.

  As if answering him, a sharp, cracking noise shattered the silence—sudden and chilling.

  CLACK.

  Then a deep rumble echoed through the chamber. One of the massive stone pillars began to twist, slowly, in a spiraling motion.

  A step appeared. Then another.

  A staircase—winding, carved by some unseen force—began to form before their eyes.

  “…You think we’re supposed to go up?” he asked uncertainly, voice low.

  But just as the last step took shape, the entire pillar tilted. Slowly, it sank into the ground, groaning like metal grinding against stone. An opening formed at its base—leading not upward… but down.

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  The pillar vanished completely with a heavy thunk, like a gear locking into place. A faint light escaped from the newly revealed passage.

  Alynia stepped forward cautiously, then turned to him.

  “There’s your answer,” she said calmly.

  She paused for a second, then allowed herself a faint smile.

  “If you keep asking for an exit, maybe it’ll eventually show up,” she added, a hint of humor in her voice.

  Veil let out a short laugh—forced, but genuine underneath.

  “Or a trap. That’d be more in line with this damn Dungeon’s logic,” he muttered dryly.

  He stepped closer to her, slowly drawing his dagger from its sheath. He held it up, looking displeased.

  “Look at this,” he said grimly.

  The blade, once sleek and sturdy, now bore a thin but unmistakable crack. A fracture ran from the spine down to the hilt in a sharp diagonal.

  “She’s not going to last much longer,” he said with a resigned sigh.

  Alynia tilted her head, inspecting the weapon more closely.

  “What the hell did you do to mess it up like that?” she asked, suspicious.

  Veil slid the dagger back into his belt, shrugging.

  “I’m guessing it was the strike against the Specter… The blade couldn’t take it,” he said honestly.

  They exchanged a look. One of those looks that said everything without a single word.

  The staircase, carved straight into the rock, was crude at first. But as they descended, the walls gradually began to glow with a soft golden hue, lit by torches embedded in the stone.

  The surface, surprisingly smooth, was lined with sinuous markings and small carved runes—glimmering like veins of light running through the rock.

  Neither of them spoke. The silence was heavy, taut. They both wondered what awaited below… what else this cursed Dungeon had yet to reveal.

  At the bottom, they found themselves in front of a stone frame. No door. Just an open passage leading into darkness.

  Alynia frowned and came to a sudden stop.

  “This feels wrong. Way too open,” she muttered warily.

  She glanced up at Veil, her eyes sharp and serious.

  “When the entrance is wide open… that’s rarely a good sign,” she said in a low voice, alert.

  Then she started forward again, slowly, her limp still visible, her injured arm pressed tight against her side. Veil watched her, concern in his eyes.

  “You sure you want to keep going?” he asked quietly.

  Alynia sighed, as if the question was entirely beside the point.

  “Not like I’ve got anything better to do,” she replied dryly.

  Veil smirked, falling into step beside her with a short chuckle.

  “Alright then. But if you collapse, I’m leaving you behind,” he said teasingly.

  Alynia stopped, slowly turning toward him with a mischievous look.

  “You sure you can carry me in your condition?” she shot back with a sly smile.

  She pointed a finger at him, clearly amused.

  “Your arm, your leg… that cracked chest of yours… Honestly, I doubt you’ve got the strength,” she added sarcastically.

  Veil rolled his eyes and sighed.

  But the moment he looked away from her… he saw it.

  His smile vanished instantly.

  “Alynia… that door… was it there before?” he asked, pointing ahead.

  Alynia turned slowly, following his gesture. Her eyes widened, pupils dilated in surprise.

  She blinked a few times.

  “No… the hallway was empty. It stretched on forever,” she answered, uncertain.

  And yet—right in front of them—an enormous door had appeared.

  But that wasn’t all. The walls, perfectly smooth just moments ago, were now coated in frost. Thin layers of ice clung to the stone, growing thicker the closer they came.

  The door itself was massive. Made of a dark gray metal, it bore the sculpted form of a colossal creature, its features indistinct. The creature’s eyes, carved in high relief, seemed to watch them with a piercing, inhuman gaze.

  Framing the door stood two monumental pillars, arching together into a tall vaulted arch of black stone—entirely covered in ice.

  Veil and Alynia moved closer, both hesitant. A strange silence settled around them.

  Then Veil felt it—an odd tingle in his head. The same sensation he’d had when they first encountered the runes at the Dungeon’s entrance. Disturbing. Almost invasive.

  They looked up at the pillars… and saw the carvings.

  Alynia narrowed her eyes. They looked like writing. Sentences, maybe. Deeply etched into the black stone.

  Veil opened his mouth, but Alynia spoke first, still staring at the symbols.

  “No. I don’t understand them either,” she murmured, her voice curious.

  As if she’d anticipated the question.

  On the right-hand pillar, the symbols formed the first inscription:

  ???? ???? ????? ??? ??????

  On the left-hand pillar, another line stretched across:

  ???? ??? ?????? ?????? ??????

  And finally, at the very top of the vault, a shorter line was carved:

  ???????? ???? ???????

  Veil stared at the glyphs, frowning. They pulsed faintly, glowing with a bluish light that seemed to breathe through the stone itself.

  “You think that’s a bad sign…?” he murmured quietly.

  Alynia didn’t answer right away. She was still staring at the inscriptions, eyes half-squinted in thought.

  At last, she spoke—more to herself than to him.

  “I don’t know… but I’ve got a bad feeling about it,” she said tensely.

  Alynia stepped forward cautiously, reaching out toward the metallic surface of the door. But just before her fingers made contact, Veil’s voice stopped her.

  “Wait… look closely,” he said, surprised.

  She turned her head. He was pointing at the frost-covered walls surrounding them.

  “The ice is here… but we don’t feel anything. No cold at all,” he observed, clearly uneasy.

  Alynia frowned. Her eyes swept around the space, searching for that tingling bite of freezing air. But there was nothing.

  She moved closer to the pillar, brushing the frost with her fingertips. Only then did she feel something—just the faintest chill, like the breath of a ghost. She pulled her hand back immediately, eyes locked onto the strange ice.

  “Maybe… magical frost,” she murmured under her breath.

  But deep down, it didn’t add up.

  Even the most subtle of spells left a trace behind—a chill, a shift in the air, a pressure on the skin. She would know. Veil’s own ice magic was proof of that. But this… this wasn’t natural.

  A shiver ran through her. She clenched her fists.

  Then, slowly, she stepped up to the door.

  Her hand touched it. A cold sensation—not physical, but something else—pushed back at her, just enough to make her grimace. It wasn’t a violent shock, but a pulsing vibration that resonated deep in her chest.

  CLACK.

  A sharp sound rang through the room. The inscriptions that had been faintly glowing now flared, glowing a deep, vivid blue—almost alive.

  The carvings etched into the door came alive, illuminating the contours of the monstrous creature at its center, as though the stone itself had awakened.

  Then, with a deep, animal-like growl…

  The twin doors began to open.

  A blast of icy wind burst from the opening. A surge of wild, brutal energy slammed into them, freezing them in place.

  Veil and Alynia staggered back instinctively, frozen in place.

  This cold wasn’t natural. It cut through their clothes, slipped into their bones, like an invisible blade.

  They didn’t even have time to react. Only fear kept them upright, their muscles locked under the crushing weight of that pressure.

  Alynia turned her head toward Veil with visible effort, her voice shaking but clear.

  “This is probably… a Guardian’s chamber,” she said tensely.

  Veil swallowed hard, his eyes fixed on the dark threshold.

  “A Guardian… If it’s worse than the last floor, we’re dead,” he muttered bitterly.

  A heavy silence fell.

  The freezing wind began to fade, the breath from the door slowing until it finally stopped. And with it… the paralysis loosened its grip. They could breathe again. Slowly.

  But the air remained heavy. The atmosphere… unbearable.

  There was something in it. Not a sound, not a whisper—just a presence. Like a wordless murmur, slithering unseen in the dark.

  Veil turned his head slowly toward Alynia. She stood tall, despite everything—but he could see her trembling. Her injured leg. Her clenched arm. And him… the hollow weight inside since that last fight.

  He clenched his fists, his knuckles white with tension. A whisper escaped his lips, barely audible.

  “…Are we really capable of this?” he murmured, uncertain.

  His gaze faltered, caught between doubt and resignation.

  And beyond that door…

  Something was waiting.