The silence pressed on Ray's shoulders like a heavy shroud, thick enough to choke on.
The air inside the dungeon was stale, ancient, laced with a faint metallic scent that clung to his nostrils.
His boots scraped against the uneven floor, a cold, moss-coated surface made of worn, cracked tiles that looked as though they had been here for centuries, untouched by time or life.
His eyes wandered up to the towering pillars lining the grand hall, each supporting the weight of the vast, vaulted ceiling overhead.
The carvings etched into them faded and eroded by time, yet hints of figures—warriors, beasts, and symbols he could not decipher—peeked through the damage like whispers of a forgotten history.
Ray swallowed and turned back.
The entrance they'd just passed through was now a dead end. The portal, which should have been flickering behind them like a reassuring beacon of escape, was simply gone.
A wall of smooth, seamless stone stretched behind them as if the dungeon itself had devoured their only way out.
Nathaniel's squad noticed too. The realization hit them in tandem. Vince was the first to break the silence with a dry, sardonic chuckle.
"I guess we're screwed," Vince muttered, resting one hand casually on his bow, though his eyes flickered warily across the room.
Selene shot him a glare sharp enough to cut. "Is this really the time to be cracking jokes, idiot?"
Vince raised a brow, the corner of his mouth quirking upward. "What else am I supposed to say? Welcome to the vacation from hell?"
Selene clenched her jaw. "You absolute—"
"Enough," Nathaniel's voice sliced through the bickering like a blade, commanding and calm.
He shifted his spear slightly, scanning the darkened corners of the grand hall. "Focus."
Ray stayed silent, standing a few paces behind them. Their voices barely registered to him.
His attention remained on the strange atmosphere gnawing at his instincts—the unsettling quiet, the oppressive weight of unseen eyes.
It was like being watched by the dungeon itself.
Nathaniel's gaze swept over the area, then to his team. "The dungeon's mechanics are unusual," he said, voice low but firm.
"No return portal means this place is a one-way trip until we clear it. Likely, the teams that came before us had the same goal."
"They must have pushed forward," Irene added softly, brushing her fingers over the pillar next to her. She winced, pulling back as dust and faint traces of dried crimson stained her fingertips. "But why is there no monster activity? This isn't normal."
Lucien frowned. "Yeah, Dungeons don't just sit empty like this. It's like something wiped everything out."
Garrick voice darkened, "There were a good deal of presence before we entered but, they vanished the moment we entered. Isn't it unusual?"
A tense pause settled.
No one had an answer.
Ray's fingers twitched at his side, brushing against the grip of his sword.
What is this place? His gut churned. His instincts screamed that this wasn't the usual dungeon scenario, yet no one was voicing it aloud.
He kept his mouth shut, observing them from behind. They are much experienced than me, if they are not voicing out the abnormality means it much be serious.
"Fine." Vince sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Let's move before the walls close in or something. I'm not waiting for this place to turn into a tomb."
Thus, they pressed deeper into the dungeon. The grand hall stretched into a wide corridor, the walls narrowing slightly as if funneling them deeper into its bowels.
Faint beams of mana-infused torches lined the path, their light flickering unnaturally, casting elongated, dancing shadows.
As they walked, Ray listened to their footsteps echoing on the cold stone, each step punctuated by the ominous stillness that refused to lift.
Selene drifted back beside him, lips curling in faint mockery. "You sure you're up for this, Academy boy?"
Ray shot her a sidelong glance but said nothing.
"You look like you're regretting it already," she teased, though there was tension beneath her words.
Ray kept his voice level. "I've seen worse."
Vince chuckled ahead. "Doubt it. This dungeon's off, even for someone like us."
Ray's hand remained near his sword. "I can handle myself."
"Sure," Selene said, her smirk fading as they moved deeper into the corridor.
Ray noticed the shift first—the faint metallic tang thickening in the air.
Soon, the others did too.
Smell of blood
Their pace slowed as the corridor opened into another chamber, this one smaller and darker.
The first thing they saw were the bodies, lots of bodies.
Scattered across the chamber floor were the mangled corpses of hunters.
Some wore the insignia of the Human Association, others bore no clear markings—rogue hunters, most likely—and a few wore the telltale dark garb of black market mercenaries.
But there were no monster carcasses.
Only human bodies, twisted in unnatural angles, faces frozen in fear, throats slit cleanly or torsos punctured by precise, surgical strikes.
"Shit..." Vince murmured, lowering his bow slightly. "What the hell is this? and where the hell are the monster bodies?"
Selene's eyes darted to the untriggered traps lining the floor and walls—pressure plates, mana threads, spike launchers. All intact.
"Why didn't the traps activate?" Irene whispered, her voice trembling slightly.
Nathaniel's brows furrowed, eyes sweeping across the chamber.
Selene replied to her question, "They were triggered, but now they are disabled. It's not normal."
Ray knelt beside one of the corpses, studying the wound.
It's a wound of sword strike. Whoever did this was fast and skilled. His fingers brushed against the dried blood, still slightly warm. This happened recently.
The others were now on edge, exchanging uneasy glances as they advanced cautiously toward the far side of the room.
The door ahead remained open, the next passage swallowed in darkness.
"We will keep moving," Nathaniel said grimly. "But, don't let your guard down.
The group pressed forward. The deeper they went, the more suffocating the silence became, and the smell of blood grew stronger.
Then, just as they rounded a bend leading into a new chamber—
"Stop!" Nathaniel hissed, raising a hand.
In the gloom ahead, illuminated by the faint flicker of torchlight, was a group of battered survivors.
Human Association hunters, clustered behind improvised barricades of broken stone and debris.
Their weapons were drawn, eyes wild with desperation.
A few were injured, blood seeping through makeshift bandages.
One of them, a grizzled man with a graying beard and sharp eyes, raised his trembling gun.
"Stay back!" he barked, voice hoarse. "Don't come any closer!"
Tension snapped in the air like a coiled spring, and Ray could feel the fear radiating from them.
Nathaniel slowly lifted a hand, signaling peace. "We're allies."
There was unusual silence, as if the air was holding its breadth.
Other Hunters were ready to attack at the slightest hint of hostility.
The grizzled hunter's ragged breaths were loud in the quiet corridor, his rifle shaking ever so slightly as he kept it trained on Nathaniel's group.
His sunken eyes darted from face to face, wild and bloodshot, as though any sudden movement might shatter what little calm he had left.
"We're Human Association," Nathaniel said evenly, stepping slightly ahead of the others, and showed the batch of human association, "We're not your enemy."
Seeing that the man's shoulders sagged as if the weight of exhaustion and dread finally bore down on him.
His rifle wavered, then lowered. "...Stone soldiers," he rasped. "They were everywhere. Strong. Too strong."
Ray furrowed his brows. Stone soldiers? That explained the mangled bodies earlier.
He glanced back at the lifeless corridor behind them, unease curling in his gut.
"We fought like hell," the hunter continued, wiping blood from his cracked lips. "Would've all been wiped out if they didn't suddenly vanish."
"They vanished?" Selene echoed, skepticism lacing her voice.
"Gone." The man's voice trembled. "Just… vanished like smoke. At first, they came in small numbers, but the more we killed, the more they appeared. Some Black Market bastards went ahead, leaving us to fight those monstrosities."
Vince cursed under his breath, "Those Mother fucking bastards"
Everybody's face showed a faint trace of anger after hearing about it.
At that moment, Ray took a step forward, scanning the battered survivors.
They were a mess—half-starved, running low on supplies, and their wounds, though bound with scraps of fabric, oozed fresh blood.
"Many of us got injured while fighting," the hunter added, gesturing behind him where several hunters, some barely conscious, leaned against the crumbling barricade.
Without thinking, Ray reached to his system. They won't make it if we don't do something now. His heart pounded as he thumbed through the options inside his shop.
Healing potions… they are low-grade, but they'll work.
He purchased several with a flick of his mind, materializing them with a faint shimmer of light.
"What the—" Vince blinked, watching as Ray approached the wounded.
"They need help," Ray said simply, crouching beside the nearest injured hunter, a young woman clutching a deep gash in her thigh.
The other survivors eyed him warily as he uncorked a potion and carefully pressed it to the woman's lips. "Drink," he urged gently.
To his relief, she sipped it hesitantly, and the magic worked swiftly, knitting the wound shut enough for her to stand.
"Where did you get those?" Selene asked, arms crossed but brow slightly raised in curiosity.
Ray shrugged. "I'm not letting people die if I can help it."
"Idiot," Selene muttered, but there was no venom behind her words.
Ray ignored her and moved to the next injured hunter.
Just hang on, he thought as he handed another potion to a man with a bloodied headband.
Nathaniel nodded approvingly but didn't say anything, instead he turned to his squad. "Help the others," he ordered quietly.
Selene, grumbling under her breath, nonetheless knelt beside another wounded hunter and began wrapping a fresh bandage around a sprained arm.
Vince passed out food, while another squad member offered water to those too weak to stand.
Ray kept working, ignoring the sweat beading on his brow. His inventory had enough supplies for now, but each potion he handed out came with a pang of worry.
My system points may get depleted like this... but right now, they need it.
"Thanks..." a hunter murmured weakly as Ray handed him a crust of bread and a flask of water.
Ray offered a tired but genuine smile. "Eat up. We've got more walking ahead."
Slowly, the atmosphere lightened, if only a little. The wounded were no longer on the brink of collapse, and color was beginning to return to their faces.
Now bolstered, The group of fifteen reformed, moving deeper into the dungeon.
Ray found himself near the back again, keeping an eye on the newcomers.
As they ventured deeper into the dungeon, no monsters stirred in the shadows, no traps triggered beneath their feet.
The eerie calm was unsettling, as if the dungeon itself had already passed judgment on them and found no reason to fight.
The corridor stretched on endlessly, illuminated only by the flickering glow of dying torches embedded in the cracked walls.
The oppressive stonework loomed above, the faded engravings almost watching them with hollow eyes.
Ray's stomach twisted with every step. It's too quiet, and why do I feel someone's watching me....
Ever since he encountered the group of hunters he had a nagging feeling that someone or something was watching him, and that feeling was not in the least nice.
Nathaniel moved up front, spear poised. "Be ready for anything," he muttered, eyes scanning the empty corridor. "This place feels like a grave."
Finally, they emerged into a massive chamber that dwarfed all the others.
The walls stretched high into darkness, the faint glow of mana barely illuminating the far edges.
A vast stone door loomed at the end of the room, radiating an ominous energy. Its surface was adorned with glowing runes pulsing faintly like a heartbeat, each glyph ancient and powerful.
Ray shivered.
The mana leaking from the door was suffocating, thick like a storm about to break.
But the door wasn't the only thing drawing their attention.
At its base, several figures—cloaked in black with crimson markings stitched onto their gear—were working feverishly to pry the door open.
Black Market operatives. Some worked magical devices, others chanted softly, and a few kept weapons drawn, eyes darting nervously toward the shadows.
"What the hell are they doing?" Garrick whispered, his teeth clenched.
"They're trying to force the door," Lucien replied with a tight voice.
Ray's heart thudded painfully. Are they insane?
Nathaniel's eyes narrowed. "They're draining the door's wards. That's reckless."
As if sensing eyes on them, one of the black market mercs glanced back his eyes sharp and cold. His gaze swept the chamber before locking onto Ray's group, his expression hardening instantly.
Ray instinctively stepped forward, placing himself partially in front of some of the injured survivors behind him. His hand tightened around the hilt of his sword.
You're not touching them.
Vince nudged Ray with an elbow. "Oi, dumbass, you're sticking out."
"I'll be fine," Ray muttered under his breath, eyes locked on the black market operatives.
Let's protect them first. I will figure the rest out later.
Selene sighed. "You're going to get killed acting like that."
But Ray barely heard her his body tense, ready to move.
They won't harm these people as long as I'm standing.
Some injured hunters exchanged hurried whispers, tension thickening as if a confrontation was inevitable.
***