But then, like the dungeon itself was breathing for the first time in centuries, something shifted.
A ripple—silent, yet undeniable—swept through the hall.
Ash felt it instantly, as if reality itself trembled around him. The lingering rot, the blood-drenched floor, the broken bodies stacked like offerings—gone. Vanished without a trace, erased from existence.
Even the oppressive presence of the stone soldiers blinked out, their malice snuffed like dying embers.
Ash's breath caught—not out of fear, but from quiet realization.
Ah..Damn
His lips twitched, somewhere between a smirk and a grimace.
He is here
Even after I got here first, he still came…
Ash's gaze sharpened, eyes narrowing against the glow leaking through the cracks in the ancient walls. He didn't need to see Ray to know the dungeon had shifted.
Even when I get here first... you still steal the stage, Ash thought, jaw clenching.
The dungeon's mana, once wild and oppressive, now thrummed with eerie calm, as if welcoming a long-awaited guest.
Ash's gaze flicked back toward the black market operatives, still clawing at the sealed door, unaware of the changes in the dungeon.
My guess was right, Ash thought grimly. Without Ray, this place won't unlock its true depths.
The whispers of the novel haunted him now, lines he once read.
"The dungeon itself responded to him, as if sensing something hidden within him..."
Ash leaned deeper into the shadows, the irony sharp in his throat.
A soft exhale left his lips—half tired, half resigned.
Sigh...
And still, he waited.
It didn't take long.
Soon, Ray arrived—just as Ash knew he would. But he wasn't alone.
Trailing behind him was a ragtag group of survivors—some limping, others grim-faced but still on their feet. Their armor was dented, blood splattered their clothes, and desperation clung to them like a second skin.
Ash's eyes narrowed slightly, watching from the safety of the shadows.
He brought company.
Ray stood at the front of the injured, gaze steady despite the odds pressing down on him. A spark of determination flickered behind his golden eyes—the same reckless determination Ash remembered from the novel.
The sight stirred something bitter in Ash's chest, but he pushed it aside.
Meanwhile, the black market operatives had ceased their futile attempts at forcing the door. Instead, they slowly approached the newcomers, weapons lowered but ready, eyes sharp with veiled intentions.
Ash didn't need to hear the words to understand.
A fragile conversation was about to begin.
Ash watched from the shadows, unseen, as the atmosphere grew thick with tension.
Nathaniel's group stared down the black market hunters near the door, the two sides staring each other like wolves sizing up rival packs.
Bary, a tall man with a jagged scar across his chin, sneered. "Well, well. The Association dogs finally decided to show up. Took your time."
Nathaniel's jaw tightened. "Took our time? You left our people to die."
"They're still breathing, aren't they?" the man shot back, feigning innocence.
Vince growled. "Breathing because of luck, Bastard."
"It wasn't our job to babysit you," one of the Black market hunter added with a smirk.
"Babysit?" Selene snapped. "We saved half of the people you abandoned, you arrogant pricks."
Ray, standing at the back, could only clench his fists. The survivors behind him muttered curses under their breath, glaring daggers at the black market crew.
Ash, still hidden, let out a silent huff.
Why are they cursing each other, just fight if you have to fight.
One of the wounded hunters from the Human Association side stepped forward, trembling but furious. "You left us behind after saying we will clear the dungeon together!"
"Did we?," another mercenary replied lazily. "Well, you are alive so be grateful."
A tense silence followed. Even the air felt tighter.
Then Vince broke it, smirking despite himself. "You've got a sharp tongue for someone hiding behind stolen artifacts and dirty contracts."
Bary's smirk widened. "Better than hiding behind a badge."
Nathaniel sighed heavily. "Enough. None of us are in a state to fight each other."
Selene crossed her arms, scowling. "So what? Pretend that the people behind us didn't almost die cleaning up their mess? I don't even know why are we not killing them on sight."
"For now, yes." Nathaniel's voice left no room for argument. "Until we clear the dungeon, no one's getting out of here."
Bary rolled his neck, glancing back at the sealed door. "Well, you at least got that right, how about first we kill whatever monster is inside then we can settle what we have to settle.
Nathaniel stepped forward. "Alright, We'll deal with whatever's inside first. After that, we can decide whether there's something worth bleeding over."
"Fine," the mercenary leader said with a shrug. "Temporary truce, then."
Ash watched them shake hands reluctantly, eyes still full of mistrust.
How typical of them, Ash thought dryly. They were almost ready to kill each other but now a truce.
As the two groups relaxed slightly, Ray shifted uneasily near the survivors.
The two groups stood before the massive door, staring at the intricate runes etched into its surface.
Despite everything, the silence that settled between them wasn't relief—it was dread.
Nathaniel, spear in hand, stepped closer to inspect it. "These glyphs are old," he murmured. "This isn't normal dungeon magic."
One of the mercenaries scoffed. "What, you afraid of stonework now?"
Nathaniel ignored him, fingers tracing the faint pulsing lines along the door frame. Lucien, The mage of the group also examined the door closely.
Ray stood near the back, staring quietly at the door while the others argued.
Garrick's voice was low but sharp. "It's too quiet in here."
"It's always quiet before the gold shows up," the black market leader replied with a lazy grin.
Then Ray took a slow step forward, drawn toward the door. He felt... strange, as if it were calling for him.
Without thinking, he placed his palm against the stone.
The door pulsed once—then shuddered.
A deep rumble echoed through the chamber as the sigils glowed brighter and the stone slowly parted, unveiling a dark passage beyond.
Then, with a slow groan, the door began to open. Dust fell from above as the heavy stone parted, revealing the dark expanse beyond.
The chamber stiffened.
No one spoke.
Ray blinked, taking a step back, confused. "What the..."
Nathaniel turned, "What happened?", he asked but no one replied as everyone was examining the door, no one knew how it opened.
But Ash has noticed it clearly, as his gaze never left Ray.
I knew it, he thought coldly.
The others didn't notice, they were too fixated on the passage yawning open before them.
"Looks like we're going in after all," one of the mercenaries grinned.
After hesitating for a while they finally made up their mind to enter.
As the group moved to enter the dark chamber devoid of light, it happened.
The Black Market hunters moved like vipers.
Without warning, blades flashed in the dim glow of their lanterns—straight into the backs of the injured survivors from the Human Association.
Cries of pain and shock rang out as the mercenaries struck ruthlessly, cutting down the defenseless without mercy.
A dagger buried itself into the spine of a young hunter, his body jerking violently before he collapsed, his fingers twitching against the cold stone floor. Another hunter gasped as a sword pierced his gut, the tip emerging from his back. He choked on his own blood before his knees buckled.
The chamber erupted in chaos.
"YOU FUCKING BASTARD!" Nathaniel roared, spinning as a mercenary drove a blade into the throat of an exhausted soldier beside him.
Blood sprayed.
The man's body slumped forward, eyes wide with disbelief before his legs gave out beneath him.
"KILL THEM ALL! THE TREASURE IS OURS!" Bary bellowed, his voice carrying over the massacre.
Ray turned, horrified, just as another survivor—a woman barely standing—dove in front of him. The knife meant for Ray sank deep into her stomach instead.
Her breath hitched.
She collapsed into Ray's arms, her blood smearing across his armor.
"No!" His scream echoed, raw and filled with fury. His grip on his sword tightened until his knuckles turned white.
Selene snarled, daggers flashing as she lunged at the nearest mercenary. She carved into his throat, twisting the blade before ripping it free. Blood sprayed across her arm, but she didn't stop.
Vince fired arrows at point-blank range, piercing two traitors through the eyes before they could react.
Lucien unleashed a storm of magic, fire and ice bursting from his hands, searing through the enemy ranks.
Garrick roared, his massive shield slamming into a hunter's skull with bone-crushing force. The man crumpled like a ragdoll. With monstrous strength, Garrick swung his shield sideways, breaking another mercenary's ribs with a sickening crunch.
Irene stood behind him, hands glowing as she channeled healing magic into the wounded.
"Stay behind me!" Garrick barked, protecting her with his shield as arrows rained toward them. He knocked them away with brutal efficiency, his breathing heavy.
Nathaniel fought like a demon. He drove his spear through a traitor's chest, twisted, and wrenched it free in one swift motion. Blood splattered across his face, but his golden eyes remained cold.
But then—
Bary stepped forward.
The leader of the Black Market group, towering and draped in dark armor, cracked his knuckles, his cruel grin gleaming in the dim light.
Nathaniel's eyes locked onto him.
"Tch. About time you showed your ugly face."
Bary sneered. "Brave words for a dead man."
Then he moved.
Faster than expected.
His greatsword came down in a vicious arc, forcing Nathaniel to parry with his spear. The impact sent a shockwave through the chamber, dust and debris shaking loose from the ceiling.
Nathaniel gritted his teeth, stepping back as Bary pressed forward, hammering him with raw power.
Their weapons clashed in a deadly dance—Nathaniel dodging, parrying, striking with precision, while Bary countered with brute strength.
A feint—Bary's sword suddenly dipped, then shot upward.
Nathaniel barely twisted in time, but the blade grazed his side, slicing through armor and drawing blood.
"Not bad," Bary taunted. "But you're already slowing down."
Nathaniel exhaled sharply, steadying his stance.
Then he smirked.
"So are you."
The spear shot forward like a lightning bolt.
Bary barely dodged, but the tip grazed his shoulder, tearing through muscle.
His grin twisted into a snarl.
"Bastard."
He retaliated with a heavy downward swing.
Nathaniel rolled to the side, avoiding the strike, but the shockwave shattered the ground where he stood.
The battle raged on—brutal, relentless.
Meanwhile, Garrick fought like an unstoppable force, his shield crashing into enemies with devastating impact.
Then—
An arrow.
A single, well-aimed arrow whistled through the air, piercing through the exposed gap in Garrick's armor at his neck.
He grunted, his stance wavering.
Another dagger embedded itself in his side.
A third blade slashed across his leg.
He fell to one knee, blood spilling onto the ground.
Irene screamed his name, "Garrick!!!!"
But Garrick didn't stop.
With a final, defiant roar, he slammed his shield into the ground, sending a shockwave outward. The sheer force sent three hunters flying back.
But his body gave out.
He collapsed forward, his shield slipping from his grasp.
Dead.
Irene sobbed, magic still glowing in her hands, but it was too late.
Ray's fury erupted.
He charged, his sword cleaving through the ribs of a mercenary with unrefined, brutal strength.
"I won't let any more die!" he roared.
But they did.
One by one, the survivors who had clung to life were cut down.
Selene cursed as an arrow clipped her arm.
"Ray! Stay focused!"
Nathaniel blocked a swing meant for Vince, his knuckles bleeding as he barked, "Don't break formation!"
Ray ignored them, lost in his rage.
His swings were desperate but powerful, each strike fueled by raw emotion.
Blood splattered the walls.
By the time the last mercenary fell—his throat torn open by Vince's final arrow—the damage was done.
Silence.
Ray stood amid the corpses, his sword trembling in his hand.
Blood streaked down his face. His eyes were hollow, yet seething.
Only Nathaniel's squad remained.
Garrick lay dead on the stone floor, his massive frame riddled with wounds.
Six survivors.
All of them battered, all of them furious.
Vince slumped against a wall, clutching his side. "Goddamn cowards," he spat, panting.
Selene wiped blood from her cheek, voice cold. "They waited until the door opened. Coward's timing."
Nathaniel stood in the middle of it all, expression dark.
"They played us."
Ray clenched his fists, unable to speak.
The bodies of those who had shielded him lay at his feet.
The chamber remained still, thick with grief and quiet fury.
***