Dawn broke with the low drone of distant traffic and the faint luminescence of neon lights still twinkling from the city skyline. Asher stood outside the Freelancer Dispatch Center, a squat, heavily fortified building in a lower district of New Vale.
This place, unlike the big, shiny guild headquarters that loomed over the city, was functional and cold; just another piece in the Hunter machine.
Here, hunters pirated and scavenged, taking whatever jobs they could find. The pay was lower, the risks were greater, and no one had your back if you did something wrong.
Asher liked it already.
As he passed through the security checkpoint, he showed his freshly issued Freelancer ID. He was hardly looked at by the guards before they opened the gate for him. Within, a long line of digital boards flashed active contracts, glowing with various ranks and rewards.
Many were team-based tasks. There were only a few solo jobs, and even less of those were Category-3 Rifts.
(His mission was predetermined.)
A gentle chime sounded from his ID chip when the mission log updated.
Freelancer Contract: Category-3 Rift — Anomaly Investigation
[Objective: Get in there, evaluate the source of instability, remove threats.
Location South District Industrial Zone Rift #193
Estimated Threat Level: Moderate to High
Warning: No backup available. Proceed with caution.
Asher exhaled slowly. He had been up against worse odds.
Arrival at the Rift
The Rift was in a decrepit warehouse, one long deserted before the dungeon ripped a hole in reality.
By the time he got there, the area had already been cordoned off, with warning holograms and steel barricades. A few local enforcers stood watch, barring civilians from approaching the unstable portal.
One of them, a weathered officer with a scar running down his cheek, studied Asher as he drew nearer. "You the Freelancer on this one?"
Asher flashed his ID. "That's me."
The officer grunted. "Damn shame. Thought they would send a real team."
Asher smirked. "Sorry to disappoint."
The officer shook his head. "Not my problem. Rift has been destabilizing over the last 12 hours. It was supposed to be cleared up by a couple of B-Rank Hunters, but their guild had been drawn into another mission. Now it's just you."
"Anyone gone in yet?"
The officer hesitated. "A scouting unit. Sent in a drone — didn't come back. The footage was cut before we could get anything useful."
"Sounds promising," Asher muttered.
The officer sighed and took a step back. "Your call, kid. Enter when ready. Just don't plan on a rescue if things go south."
Asher shrugged, preparing himself.
And then he walked through the Rift.
Into the Dungeon
The world shifted instantly.
As soon as Asher stepped inside the gate, the city beyond fell behind him and melted away, and here was a great ruin below—
He felt like cold, damp air stuck to his skin. He could smell mold, corroded metal, and something vaguely putrid filling his lungs.
Enormous stone columns reached into the darkness, cracked and worn by the passage of time. Familiar symbols faintly glowed throughout the walls, pulsing blue in an almost malevolent manner.
But something felt off.
Dungeons were often chaotic, but this one was unnaturally quiet.
No shifting air. Not the distant growls of lurking monsters.
Just… silence.
Asher's instincts flared.
This wasn't a normal Rift.
He crept ahead slowly, looking around. His footfalls were light, precise — a habit he'd been trained in from years of dungeon diving in his past life.
The deeper he hiked, the harder the silence pressed against him.
Then—
A rasping, low-breathed sound came from the darkness.
Asher froze.
A hunched figure appeared from the shadows. Its skin stretched taut over wickedly sharp bones, its eyes empty of anything save for a sickly green glow.
A Ghoul.
Low-tier undead. Fast. Relentless.
It sniffed and lunged — too fast for something that ought to be rotting — its slender claw-like fingers twitching.
Asher reacted on instinct.
He ducked aside as the creature's claws tore through thin air, then spun around hard, driving his elbow into its ribcage.
The impact sent a shockwave through.
The Ghoul staggered back, its rib cage collapsing in under the impact.
Asher hardly had time to register it before the creature reared back in an inhuman snap. Its broken ribs contorted, its limbs heaved at unnatural angles — like a puppet forced to dance.
Then it rushed again.
Asher's eyes narrowed.
Something was controlling it.
He rolled out of the way of a second strike, then seized the creature's arm and twisted. He ripped its limb from its body with a sharp crack through the chamber.
The Ghoul didn't stop.
Even lack an arm, it charged again.
Asher exhaled sharply.
His fist curled. The power within him flared — raw, unformed, but potent. And he struck— a clean, straight punch to the beast's skull.
A deep boom rippled outward.
The Ghoul's head collapsed in, crushed by the blow.
It went down at once, its gleaming eyes snuffing out.
Asher didn't relax.
There was something wrong with this dungeon.
There was nothing normal about a Ghoul who wouldn't stop fighting with their body so broken. And its movements were not natural.
He took a slow step forward. The pulse of the ruined walls flashed once more.
Then—
A voice, echoing in the chamber.
"You… are not of this world."
Asher stilled.
The voice wasn't human. It was layered, distorted — a combination of whispers and echoes.
Then out in the distance something moved.
A form emerged from the darkness.
Tall. Cloaked in darkness. Its shape shuddered, hardly material—as though it were not really there.
And yet its burning eyes bore straight into him.
It knew.
Asher's heart raced with rage, but his body tensed instinctively.
Whatever this thing was…
It wasn't a dungeon spawn.
And it wasn't meant to be here.
The creature tilted its head. Then it spoke again, and in a voice so deep and unnatural that it sent a chill through the air.
"Wizard of the Forgotten World … you don't belong here."
Asher's fists clenched.
Whatever this was, it knew him.
It knew about his past life.
And that meant the dungeons in this world weren't random.
Somebody — something — tried to watch.
His smirk was sharp. "Same goes for you," I'd say.
The creature chuckled, hollow, gaunt. Then it raised its hand.
And the dungeon came alive.