As the silence deepened, a voice broke through the tension—a steady, authoritative tone that held a weight of command.
"All units, hold your positions." It was the voice of the President of the Hunter Association in the U.S., a figure whose influence stretched across the entire global hunter network.
The man had always been a pillar of confidence, but now there was an edge of urgency in his voice that hadn't been there before.
President Theodore Hawke, tall and imposing, stood on the platform beside Darius Vaughn. His sharp eyes scanned the situation, assessing every angle. His presence alone sent a ripple of unease through the room.
"The operation is still ongoing. We will not risk anyone else in there unless we have confirmation that our S-ranks are still operational," he declared, his voice cutting through the confusion. "This is the most dangerous event we've ever faced, and I know each and every one of you understands the gravity of the situation."
He turned to the others gathered outside the dungeon's perimeter. "The priority is containment. We cannot afford a second breach. If any of you attempt to breach the gate or override commands without my direct orders, you will be dismissed immediately. Do I make myself clear?"
The A-ranks nodded grimly. They all understood what that meant—this was no longer about simply winning. It was about survival. Keeping the situation from escalating into something far worse.
Hawke's gaze shifted back to Darius. "Continue monitoring from here. We need a full picture of the battlefield. Get those systems back online and reestablish contact with the S-ranks."
Darius hesitated, looking back at the failed attempts to reestablish communication. "The suppression field is... unlike anything we've encountered. It's blocking all attempts to regain contact. Even our encrypted channels are compromised. We cannot pinpoint their exact locations within the dungeon."
The tension in the air thickened as the realization settled in—the situation was spiraling out of control.
"We may need to consider an alternative strategy," Hawke said, voice steely, before turning to the others in the control room. "Prepare for the possibility of an extraction. But only once we have confirmation that our S-ranks are… incapacitated or beyond recovery."
Christa turned to me, her expression a mix of determination and unease. "Do you think they're still alive?"
I didn't respond immediately, my eyes glued to the shadows in the corner of my mind, pulling at the threads that connected me to the dungeon. The flickers had all but stopped.
President Hawke's voice again snapped through the air, cold and calculated. "If the worst happens... we'll need to prepare for the next phase. Activate the contingency measures."
-
The dungeon was chaotic, the air thick with tension as the hunters pressed on despite the growing peril. Inside the dungeon, the crackling energy and monstrous roars resonated through every stone and shadow. The group of S-rank hunters, though battered, fought fiercely, their skills honed over years of experience.
Leon's face was bloodied, his usual confidence somewhat tempered by the ferocity of the battle, but he remained determined.
The rest of the S-ranks, including the national-level hunters, were in similar states—each bearing injuries that told the story of how close they had come to the edge. Despite it all, they pressed forward, knowing that retreat was not an option.
The healing specialists—the S-rank healers—stepped in. With a surge of mana and unwavering focus, they weaved their healing spells through the air. Streams of golden light wrapped around the wounded, mending torn flesh, stabilizing shattered bones, and pulling them back from the brink of death.
Gabriel Dela Cruz, the Storm Emperor, was among the worst off, his left leg crushed under the weight of an Abyssal figure's strike. But thanks to the healers, the dark bruise of broken bones faded, replaced by the warm glow of restoration. His breath, labored moments ago, returned to a steady rhythm.
Alexander Graves, the Titan of Calamity, was bruised but not out. He was the rock of the team, his immense strength taking the blows in place of his comrades.
A massive cut ran along his side, blood seeping from the wound, but he stood tall, gritting his teeth as his body slowly healed.
"We're not done yet," Leon muttered, his eyes still steely.
Despite the toll, they all understood: the dungeon was still far from its final challenge. The Abyssal Tyrant—the true source of this chaos—still lay ahead.
With the healers' magic working at full force, the group was revived, but they had no illusions that the worst was yet to come.
-
Amid the chaos, Alexander Graves, bruised but standing strong, approached the giant towering figure—one of the three immense giants that had appeared in the dungeon, now partially visible in the shadows.
The massive figure, clad in dark, ancient armor, towered over Alexander. Its eyes glowed with an eerie, unnatural light, watching him with an almost sentient awareness.
Alex's voice was steady but tinged with the exhaustion of battle. "What are you?" he demanded, his gaze unwavering as he stared up at the gigantic figure. His voice didn't waver despite the weight of the question—he knew this wasn't a random monster.
The giant's voice echoed deeply in the cavern, its tone a strange mixture of power and melancholy. "We are the keepers of the remnants of the Abyss Monarch," it rumbled, each word sent a shiver through the air. The other two giants flanked the first, their silent presence adding an intimidating weight to the revelation.
"Remnants of the Abyss Monarch?" Alexander repeated, trying to understand the significance of what it was saying.
The giant's eyes flickered toward the shadows beyond them, where the rest of the S-rank hunters were standing and observing. Its voice grew more solemn as it continued. "The Abyss Monarch's direct servant throne lies beyond this chamber. Our duty is to guard what remains of our majesty… and to ensure none of the weak, none of the unworthy, pass through to where he waits."
Alexander frowned, "And where is he now?" he asked, his voice low and tense.
The giant raised one massive arm, pointing toward the deep recesses of the dungeon, where the shadows seemed to pulse with a dark energy. "He watches you from behind," it said, its voice reverberating through the walls, its words carrying an eerie gravity. "He is waiting. But you are not yet ready to face him. Not yet."