Fin ran through the city, his new suit getting soaked with sweat. He'd asked for directions at the Guild, and now headed north as fast as he could.
"Stupid," he muttered to himself. "One chance to prove yourself and you blow it."
The city thinned out around him, buildings giving way to open countryside. His lungs burned, but he kept pushing. According to the Guild member, the dungeon had appeared in the hills just beyond the northern farms.
After an hour of running, he spotted it—a dark crack in the hillside, surrounded by trampled grass and boot prints. The entrance wasn't impressive, just a narrow opening in the rock, but the air around it felt wrong somehow.
He stopped to catch his breath, hands on his knees. The Guild team had a head start of hours. They could be deep inside by now.
"Should've checked my phone," he grumbled, straightening up. "Should've been here."
He approached the entrance slowly, scanning the area. No one was around—no Guild members, no monsters, nothing. Just silence and that strange feeling in the air.
He took a deep breath, pulled his new dagger from his belt, and stepped into the darkness.
---
Not far from the dungeon entrance, hidden among a cluster of rocks on a higher ridge, three figures watched Fin disappear inside.
"Who the hell was that?" asked a man with a scar across his nose. He wore a leather jacket with metal spikes on the shoulders, his hair shaved on one side.
"Some nobody," replied a woman sitting cross-legged nearby. She had short black hair with red tips and was picking her nails with a small blade. "Did you see how he was dressed? Like he was going to a party, not a dungeon."
The third watcher, a tall man with a beard and arms covered in tattoos, lowered his binoculars. "Doesn't matter who he is. He just walked into his grave."
"Rhan, should we report this to the boss?" asked the scarred man.
The tattooed man—Rhan—shook his head. "Not worth mentioning. Just another sacrifice."
The woman snorted. "The Ancient One will feast well today."
"Speaking of the boss," Tony said, checking a device on his wrist, "he wants a status update."
Rhan nodded. "The plan is working perfectly. All targets have entered the dungeon, no suspicion. In a few hours, they'll reach the chamber, and then..." He grinned.
"And then we'll get our reward," finished the woman, her eyes gleaming. "I can't wait to see their faces when they realize they've walked into a trap."
"How long did the boss say we should wait?" asked Tony
"Until sunset," replied Rhan. "By then, it'll be done. Let's get comfortable." He sat down on a rock, watching the dungeon entrance with cold eyes. "The Ancient One hasn't fed in centuries. It'll be hungry."
The three settled in to wait, occasionally checking the dungeon entrance, but no one came out. Hours passed, the sun slowly making its way across the sky.
---
Fin stepped into the darkness of the dungeon entrance, the air growing colder around him. When his vision cleared, he found himself standing in the middle of a ruined city.
Crumbling buildings stretched in every direction. Broken windows stared like empty eye sockets, and debris littered the cracked streets. The sky above was gray and lifeless, casting everything in dull light.
"Mara?" he called out, his voice echoing between the buildings. "Anyone from the Guild?"
No answer came back. Just silence.
"Where the hell is everyone?" he muttered, gripping his dagger tighter.
He moved cautiously through the streets, checking each corner before turning. The city felt wrong—abandoned but not empty, like something was watching from the shadows.
"Mara!" he called again. "Anyone!"
Still nothing. Fin didn't know that Mara wasn't even in the dungeon, but he kept searching, following what looked like recent footprints in the dust.
He turned a corner and froze. Twenty feet ahead, a group of human-shaped creatures hunched over something on the ground. As he looked closer, his stomach turned—they were tearing apart a body in armor, a hunter.
One of the zombies looked up, its face half-rotted, with green vines wrapping around its neck and arms.
Its eyes locked onto Fin.
"Shit," he whispered, stepping back.
The zombie let out a gurgling cry, and the others turned toward him. Fin spun around to retreat—and nearly collided with another zombie standing directly behind him. This one was larger, vines wrapped tightly around its bloated body, pulsing with an unnatural green glow.
Before he could raise his dagger, the zombie's arm shot forward, catching him in the chest. The blow sent him flying backward, crashing through a wooden wall and tumbling inside an abandoned building.
Pain exploded across his back and ribs as he rolled to a stop.
"What the—" He coughed, tasting blood. "How is it so strong?"
He struggled to his feet, holding his side where a sharp pain throbbed. Blood soaked through his new suit, dripping onto the dusty floor.
The crash had been loud—too loud. Outside, he heard shuffling footsteps, growing in number. The sound of his impact had attracted more of them.
"Not good," he muttered, looking around for an exit.
He spotted a back door and ran for it, bursting outside just as the first zombies broke through the front of the building. The alley led to another street, and he took off running, his lungs burning with each breath.
Behind him, the creatures followed—not shambling like zombies from stories, but running with unnatural speed, the vines on their bodies seeming to pull them forward.
He ducked into another alley, then another street, trying to lose them. When one got too close, he slashed with his dagger, cutting through rotting flesh and vines. The zombie fell, but two more appeared behind it.
"Too many," he gasped, running again.
The chase continued through the ruined city, Fin's energy draining with each turn. The buildings began to thin out ahead, revealing a massive structure spanning a wide gap—a bridge, broken in the middle, with at least thirty feet of empty space between the two sides.
He skidded to a stop at the edge. Below was nothing but darkness, an endless drop. Behind him, the sounds of the zombies grew closer.
"For fuck's sake," he spat, backing up a few steps.
There was nowhere else to go. No other path. Just the gap and certain death on either side.
"No choice," he said, taking a deep breath.
He thought about what Juna had told him about his potential. About what Meg would do if he died here, leaving her alone again. Desperation surged through him.
He focused inward, reaching for the energy he'd felt when fighting the dungeon beast. His body felt hot, then cold, then hot again as something flowed through his veins—his mana responding to his need.
He directed it downward, pushing it into his legs as he charged forward. With each step, the energy built, flowing like liquid fire through his muscles.
When he reached the edge, he leaped.
The jump carried him higher and farther than he thought possible, his body sailing over the gap. For a moment, he hung in the air, wind rushing past his face. Then gravity took hold, pulling him down toward the other side of the bridge.
He landed hard, rolling to absorb the impact. Pain shot through his already injured side, but he was alive. Behind him, the zombies reached the edge, some tumbling over in their mindless pursuit, disappearing into the darkness below.
He sat up, staring back at the gap he'd just cleared, breathing hard.
"How did I..." he whispered, looking down at his legs. "The mana. I pushed it into my legs."
He'd never done that before—never even thought it was possible. Yet somehow, in that moment of desperation, he'd channeled his energy exactly where he needed it.
He got to his feet, wincing at the pain in his side. The remaining zombies on the other side paced back and forth, unable to follow.
For now, he was safe.
"I need to learn that move," he muttered, looking ahead at the path before him.