Ethan worked fast, kneeling on the cold tile floor, broken porcelain and a snapped mop handle in front of him. His fingers were quick but trembling — not from fear, but urgency. Time was bleeding away. The dungeon was coming.
The door creaked open.
A lanky man in a hospital gown walked in, rubbing his eyes and muttering. His phone glowed in one hand. His voice cracked through the silence.
"Hey… what the hell are you doing?" He frowned at the mess. "You know if you break something, they'll make you pay, right? Don't think for a second this place is cheap."
Ethan glanced at him, barely registering the words.
The man shook his head and stepped toward the urinal. "You'd think this place would cut people a break, but nope. There's this guy on my floor—been here for weeks. Can't pay his bills. Tried to add me on PayScan to help him out. Me. Like I got money to spare." He snorted. "I told him I'd think about it… after I pay for my own damn meds."
He pulled his phone back up and tapped the screen, talking to himself. "Might add him anyway, just to be nice—what's it hurt?"
He turned slightly to pee.
And when he looked back—
Ethan was gone.
No sound. No trace. Just an empty floor and a faintly spinning roll of gauze, slowly unwinding beside the shattered porcelain.
The man froze. "...What the hell?"
[Ruined City – Sector-9: Instant Dungeon]
Ethan gasped and stumbled as his body slammed into cracked pavement. His knees scraped across the rough ground, and he rolled to his side, heart thundering.
His hands? Empty.
The weapon... I left it.
He stood slowly, eyes scanning the world around him — and his stomach twisted.
The city was a graveyard.
Towering buildings stood like rotting giants, their windows broken, their walls blackened by old fires. Power lines hung low across the streets, swaying gently in the dead air. Rusted cars littered the roads, some flipped, others crushed under debris.
Shops had their shutters half-closed, signs torn off, and inside — nothing but dust and silence. A bus stop sat half-submerged in rubble, and beyond that, the skeleton of a playground, rust coating every metal bar.
Not a single bird. Not a rat. Not even wind.
Just stillness.
[INSTANT DUNGEON // SECTOR-9 // SURVIVAL MODE ACTIVATED.]
A dull hum rang through the silence like something ancient had just awakened.
Ethan's pulse spiked. He reached instinctively for a weapon—but he had none. He was completely unarmed, dressed in a hospital gown, dropped into a place that looked like the world had ended.
The ground trembled beneath his feet—faint, subtle, as if something massive was walking far off in the distance.
His jaw clenched.
I need to find shelter. Fast.
And somewhere, deep in the shadows of the ruined city, something moved.
Six officers moved like ghosts through the jungle, their footsteps swallowed by layers of fallen leaves and soft mud. Agung took point, Kato at his side with binoculars scanning the distant hotel. Agung's partner flanked the opposite side, while the remaining three formed a loose formation behind them, keeping watch in every direction.
"We're close," Agung whispered, holding up a fist to signal a halt.
Kato raised the binoculars. "Hotel still looks dead. Not even a flicker of movement."
Agung nodded. "Tunnel entrance is just beyond that ridge. We move in two."
The others exchanged looks. No one spoke.
They had a plan.
They had numbers.
And if everything held—
They'd catch whoever was hiding beneath Verusa.
Ethan's bare feet padded over cracked asphalt, his breath low and measured. Every sound echoed through the dead city—too loud, too close.
Then he heard it.
Crunch.
Shuffle.
A low, wet snarl.
He froze.
The sound came from behind him, somewhere down the street. No voices. No footsteps. Just the slow, dragging scrape of claws on pavement.
Without a second thought, Ethan sprinted across the street and vaulted through the shattered display window of a ruined building. Glass crunched beneath him as he rolled behind a fallen signboard. His body burned from the impact, but he didn't stop.
This used to be a mall… he realized as he crouched behind a dust-covered food court counter.
The air inside was stale, but the scent of rot still lingered.
Then came the growls.
They weren't loud — but they were wrong. Guttural. Raspy. And getting closer.
One… two... maybe three of them?
Ethan stayed low and slowly peeked through a crack in the metal frame of the counter. His breath hitched.
It stepped into view.
Red fur, matted and patchy. Scars lined its muscular frame. Its eyes glowed faintly like dying coals, and smoke curled from between its fangs as it sniffed the air.
It wasn't a normal animal.
It was a predator.
[SYSTEM ALERT]
[Species: Bloodhound Reaper]
[Type: Beast-Class / Lesser Demon]
[Rank: D+]
[Known Traits: Hunts in packs. Enhanced scent tracking. Flame-coated claws. Weakness: Exposed underbelly.]
[Affiliation: Pack Name – Bluefang Shadows]
Ethan's heart pounded in his chest like war drums.
Bloodhound Reapers…
And it travels in packs.
Which meant more were coming.
He tightened his body behind the counter, holding his breath as the creature's claws clicked across the tiled floor.
One wrong move… and I'm dead.