Scattered skeletons on the ground, blood staining the stones, and ragged breaths cutting through the silence—all signs of a battle that had just ended.
In front of the stone door, five adventurers stood. Their bodies were tired, but their eyes remained sharp.
The leader raised his sword. He knocked.
The gate responded slowly, its deep creak merging with the sound of their breathing. Behind it: a vast, cold hall, empty—except for one thing. Five stone coffins, lined up with suspicious precision.
They approached.
"Coffins?" one of them said, his voice tense.
"Captain, there's no monster here," said another.
The captain nodded as he slowly walked around them. "Look at the carvings… they're unlike anything we've seen on the previous floor."
But the fifth coffin stood out. Its edges were rougher, and the engravings on it were nearly erased.
"A trap?" someone asked.
"Maybe," the captain said. "Get ready."
They opened the first coffin… then the second… the third… and the fourth.
And silence.
Inside each coffin: a child.
Small bodies, no older than five, sleeping deeply. Their skin was clean. No wounds. No scratches. No explanation.
"Are they… human?" one of them whispered.
The sorceress stepped forward. A simple spell. A blue light revealed no mana.
"Human," she said.
All eyes turned to the fifth coffin. The captain opened it carefully.
Dirt. Just dirt.
"What the hell is this?" the blond adventurer said.
No one answered. Too many thoughts. Too much unease.
"The Guild would pay a fortune for them," one of them said, his eyes gleaming.
But the captain responded immediately: "And they'll turn them into lab rats."
Silence. Then he said, "They survived here… in the boss's chamber… and they're still alive. That alone tells us they're different. Here's what I propose…"
He looked at each of them, one by one:
"We take them. Place them in an orphanage under our control. We visit from time to time. If they show talent, we bring them in. Train them. Turn them into Guild members. If not… you can decide what to do with them then."
One objected. He didn't like how slow the plan was. But the captain held his gaze, and quietly forced him to swear.
Moments later, someone pulled out a long cloak and draped it over one of the children. Then turned to the rest. "These kids aren't normal. This isn't a coincidence."
There were four of them.
But the fifth coffin remained open. And empty.
They left the hall behind, the dungeon dead… carrying four ticking bombs no one knew when—or if—they would explode.
And that's how the story began.
Not from the coffins… but from a decision.
A decision that seemed simple.
But changed everything.