By the time the sun cleared the cliffs, Aeric was already leaning against a weather-worn post near the Gulch's main square.
The air carried the scent of oil, dust, and frying batter from a vendor already shouting about "hot bread and meat skewers" to half-awake Hunters. The market was alive — steel clinking, merchants barking prices, cart wheels rattling over cobblestone.
Marcello and Theresa appeared together, cutting through the bustle. Marcello's new spear caught the light — a fresh, heavier steel head fixed to a reinforced shaft. Theresa looked her usual mix of prepared and impatient, wearing a fitted button-up shirt tucked into a dark skirt, tight ripped leggings beneath, and scuffed combat boots that matched the sharp set of her jaw.
"Upgraded?" Aeric asked, nodding to the spear.
Marcello grinned. "Dorrin owed me. Figured it was time I stopped trusting my life to a stick with a pointy end."
Theresa rolled her eyes. "You haggled with him for twenty minutes and promised to move half his crates after the raid."
"Still a good trade," Marcello said, spinning the weapon before resting it against his shoulder.
Theresa's gaze slid past Aeric — then stopped. "...The hell is that?"
Marcello followed her line of sight and blinked at the hulking, blood-red figure standing just behind Aeric. "Looks like a golem, but… not like any I've seen."
Aeric glanced back casually. "Picked it up this morning."
"You don't just 'pick up' a golem," Marcello said. "That's bound. Has to be. What'd you do, steal it from a Tower mage?"
"No," Aeric said, smirking faintly. "I awakened."
Theresa's brows shot up. "Awakened? And you didn't lead with that?"
He shrugged like it was nothing. "Was gonna mention it eventually."
Marcello tilted his head. "So what's the class?"
Aeric hesitated for half a beat, then lied without flinching. "Vanguard. Bit of a hybrid. Sword and shield type."
Theresa squinted at him. "You? A tank?"
"Surprise," Aeric said dryly. "Guess I've been full of untapped potential."
Theresa clearly didn't buy it, but she let it drop with a shake of her head. "Well, at least you won't die in the first five minutes if things get too out of hand now."
Marcello gave the golem one last look. "Thing gives me the creeps. Feels like it's watching everything."
"It's useful," Aeric said simply. "That's enough for now."
The conversation shifted when Theresa's tone softened, just slightly. "What about Gary? He's usually here by now."
Aeric's jaw tightened. "He's not coming. The bus got hit on the way in — some kind of massive arachnid. Big enough to rock the whole damn road. He… didn't make it."
He paused, eyes flicking back toward the golem. "If it weren't for him, I wouldn't have made it either."
Marcello's grin faded. Theresa's expression darkened.
"That was today?" Marcello asked quietly.
"Yeah," Aeric said. "Couple miles out. Thing moved fast. I barely made it off the road before it tore through the bus."
The moment lingered in silence before Theresa snapped back into her usual clipped tone. "Advance team's about to brief. We've got maybe five minutes before the gate opens."
Marcello rolled his shoulders, spear tip gleaming. "Then let's get moving."
Aeric fell in beside them, the golem pacing behind like a silent shadow.
Any minute now, the dungeon would open — and this time, things weren't going to play out the way they had before.
The three of them cut across the square, weaving through clusters of Hunters checking gear, swapping out potions, or half-heartedly bragging about kill counts from past raids. The air near the dungeon gate had a different weight to it — thicker, sharper, humming with the low, uneasy energy of the rift just beyond the metal barricades.
The advance team was already gathered at the staging point, their armor heavier, their weapons cleaner, and their faces carved from the kind of confidence you didn't fake. At the center of it all stood the foreman — a broad-shouldered man with a short, bristled beard and a voice that could cut through steel.
"Transporters up front!" he barked without looking up from the map in his hands. "Raid leaders, flank left. Everyone else, eyes on me."
Aeric moved up with the other transporters, the golem following like an obedient shadow. Marcello and Theresa drifted toward their respective squads — Marcello to the vanguard-heavy line, Theresa to the ranged unit already checking magazines and chambering rounds.
The foreman's gaze swept over the group — then stopped dead on the hulking red shape behind Aeric. His brow pinched.
"You. Pentafrax. With me."
Aeric broke off from the line, following the foreman toward a quieter stretch of the staging area. The man looked him up and down, then jabbed a finger toward the golem.
"What the hell is that thing?"
"A summon," Aeric said, keeping his tone even.
"No kidding. You think I'm blind? I've been in more raids than you've had hot meals — and I've never seen a construct like this. Who bound it to you?"
"I did. Sort of."
The foreman's eyes narrowed. "Sort of? Listen, I don't care if it's your pet rock or your long-lost grandma — it doesn't get in the way. You're a transporter. You stay in your lane. That thing so much as clips a Hunter by accident, I'll have it dismantled before you can blink. Are we clear?"
Crystal.
Aeric forced a nod. "It won't be a problem."
The foreman grunted, still eyeing the golem like it might decide to start chewing on the advance team's ankles. Finally, he waved Aeric back toward the group. "Then keep it on a leash. I've got enough to worry about without some untested summon screwing up my raid."
Aeric rejoined the transporters, the golem falling into step behind him as if it had been listening the whole time.
The foreman stabbed a gloved finger at a marked section on the map. "Advance team breaches first. We secure the initial corridor, clear the entry mobs, and sweep the first chamber. Once it's clean, we signal the transporters to move in with supplies. Anyone lags, anyone freezes — they get left behind. This isn't charity work."
A murmur of acknowledgment rolled through the Hunters.
Aeric kept his face neutral, hands resting on the strap of his satchel. His mind, though, was a storm. He could picture the halls past that gate. The blood. The bodies. The way the Chief's roar had echoed through stone.
Not this time.
The foreman's gaze flicked over the group one last time, lingering on Aeric and the golem before moving on. "Transporters, remember your lanes. Stay behind cover when possible. You're here to keep the raid supplied, not to play hero. If things go south, fall back. Let the fighters handle it."
Aeric gave the barest nod. Inside, he wanted to laugh. If only you knew.
The foreman rolled the map and tucked it under his arm. "Advance team, on me. Gate opens in three."
A deep, thrumming pulse rolled through the air, rattling the barricades. The rift shimmered, twisting against itself like reality didn't quite fit in the space it had been shoved into.
Aeric adjusted his grip on the satchel, the sword hidden inside. The golem's eyes glinted faintly in the shifting light, its weighty steps keeping time with his heartbeat.
Three minutes. That was all the time left before they stepped into the place where Aeric had died once already.
And this time, he wasn't planning to die at all.
The dungeon gate shimmered ahead, a thin veil of light twisting over jagged stone.
Beyond it, the passage dipped into shadow, the air colder, heavier, as if the world on the other side was holding its breath.
The foreman's voice barked over the group, sharp and quick.
"Advance team, you know the drill. Push the first two chambers, secure a perimeter. Support team stays back until I give the word. Anyone falls out of formation, you're out."
Aeric stood near the rear, just close enough to hear the orders, just far enough to avoid the foreman's glare.
The golem loomed silently at his side, its crimson hide drinking in the pale light of the gate. A few Hunters gave it nervous side-eyes.
Theresa adjusted her pistols; Marcello spun his spear once before resting it against his shoulder.
The foreman's gaze swept across the group — and stopped on Aeric.
"You keep that thing in line," he said, jerking his chin toward the golem. "If it steps out of line, it's on you, not me."
Aeric gave a short nod, keeping his expression neutral.
"Yes, sir. It won't be a problem."
The foreman wasn't convinced. His eyes lingered for another second before he turned away.
The Hunters moved in. Boots crunched on gravel, weapons shifted in hand.
The shimmering veil rippled as the first ranks stepped through, vanishing into the dark beyond.
Aeric's stomach tightened.
He had been here before.
He had died here before.
Marcello clapped him on the shoulder, grinning. "Don't look so grim, man. We're just killing goblins, not storming the Spire."
Aeric managed a smirk. "Right. Just goblins."
They stepped through.
The air changed instantly.
Cool dampness clung to Aeric's skin, and the sharp scent of wet stone and rusted iron filled his lungs.
The light around them came only from bobbing headlamps and the flickering glow of mage-lights cast by one of the support casters. The shadows clung thick between the jagged cavern walls, making the place feel smaller than it was.
The foreman led the advance team ahead, shields forward, weapons ready.
Aeric fell in at the very back with the supply carriers — his assigned role — the golem's heavy steps thudding quietly just behind him.
He kept one hand resting lightly on his short sword, not because anyone expected him to fight… but because he knew what was coming.
The echoes of the first clash reached them before the scene did — steel ringing against steel, the guttural screeches of goblins, the sharp crack of Theresa's pistols in rapid succession.
Marcello's battle cry cut through the noise, followed by a wet, meaty crunch.
By the time Aeric caught sight of the fight, the front line was already pushing the first wave back.
He stayed in position, hauling gear forward when the Hunters needed replacement ammo or fresh satchels of supplies. It kept him close enough to see the fights — close enough to step in if something slipped past the others.
The golem moved like a shadow at his side, never striking unless a goblin broke through the line toward the carriers.
When it did, the result was decisive — a single crushing blow, a shattered skull, silence.
[+35 XP]
Small. Steady. Unnoticed.
The momentum of the fight slowed as the last of the goblins fell. The Hunters pressed deeper, their boots crunching over fresh bodies and old bones alike.
Aeric kept moving with the other carriers, but his eyes never stopped scanning the edges of the light. Something about the air was off. Heavy. Waiting.
By the time they reached the next chamber, the change was impossible to ignore.
The black dust thickened, swallowing the headlamp beams like ink poured into water.
Every breath tasted metallic.
Every step crunched against a floor that hadn't been this brittle seconds ago.
The foreman's voice cut through the haze. "Shields! Tighten up!"
The vanguard shifted, metal scraping as they braced for impact.
Then came the rush of air.
A violent inhale, as if the dungeon itself had decided to breathe.
The pit at the far side of the chamber erupted — thick clouds of black powder exploding upward in a choking wave. It didn't scatter. It gathered. Folded in on itself. Compacted and churned like a storm with no wind.
Aeric's stomach turned.
He knew this. He'd seen this.
The swirling dust pulsed with an unnatural heartbeat, swelling and twisting.
Arms tore out first — massive, corded, claws curling like they were already tasting blood.
Legs followed, jointed wrong, ending in taloned feet that scraped sparks from the stone.
A tail lashed free, lined with hooked thorns.
Wings snapped open with a wet crack, stirring the black motes into a suffocating whirl.
And then the head.
A ram's skull pushing through the mass, curling horns slick with dust, hollow eyesockets staring like pits to nowhere.
A grin that promised nothing but death.
[Boss Entity Detected: ???]
[Essence Signature: Corrupted / Unstable]
[Threat Assessment: LETHAL]
"Steady!" the foreman barked. "Hit it hard before—"
The thing moved.
One arm swung like a siege engine, smashing into the shield wall and sending two frontliners sprawling.
Marcello surged forward, spear flashing, driving the point into its thigh. The creature snarled and swiped for him, but the golem lunged from the flank — massive stone hands locking around its forearm and holding.
Theresa blinked across the field in a ripple of warped space, reappearing at the monster's blind side. Her pistol cracked, a bullet punching into the joint of its wing. The creature staggered but spun, batting her away with its tail. She warped again just before impact, reappearing behind cover.
The foreman roared and charged, mace raised high — only to take a direct slash across the ribs. He hit the ground hard, armor split, blood spilling.
Aeric's jaw clenched. He'd been holding back, playing the role of the cautious transporter. But with the foreman down and the line breaking, the choice was gone.
[Hemoblade Arts – Style I: Severance Activated]
He broke into a sprint, blade igniting with soul-forged energy. The first slash carved deep across the creature's chest, black sludge hissing as it hit stone.
The monster roared and tried to wrench free from the golem, but the summon dug in, stone muscles bulging as it slammed a knee into the boss's leg. Bone cracked.
[Gorebrand Activated]
Aeric's swings came faster now, the alloy blade tearing through corrupted hide. Marcello joined in from the opposite side, spear stabbing deep, while Theresa blinked in and out of sight, firing point-blank shots into its joints before warping away again.
The boss roared and beat its wings, throwing the golem back several feet — but the construct rolled with the momentum, landing in a crouch before charging again. It slammed into the monster's side like a battering ram, pinning it to the cavern wall. Stone fingers locked around its throat, holding it still as Aeric slashed and stabbed with ruthless precision.
Dust erupted from every wound. The thing thrashed, clawing chunks from the golem's torso, but the summon didn't falter — even as cracks split across its surface.
Theresa fired her sawn-off at its knee again. Marcello's spear struck the exposed gap in its ribs. Aeric's final swing ripped straight through its chest.
The creature froze, black dust pouring from its body like water from a shattered jar.
It collapsed, the golem letting it fall in a heavy heap.
[Boss Defeated]
[XP Gained: +9,200]
[Bonus: Raid Contribution Multiplier Applied]
[Level Up: 58]
The dust settled into a dead silence.
The golem straightened, standing beside Aeric — a looming, cracked sentinel — its faceless head tilted toward him like it understood exactly what had just happened.
And Aeric stood there, chest heaving, blade dripping with something that shouldn't exist.
Aeric stood there for a long moment, breathing hard, the copper tang of blood thick in the air.
"At least I didn't lose them this time," he muttered under his breath, though the words felt strange on his tongue — like they weren't meant to be spoken aloud.
The foreman, pale and hunched from his wounds, was being half-supported by two other Hunters. He managed a glance toward Aeric. "We'll… talk later," he rasped, before being led away toward the medics.
Theresa lingered just long enough to give Aeric a pointed look. "That wasn't vanguard work in there. Not even close."
Marcello, leaning on his spear for balance, gave a sharp nod. "Yeah. Those moves — that power — you've been holding out on us."
Aeric's gaze didn't quite meet theirs. "Awakening changes a lot. Some things… aren't easy to explain."
Theresa tilted her head, unsatisfied, but let it drop for now. Marcello grunted, the kind of sound that promised they'd circle back to this later, and started toward the others.
The golem stayed rooted beside Aeric, battered and cracked from the fight, its once-solid frame chipped and pitted. It let out a low, rumbling sound — not quite pain, but close.
Aeric's eyes flicked up at it. "Yeah… I'll get you fixed up."
Then his attention drifted past them all, settling on the boss's massive corpse lying in the dirt. Black dust still clung to it, curling in the air like it refused to settle.
Almost without thinking, he walked toward it. Each step was slow, deliberate — as if the weight of them would crack the ground.
Up close, it felt different. Wrong. The thing that had crushed him, shattered him, ripped apart the only people who'd had his back in that nightmare… now lay still.
Part of him wanted to spit on it. Another part wanted to carve it into nothing, just to make sure it stayed dead.
Instead, he lowered his sword. The jagged curve caught what little light there was, still wet with its blood.
The blade touched its hide, and the essence came instantly — a cold, dragging pull that sank through the steel and into him. For a heartbeat it froze him from the inside, then it burned, searing through muscle and marrow until it felt like his veins were molten.
He didn't let go. Couldn't.
This time, it was him standing over the corpse.
This time, it was his heart still beating.
This time, it was theirs that stopped.
The rush faded. He wrenched the blade free.
Without a word, he turned and walked back toward the others — the black dust still curling behind him like the day refused to let go.