The Hunter Association's training facility buzzed with nervous energy. Leon arrived at dawn, finding dozens of newly awakened hunters clustered around assignment boards. Their fresh classification badges gleamed in the morning light—bronze for C-Rank, copper for D-Rank, iron for E-Rank.
His ash-gray F-Rank badge felt like a target on his chest.
"F-Ranks to Station Seven," barked a scarred official. Her voice carried the authority of someone who'd survived real dungeons. "Move."
Leon joined the shortest line. Only five other F-Ranks had shown up for qualification. The rest couldn't afford the registration fee or had already given up.
A pale girl with nervous hands stood behind him. Her badge read "F-Rank Healer." She looked maybe sixteen, too young for this kind of pressure.
"First time?" she whispered.
Leon nodded. "You?"
"Fourth." Her laugh held no humor. "They keep assigning me to teams that abandon me. I'm Elise."
"Leon." He studied her face. Dark circles under green eyes suggested too many sleepless nights. "Fourth time? That's rough."
"F-Rank healers are too slow for most hunters. They want instant fixes, not gradual recovery." Elise shrugged. "What's your class?"
"Necromancer."
She stepped back instinctively. Leon was used to that reaction by now.
The assignment official reached their group. She looked them over like a butcher examining spoiled meat.
"Standard F-Rank qualification. Survive two hours in a basic dungeon. Prove you won't die immediately and embarrass the Association." She handed Leon a worn tablet. "Sign the liability waiver."
The terms were brutal. Death, dismemberment, or permanent disability remained the hunter's responsibility. The Association provided basic emergency extraction but no guarantees.
Leon signed without reading the details.
"Team assignments," the official continued. "Graves, Traven, Korren, Blake, and Vasquez. Dungeon designation: Collapsed Mine 7-B. Estimated threat level: Minimal."
Leon memorized his teammates. Besides Elise, there was Brock—a muscular guy with "F-Rank Warrior" stamped on his badge—Maris, a thin woman marked as "F-Rank Rogue, " and Trenton, whose "F-Rank Mage" classification looked freshly printed.
None of them looked happy about their assignments.
"Equipment distribution in Bay Three. Transportation leaves in twenty minutes. Don't be late."
Leon followed the group to the equipment bay. The gear available to F-Ranks consisted mostly of damaged hand-me-downs, cracked leather armor, dulled weapons, and basic medical supplies.
Leon selected a small crossbow and a quiver of iron bolts. The weapon felt solid despite its age. He'd practiced archery as a kid when his father still believed Leon might become a ranger.
"That's it?" Brock sneered. "No sword? No shield?"
"I prefer range."
"Good luck hitting anything with that piece of junk."
Leon ignored him. Brock radiated the kind of aggressive stupidity that got people killed in dungeons—the type who charged monsters without thinking.
Elise gathered medical supplies—bandages, healing salves, and pain suppressants. Her movements showed practiced efficiency.
"How many dungeons have you completed?" Leon asked quietly.
"None." Her voice stayed level. "They always leave me behind when things get dangerous."
The transport was an armored cart pulled by mana-enhanced horses. Twenty minutes of uncomfortable silence brought them to Collapsed Mine 7-B—a jagged hole surrounded by rusted warning signs.
"Dungeon breach occurred six months ago," explained their escort. "Minor monsters only. Goblins, rats, maybe a weak slime if you're unlucky." He checked his pocket watch. "Extraction at fourteen hundred hours. Don't be late."
The cart disappeared in a cloud of dust, leaving five F-Ranks staring at a dark hole.
Brock took charge immediately. "Simple plan. We stick together, clear the entrance, and wait for pickup. No heroes, no unnecessary risks."
Leon noticed meaningful glances between Brock, Maris, and Trenton. They'd planned something.
– – –
The mine entrance descended through broken timber supports and rusted tracks. Emergency lighting strips provided dim illumination every twenty feet. The air smelled of stagnant water and decay.
"Stay alert," Brock muttered. "Goblins like ambush tactics."
They moved in single file through narrow tunnels. Leon kept his crossbow ready while monitoring the shadows. His hidden zombie remained silent in his shadow, waiting.
Scratching sounds echoed from side passages. Small things are moving just out of sight.
"There." Maris pointed down a branch tunnel. "Movement."
Three goblins emerged from the darkness. They were green-skinned humanoids with crude weapons and hungry expressions. They chattered in their primitive language, sizing up the humans.
"Formation," Brock ordered. "Maris, flank left. Trenton, support. Healer stays back."
Leon raised his crossbow as the goblins charged. His first shot took the lead creature through the eye. It dropped without a sound.
Brock's sword caught the second goblin across the chest. The blade bit deep, sending the creature stumbling backward.
The third goblin reached Trenton, who panicked and fell. His spell misfired, scorching the tunnel wall instead of his target.
Leon's second bolt punched through the goblin's skull before it could finish Trenton.
"Nice shooting," Brock said grudgingly.
They continued deeper. The tunnels branched repeatedly, creating a maze of possible routes. Leon noticed Brock consistently choosing paths that led away from the main shaft.
Two hours into the qualification, they reached a major junction. Three passages led in different directions.
"We should split up," Brock announced. "Cover more ground."
Leon's instincts screamed danger. "Bad idea. We're stronger together."
"Who put you in charge, necromancer?" Brock's voice carried open contempt. "This is tactical thinking. Something your type wouldn't understand."
"My type?"
"Death magic users. Everyone knows you're cowards who hide behind minions."
Maris and Trenton nodded in agreement. Their body language suggested this conversation had been rehearsed.
"I'm staying with Elise," Leon said flatly.
"Fine. You two take the left passage. We'll handle the real work."
Before Leon could object, Brock led Maris and Trenton down the center tunnel. Their footsteps faded quickly.
Leon and Elise stood alone in the junction.
"They planned this," Elise said quietly. "Probably from the beginning."
"Yeah." Leon checked his remaining bolts. Half gone already. "Abandon the dead weight and claim they got separated."
A low rumble shook the tunnels. Dust rained from cracked ceiling beams.
"That didn't sound like goblins," Elise whispered.
The rumbling grew louder. Something large was moving through the mine shafts—much bigger than the qualification briefing had mentioned.
Leon pulled Elise behind a support beam as heavy footsteps approached their position. Whatever was coming, it was heading straight for their junction.
And they were utterly alone.