The old herbal shop smelled of mint and rosemary when Lucas stepped in.
Mrs. Elda was behind the counter, sorting dried petals into jars, while Mr. Hagan sat by the window, polishing the same old pipe he never smoked. The evening light poured in, painting everything gold.
"Lucas," Mrs. Elda said without looking up, "you're late."
"I brought something," Lucas said, dropping a small bundle of wild herbs on the counter. "From inside the dungeon."
She gave him a quick glance — a long, assessing one — before taking the herbs. "You've been somewhere dangerous again."
"Just… collecting," he said, forcing a small smile.
Mr. Hagan grunted. "Don't get yourself killed, boy. You're all we've got to carry these crates next month."
The warmth in their scolding hit deeper than he wanted to admit. For a while, the three of them shared a quiet dinner — steaming stew, fresh bread, and the occasional clink of spoons against bowls.
For a moment, Lucas let himself relax.
It didn't last.
The first sign of trouble was the sudden, unnatural silence outside. Then came the sound — a low, bone-vibrating rumble that made the jars on the shelves tremble.
Mr. Hagan's pipe slipped from his hands. "That's… not thunder."
Lucas was already at the door, scanning the street. His blood ran cold.
From the direction of the marketplace, a wave of panicked civilians spilled into the road, screaming. And behind them, lumbering on all fours, was something massive — a Gravemaul Beast, a dungeon monster that should never have been anywhere near the city.
Its hide was blackened and split, leaking molten sludge. Chains hung from its limbs as if it had been dragged from somewhere deep. Each step cracked the stone road.
"Get to the cellar," Lucas barked to Elda and Hagan. "Now."
They didn't argue.
Lucas darted into the street, heart hammering. He was only Level 6. This thing could crush him with one swipe. But with the beast heading toward the market, and the market leading straight to the dungeon gate district… hundreds could die.
He tried Veil Step to close the gap, but the beast's senses were sharp. Its massive claw swept sideways, catching Lucas in the ribs.
Pain exploded through his chest as he was flung into a wall. His breath came ragged — broken, maybe.
If I run, people die.
Blood filled his mouth. He tightened his grip on his dagger.
Something in him snapped. The fear was still there, but it was buried under a raw, furious determination.
He triggered the Shatterhorn Core. A shockwave blasted out from him, staggering the beast. He didn't think — just moved. Veil Step, five seconds of pure opportunity, dodging between its claws, stabbing at the glowing joints in its legs.
It roared, molten sludge spilling onto the cobblestones. The heat seared his skin, but he didn't stop.
By the time the beast collapsed, the street was a ruin, his clothes soaked in blood — some his, some not.
Lucas stood over the corpse, chest heaving, his mind still locked in the fight. His hands shook. Not from fear this time… but from the rush of having survived when death had been inches away.