[Illustration: Inside a dimly lit dungeon, twenty hunters stand before a towering throne where a horned creature sits, its eyes glowing with intelligence.]
The air inside the dungeon was thick—heavy with mana, as if the world itself was holding its breath.
Ryu Min-Seok adjusted his grip on his sword, Eclipse Fang, as his team descended deeper into the A-rank gate. The glowing runes on the walls pulsed like veins, alive with power.
"This dungeon feels… wrong," murmured a hunter behind him.
Ryu nodded. "Keep your mana steady. Don't overextend. This place is heavier than it should be."
Their team—twenty of the Silver Fang Guild's best—had been sent to clear this new A-rank dungeon before it expanded into the city above. It should have been routine. But from the moment they entered, unease gnawed at Ryu's gut.
Every monster they fought was stronger, faster, and more coordinated than usual. By the time they reached the final chamber, only sixteen remained, their armor scorched and mana depleted.
When the colossal doors opened, a throne room awaited them.
A monstrous figure sat upon it, human-like yet impossibly alien.
Its eyes gleamed with cruel intellect, and its voice slithered through their minds.
"Welcome, children of mana," it said, smiling. "Come to die?"
The hunters froze. Monsters didn't talk—at least, not in human tongues.
Captain Seong gritted his teeth. "Don't falter! Formation Delta—now!"
Magic exploded through the chamber. Flames, ice, wind, and lightning clashed against the creature's form. Ryu dashed forward, cutting through the monster's knee before leaping back. The creature roared, retaliating with waves of mana that shattered stone and bone alike.
They fought for nearly an hour, pushing their limits. When the creature's arm fell under Ryu's blade, it howled in fury. In the end, sixteen hunters entered that chamber. Only twelve crawled out alive.
Ryu slumped against a wall, chest heaving. "It's over…"
Or so he thought.
As he searched the fallen boss's remains, something glinted—an ornate black ring on the severed arm he'd cut. It pulsed faintly, beckoning him.
He reached for it, curiosity overpowering caution.
It was cold—unnaturally so.
"Hey, Ryu, what's that?" a teammate called.
"Just loot," Ryu said, pocketing it. "We'll analyze it later."
Then he heard it—a scream.
He turned, eyes widening. One of his guildmates was dead—stabbed through the back. Another fell, and another.
"Wha—what the hell are you doing?!" Captain Seong shouted, raising his weapon.
Three hunters—people Ryu had fought beside for years—turned to face them, their eyes gleaming red.
On their armor was an emblem—a coiled serpent around a dagger.
The Shadow Hand.
Seong charged, roaring, but they were fast—too fast.
Steel met steel, and blood filled the air.
Ryu fought with desperation, every strike driven by rage and disbelief. He cut down one traitor, but a dagger pierced his ribs. His vision dimmed.
He fell to his knees, staring at his trembling hand.
"You… bastards…"
A final slash cut across his chest, and the world went dark.
In his fading consciousness, one image burned bright—his daughter's smile, her little hand waving goodbye that morning.
I'm sorry… I couldn't come home.
As his heart stopped, the ring in his pocket began to glow.