The Descent
The square was still dark when Raska arrived.
Not empty—never empty in Orario, even before sunrise—but already stirring. The Quest Board area near the Guild was packed with low-level adventurers scrambling for the best easy jobs before the high-rankers headed down. Voices overlapped, arguing over postings. A few merchants were setting up stalls at the edges, trying to catch early business.
And standing near the entrance to the Central Staircase that descended into the Maw, visible even in the pre-dawn grey: three figures.
Bell's white hair caught what little light there was. He'd polished his armor—the dent marks from yesterday's fight scrubbed away, dented pauldron hammered back into shape. The Hestia Knife hung at his hip.
Welf leaned against the stone wall, greatsword resting against his shoulder. His black combat coat hung loose, the tails brushing his boots. A blue scarf wrapped around his neck. His red hair was pushed back, out of his face.
Lilly stood between them, her massive pack already secured, straps adjusted for optimal weight distribution. The hand crossbow sat loaded at her hip. Her tan hooded tunic was travel-stained but well-maintained.
She saw Raska first.
Her eyes assessed. Not hostile. Professional.
Raska raised one hand in greeting.
Lilly nodded once.
Bell turned, saw her, smiled. "Good morning!"
Too cheerful for this hour. Too genuine.
"Morning," Raska said.
Welf pushed off the wall. "Where's your partner?"
"Late."
"How late?"
"Knowing him? Very."
Welf grinned. "This is going to be fun."
Lilly pulled out a pocket watch. Checked it. Said nothing.
Raska's ears flicked. She caught the judgment in that silence.
Five minutes passed.
Then ten.
Lilly checked her watch again.
"It's getting late," she said quietly. "Mr. Partner is accumulating debt."
Raska's jaw tightened. "He'll be here."
"When?"
"Soon."
"That's not a time."
"Neither is 'constantly checking your watch.'"
Welf coughed into his fist. Bell looked between them, uncertain.
Then, across the square, a familiar voice called out.
"I'm here! I'm here!"
The boy jogged toward them, hair disheveled, gear half-adjusted. He skidded to a stop in front of the group, breathing only slightly harder than normal.
"Not late. Right?"
Lilly pulled out her pocket watch. Checked it. "Mr. Partner is eleven minutes late."
"That's basically on time."
"No, that's eleven minutes late."
"Who even owns a pocket watch?"
"Lil-E does, apparently," Welf said, adjusting his straps.
She glared daggers at him. But he ignored her.
Raska snorted despite herself.
The boy shot her a look. "You're not helping."
"Wasn't trying to."
Bell cleared his throat softly. "Should we... go?"
"Yes," Lilly said, snapping the watch closed. She tucked it away, adjusted her pack straps one final time. "Lilly suggests we move."
They started toward the Central Staircase.
Raska fell behind to walk beside the boy. "Don't attract War Shadows like yesterday."
"Not planning to."
Bell glanced over, curious. "Why do War Shadows always chase you?"
"Rotten luck."
"That's not luck," Raska muttered. "That's a curse."
"Same thing."
"It's really not."
Welf laughed from behind. "This is definitely going to be fun."
---
The War Shadows
The early floors were familiar. Too familiar.
They blurred together—pale stone corridors, scattered goblins that barely registered as threats. We moved in loose formation. Bell took point naturally, his instincts sharper than expected. Welf covered the rear, sword ready but relaxed. Lilly stayed center, her eyes constantly scanning.
Raska and I flanked.
The kills were clean. Fast. A goblin lunged at Bell—his knife flashed free, purple hieroglyphs blazing along the blade as it connected with his Falna. The goblin's throat opened. The creature dissolved mid-fall. Bell sheathed the knife. The glow faded immediately.
Two more goblins came at Welf from a side tunnel—his greatsword swept horizontal, bisected both in one motion.
Nobody spoke much. Didn't need to.
Kobolds appeared in small packs. Dungeon Lizards skittered low across the floor. All of them died quickly, effortlessly. Magic stones collected without ceremony.
We passed through a tunnel junction I recognized.
I'd spent hours here, learning how sounds echoed differently depending on spawn proximity.
Now it felt nothing like before.
The tunnels shifted. The walls turned greener—moss covering the stone in thick patches. The air changed. Cooler. Damper.
Then the pantry.
I spotted it before anyone else—a gap in the wall, half-hidden behind a stone outcrop. Not part of the floor's official layout.
Hidden room. Safe zone. Except it wasn't safe. Never had been.
Idiots used to camp here, thinking the dungeon wouldn't spawn inside. They were wrong. That's how I got my ass kicked twice.
I'd heard the rumors—three adventurers, torn apart by Wall Shadows that materialized in the dark.
The space looked smaller than I remembered. Tighter. The walls closer together.
I kept walking.
Nobody else noticed it. Or if they did, they didn't care.
The ceiling dropped lower after that. The corridors narrowed in places where we had to move single-file. Killer Ants appeared—large, bipedal, exoskeletons gleaming in the dim light. Bell's knife found the gaps in their armor. Welf's sword crushed through their defenses. Raska's fists tore them apart before they could emit their call.
Needle Rabbits bounded past in blurs of white fur and horn. Frog Shooters tried their tongue-whip attacks from alcoves. None of them lasted long.
Then Floor 7.
The walls were darker here. Shadows deeper. The kind of shadows that moved when you weren't looking.
Raska's ears twitched. She stopped mid-step.
"Three War Shadows ahead."
A pause.
"...Five."
Another pause. Her ears flattened.
"Seven. What the—"
Everyone looked at me.
"What?"
Welf grinned. "Most people don't get seven War Shadows in one hallway."
"That's not luck anymore," Raska muttered, already moving forward. "That's a shadow-bond."
I sighed, didn't have anything to say in defence. Because I can't ignore this any longer.
Lilly adjusted her pack straps without looking up. "Mr. Partner's armor has more shadow residue than someone who camps Floor 7."
"Come on! You too?'"I grumbled. Lilly didn't look up. I don't camp Floor 7."
"Then why does Floor 7 camp Mr. Partner?" Lilly asked.
Welf laughed. Bell just looked confused.
We tightened formation without a word, knives and swords ready, as the first wisps of black smoke curled from the walls. Their blade-like fingers swept in wide arcs, crossing slashes that would have gutted anyone caught off-guard.
Bell dodged the first, his knife finding the gap under its ribcage. Purple light flared. The shadow dissolved.
Welf's sword cleaved through one, the weight of the blade overwhelming their defense.
Raska caught one mid-lunge, her claws tearing through its chest before it could recover. Another went in smoke as soon as her first crushed it's face.
I took the last two. Left knife parried the first slash. Right clever found its throat. The second shadow came from behind—I spun, blade catching its wrist, second blade driving up through its jaw.
Both dissolved.
Two more finger blades clattered to the ground.
Lilly picked them up without comment. Added them to her collection pouch.
"That's four today," she said.
"Lucky me," I muttered.
"Lucky," Raska repeated, skeptically.
We moved on.
Floors 8 and 9 opened up—wider rooms, coordinated Kobold packs, larger swarms of Killer Ants. The fights grew longer but stayed controlled. Bell's instincts kept us ahead of ambushes. Welf's strength cleared chokepoints. Raska's experience kept the formation tight.
My knives stayed busy. My left arm ached more with each fight.
I didn't mention it.
Then Floor 10.
The mist hit like a wall.
Not gradual. Not slow. One moment the air was clear. The next, thick white fog pressed in from every direction, cutting visibility to barely three meters.
"Stay close," Lilly called out, her voice already muffled. "Lilly advises not to split off."
The formation tightened immediately. Bell's hand moved to his knife. Welf's grip shifted on his sword. Raska's ears swiveled constantly, tracking sounds I couldn't hear.
Something moved ahead.
Bell stopped. Hand raised.
We froze.
The sound came again—low, guttural. Wrong.
"Something is coming," Raska whispered. "One. Maybe twenty meters."
"Positions," Lilly said quietly.
The formation shifted without discussion. Bell center, Welf left, Raska right. I stayed mid-formation, knives half-drawn.
The Hard Armored emerged from the mist like smoke given shape.
It has the highest defense in the Upper Floors, which makes it generally impossible for a Level 1 adventurer to single-handedly defeat it in hand-to-hand combat.
It saw us. Snarled.
Before anyone react Bell moved. Fast.
He didn't wait for it. Closed the distance himself.
Bell's knife came free, purple light blazing. The blade drove up under the belly before it could ball itself to charge.
It collapsed. Dissolved into black smoke before it hit the ground.
Bell sheathed the knife. The glow faded immediately.
Silence rushed back in.
"Clear," Bell said quietly.
"Nice reflex," Raska said, amused. "Let's keep moving."
We moved.
The mist pressed in thicker. The sound of water grew louder—streams becoming small rivers, carving through the stone. The air felt heavier. Wetter. Shapes moved in the fog—Orcs, massive and slow, their pig-like faces barely visible before Welf's sword found them. Imps dive-bombed from above, their wings beating uselessly as Lilly's crossbow bolts punched through them.
The kills stayed clean.
But the mist didn't lift.
Then we reached it.
A stairwell. Descending into darkness. The mist poured down it like a waterfall, thick enough to obscure the bottom.
Lilly stopped at the edge. Looked down. Looked back at us.
"Below this is different," she said. "Lilly thinks we need to talk before we go further."
Bell nodded. "Alright."
We moved back from the edge. Found a spot where the mist was thinner. Raska dropped into a crouch, back against the wall. Welf leaned on his sword. Bell stood, waiting.
Lilly pulled out her notebook.
"Floor below," she said, "the mist gets thicker. Spawn rate quadruples. Silverbacks den near water sources."
She looked up. Met Raska's eyes.
Raska nodded once. "Pack hunters. Three to five at a time. Territorial. They won't chase past their zones, but inside them, they'll swarm."
"Correct," Lilly said. She made a note. "Lilly believes we're not clearing anymore. We're hunting specific targets."
"And if they find us first?" I asked.
Raska answered. "Then we fight smart. Use the terrain. Don't let them surround us."
"They're strong," Welf said. "Fast too, from what I've heard."
"They are," Raska confirmed. "But predictable. That's our advantage."
Bell looked between them. "So we ambush them?"
"If we can," Raska said. "If not, we pull them to us. Control the engagement."
Lilly tapped her pen against her notebook. "Almiraj blood. Lilly pours it near a den entrance, they'll come out angry."
"How angry?" Welf asked.
"Very," Lilly said.
"Perfect."
Raska stood. "Formation stays mostly the same. I'll call movement and positioning."
Everyone nodded.
"Hey white hair kid. She looked at Bell. You—"
"Mr. Bell's name is Mr. Bell." Lilly cut her off.
"Whatever. You make final calls for your party," Raska continued, didn't bothered by lilly.
Bell nodded. "Understood."
As the others stated to move her eyes met mine . "You good?"
I flexed my fingers. They responded.
"I'm good."
Raska's eyes narrowed slightly. But she didn't push.
"Alright," she said. "Let's move."
We turned back to the stairwell.
The mist waited below, thick and silent.
We stepped forward anyway.