Chapter 5
Rowan lay sprawled across the cold dungeon floor, his vision dull and washed pale at the edges. His breathing was shallow, each inhale scraping his chest like broken glass. With what little strength he had left, he dragged his trembling hand toward the open wound in his side.
A faint glow flickered to life.
Atherion...Weak, unstable, barely responding—pulsed from his palm as he forced it to activate. The pain surged instantly, tearing a scream from his throat.
"Arhhhhh!!!"
His body arched as the energy stitched flesh back together, nerves screaming as they were pulled and rewoven. The process felt endless. His jaw clenched so hard his teeth ground against each other, saliva mixed with blood dripping down his chin. Finally– slowly—the wound sealed shut.
Rowan collapsed back against the stone, gasping.
He sucked in air greedily, chest rising and falling in sharp, uneven bursts. Sweat drenched his face and hair, plastering strands to his forehead. His eyes narrowed, teeth grinding together as he fought to steady himself.
"Damn it…" he muttered between breaths.
He shifted, groaning as his back pressed against the dungeon wall.
"How could I fall for something that obvious…" His voice trembled, half in pain, half in anger. "Look at this mess. Left here to die… with nothing but a bag full of weapons."
His fingers tightened around the torn fabric near his side.
"Real smart of them," he continued bitterly. "Destroying my equipment after everything I did for them."
His head dropped back against the stone.
"Best get some rest," he whispered. "Before I plan my next move."
His eyes slowly slid shut.
---
Back at the Capital
The capital gates loomed tall as Lucien, Silver, and the other nobles staggered through them.
Their steps were slow. Heavy. Arms hung limp at their sides, hands stained dark with dried blood. Torn clothes clung to battered bodies, dust caked into every fold of fabric. They looked like people who had wandered through a desert for days without water.
A guard rushed forward.
"Sir Silver!!!what happened?!" he shouted, reaching out.
Silver shoved him aside without even looking, brushing him off like an insect.
"Gather healers!" the guard yelled, stumbling back. "Now!"
Silver's eyes widened slightly at the words. The others reacted the same, breathing out slowly, relief barely concealed beneath their exhaustion as they continued walking.
Minutes later, they were ushered into the guild.
And then into the guild master's office.
---
The woman behind the desk rose slowly from her chair.
"So," she said relaxed, walking around the desk, "let me get this straight."
Her gaze swept over them.
"You're telling me you couldn't save Rowan." Her eyes narrowed. "Or his friend."
Silence.
"Th… that's right," Silver finally said, staring at the floor. His fists clenched so tightly his knuckles turned white.
The guild master stopped near the door and leaned against it, arms crossed.
"Repeat that," she said. "Slowly."
Seraphin's shoulders shook.
"It—it happened so fast," she cried, tears spilling down her cheeks. "Shadow wolves. They attacked without warning. We had no choice but to run."
Her voice cracked.
"We tried… we really tried… but it was already too late."
Julie stepped closer, placing a hand on Seraphin's shoulder.
The guild master tilted her head.
"And you're crying?" she asked dryly. "That's surprising."
She tapped a finger against her chin.
"Last I checked, you all weren't exactly fond of him. Especially since he was…" She paused, then smirked. "A nobody favored only by the princess."
Lucien shot up from his seat.
"What are you implying?" he snapped, voice shaking with rage and something else. "Yes, I hated Rowan! More than anyone!"
Tears streamed down his face.
"But there's no denying it. He was the smartest and most capable healer and alchemist the academy had! He didn't deserve to die!" His voice broke. "Neither did his friend!"
The guild master exhaled slowly.
"It's hard to tell whether those tears are guilt," she said quietly, "or relief."
She turned away.
"Leave. Clean yourselves up. Wait for the enforcers." She waved a hand dismissively. "Dismissed."
---
Back in the Dungeon
Rowan woke with a sharp inhale.
His hand immediately went to his side—no blood. No pain. He sat up slowly and reached for the bag left behind.
One weapon after another clattered onto the ground.
A sword.
A dagger.
Another dagger.
A spear.
A bow and quiver.
Heavy gauntlets.
Rowan stared at the pile.
"…They really didn't leave me anything useful," he sighed, sitting back down. "No tools. No materials. No alchemy equipment."
He lifted the sword—too heavy.
The daggers—required speed he didn't have.
The spear—awkward.
The gauntlets—unfamiliar.
Then his eyes settled on the bow.
"…This might work."
He glanced up at the massive Atherion crystal embedded in the ceiling. Its glow was dim...weak.
"That means the monsters from this floor up to the ninety-sixth have respawned," he muttered. "Every floor they cleared is alive again."
He ran a hand through his hair.
"How the hell am I supposed to get back…?"
His eyes widened.
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a book.
"…That little betrayer gave me this," he murmured. "So it has to be worth something."
He opened it.
Monster data. Floor by floor. Weaknesses. Abilities.
Hours passed as he read it.
"Done."
Rowan stood, slinging the bow over his shoulder and taking two small daggers.
"This is it."
---
The First Hunt
He crouched behind a massive boulder in a vast, dry cavern. Cracked stone stretched endlessly around him.
A few meters away slithered a creature with shimmering purple scales. Its long tail ended in a spade-shaped blade, swaying slowly.
"Violet Mirage Serpent," Rowan whispered. "Known for hypnotizing prey using its tail."
He swallowed.
"Multiple poison types. Depends on how it's released."
He raised the bow.
"Best option—disable the tail."
The arrow flew.
Fast.
The serpent twisted midair, dodging effortlessly. Its head snapped up, golden eyes scanning...
Locked onto him.
Rowan ducked behind the boulder, heart pounding. His hands shook violently.
Another shot.
Miss.
Another.
Miss.
"Oh shit," he muttered.
The serpent launched itself through the air, fangs bared.
"Arhhhh!!!"
Pain exploded through his arm as the fangs sank in. Rowan crashed to the ground—
Then smiled darkly.
"Gotcha."
He drove the dagger straight through the spade.
The serpent screamed, thrashing wildly before collapsing.
Rowan yanked the fangs from his arm and tied it tightly with a rope.
"…Cure," he whispered.
His vision blurred as Atherion flowed again. He stood there for a long moment, breathing shallowly, until the poison finally stopped spreading.
"That was…" he gasped.
He stared at the corpse.
"I can't stay here. I need to reach the safe zone."
---
At the Palace
Princess Celestia sat on the floor with her knees pulled to her chest.
Tears soaked into the fabric of her dress, her fingers clenched tightly as if holding something already lost. Her shoulders shook silently.
Outside her door, the king stood motionless.
His hand rested against the wood, fingers trembling. He opened his mouth—then closed it again. Slowly, he lowered his head, the weight of a crown suddenly heavier than it had ever been.
No words came.
Only silence.
To be continued....