The pressure doesn't hit like pain.
It hits like something reaching into the space behind my eyes and squeezing, slow and confident, like it already owns the shape of my thoughts.
The rookie boy makes a choking sound and drops to one knee. His hands claw at the stone as if he can hold himself in place by force. The girl tries to pull him back, but her own breathing turns thin, and her eyes glaze for a second before she catches herself.
Even the supervisor stiffens. His baton rises, then wavers. He looks like a man trying to remember training while his body argues that none of it applies.
The thing in the dark doesn't rush.
It doesn't need to.
It's letting us feel it first.
My overlay flickers at the edge of my vision.
Hidden Authority: 1Detection Risk: 28%System Attention: Locked On
Then a line appears, colder than the rest.
Authority Use Recommended
So the System wants to see it.
It wants an action it can record.
The darkness shifts again. A tall shape slides between pillars that weren't there a moment ago, as if the chamber rearranged itself to make space. It's too long, too heavy, its limbs bending at angles that look wrong but move with purpose. Its head turns slightly, and the pressure tightens.
Not words.
A message made of weight.
It's not hunting. It's judging.
The hidden layer tries to label it and fails, then offers fragments like a corrupted file.
Entity Classification: UnavailableAnomaly Seed: ExpandingEnvironment Control: Active
So it's the reason the gate is lying.
The supervisor's voice comes out strained. "Back. Slowly."
There's nowhere to back to that matters. The crawlspace behind us is rubble, and the corridor behind that collapsed. This chamber is a trap with a polite pause before the kill.
The rookie boy whimpers, eyes wet. "I can't breathe."
The girl pulls him behind her anyway, like her body decided being afraid is less important than being responsible.
The pressure increases again. The edges of my vision shimmer, and for a fraction of a second my thoughts try to scatter, like my mind is a desk and someone just swept an arm across it.
That's when it clicks.
This isn't an E Rank monster.
This is a gate mechanic wearing a body.
I keep my breathing slow and even. Panic spreads faster than monsters, and I can't afford to let my face betray anything. Witnesses remember faces. They remember who looked calm when everyone else broke.
The thing steps closer.
Stone scrapes under its weight.
A faint hiss fills the chamber, not from its mouth, but from the walls, like the gate itself is responding.
My detection risk ticks up.
29%.
It climbs just from it looking at me.
So it knows. Not my name, not my history, but it knows something changed when I claimed the fragment.
The System is locked on.
The gate is locked on.
If I do nothing, we die here, and the report disappears like it did last time.
If I use authority too openly, I become a problem that guilds and the Association will try to control.
I choose the only option that keeps both futures alive.
I use authority, but I use it small.
I focus on the pressure itself, not the creature. I don't try to kill what I don't understand. I try to buy space.
My mind touches the hidden layer and pulls the command from instinct, not words, like I'm grabbing a lever that shouldn't exist.
Suppress.
The pressure snaps.
Not gone, just cut, like a sound abruptly muted.
The rookie boy gasps and coughs. The girl staggers, then catches herself with a hand against a pillar. The supervisor's eyes widen as if he felt the change but can't explain it.
My overlay flashes.
Hidden Authority: 0Detection Risk: 34%
A clean jump.
That cost is real.
The thing in the dark freezes for half a second, head tilting, as if it's surprised the air stopped obeying it. Then the chamber answers with a low groan, and the pillars shift slightly, stone sliding like teeth realigning.
So it can reshape the room.
Good to know.
The supervisor snaps out of shock just long enough to bark, "Move. Now."
I don't wait for the others to decide. I grab the rookie boy's sleeve and haul him up, then push him toward the nearest pillar line, away from the center. The girl follows immediately, dragging him when his legs try to fold again.
The thing steps forward, faster now, like it's done watching and has decided we're not worth patience.
The supervisor swings his baton at the first limb that enters the light.
The baton hits and rebounds again, but this time it leaves a shallow dent. The creature's skin is still too hard, but the impact matters. It reacts, and reaction means it can be pressured.
The girl pulls the rookie boy behind a pillar. "Stay down. Breathe."
He nods too fast.
The creature lunges.
The supervisor tries to block. His injured thigh gives half a step late, and the creature's claw brushes his side, slicing fabric. Blood beads immediately.
He grunts, pain flickering across his face.
He's going to die if he keeps trying to be the wall.
I scan the chamber fast.
The depression in the center. The smooth floor. The damp smell. The residue. It's a rest site, and that means something rested there often. The creature isn't just passing through. It lives here, or it guards here.
My hidden layer flickers as I focus.
Rest Site: ConfirmedResidue: HighCore Presence: Possible
Possible core presence.
So the shard might be here, but not in the way the board promised. It might be inside that depression, or inside the thing that owns it.
The creature swings again. The supervisor blocks with the baton and the impact jars his arm, his grip slipping. He stumbles back two steps.
The creature doesn't chase him. It angles toward the pillars where the rookies are hiding.
It wants the weak first.
The girl steps out, hands up, trying to look bigger than she feels. "Hey. Over here."
Brave and stupid, but it buys time.
The creature turns toward her.
I pick up a jagged stone from the floor, weighty enough to hurt if it lands right. I don't throw it at the creature's body. That's a waste. I throw it at the nearest pillar joint, where cracks already spider from the earlier collapse.
The stone hits with a sharp crack. Dust shakes loose.
The creature twitches, head snapping toward the sound.
It doesn't like the environment changing.
So it's connected to the room. Maybe it controls it. Maybe the room controls it. Either way, instability is leverage.
The supervisor sees what I did and his eyes narrow, suspicion mixing with relief. He doesn't ask. He just steps forward again and swings for the creature's elbow joint, aiming for the hinge instead of the armor.
The baton dents the joint.
The creature hisses, and the wall behind it pulses.
A ripple runs through the stone, and a new sound answers from deeper in the passage, like something waking up.
Not good.
The creature lunges toward me now.
It's not guessing anymore. It chose the person who disrupted it.
Fine.
I meet it halfway, not with a heroic strike, but with a sidestep. Its claw cuts through empty air where my torso was. I hook my forearm against its limb the way I did earlier with the smaller creature and use its own momentum to pull it toward the depression in the floor.
It's heavier than the small ones. It resists.
For a moment I feel the pressure trying to return, pushing behind my eyes, searching for grip. The suppress command I used is fading. That was the point. Authority buys seconds, not safety.
The creature's limb jerks, and the tip of its claw catches my sleeve again. Fabric tears. My skin stays intact.
I let the cloth go and step in close enough to smell it.
It doesn't smell like blood.
It smells like wet stone and something faintly rotten, like old moss.
Its head tilts toward me. The pressure spikes again, a probing squeeze, sharper than before.
My vision flickers at the edges.
The rookie boy gasps.
The girl cries out, "Jaehyun."
She said my name like a plea.
Witnesses.
I can't use authority again. I don't have it. Unless I take it from somewhere.
My eyes snap to the depression.
Core Presence: Possible.
Possible is enough.
I make the decision in a heartbeat.
I drive my heel down into the edge of the depression where the stone looks slightly softer, where residue stains the surface like something leaked into it. I don't stomp randomly. I hit the weakest point.
The floor cracks.
A thin fissure spreads outward, and cold air rushes up from beneath. For an instant, a faint shimmer flashes under the stone, not a glow, more like a distortion, like something sealed underneath is struggling to stay hidden.
The creature reacts immediately.
Its head snaps down, then back up, like it's torn between killing me and protecting what I just touched.
So the shard is there.
Or something more valuable.
The supervisor sees the fissure and his breath catches. "What is that."
I don't answer. I don't have time.
The creature swings again, faster, claw aimed for my throat.
I lean back, feel the air cut close enough to prickle my skin, then step sideways and slam my shoulder into its torso. Not to knock it down. To push it off the depression and keep it from covering the crack.
It stumbles one step. That's all I need.
I grab another stone, heavier, and drive it down into the fissure like a wedge.
The crack widens.
A faint pulse answers from below, and my overlay flickers violently.
Authority Source DetectedFragment Stability: Low
So it's not a clean shard chest. It's unstable, half buried in anomaly residue. That's why the gate label is wrong. That's why the environment is drifting.
The creature shrieks, and the chamber shifts.
Pillars slide.
The wall behind us ripples like water.
A new corridor opens to the left that wasn't there a second ago.
The supervisor stares in disbelief. "It's changing the layout."
"Yes," I reply, and it comes out calm because panic doesn't help. "It wants to split us."
The rookie boy starts to shake again. "I want to leave."
The girl grabs him harder. "Shut up. Breathe."
The creature charges the fissure now, trying to cover it with its body.
I move too.
I can't outmuscle it. I can outposition it.
I step into its path and slam my forearm into its elbow joint where the baton dented it earlier. The joint gives slightly, a grinding slip.
It's not a break. It's a flaw.
The creature hesitates for the smallest fraction.
The supervisor capitalizes. He swings at the same joint, teeth clenched, ignoring his injured leg. The baton cracks again, but the impact lands.
The joint bends wrong.
The creature recoils with a hiss that makes the walls vibrate.
I drop to one knee at the fissure and focus on the authority source beneath it, the way a starving man focuses on food. I don't reach with greed. I reach with precision.
Claim.
A sharp pressure spikes behind my eyes, like a needle.
My overlay flashes.
Authority Fragment ClaimedHidden Authority: 1Detection Risk: 39%
Another jump.
Too high.
That number is moving into territory where the System stops watching and starts responding.
The creature freezes again, head snapping toward me. The pressure in the chamber turns heavy, almost physical, like the gate itself is pressing down.
A new line appears, colder than anything I've seen so far.
System Audit Flag: Active
The supervisor's eyes flick to me, then away, then back again, like he felt the change in the air and finally accepted he's standing next to something he can't categorize.
The girl looks at me like she's trying to decide whether I'm a threat or a lifeline.
The creature steps back, not out of fear, but out of recalculation. Its head tilts again, and the pressure behind my eyes changes, becoming thinner, sharper, almost curious.
Then the chamber shifts one more time.
The new corridor on the left widens, and I hear voices echoing from it, distant but human, shouting over each other.
Another squad.
Close.
Coming straight toward us.
The creature turns its head toward the corridor like it heard them too, and the pressure in the air tightens as if it's about to choose its next meal.
My overlay pulses.
Authority Use Recommended
I have one authority point.
Witnesses behind me.
Witnesses coming toward me.
A gate that lies.
A creature that controls the environment.
And a System audit that just turned on.
I tighten my grip on the stone in my hand and watch the darkness ahead move again, closer this time, like it has decided patience is finished.
If I use authority now, everyone will know something is wrong with me.
If I don't, we might not survive long enough for anyone to care.
The voices in the corridor get louder.
Then a familiar one cuts through the noise, confident and annoyed.
Lee Minho.
And if he sees what I do next, he won't forget it.