Jordan led the way confidently, weaving through Arcania’s busy streets.
Isabella’s massive luxury SUV—sleek black, reinforced with the strongest alloy in the world and enchanted glass—waited just outside the Hunter Association. The group piled in, the vehicle humming to life as it glided silently toward their destination.
Six blocks away, traffic was at a standstill.
Police barriers cordoned off a wide radius.
In the center of the road hung a dungeon gate.
It looked like a tear in reality—a swirling vertical portal roughly ten feet tall and six feet wide, framed by jagged cracks of purple-black energy. The air around it shimmered with heat haze, and a constant low hum vibrated through everyone’s bones. Distorted space rippled at its edges, making distant objects appear to bend unnaturally.
The surrounding buildings bore scorch marks and warped windows, evidence of mana saturation bleeding into the real world. Even ordinary civilians could feel it—an instinctive pressure that warned them to stay away.
Mala stepped out first, phone already in hand. "I’ve confirmed with the Association."
She tapped her screen, pulling up the official mana density report.
"Dungeon gates constantly force mana into the world," she explained professionally. "To measure their rank, guilds isolate a fixed volume of space near the gate and record how much mana it compresses into that space over time."
She gestured toward the portal. "Low-rank gates let mana disperse naturally. High-rank gates pack it so densely that space itself resists—creating pressure, heaviness, distortion. The denser the mana, the higher the rank."
She met their eyes. "This one’s C-rank. Confirmed."
Jordan raised an eyebrow. "You didn’t have to do that. I already told you it was C-rank."
Mala smiled politely. "It was necessary for Miss Isabella’s protection."
Isabella sighed, rolling her eyes. "You’re too overprotective, Mala."
Mala just smiled back.
"Alright," Mala said, shifting into briefing mode. "Party assessment:"
"Miss Isabella—just recently broke through to C-rank, Tier 3."
"Mr. Jordan—Tier 1 D-rank."
She glanced at Jordan’s lackeys. "And you three?"
The first stepped forward. "My name is Marco. E-rank, Tier 2."
The second nodded. "Arlo. Also E-rank, Tier 2."
The third—stockier, with a smug grin—crossed his arms. "Atlas. E-rank, Tier 1. Unlike these two, I’ll be breaking through to D-rank soon."
Marco and Arlo’s mouths twitched. "Arrogant bastard," Marco muttered. "We’ll see about that."
Jordan snapped, "Shut up, guys."
Silence fell instantly.
Mala’s gaze finally settled on Arthur.
"Arthur," she said carefully, "I already know you’re F-rank. And honestly it doesn’t matter which tier—an F-rank is."
She frowned slightly, genuine concern in her voice. "I’ll be honest. It can get extremely dangerous for you. This is a C-rank dungeon."
Her expression softened. "You’re only able to enter on my recommendation as an A-rank Hunter. But I’ll appreciate it if you reconsider. Even if it does seem like a great opportunity."
The group watched him.
Jordan smirked faintly, already imagining Arthur’s corpse inside the dungeon.
Isabella looked bored, arms crossed.
The lackeys sized him up like fresh meat.
Arthur stood quietly for a long moment, his eyes shadowed beneath his hood.
Before Arthur could speak—
"Don’t tell me you’re scared now, fanboy," Isabella cut in, smirking. "After coming all this way?"
She stifled a laugh, clearly enjoying herself.
Arthur ignored her completely, looking straight at Mala. "Don’t worry, Miss Mala. I really appreciate your concern. But I know I won’t be able to live freely as long as I don’t face my fears head-on i will never limit myself just because of my potential and talent."
He paused, letting his voice crack just slightly. His shoulders slumped—the perfect picture of a struggling nobody.
"Opportunities like this don’t come every day," he continued. "I’m poor. I need money just to eat. I’m an orphan—no family, no talent worth mentioning. But even so... I’ll live on my own terms. I’ll fight."
Fake tears glistened in his red eyes.
Mala’s expression softened. She was visibly touched, hand hovering near her chest. "I... I understand. Just... be careful."
Isabella looked away with a loud "Hmph!"
Jordan stepped forward, placing a reassuring hand on Arthur’s shoulder. "Don’t worry. I’ll take care of you."
Arthur beamed up at him. "Thank you, sir! You really are an idol for people like me."
He glanced sideways at Isabella. "Unlike some certain arrogant people..."
Isabella grit her teeth. "I heard that, you weakling!"
Arthur blinked innocently. "Whatever do you mean?"
"Okay, that’s enough!" Mala clapped her hands sharply.
Arthur and Isabella both looked away from each other, arms crossed.
Mala addressed the group seriously. "I’ll give you three hours to clear the dungeon. If you’re not back by then, I’m coming in after you. Got it?"
Isabella tossed her hair arrogantly. "You won’t have to. I’ll clear it in half an hour."
Mala sighed. "Miss, please don’t get overconfident."
"How rude!" Isabella shot back. "I just believe in myself."
Mala shook her head, then turned to the group. "Everyone—enter now. Remember: three hours."
The portal pulsed hungrily.
One by one, they stepped through.
Reality twisted.
Cold wind hit their faces.
They emerged into a ruined cityscape.
Broken skyscrapers loomed like broken teeth against a blood-red sky. Crumbled streets stretched into darkness. Vines of black crystal choked collapsed buildings. The air tasted metallic, heavy with mana.
The silence felt oppressive, as if the city itself were watching them. Every step echoed too loudly, swallowed by distant ruins that had once been alive with people.
A low growl echoed.
Then—
A pack of mutated hyenas burst from the shadows.
Ten of them, each the size of a lion. Their fur was patchy and molten—matted with glowing red veins. Jagged bone spikes protruded from their spines.
Yellow eyes burned with feral intelligence. Acidic drool sizzled on the stone where it fell. Their muscles rippled unnaturally beneath scarred hides.
The two strongest and the weakest one in the party smiled dangerously.
Isabella gripped her sword hilt. ’Time to go wild.’
Jordan’s eyes gleamed with greed. ’Time to get my rewards.’
Arthur’s lips curved predatorily as he looked towards isabella and Jordan. ’Time to screw over both of them.’
All three let out a menacing laugh that echoed through the ruins.
Scaring Jordans three underling’s as they all took a step back from the three of them.
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A/N:
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