As Mirac, Carmen, and Blake walked through the streets of Raerno, the morning sun painted the red roofs with golden hues.
The streets teemed with life: merchants setting up their stalls, the clang of lit forges, and a group of children already playing, chasing each other with laughter that echoed between the stone walls.
Mirac watched them, his heart tightening.
Although they smiled carefree, with no danger pursuing them, seeing them run brought back to his mind the child +503782, the little one running beside the inhabitant +204843 in the Kingdom of Numbers, his face contorted with fear as they tried to escape their mysterious fate.
'I wonder if he managed to reach the destination his brother had indicated to him...' the masked boy wondered, letting his mind slip into that memory.
But then, without anyone noticing, he shook his head decisively. 'Enough, Mirac! You had promised yourself to move forward... to leave that nightmare behind...'
With a deep breath, he forced himself to anchor to the present, to the rhythm of his steps and the chatter of Carmen and Blake.
Traveling along Benevolence Avenue, with its plane trees casting dappled shadows on the pavement, the trio reached the Headquarters of the Intercontinental Association Against Dangers at around 10:30.
The building towered imposingly, its white marble columns reflecting the sunlight.
They entered the atrium, greeted by the buzz of voices and armor.
They wasted no time and headed straight to the desk of Ms. Rose, the receptionist with gray hair gathered in an impeccable chignon.
After waiting their turn in line, they were welcomed by Ms. Rose with a warm and welcoming smile.
"Good morning, kids," she greeted them, placing the pen on the counter and trying to stifle a yawn.
Blake returned the smile. "Good morning to you too, Ms. Rose."
After an exchange of greetings and pleasantries, Carmen cleared her throat and asked:
"Ms. Rose... As you had asked us, we came back to find out if there was any news about the exploration team we talked about yesterday. By any chance, has it already returned?"
Rose paused for a moment, her smile fading slightly as she rested her gaze on them. Then she nodded slowly, as if carefully choosing her words.
"Yes," she finally replied, her voice lower than usual. "They returned late last night, with a report of their exploration. And you were right..."
Then, she leaned forward, lowering her voice.
"That place is indeed infested with the demonic race of the Rogthars!"
The group remained unmoved, except for Blake, who for a moment felt a shiver run down his spine.
Ms. Rose let out a long sigh before continuing:
"Unfortunately, the group sent to scout the Dungeon was unable to delve deep and explore it fully, but we know for certain—thanks to the analyses of our experts on the acquired data—that it is a Dungeon of at least Grade 2."
A thick silence fell over the counter.
'A Grade 2 Dungeon?!' Mirac exclaimed inwardly, his eyes widening for a fraction of a second before recomposing himself.
Dungeons were classified according to a scale, approved by the Intercontinental Council, from Grade 7 to Grade 1.
A rigid hierarchy, established after decades of studies and losses, to try to bring order to the unpredictable.
Grade 7 represented the most accessible and least dangerous Dungeons: often ancient structures, with weak monsters, rudimentary traps, and scarce resources, ideal for novice adventurers or simple material gatherings.
As one went down the scale, the complexity increased: a Grade 6 introduced coordinated enemies and more intricate mechanisms; a Grade 5 required group strategies and specialized equipment. Grade 4 marked the boundary of medium-high risk, with intermediate bosses and environments that could alter local magic or physics.
A Grade 3 was already territory for veterans, with aggressive hordes, lethal illusions, and treasures worth the danger. Grade 2 implied existential threats to entire teams, evolved monsters, and anomalies that challenged natural laws.
Finally, a Grade 1 was among the most feared: vast and unstable labyrinths, infested with demonic races or ancient entities, capable of annihilating expert parties with a single tactical error.
"A-At least a Grade 2?!" Blake stammered. "What do you mean?!"
Ms. Rose let out a controlled sigh. "The mana fluctuations detected for classification purposes derived exclusively from the population of beasts present in the Dungeon. However, we have no data regarding the Boss's level. Therefore, hypothetically, the effective grade of the Dungeon could even reach-"
"...Grade 1..." Carmen interrupted, completing the sentence, her face marked by slight concern.
"Exactly..." Ms. Rose nodded, and Blake's face twisted even more. "However, this is mere speculation, without definitive confirmation. But for this Raid, we must be prepared for anything, including this eventuality."
After a brief pause, she resumed:
"Obviously, these are not the only pieces of information collected yesterday by the scouting team. However, as established yesterday in your agreement with President Jun, I am only allowed to communicate to you the danger grade of the Dungeon. Nothing else. The rest will be illustrated tomorrow during the official briefing. For now, this must suffice for you to decide whether to confirm or not your participation in the Raid."
She slid her gaze between Isaac and Ananya, as if to remind that this was the established procedure.
"That said, in light of the information I have provided, I invite you to communicate me your decision. If you choose to participate, you will be summoned here tomorrow for the preliminary operational meeting. Otherwise, your names will be removed from the list of participants. But know that no one would blame you if you decided to back out..."
The silence that followed was dense, almost viscous.
Blake remained silent, behind his two companions called to make a decision.
But even they, upon hearing the danger of setting foot in that Dungeon, were shaken.
Mirac lowered his gaze, his fingers intertwining nervously on the edge of the counter. 'A Grade 1 Dungeon... It's completely beyond my reach!' he thought, feeling a knot tighten in his stomach.
Beside him, Carmen observed him out of the corner of her eye. 'I can't put him in danger... However, I can't ignore the mystery behind the appearance of the Rogthars either... What should I do then?'
Between the two reigned a tense silence, steeped in uncertainty, full of thoughts that neither had the courage to formulate.
They exchanged a brief glance, as if seeking in the other a spontaneous and definitive answer, but neither found it.
Ms. Rose immediately caught that tension.
She adjusted her glasses with a measured gesture and spoke in a softer tone:
"I understand your hesitation," she said. "You are not obliged to decide now. You will have until this evening to provide your official response. The Association will take every factor into account... including your instinct."
The words fell like a small relief.
Mirac nodded slowly, with a breath that slightly relaxed his shoulders.
Carmen did the same, lifting her gaze toward Ms. Rose with a hint of gratitude.
"We thank you, Ms. Rose, we-" he began to say, but his voice was abruptly interrupted.
A hoarse and furious voice tore through the atrium:
"Are you kidding me?!"
The shout echoed as a man slammed his hands on the section of the counter immediately next to Ms. Rose's.
Mirac turned to his right, catching sight of a stout man, wearing a long purple tunic and with a face flushed with anger.
Two figures, probably servants, stood behind him, trying to calm him with uncertain gestures.
"What do you mean the reconnaissance team hasn't returned yet?" growled the man, leaning toward the receptionist.
The woman, visibly intimidated, straightened up with a trembling breath. "S-Sorry, Mr. Voss… B-But I'm sure we'll have news of them shortly..."
"But this is absurd!" Voss burst out, his fist striking the counter again, making a stack of papers jump. "The mine is less than two hours on horseback from here, and you're telling me that after more than a day they still haven't returned?! It's nothing short of unacceptable!"
The atrium filled with tension.
Some people around the counter exchanged uneasy glances: some murmured omens, others snickered enjoying the show, still others shook their heads.
Blake, Mirac, and Carmen observed the scene in silence, without commenting.
"I demand that another expedition be organized immediately!" thundered Voss, his voice booming between the walls.
Ms. Rose stood up from her desk, her face composed but determined, and approached to assist her colleague.
"Mr. Voss, please, calm down," she said, her voice firm but diplomatic. "At the moment, the Association has no free reconnaissance teams. However, we can post an announcement for the formation of a new team to send to the mine and request the collaboration of our most trusted Mercenaries. I will be happy to assist you personally in this matter."
Voss turned toward her.
For a long moment, he seemed on the verge of exploding again, his hands clenched into fists on the counter.
But then, with an angry sigh that swelled his chest, he nodded curtly. "Tsk! Alright, I accept your help, Ms. Rose. But I demand that this team be ready to depart today by 13:00. And I want capable people, from the seventh rank upward!"
Rose tilted her head in a professional nod.
"Of course, Mr. Voss," she replied. "I will send you a letter with all the details as soon as the new team is enlisted."
"Good..." Voss smiled, satisfied.
Immediately after, he huffed, and his expression turned serious again, his face carved into rigid and severe features.
He scrutinized the elderly woman carefully for a brief moment, and when he spoke again, the man's voice dropped into a low and menacing growl:
"But let one thing be clear: I will not tolerate another failure! If this expedition turns out to be another wild goose chase, the Association will pay the consequences… Therefore, the responsibility is now in your hands, Ms. Rose..."
Without waiting for a response, Voss spun around sharply, his heels echoing on the marble floor like hammer blows.
His servants followed closely, casting nervous glances at the crowd, and the trio disappeared beyond the double doors, leaving an echo of ill humor that lingered in the atrium like smoke.
The hall slowly began to breathe again, with soft murmurs spreading like ripples on a pond.
The receptionist beside her slumped slightly on the counter, wiping her forehead with the back of her hand, while Rose returned to her post with a measured sigh.
"I'm sorry you had to witness this spectacle," she said, addressing the trio with an embarrassed smile. "Sometimes Mr. Voss can be… a very demanding client."
Mirac exchanged a glance with Carmen, whose frown betrayed the same confusion that gripped his mind.
"Who exactly was that man?" he asked, his voice muffled by the mask.
"Oh, right, you two don't know him…" Rose replied, her voice calm but with a slight smile creasing her lips. "Well, you should know that Mr. Voss is a prominent figure here in Raerno. His 'Carameo' mine, the one he was talking about, is the main source of raw iron supply for the city. Over 70% of the local blacksmiths depend on his deliveries, and this has made his business extremely prosperous. Therefore, it was a hard blow for him to learn that the supplies expected yesterday morning did not arrive. In fact, as every Sunday, at least ten carts overflowing with iron, extracted during the week, were supposed to pass through the South Gate around nine, ensuring substantial profits. However, for reasons still unknown, the iron shipment did not arrive. When he heard the news, Mr. Voss immediately asked us to send a reconnaissance team to find out what had happened to it. And as you heard, after more than 24 hours, we still have no news of them, despite the mine being just about twenty kilometers from Raerno."
Rose adjusted a lock of hair that had escaped her bun, a gesture that betrayed slight unease.
"Oh, dear me," she murmured, her tired smile cracking into a grimace of concern. "This matter is more intricate than it seems. Organizing a team in such a short time, with his demands… It won't be simple to select and gather the right members."
She sighed, placing her hands on the counter, her gaze wandering for a moment among the scattered papers, as if seeking a hidden solution among them.
Carmen stepped forward, her chin raised and a spark of determination in her eyes.
"Ms. Rose," she said, her voice clear and decisive, "can we offer ourselves to be part of the team requested by Mr. Voss?"
Rose arched an eyebrow, surprised, and leaned slightly toward her. "Really? I appreciate your help, but... are you sure?" she asked, scrutinizing Carmen, then Mirac and Blake, with a mix of curiosity and caution. "I'll be honest with you. The team sent yesterday morning was composed of sixth-rank members. Capable people, then. Therefore, whatever adversity struck them, I assume it's something potentially dangerous and deadly… "
Carmen nodded, a confident smile creasing her lips.
She cast a glance at Mirac and Blake, as if to include them in her explanation.
"It's very likely, Ms. Rose. It won't be a simple undertaking, but I'm certain that with the right team everything will go well," she said, her tone firm but reassuring. "Besides, we had already intended to take part in a mission today: something short, that wouldn't force us to stay out of the city for too long. And this mission seems just right for us."
Blake felt a shiver run down his spine, a mix of adrenaline and unease, but he said nothing.
Mirac, for his part, seemed equally tense.
But Carmen's enthusiasm was contagious, and the weight of worries lightened somewhat in the face of her calm and decisive tone.
'Well, if Carmen is so sure we'll make it, I suppose I have no reason to worry…' thought the masked boy.
Rose observed them for a long moment, as if weighing their determination.
Then, with a slow nod, she agreed.
"Alright then," she said, her voice regaining its professional composure. "I will include you in the reconnaissance team."
With that, she turned an attentive gaze to Blake, adding: "I presume you intended to take part in their same mission, right? Well, despite your rank being lower than required, I have no objections to your participation. After all, the team will need an expert in speleological explorations, a skilled and reliable navigator. Therefore, can I count on your collaboration for this role, Blake?"
The tall and thin boy startled and nodded decisively, his face serious and his posture that of someone accepting a significant responsibility. "O-Of course! You can count on me, Ms. Rose!"
"Good," she replied. "Then present yourselves at the South Gate at exactly 13:00 sharp. I will gather the other team members there and give the final instructions for the mission."
Carmen tilted her head in thanks. "We won't let you down."
While Ms. Rose turned to note their names in a leather-bound register, Carmen slipped a hand into her pants pocket and discreetly pulled out four red banknotes.
"Ms. Rose," she said, her voice calm but decisive, "this should cover our debt."
She placed the money on the counter: 400 Quorins, the exact sum owed for the registration fee that she and Mirac had not paid the day before.
Rose raised an eyebrow. "Okay… But, if you couldn't afford the registration fee yesterday, where did you get all this money in such a short time?"
Carmen stared at her for a second, then smiled. "We sold the organs of the monsters hunted two days ago… The ones we discussed with President Jun in his office." Her answer was deliberately vague, but it was clear she was referring to the Rogthars.
Ms. Rose did not respond immediately. 'Right… Blake had mentioned it yesterday in his report…'
The silence lasted for a few moments, until a smile creased the elderly woman's lips. "I see… Well, excellent work then."
Without delay, she took a pen and noted the payment in the register, marking that the debt had been settled. Immediately after, she handed the trio a contract for the mission awaiting them that afternoon: a sheet of parchment bearing the Association's seal in the top left corner.
"Sign here and here," she said, indicating two lines at the bottom.
Carmen affixed her signature, Ananya Shak, with a decisive and fluid stroke, the quill gliding over the paper without hesitation.
Mirac, after a brief pause, scribbled his fictitious name, Isaac Belgram, in impeccable calligraphy.
Blake, with an enthusiastic smile, signed last, his Blake Adson traced with a quick, slightly messy stroke, reflecting his carefree nature.
While signing, Mirac gave a quick glance at the contract, his eyes scanning the clauses printed in black ink.
The document was detailed, as one would expect from the Intercontinental Association Against Perils.
Among the lines, he noted some conditions: the team leader—nor the Association—would be held directly responsible for injuries, mutilations, or deaths occurring to group members during the mission, except in cases of gross negligence on his part.
Another clause specified that the team leader, whose name was not yet indicated, would have absolute decision-making authority during the operation, with the obligation to ensure the group's safety only "within reasonable limits."
After signing the contract, the trio gave a nod of farewell to Ms. Rose and headed toward the exit.
The midday sun greeted them with dazzling light, warming the pavement of Benevolence Boulevard.
The plane trees swayed gently under a light breeze, and the chatter of adventurers mingled with the sound of their footsteps.
But suddenly, Blake stopped on the edge of the road.
"Damn it! I just remembered I have to pay last month's rent!" he exclaimed, with a seriously worried tone. "It won't take long, I promise! See you directly at the South Gate at the appointed time, okay?"
Carmen nodded. "Alright. In the meantime, we'll prepare the supplies for the trip."
"Awesome!" At the mere mention of food, Blake lit up, his smile instantly returning. "If for some reason you need to stop by the house, remember the spare keys hidden behind the slightly protruding brick near the main entrance."
The masked boy and the red-haired woman nodded in unison.
After that, Carmen handed the tall and lanky boy 120 Quorins, settling the debt that she and Mirac had with him, after the latter had paid for their entrance fee and the Temporary Stay Permit—now superfluous since both possessed the Association's Identity Document.
Having pocketed the money, Blake winked at them with a somewhat awkward gesture. Then he walked away with his gangly step, his white shirt fluttering around him as he melted into the crowd.
At that point, Mirac and Carmen set off, without a specific destination, their steps falling into the same rhythm.
The quiet between them was comfortable, but charged with unspoken tension.
Mirac observed the shops, the faces of passersby, but at a certain point Carmen broke the silence, her voice calm but sharp: "Now that we're alone, do you want to tell me what got into you last night?"
Mirac stiffened for an instant, his heart accelerating under the black and scarred mask.
He maintained his cadenced pace, however, so as not to betray his discomfort.
"I already told you," he replied, his tone deliberately light. "It was just a bad nightmare. Nothing special, really. I've already forgotten all about the dream…" The lie slipped from his lips easily, but inside he knew it wasn't convincing.
Neither for Carmen, nor for himself.
The red-haired woman did not respond immediately.
She eyed him from the corner of her eye, the lenses of her glasses reflecting a ray of sunlight.
'Could it have been one of his Fortuitous Visions?' she wondered, the thought crossing her mind like a shadow. 'But what could he have seen that was so terrible it terrified him like that?'
Although curious to find out, she did not press the matter further.
She was not the type to meddle in others' secrets, because she herself appreciated when her own space was respected.
Therefore, she limited herself to a slight nod of the head, letting silence separate them once more.
Mirac seized the opportunity to change the subject, his voice becoming firmer. "Anyway, what do you think about what happened at the mine?"
Carmen sighed, the sound betraying restrained tension. "Two days have passed and there's no news of either those who worked in the mine or those sent to investigate. It's obvious, then, that something happened… something horrible, I presume…"
"Yeah, unfortunately I suspected the same…" Mirac swallowed, and his throat suddenly went dry. "This whole story about the disappearance of those who set foot in that mine could be the result of another supernatural event not to be underestimated, like the reappearance of the Rogthars!"
"Exactly." Carmen looked at him, her dark eyes sparkling with determination. "And if that's the case, it's our duty to uncover it and bring to light what hides in the shadows... You understand what I mean, right?"
Mirac gripped the pommel of his sword, the cold metal giving him a sense of stability.
He knew exactly what Carmen was referring to: namely, the commitment and responsibilities that weighed on each member of her secret organization, which she had vaguely mentioned two evenings before.
A dedication that went beyond mere survival, a duty aimed at combating the dark forces that threatened the world's balance.
But as Carmen's words echoed in his mind, a darker thought crept in:
'But what if… What if we're not up to what awaits us?'
He did not allow the doubt to escape his lips, but its weight bore down on him like a boulder.
'Tsk, damn it! I'm doing it again! I'm letting the unknown scare me! One thing is to be cautious, another is to be a coward! I need to calm down! Fear is an emotion that belongs to the present, not the future! I can't let myself be overwhelmed by what might happen in the mine or in the Rogthars' Dungeon, otherwise I won't achieve a thing. And I can't allow that to happen! I have a goal to reach, and I'm sure everything will turn out fine! Don't underestimate your abilities, Mirac!'
With this thought in mind, Mirac took a deep breath.
Then he shook his head to chase away the uncertainty threatening to cloud his determination, walking beside the red-haired woman, his steps more resolute than before.
* * *
During the morning, Mirac and Carmen purchased a single unit of each necessary supply for that afternoon's mission: a rye bread loaf, a ration of dried meat, a walnut, a peanut, an almond, a hazelnut, a small bundle of disinfectant herbs, a roll of bandage, and some minimal tools—a flint stone and five meters of light rope.
Back home, Carmen emptied her backpack.
As she did so, her fingers brushed something familiar in the inner pocket.
Slowly, she pulled out what was inside: a necklace, formed by a thin cord with a smooth stone pendant in the center, similar to quartz.
The morning light slid over it, making it shine for an instant.
Carmen stood still, staring at it in silence, as if she needed to remind herself why she had kept it hidden until then.
Her breathing slowed just a bit.
Then, with an almost imperceptible sigh, she put it on and hid it under her clothes, with a calm gesture but veiled by a hint of hesitation.
Only then did she hand Mirac the empty backpack along with her own waterskin, a Magical Artifact capable of purifying any contaminated water poured into it.
Mirac placed the supplies on the table and, with his "Multiplicative Touch" ability, cloned them all in an instant: bread, meat, dried fruit, bandages, even the magical waterskin.
In a few minutes, three identical kits were ready, one for each member of the trio.
Meanwhile, Blake went to the Raerno Branch Bank, patiently waited his turn, and paid the overdue rent with the money received from Carmen.
Just before thirteen hundred, Mirac and Carmen had left the house, heading down Compassion Avenue, when, by pure chance, they ran into Blake.
After a quick exchange of greetings, Mirac handed him the backpack prepared specifically for him.
Blake accepted it with a wide and grateful smile, quickly checking its contents while Mirac explained, in a few words, the arrangement of the supplies and how the magical waterskin worked.
Having slung the backpack over his shoulders, the tall and thin boy joined them.
The three continued thus along the wide and paved avenue, immersed in the city's chatter and the warm rays of the afternoon sun, until they reached the South Gate, an imposing limestone arch decorated with bas-reliefs of crossed swords.
'Ok, here we are!' thought Mirac, his heart thrumming with anticipation. 'My first mission is about to begin!'