The world outside the dungeon felt unnervingly bright, too loud, and yet profoundly fragile. Every rustle of leaves in the wind made Devin's heart stutter, every distant shout from the city streets sounded like the roar of the beast that had slaughtered his team. He moved through the crowds like a ghost, his body aching, his clothes torn and stained with things he didn't want to identify. But clutched tightly against his chest was a burlap sack, its contents humming with enough power to change everything.
He had escaped. The words were a mantra in his mind, a fragile prayer against the tide of grief and guilt.
He'd outrun the impossible horror that had been Baelgor, the dungeon boss who had treated SSS-rank hunters like insects. In his frantic flight, he hadn't been stupid. While others had panicked, he'd used his E-ranker's knowledge, the only thing that had kept him alive this long, to scavenge.
