The men dispersed at Orion's command, forming defensive lines as scouts spread out to ensure no sudden assault caught us unprepared.
A tent of black canvas was raised quickly on the ashen plain, its poles driven into the frozen ground with dull thuds.
Inside, a map was spread across a stone table salvaged from the ruins. Crystals glowed faintly along the edges, giving off a ghostly light.
Orion stood at my side while his officers gathered in a half-circle, their armor scuffed and worn, their faces lined from weeks in this cursed place.
"Your Majesty," Orion began, his gauntleted hand resting on the map. "We are rationed down to half-portions.
At best, the supplies we have will last two weeks. Three, if we cut deeper. Water is the greater concern. The wells here yield nothing but poisoned frost."
"Deserters?" I asked coldly.
"None," Orion replied with some chuckle in his voice. "They don't have a choice, we all are trapped here so... But morale…" He glanced briefly at his officers. "Morale wanes with hunger."
I folded my arms. "Then we march swiftly. Starvation will not claim us before victory. What of the palace?"
One of the lieutenants stepped forward, a scarred veteran with frost clinging to his beard.
"The outer districts are abandoned, Majesty. But they are riddled with ambushes — beasts lurking beneath the sand, shadows that cling to the walls and move when unobserved.
Our scouts lost three men yesterday to a pack of [Frost-Touched Jackals]. The closer we draw to the palace, the worse it becomes."
"They mean to bleed us dry before we reach the heart," Orion said.
I slammed my fist on the table, making the crystals flicker. "Let them try. We will carve a path through their filth. Manara's fire will not be extinguished by shadows."
The officers bowed their heads in silent agreement. Resolve flickered anew in their eyes, though beneath it the hunger and exhaustion remained.
I turned to Orion. "At dawn, we march. Gather the men. Let them know this is not the end — it is the beginning of the judgment we came here to deliver. And let them eat their fill, we need strong men!"
"Yes, Majesty."
—
The next morning, the army moved.
Lines of soldiers marched through the ruined streets of the Scalaris capital. Then the thousands of soldiers split up and secured every path.
Once-grand homes of black stone and silver glass now stood hollow, windows shattered, doors hanging open like the mouths of corpses. Faded banners drooped from the walls, their colors drained, fluttering weakly in the icy wind.
Everything vibrated under the merciless march of the soldiers.
And yet, everywhere, I could feel eyes. Not human eyes — but the dungeon's gaze.
The first ambush came swiftly.
A dune of ashen sand suddenly split open, and out clawed [Ashfang Horrors], creatures with skeletal frames of blackened ice and jaws filled with burning frost. They fell upon the rear lines, shrieking with distorted voices.
"Hold the line!" Orion roared, drawing his longsword, its blade flashing with cold light.
I unsheathed my own sword, mana flooding its edge. In one motion, I cut down the first horror, its body splitting apart before evaporating into smoke.
The men rallied, shields locking, spears thrusting forward. Blood and frost mingled with the ash underfoot.
From the rooftops, shadows writhed and leapt down, forming twisted humanoid wraiths — [Famine Shades], born of the city's deliberate starvation. They hissed with hunger, claws raking across armor.
"Corrupted remnants," Orion growled. "They left their very sins behind to fight for them."
I stepped forward, fury burning in my chest. With a sweep of my sword, I unleashed a wave of burning mana, scattering the shades like ash in a storm. The soldiers cheered, their voices carrying strength once more.
Still, as we pressed forward, the city seemed endless — a endless flood of monsters were cut down own after the other.
I narrowed my eyes. "Orion! Why are there so many? Our men look tired already!"
The commander on his horse shrugged his shoulders, „we do not know, majesty! It's the first time we see that much."
„Grrr!" I slashed two down with one swing, „it's as if they heard our plan!"
Anger boiled like hot lave inside me, but there was no way right! There wasn't even the option someone leaked the intel to the king…so how?!
I coughed a little and then screamed with mana infused voice that every of my soldiers heard me.
„Don't back down! Fight till you are tired, trust in you, your partner and Manara! If we don't push to the end today we will die tomorrow!"
...
My voice thundered through the streets, carried by mana and echo, vibrating against the hollow walls of the ruined city. Every soldier froze for a heartbeat, then roared back, a unified cry that shook even the ash from the windowsills.
"FOR MANARA! FOR HIS MAJESTY!"
The lines tightened, shields slammed together with renewed fury, and the flood of monsters met steel with far less success than before.
Spears pierced, swords cut, magic were fired and disciplined ranks pressed forward with purpose.
Orion rode closer, his horse's breath steaming in the icy air, his obsidian eyes flickering with grim pride. "Majesty, your words cut deeper than your blade today."
I cut down another [Famine Shade] with a single strike, its body unraveling into smoke. "Words alone do not win wars, Orion. But they can make men choose to win them."
He grunted in agreement and raised his blade to signal the next advance. Screaming himself; „Remember who trained you! Remember out motto; Laugh in the face of Danger!"
The soldiers roared again and pushed even harder and further, Yet as we pushed deeper, I noticed something unnatural.
The monsters weren't thinning out.
They were growing thicker, almost endless, like waves pounding the shore without pause. And worse, they were no longer random. They struck in coordinated bursts, as if guided by a will beyond their instincts.
"Orion!" I shouted, forcing my way forward to his side. "Do you see it? They're attacking in formation!"
His jaw tightened. "I see it. Shades covering the jackals' flanks, horrors digging trenches ahead of our advance… This isn't the dungeon alone. Someone is commanding them."
A spike of ice burst from the ground, skewering three soldiers before they could dodge. Their screams rattled the air, and for a heartbeat, even the disciplined lines faltered.
I clenched my sword until my knuckles turned white. "Then it is not only beasts we fight. The Scalari King plays his hand already."
Orion spat to the side. "Or worse, Majesty… the dungeon itself has learned from us."
The thought clawed at the back of my mind. Could the dungeon really adapt? Could it hear my orders, feel my strategies, and twist them against me?
The air around us trembled with a low, resonant hum, like the sound of a colossal heartbeat echoing through the ground.
I raised my sword high, flames of mana rippling along the blade. "Then let it learn! Let it watch! Even if the abyss itself adapts, we will break it as we have destroyed Dungeons before!"
The men cheered, voices ragged but strong, and surged forward again.
Still… deep inside, a question burned like acid in my thoughts.
Was this the dungeon's will alone — or had the Scalari King found a way to listen to me, even here?