Two days later, Isaac was ready.
He packed light only what he needed, nothing more.
On the table, he left a short note saying he was meeting some friends. No details.
The dungeon lay in a remote location. Technically, it shouldn't have been discovered yet. In history, it played no important role in the events to come. Even the herb he told the Trader about could be found elsewhere.
But this place mattered to Isaac for one reason:
In his past life, the man who accidentally stumbled into this dungeon awakened here.
And today, Isaac intended to steal that fate for himself.
---
The journey took him by train to a remote mountain range. From the station, a narrow path wound into the wilderness, forcing him through thirty minutes of jagged slopes and moss-covered rocks before the mouth of the cave appeared — dark, unwelcoming, and almost swallowed by creeping vines.
Approaching cautiously, he sensed movement within. His hand shifted toward his weapon, but then… he caught it.
That scent.
Blood.
Not wild and chaotic, but sharp, precise — the scent of a killer in control.
Inside, leaning against the damp wall, stood Trish.
Gone was the school uniform. She wore a fitted assassin's outfit, black leather that drank in the cave's dim light. Daggers rested against each thigh, their hilts polished from use. Her gaze was sharp, unreadable, but it followed his every step.
Isaac raised a hand in a lazy greeting.
"Yo, Trish. Hope I didn't keep you waiting."
Her frown deepened.
"You could've chosen any other day. I was supposed to meet friends for a limited-edition cake."
She didn't sound like she was joking.
Isaac caught the flicker of killing intent in her aura.
This one's dangerous, he thought — and then, as always, shrugged it off.
"If we move fast, we'll be out in a few hours."
His attention shifted to the bag she carried. "What'd you bring me?"
Inside were three vials of liquid the color of deep emerald, each one faintly glowing, and a sword.
The blade was black as obsidian, absorbing what little light the cave allowed in. A single sapphire-like gem glinted in the hilt, and faint veins of mana pulsed within it like a heartbeat.
Isaac tested its weight, the metal singing softly as he swung it twice.
Perfect balance.
The Trader never disappointed.
He smirked, slung the weapon over his back, and gestured for her to follow.
---
The cave air was foul at first — damp, earthy, and stale. But the deeper they went, the more it changed.
The stench faded, replaced by something fresher. The air grew warmer, wetter, carrying an odd, metallic tang. Faint motes of pale-blue light floated in the darkness, drifting like lazy fireflies, illuminating smooth walls where strange runes were carved.
Finally, they reached what looked like a dead end — a wall of stone slick with moisture.
Isaac stopped, turning to Trish.
"No matter what happens… don't kill anything until I say so."
Her eyes narrowed, but she gave no answer.
Isaac pulled one of the emerald vials from the bag and hurled it against the wall.
The glass shattered, spilling liquid that hissed and steamed. The stone began to ripple, bending like water. The air hummed, the runes on the walls flaring to life.
Before them, the solid wall melted away into a swirling gray vortex, ringed by pale light.
Isaac drew in a deep breath, the faint pull of mana tugging at his skin. Without hesitation, he stepped into the vortex.
Trish hesitated for only a second before following him in.