Chapter 316 — Fifteen Floors Down
The first steps into the dungeon were always the hardest. Even with torchlight and the faint glow of mana stones embedded in the walls, the dark pressed down on the raiding party like a living thing, heavy and suffocating. Kael led the way, his magisteel blade drawn, its edge infused faintly with his shadows to ward off the gloom.
Behind him, the others fell into formation—Rogan and Fenrik to either side as a vanguard, Lyria just behind Kael with her bow ready, Varik clutching his satchel of notes, Azhara scanning with her healer's eye, and Zerathis bringing up the rear, his crimson eyes gleaming like a predator waiting for the hunt.
Floors 1–5: The Shallow Depths
The first floors were almost laughably easy for warriors of their caliber. Packs of lesser beasts—fangmaws and stone-backed hounds—lunged from the dark, only to be dispatched in moments.
Fenrik cleaved through them with brute force, his named attack, "Ironclad Breaker," cracking shells and snapping spines with brutal efficiency. Rogan worked with him like a hammer and anvil, his "Bloodfang Charge" sending beasts sprawling before Fenrik's crushing blows.
Lyria loosed arrows that sang with mana, each one piercing with flawless precision. Zerathis waded in when he felt like it, his twin daemon blades humming as they split through lesser monsters like parchment.
By the fifth floor, Varik had already begun mapping veins of glimmering ore and noting strange fungi that pulsed faintly with energy. "These alone could fuel our alchemists for months," he muttered as he scribbled, his excitement almost childlike.
Kael watched and listened, noting his companions' rhythms. He kept his power restrained, only cutting down threats when necessary, reminding himself this was not only about survival—it was about learning how they functioned together.
Floors 6–10: Resistance Builds
By the sixth floor, the dungeon shifted. The walls grew slick with moss, the air thicker and damp with rot. The beasts here were larger—scale-backed drakes that spat acid, hulking ogres that wielded clubs of stone.
Here, Kael finally unsheathed his real strength. When an ogre nearly crushed Rogan, Kael stepped forward, shadows curling around his blade. His named attack, "Draconoid's Breath," erupted in a torrent of black fire, searing the ogre to ash and lighting the chamber with hellish light.
The others stared for only a moment before falling back into the fight, their morale burning brighter at the display.
Azhara proved invaluable here. Her spells of "Veil of Renewal" wrapped the frontliners in soft green light, knitting wounds even as they fought. Her calm steadiness kept them from faltering, even when an acid-drake nearly tore Fenrik's arm off.
Varik found veins of mana crystal deeper in the walls, shards humming with dangerous power. "The Hollow must claim these," he told Kael. "A supply like this could fuel enchantments for decades."
Zerathis laughed as he tore a drake's head free with brute force. "Even your dungeon bleeds treasure, Kael. This land is blessed."
But Kael saw something else in the daemon's smile: hunger.
Floors 11–15: Into the Dark
When they descended to the eleventh floor, Kael felt it immediately—the weight of power. The air grew heavy, pressing on their lungs, the walls jagged and twisted with veins of obsidian. The beasts here were no mere creatures—they were guardians.
On the twelfth floor, a chimera with three heads—lion, serpent, and crow—barred their path. Its roar shook the cavern, its serpent head lashing with venom. It took all of them to bring it down. Rogan and Fenrik fought shoulder to shoulder, while Lyria's arrows blinded the crow head. Zerathis dove into the serpent's coils, cutting it free from the body with savage precision. Kael finished it with a burning strike of Draconoid's Breath, the flames reducing the monstrosity to a charred husk.
On the fourteenth floor, they found something stranger than beasts—ancient stone tablets covered in daemon script, half-buried in the walls. Zerathis paused, running a claw along one line. His grin faded into something darker.
"These are old… older than even I thought," he muttered. "This dungeon is not just a cage. It's a grave."
The others exchanged uneasy looks, but Kael pressed them on.
Finally, the fifteenth floor opened before them—a vast chamber, lit by veins of glowing crystal that cast the walls in hues of blue and violet. At its center, a colossal guardian slumbered, a beast of armor and stone with a molten core glowing in its chest. Its breathing shook the floor with each rise and fall.
They did not yet wake it.
Kael raised a hand, signaling silence. His chest rose and fell steadily, though his heart pounded with the weight of it all.
"We've gone far enough for now," he said, his voice low but firm. "We'll return to the Hollow, regroup, and prepare for what comes next. This guardian will not fall to recklessness."
Rogan exhaled, sweat streaking his face. "Good. I was wondering when you'd say it."
Varik nodded, already scribbling down the details of the chamber, his eyes bright.
Zerathis, however, looked at Kael with something sharper than admiration—something closer to respect. "You think like a conqueror," he said. "Caution before slaughter. That is how empires rise."
Kael ignored the comment, turning his gaze back to the beast.
The dungeon had revealed its depths. But it had also whispered its secrets, and Kael knew their true trial was only just beginning.