The heroes opened their eyes one by one, still dizzy from the dizzying fall and the crash of stone. Around them, the air was cool, carrying the scent of damp earth and moss-covered rock. Light filtered through a distant fissure, casting narrow beams that danced across walls riddled with stalactites and mineral formations, their shifting reflections giving the cavern an almost living presence.
They slowly pushed themselves up, their sore muscles protesting every movement, a painful reminder of the fall. The uneven ground, scattered with natural stone slabs polished by moisture and thin roots snaking like veins across the walls, made each step uncertain. The void they had just crossed seemed endless: above, the light of the outside world was nothing more than a faint, indistinct dot, and the sound of their fall still echoed faintly, like a warning from another time.
Silence reigned with an almost tangible weight, broken only by the steady drip of water against stone and the heroes' shaky breaths. A faint breeze, seeping from some unseen crack, brushed against their skin, carrying a refreshing chill into this crushing depth. The contrast was striking: their fall had been brutal and terrifying, but the place where they now stood seemed calm, almost sacred—like a forgotten sanctuary untouched by time or men.
They exchanged glances, still disoriented, each measuring the immensity and depth of the abyss. The light from the fissures painted shifting shadows on the walls, giving the place a majesty that was both awe-inspiring and unsettling. Even lost, they could feel it: this place, strange and abyssal as it was, carried an aura of mystery—an ancient power, as if the very stones themselves guarded secrets older than memory.
Gradually, they gathered at the center of the vast cavern, still a little dazed from the fall. The damp air clung to their skin, and their breathing quickened as their senses sharpened again. The occasional drip of water striking the pools below echoed like a warning. Each of them could feel the weight of an invisible presence—a silent force within the abyss—watching them, patient and unyielding.
The calm of the cavern stood in stark contrast to the tension building in their chests. Despite their exhaustion and shock, an uncanny feeling settled over them: this place was not just a trap or an accident. It was alive—witness to their fall and guardian of a truth they had yet to uncover. The abyss, vast and silent, beckoned them forward… yet with each step, beauty and danger awaited in equal measure.
"Well… looks like we survived," one of them muttered, rubbing his sore arms, muscles still aching from the fall. His gaze drifted to Riota, who lingered slightly behind, looking embarrassed. "Hey, Riota… thanks for that wind spell. If you hadn't cast it, we wouldn't be standing here talking right now."
Riota lowered his head slightly, a little flustered by the attention. "Oh… it was nothing, just a small adjustment to soften the fall…" he murmured modestly, his fingers nervously fiddling with the rim of his dirt-stained glasses.
The others burst into laughter or smiled, patting his shoulder warmly. "You don't have to be humble!" one of them said, shaking his head. "You totally broke our fall, man!"
"Yeah, we owe you our lives," another added, her tired face lighting up with a broad smile.
Despite himself, Riota couldn't help but smile shyly. The mood between them lightened, the aches and pains of the fall easing under the warmth of camaraderie. Even at the heart of this unknown, colossal dungeon, they knew they could count on each other—and that certainty gave them a little more courage.
Itsuki straightened, her eyes scanning the cavern walls. Rays of light pierced the misty air, shaping ghostly forms that seemed to move on their own across the stone. Her posture was firm, shoulders squared, and when she spoke, her voice carried both resolve and reassurance.
"All right… is everyone okay?" Itsuki asked, her gaze sweeping over the group, the shadows of the fissures dancing across her face.
Some nodded, still dizzy but reassured by her composure.
"Yeah, I'm fine… thanks, Itsuki," one murmured, forcing a small but sincere smile.
"I'm okay… but… this place is a little scary," another admitted timidly, hands pressed to her chest.
Itsuki tilted her head slightly, her eyes steady with both strength and comfort. "Good. First of all, we need to figure out where we are and what we can do. We might be in an unexplored part of the dungeon, so let's stay calm and organized."
She paused just long enough to let the silence sink in. "And above all…" she continued, her voice clear but measured, "we need to find a way back up. Staying here isn't an option."
Some looked less concerned, as if the situation barely bothered them. "Yeah, we'll find a path or a way up, no problem," one said with a shrug.
"Well… I'll do whatever I'm told, as long as I can still move…" another added, arms crossed, his tone casual but his eyes watchful.
Itsuki gave them a half-serious, half-amused look, her eyes glinting faintly in the filtered light. "Perfect," she said. "So let's stay sharp, save our strength, and start by exploring nearby. We don't know what's waiting for us here… but together, we'll make it through."
A faint breeze stirred through the cavern, rustling the roots and stones, and the group set off—senses on edge, yet hearts a little lighter thanks to the warmth of shared resolve amidst the shadows.
Yuki was easy to pick out, even in the dim glow that seeped through the cracks above. Her hair, cut in a square fringe of faint pink, caught the scattered light like glass touched by dawn. Slender and straight-backed despite the bruises of their fall, she carried herself with the quiet poise of someone long used to holding things together. A fitted battle-dress—practical, yet marked with the ornate traces of a hero's garb—clung to her frame, though unlike the legends, she bore no sweeping cape to trail behind her. Instead, her grip tightened on a polished magic staff, its etched runes faintly pulsing as if echoing her own breath. Brown eyes, deep with thoughts she rarely voiced, shifted between the shadows and her companions, betraying the silent weight she carried.
She lingered behind, her back against the rough cavern wall, eyes fixed on some undefined point in the dark. The echo of their fall still reverberated in her chest—but that wasn't the only thing weighing on her.
"Why… did she leave so suddenly?" she thought, her throat tight. "After everything… and I didn't even get to tell her…"
A chilling shiver crept down her spine, though it wasn't just the bite of the damp air in the dungeon depths. It was a hollowness, left by the absence of her friend. Yuki clenched her fists lightly, searching for some anchor in this vast, silent space.
"I have to keep going… for her… but… I feel so useless sometimes…" she whispered under her breath.
All around, the distant rumble of water and the flickering play of light across the stone only deepened her isolation, as though the dungeon itself stretched on, indifferent and unyielding.
From the gloom, Hirona drew closer, her presence as steadying as the lantern's glow in a tunnel. Slender and composed, with raven-black hair tied neatly behind her and armor that bore the marks of travel more than battle, she seemed less like a warrior and more like a calm anchor amidst the chaos. Each step she took on the damp stone was measured, barely whispering against the cavern floor. When her brown eyes met Yuki's, there was no judgment—only a quiet warmth, the kind meant to draw her companion back from the shadows of her thoughts.
"Hey… it's going to be okay," she murmured, crouching slightly to meet Yuki's eyes. "I know it's not easy… but you're not alone. We're all here with you."
Itsuki drew closer too, her features a blend of firmness and kindness. "Yuki, you can trust us. We'll get through this. You don't have to carry it all by yourself."
Yuki turned her gaze aside, her eyes still misty, but the weight in her chest eased a little. Their words, simple yet sincere, gave her a fragile comfort in this cold, endless dark.
Yuki's lips parted, but for a moment no words came. She tightened her grip on the staff, as if it alone kept her steady, then let out a shaky breath. "I… I'll try," she whispered, her voice low but earnest. "It just feels like every step is heavier than the last." Her misted eyes flicked briefly toward Hirona and Itsuki, the faintest trace of gratitude stirring beneath the sorrow. "But… maybe you're right. Maybe I don't have to face it all alone."
The heroes pressed onward, their footsteps echoing against the damp, uneven stone. Stalactites dripped at steady intervals, their droplets falling like a hidden metronome. The air smelled of moss and wet rock, and the distant fissure cast shifting shadows across the cavern walls.
Two boys, lagging slightly behind, whispered as though afraid the dungeon itself might overhear:
"You think Riji's really dead?" one asked, eyes fixed on the ground, his voice hesitant.
The other sighed softly, glancing away to hide his grief. "Yeah… looks that way. I'd rather not think too much about it."
As the group moved into a narrower passage, a flickering glow shimmered against the walls. The ground trembled faintly beneath their feet, followed by a deep, resonant rumble.
From behind a natural pillar, the Crystal Goliath emerged—massive and imposing. Its red eyes pierced the dark, and its crystalline veins pulsed faintly, like the beat of a monstrous heart. Its carapace seemed nearly unbreakable, and with every breath, small stones rained down around them.
The heroes froze, struck by the sheer scale of the danger. The air vibrated with menace, and even the bravest among them felt that instinctive dread—a mingling of awe and terror.
"It's… huge," one whispered, barely audible, while another gripped his weapon tightly.
"Stay focused!" Itsuki ordered, her voice firm but steady. "We can't afford to panic. We fight as a team."
Riota narrowed his eyes, quickly assessing the beast. His fingers numbed against his staff, but he swallowed his fear and steadied his mind. "Those crystals… they absorb magic energy… my spells will be useless unless I adjust them…" he thought, already recalibrating his technique.
The battle erupted almost instantly.
One hero raised his hands and spoke the incantation, his voice clear and commanding:
"O flame that dances in the heart of darkness,
O pure blaze that consumes the void,
Bind our souls into one oath,
Let justice guide our hands,
Let the strength of fire surge through our arms,
By the radiant sky above, unchanging—
—Crimson Flame!"
At once, a glowing magic circle flared into existence before his outstretched hand, its intricate runes spinning with searing intensity. Within its core, heat gathered and coiled, until a massive fireball blazed to life in his palm. The sphere swelled, roaring like a living sun, before it hurtled toward the Crystal Goliath. The fiery mass struck the crystalline veins with a thunderous crash, flooding the cavern in crimson light—yet the beast absorbed much of the energy, its radiant surface dulling the impact.
Others joined in, chanting their own fire incantations:
"Sacred flame, consume the shadows,
Light the path for our blades,
Burn away all that blocks our way—
—Fireball!"
One after another, circles of flame spiraled into being around him, their glyphs spinning as if etched into the very air. From each one, a ball of fire streaked forth, trailing sparks as it tore through the cavern. They smashed against the crystals in bursts of incandescent light, scattering fragments like fireworks across the stone walls—but still, the monster stood firm, its glowing veins pulsing stronger with every impact.
Riota pulled back slightly, eyes sharp. "Aim for the cracks! The weaker pulses—strike there!" he shouted, channeling his magic for a targeted spell.
The Goliath roared, its claw slamming into the ground. Shards of crystal shattered outward as it lashed in sweeping strikes, shaking the cavern with brutal force.
Suddenly, a piercing gleam shot from the ground behind it. With a whistling shriek, a spear manifested, slicing through the air with impossible speed and precision. It drove straight into the monster's chest, its impact booming through the cavern as shards exploded outward.
The Goliath bellowed in pain, its crystalline veins pulsing wildly, while the spear remained buried deep in its chest. Fractures spread around the wound, casting glittering shards across the cavern.
Then, as if stepping out of legend, Itaka appeared behind the weapon, eyes gleaming with confidence. With a deliberate, almost regal motion, he drew the spear back from the beast's chest. The light gleaming off the weapon and the shattered crystal gave the impression of a relic from some ancient myth. Every gesture seemed choreographed to inspire awe, as the Goliath staggered under the blow.
"And that's how you bring down a Crystal Goliath," he declared, his eyes alight with pride. "Simple, isn't it?"
The others exchanged glances: some smiling awkwardly, others rolling their eyes. Even Riota, visibly embarrassed, looked away, biting his lip.
"Uh… yeah… simple, right…" one muttered, his tone uneasy.
"Sure, hero… we get it," another added, shoulders lifting slightly as if to hide his discomfort.
Itsuki, arms crossed, let out a quiet sigh—half amused, half exasperated. "All right, all right… we get it. You're strong. We didn't need the full performance."
Itaka gave a theatrical bow, exaggerating the tilt of his head as though he had just won a contest for most dramatic hero. Despite themselves, his companions couldn't help but smile at his flamboyance—a brief spark of levity in the dungeon's oppressive depths.
Beaming with pride, Itaka spun his spear with flair before resting it on his shoulder.
[ Level up! ]
[ Level up! ]
"Hey guys! Guess what?" he announced, grinning from ear to ear. "I just leveled up twice! Not once—twice!"
Silence followed for a few seconds, broken only by a few sighs.
"Congratulations…" someone answered, the tone a little forced.
Another muttered, "As if he needed more reasons to brag…"
Unbothered, Itaka practically danced in delight, basking in his victory.
The group resumed their trek through the dungeon. The magical torches some carried cast a flickering glow on the glistening walls, revealing deep fissures and charred roots snaking through the stone. The air grew heavier, thick with humidity and a suffocating mineral scent.
Walking a little apart, Yuki remained silent. Her eyes drifted toward a translucent blue panel that appeared before her—visible only to her.
---
Name: Naoki Yukihara
Race: Human
Class: Fallen Paladin
Level: 13
HP: 766 / 1240
MP: 880 / 880
Strength: 135
Agility: 120
Endurance: 142
Magic: 160
Luck: 47
Unique Skill: [Fallen Angel]
Effect: Allows the use of a chosen element (one per day, changeable every 24 hours). Destined for awakening into "True Angel."
Status: Stable
Potential: Astronomical
Chosen Element: Earth
Additional Skills:
[Earth Wall – Lv. 2]
[Earthquake – Lv. 1]
[Golem Spikes – Lv. 2]
---
She closed the panel with a blink, her heart tightening under a wave of nostalgia. A memory surfaced—the priestess Aurelia, her radiant smile, the gentle hand on her shoulder.
"Naoki Yukihara… you may not realize it yet, but your unique skill is a rare gift. Perhaps even… a divine one."
Back then, Yuki had blushed, unable to believe such words. Now, the memory felt both precious and painful—like a fragile flame flickering in the dungeon's darkness.
She closed her eyes briefly as she walked, letting the cavern's shadows merge with her own thoughts. Her heart felt heavy—not from fear, but from the silent burden she had carried for too long. The blue panel had reminded her of a truth she wanted to forget: sooner or later, her strength would set her apart from the others.
A quiet sigh escaped her lips.
"Why me? Why this power—so rare they call it blessed—when I feel so far from any blessing?"
Her hands tightened faintly around her weapon, fingers trembling before she forced them steady. Her heart pounded, each beat like a drum hammering her doubts. She couldn't afford to show weakness. The others bore their own wounds, their own fears. She had no right to add hers to the weight they already carried.
As always, Yuki masked her turmoil behind a calm, almost impassive face. A faint smile brushed her lips, just enough to deceive anyone glancing her way. Yet inside, nostalgia tugged her back—the priestess's voice, the memory of a lost friend, the crushing burden of a power too great for her alone.
"If I have to keep moving forward with them, then I'll do it without faltering. I'll do it for Amane—and for my brother."