A/N:
Hello everyone! I'm still new at writing, so your patience and support mean a lot. I hope you enjoy this chapter, and any comment or feedback is always welcome.
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Discipline was a fortress. Inside the silent, sterile walls of the UNSC fabrication bay, Spartan-001 moved through his post-mission routine with the precision of a machine. He field-stripped his MA40 and MK50, cleaning each component with practiced efficiency, the familiar scent of carbon scoring and weapon lubricant a stark, comforting contrast to the alien world outside. Ares Team was running drills in the simulation chamber, the muffled sounds of their commands a distant echo of the new reality he was forging.
On the main holographic display, Cortana's avatar sifted through a mountain of data, her form a shimmering blue beacon in the grey workshop. The file for "Project Prometheus" was open, a complex web of schematics, resource requirements, and physiological augmentation protocols.
"Alright, I've run the numbers," she said, her expression serious. "Unlocking the [M805X Mjolnir Integration Suit] schematic is the easy part. A 50,000 SP investment, but manageable. The hard part is actually building it."
She highlighted a section of the schematic, a cascade of red warnings appearing beside it. "This isn't a BDU, Chief. The undersuit is a fusion of reactive metal liquid crystal layers, polymerized lithium, and a neural-reactive memory foam. Our current workshop… it's like trying to build a starship with a hammer and anvil. The tolerances are sub-atomic. We lack the required machinery."
"Specify the deficiency," the Spartan stated, not looking up from his work.
"We need a [Construction Template: Advanced Fabrication Bay]," Cortana replied, pulling up the new template. It was a massive upgrade, featuring micro-assemblers, a molecular forge, and integrated bio-printers. "And to build that, we need materials that simply don't exist on the surface or in the upper floors. We need Orichalcum for the chassis, Adamantite for the high-stress components, and a dozen other rare minerals found exclusively in the middle floors."
A new mission objective materialized on the Spartan's HUD, a logical, inevitable extension of their new primary goal.
[NEW SECONDARY MISSION]
[MISSION: Forge of the Future]
[DESCRIPTION: The Prometheus Project requires a significant upgrade to your production capabilities. Gather the necessary rare materials to construct an Advanced Fabrication Bay.] [OBJECTIVE 1: Acquire Orichalcum Ore (0/20 kg).]
[OBJECTIVE 2: Acquire Raw Adamantite (0/5 kg).]
[OBJECTIVE 3: Acquire a list of 5 other specified rare minerals.]
[REWARD: +25,000 System Points, Unlock Option for Schematic [UNSC Cryo Chamber].]
The Spartan reassembled his Sidekick with a final, satisfying click. "Ares Team is not ready for the middle floors. Their new weapons require live-fire calibration in a controlled environment. I will handle this acquisition solo."
"I figured you'd say that," Cortana sighed. "The 13th to 17th floors are a whole different ecosystem. More dangerous, more aggressive. The Guild designates it as a turning point where only high-level, dedicated parties should proceed."
"Then it is the perfect environment to assess the upper limits of the Mjolnir's current performance," he concluded. "And to confirm the threat level of this world's so-called champions."
He stood, his weapons gleaming and ready. He walked to the maintenance frame and began the process of re-equipping his armor. The mission was clear. The risks were calculated. It was time to go to work.
The transition from the 12th to the 13th floor was not merely a change in scenery; it was a palpable shift in reality. The air grew heavy, thick with a primal pressure that seemed to press in on his armor's energy shields. The eerie green glow of phosphorescent moss was replaced by a dim, oppressive twilight, the source of which he could not identify. The very architecture of the Dungeon changed, from wide-open caverns to a labyrinth of twisting, man-made-looking corridors and vast, multi-leveled chambers that felt like the ruins of a forgotten city.
"Energy readings are fluctuating wildly," Cortana noted, her voice a low hum in his neural interface. "The ambient magic density here is ten times that of the upper floors. It's affecting my sensors. Motion tracker is becoming less reliable."
"Acknowledged," the Spartan replied, his grip tightening on his MA40. He moved with a heightened state of alert, his every sense augmented by the suit, straining to pierce the gloom.
The first encounter was swift and brutal. A pack of War Shadows—humanoid monsters formed of living darkness—attempted to ambush him from the ceiling. His thermal vision cut through their incorporeal forms, and a controlled burst from his rifle tore through them before they could even fully materialize, their dissipating bodies letting out silent screams.
He pressed deeper. The 15th floor was a massive, jungle-like environment under a ceiling so high it was lost in darkness. Strange, oversized flora pulsed with faint light, and the air was thick with the scent of alien pollen and decay. It was here he encountered the first true challenge: an Infant Dragon.
The beast was far from an infant. It was a ten-meter-long lizard of muscle and obsidian scales, its maw glowing with internal fire. It crashed through the undergrowth, its roar a physical force that shook the very ground.
"Threat level analysis: significantly higher than a Hellhound Alpha," Cortana stated calmly. "Scales are registering a durability comparable to the outer plating of a Covenant Ghost. Aim for the joints or the eyes."
The dragon belched a torrent of green fire. The Spartan didn't dodge; he activated his suit's thrusters, rocketing sideways as the ground where he stood was instantly turned to molten slag. Mid-air, he raised his rifle and fired a burst at the creature's eye. The 7.62mm rounds, which tore Hellhounds apart, sparked and ricocheted off the dense bone surrounding the socket.
He landed and immediately broke into a dead sprint, weaving between the massive trees as another gout of fire chased him. This was not an extermination. This was a proper fight.
He slid behind a thick, petrified tree as the dragon charged, the impact cracking the ancient wood. Using the moment of impact as cover, he primed a plasma grenade. He leaned out, threw the grenade with perfect accuracy, and watched it stick to the dragon's thick neck with a hiss.
The resulting detonation was a brilliant flash of blue-white energy. The dragon roared in pain and fury as the superheated plasma melted through its scales, exposing the raw flesh beneath. Enraged, it swung its massive tail, a club of bone and muscle that shattered the tree he was using for cover.
The Spartan was already moving, leaping over the debris. He drew his Sidekick, the heavy-caliber pistol a more precise tool for this work.
CRACK. CRACK.
Two 12.7x40mm rounds slammed into the wound created by the plasma, punching deep into the creature's neck. It staggered, a guttural cry of agony echoing through the jungle. He didn't let up. He closed the distance, using his thrusters to launch himself onto the beast's back, his magnetic boots clamping onto its armored hide.
The dragon thrashed wildly, trying to dislodge him, but he held on like a tick, raised his Sidekick, and fired three more shots directly into the base of its skull. The beast stiffened, its massive frame shuddering, before it finally crashed to the ground, dead.
He stood on the corpse, reloading his pistol, his breathing controlled and even.
[SIDE MISSION COMPLETE!]
[MISSION: Dragon Slayer]
[DESCRIPTION: Defeat an Infant Dragon solo.]
[REWARD: +7,500 System Points, [Infant Dragon Scale] added to schematic database.]
"Well," Cortana said, a hint of admiration in her voice. "That was… invigorating."
Before the Spartan could reply, his motion tracker, previously unreliable, blared with a single, massive proximity alert. It was a contact so close and so fast it had bypassed the system's early warnings.
He spun around, his rifle raised, just as a figure emerged from the shadows of the jungle. It was a man, but the sheer presence he projected was that of a natural disaster. He was a mountain of muscle and battle-scarred flesh, dressed in simple armor that did little to conceal his power. His boar-like face was a mask of stoicism, and in his hands, he held a sword so massive it looked more like a sharpened slab of iron than a blade.
The Spartan's HUD instantly began to scroll with data, cross-referencing the image with his database.
[TARGET IDENTIFIED: OTTAR – "THE BOAR"]
[AFFILIATION: FREYA FAMILIA (CAPTAIN)]
[LEVEL: 7]
[THREAT ASSESSMENT: ALPHA-LEVEL. EXTREME.]
Ottar stopped twenty meters away. He did not speak. He did not issue a challenge. He simply raised his colossal sword, the faint light of the cavern glinting off its edge. The air grew thick, heavy with an unspoken pressure that dwarfed even that of the dungeon itself.
This was not a random encounter. This was a hunt.
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A/N:
Thank you for reaching the end of this chapter — your support really motivates me to continue.
I'm still an inexperienced writer, and English is not my native language, so any feedback or corrections are always welcome (as long as it's respectful).
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