The world twisted.
Light collapsed inward—then burst apart.
They were thrown forward as the gate expelled them violently into the outside world. Cold air rushed against their faces, carrying the scent of green leaves and damp earth. The suffocating darkness and icy stillness of the dungeon vanished, replaced by the solid warmth of real ground beneath their bodies and the whisper of wind moving through tall trees.
They had crossed.
For several heartbeats, no one moved.
No one spoke.
Then Elise inhaled sharply, her breath trembling as if she could not believe it herself.
"We're… alive," she whispered. "We made it out."
Daniel let out a hollow laugh. "I truly thought we'd die in there."
Chris dropped heavily to the ground, staring up at the sky.
"That was it. I swear it—never again. I'm never entering a red gate for the rest of my life."
Sam forced herself to stand despite the weakness in her legs. Her vision swayed, but she steadied herself and looked around sharply.
"Where are Raven and Ayla?" she asked. Her voice tightened. "Did they not come through? Did anyone see them exit?"
"They were right behind us—" Chris began.
Before he could finish—
The gate flared.
Ayla was thrown out violently, her body hitting the ground hard. She let out a pained groan, clutching her shoulder as she struggled to stand.
"Ayla!" Sam rushed toward her. "What happened? Where is Raven?!"
Ayla took one unsteady step toward the gate.
"Raven…" she whispered.
Sam grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her, her voice sharp and commanding.
"Ayla! Where is she? Why didn't she come out?!"
Ayla lifted her head slowly.
Her voice broke.
"She couldn't."
Sam froze.
"…What do you mean she couldn't?"
Her eyes widened in fear.
"Did the monsters reach her? Did something happen to her?"
Ayla shook her head weakly.
"No. The gate wouldn't let her pass."
Silence crashed down around them.
Chris, Daniel, and Elise stood frozen, listening in horror.
Sam's voice rose, sharp with disbelief and anger.
"What are you saying, Ayla?! How could a gate refuse someone?!"
"I don't know, I don't know" Ayla said desperately. "I don't understand it either. When Raven tried to cross, the gate pushed her back. When she tried again—with more force—it shocked her and threw her away."
Her hands trembled.
"But it didn't do that to me."
Their faces drained of color, They had never heard of such a thing, A dungeon gate that rejected a human.
Ayla swallowed hard, her voice barely audible as she continued.
"The monsters were right behind us… so close. Raven grabbed my hand, smiled at me, and said she was sorry."
Tears spilled freely now.
"And then she pushed me through the gate."
Ayla collapsed to her knees.
Elise covered her mouth, sobbing.
"No… that's not possible. She promised me. She said we would all leave the dungeon together."
Sam stood completely still.
Her face was pale—bloodless.
"No," she said quietly. Then louder, her voice burning with resolve,
"I won't allow it. I won't leave her alone in there."
She clenched her fists.
"Raven saved every one of us in that dungeon. I'm going back."
Ayla forced herself to her feet, tears still streaming down her face—but her voice was steady.
"I'm coming with you," she said. "She saved me too. I won't abandon her now."
Daniel broke the silence first, "We're coming too," he said firmly.
Chris nodded at his side. "We're not leaving her behind."
Elise swallowed hard. Despite the visible trembling of her hands, she stepped forward.
"I'm coming as well."
Sam turned sharply toward them.
"No," she said without hesitation. "You're all exhausted. In your condition, you won't be able to do anything."
She clenched her jaw.
"Ayla and I will go in. We'll find Raven and come out immediately."
Without waiting for an argument, Sam and Ayla approached the gate.
They stepped forward—
And were violently repelled.
An invisible force slammed into them, throwing both of them backward as if they had struck a solid wall.
Sam staggered, her brows knitting together in shock.
"What the —? Why can't we enter?"
Ayla's eyes widened as understanding dawned on her.
"It's the same," she whispered. "Just like what happened to Raven."
Gritting her teeth, Sam tried again. She gathered her strength and forced herself toward the gate.
The gate answered with cruelty.
A sharp shock exploded through her body, hurling her backward. She hit the ground hard, the breath knocked from her lungs.
"Elise rushed to her side.
"Captain! Are you okay?!"
Sam forced herself upright, breathing heavily.
"I'm fine."
She stared at the gate, her voice low and troubled.
"The gate won't let us in… and it wouldn't let Raven out."
Her hands slowly curled into fists.
"What does that mean?"
Chris spoke quietly, dread seeping into his tone.
"It's like… the gate is trying to trap Raven inside."
The words had barely left his mouth when—
They felt it.
A strange, unnatural energy began to surge from the gate, The air grew heavy, Oppressive.
Then—
The gate exploded.
A violent shockwave burst outward, slamming into Sam and Ayla and sending them flying backward across the ground. Daniel reacted instantly, summoning his shield and throwing himself in front of Elise and Chris, the barrier barely holding as it absorbed the blast.
The forest shook, Dust and mana scattered wildly through the air.
Elise scrambled toward Ayla, helping her up as Daniel and Chris rushed to Sam.
"Captain—are you hurt?" Daniel asked urgently.
Sam shook her head slowly, still stunned.
"I'm… fine barely ."
Her eyes never left the gate.
"What was that?" she whispered. "That wasn't an attack."
Daniel stared at the gate, his expression dark.
"I don't know," he said. "But it came from inside the gate itself."
Slowly, cautiously, they all approached again.
And then—, They stopped, No one spoke.
A heavy silence fell over the clearing as they stared at what stood before them.
The gate—once blazing with bright, fiery red light, had turned pitch black.
Its surface swallowed all light, and from it poured a dark, crushing aura that made their chests tighten and their instincts scream in warning.
This was no longer just a dungeon gate.
It felt like a prison.
And Raven was trapped inside.
They all stepped back several paces, instinctively putting distance between themselves and the black gate.
No one spoke at first.
Their hearts were torn in two directions—
fear for Raven, trapped alone inside a red dungeon that had transformed into something far worse before their eyes,
and dread of what would happen if the dungeon remained open until morning.
If it was not sealed…
the monsters would pour out.
And the city would be the first to bleed.
Sam was the first to break the silence.
"What caused that explosion?" she demanded, her voice tight with frustration. "What is happening inside the dungeon? And why did the gate turn black now?"
Chris shook his head slowly, disbelief written all over his face.
"A black dungeon has never appeared in the Kingdom of Aurelia. Not once. There are no records of it."
Daniel swallowed, his expression grim.
"Black gates are extremely rare," he said quietly. "They're among the most dangerous dungeon types known. Even the weakest monsters inside them are far stronger than the bosses of red gates."
Elise's breath hitched.
Her voice trembled as she spoke.
"Then… is Raven okay? She's alone in there. What if something happens to her?"
For a moment, fear threatened to overwhelm them.
Then Sam snapped.
"She's fine."
The words came out sharp, almost angry—like she was forcing them to be true.
"I'm certain of it," she continued, clenching her fists. "Raven is strong. Stronger than any of us. Stronger than she ever let on."
She turned abruptly toward Ayla, her gaze burning with urgency.
"Ayla, go back to the city. Now."
Ayla straightened immediately.
"Report everything to the Guild Master. Tell them what happened here—about the gate refusing entry and exit. We need a high-ranking mage. Someone powerful enough to analyze a gate that won't allow passage and possibly find a way to bring Raven back."
Sam's voice lowered, heavy with responsibility.
"And warn them to prepare. If the dungeon remains unsealed… tomorrow could become a massacre. If those monsters emerge, the city will suffer massive destruction."
She looked back at the black gate, her jaw tightening.
"We'll stay here. In case Raven comes out."
Ayla nodded without hesitation.
"I understand."
She turned and sprinted toward the city, her figure quickly disappearing between the trees.
The remaining four stood in silence before the black gate, its dark aura pulsing slowly, ominously—like a living thing.
It was nearly four in the afternoon when Ayla reached the city.
The ride had taken no more than ten minutes, but to her it felt far longer—every heartbeat pounding with urgency and fear. Without slowing her horse, she headed straight for her guild.
The Ironbound Vanguard.
She burst through the front doors and rushed inside, ignoring the surprised looks of hunters and staff. Her boots echoed sharply against the stone floor as she made her way straight to the Guild Master's office.
She pushed the door open—, Empty, Her heart skipped.
"No… no, no."
She spun around and hurried toward the first person she saw: an elderly woman standing behind the records desk, her silver hair neatly tied back, spectacles resting low on her nose as she sorted through parchment.
"Where is the Guild Master?" Ayla asked breathlessly. "He's not in his office."
The woman looked up, startled by Ayla's bloodstained armor and frantic expression.
"He already left," she replied calmly. "Tomorrow is a rest day, so he finished his work early. He said he was heading to Maris's Tavern for a while."
Ayla didn't waste another second.
She sprinted out of the guild hall, mounted her horse in one swift motion, and rode hard through the city streets toward the tavern.
The streets were unusually quiet. Shops were closing early, and the air carried an uneasy stillness, as though the city itself was holding its breath.
Maris's Tavern soon came into view.
Ayla leapt from her horse before it had fully stopped and shoved the tavern door open with such force that it slammed against the wall.
The laughter inside died instantly, Every head turned toward her.
She stood in the doorway, chest rising and falling rapidly, eyes wide with fear as she scanned the room.
Then she saw him.
At the back of the tavern sat Guild Master Alaric Thorne, a broad-shouldered man in his sixties with iron-gray hair and a weathered face marked by decades of battle and command. He was laughing alongside Maris and her husband, a mug of ale in his hand.
Ayla rushed toward them.
"Master Thorne!" she gasped. "There's a serious problem—powerful monsters, the captain was nearly killed, the gate threw us into the heart of the dungeon—"
Her words tumbled over one another, rushed and fragmented, panic bleeding into every syllable.
Alaric stood at once.
He placed a firm hand on her shoulder, his expression instantly turning grave.
"Slow down," he said firmly. "Breathe first."
He looked her over, eyes narrowing as he took in the blood staining her clothes.
"I don't understand a word you're saying," he continued. "And why are you covered in blood?"
Ayla drew in a deep, shaking breath.
Then another.
Her voice was still unsteady when she spoke again—but now it was clear.
"We're in serious trouble, Guild Master," she said quietly.
"A dungeon has gone wrong."
Silence settled over Maris's Tavern as Ayla finished catching her breath.
Guild Master Alaric Thorne did not sit back down. Instead, he gestured for her to continue, his hand still firm on her shoulder, his sharp gray eyes studying her with the focus of a man who had survived far too many disasters to underestimate one.
"Now," he said calmly, though the tension in his voice betrayed him, "tell me everything. From the beginning. Slowly."
Ayla swallowed hard.
"We were sent to close a red gate near the northern forest," she began. "At first… everything seemed wrong. The mana around the gate was weak. Too weak. Raven—Riven—noticed it immediately. She said the gate felt empty."
Alaric's brow furrowed.
"Empty red gates don't exist," he muttered.
"That's what she said too," Ayla continued. "When we entered, the space twisted. There was no transition chamber. No entry hall. We were thrown directly into the middle of the dungeon."
"The dungeon was massive," Ayla said, her voice tightening. "Dark. Endless. And alive—like it was watching us. There was no exit gate. No visible path back."
She clenched her fists.
"Then the pressure came. A presence. Something far stronger than anything I've ever felt. It froze us in place. Two of our team collapsed just from the weight of it."
Alaric slowly pulled out a chair and sat.
"Go on," he said quietly.
"The monsters came next," Ayla said. "Different species. Too many. All at once. Stronger than red-gate Boss. Sam tried to hold them off—but she was injured. Badly."
Her voice cracked.
"She was dying. , all of us almost died "
Maris brought a glass of water and placed it in Ayla's hands. Ayla drank, then continued.
"That's when Riven stepped in."
Alaric's gaze sharpened.
"She moved faster than I could follow," Ayla said. "One second the monsters were overwhelming us—the next, they were dead. All of them. In seconds."
"She didn't just fight," Ayla went on. "She… controlled the battlefield. and She raised a barrier—like dark glass. A dome. The monsters couldn't break it. And the longer they attacked it, the weaker they became."
"A mana-draining barrier," he said under his breath. "That's… ancient-level magic."
Ayla nodded.
"She healed us too. Not directly—but she transferred her mana to our healer. She restored our shield-bearer's reserves completely. She saved us. All of us."
"And then?" Alaric asked.
"We fought our way toward the gate," Ayla said. "Riven guided us. She could feel the gate's mana, even through the dungeon."
Her hands began to tremble.
"When we finally reached it… the monsters adapted and getting stronger and faster, They started collapsing tunnels to reach us faster. We ran. Riven stayed behind to cover us."
Alaric's eyes darkened.
"She told us to go," Ayla whispered. "Said she'd follow."
Her throat tightened.
"But when we reached the gate… it wouldn't let her through."
Alaric straightened sharply.
"It rejected her," Ayla said. "Not us. Only her. The moment she touched it, it shocked her back. Like the gate itself was refusing her."
"We tried again," Ayla continued. "She tried harder. It threw her back even worse."
Her voice broke.
"The monsters were right behind us. She looked at me with a smile…and ..."
A tear slipped down Ayla's cheek.
"She pushed me through the gate. Alone."
The tavern felt suddenly too small to contain the weight of those words.
"And then?" Alaric asked, though his voice had gone dangerously quiet.
"When we tried to go back in," Ayla said, "the gate rejected us too. It wouldn't allow entry. Then it exploded."
"The red gate collapsed inward," Ayla said. "And when the light cleared… it had turned black."
No one spoke.
Alaric slowly stood.
"A black dungeon," he said. "Formed from a red gate. With a hunter trapped inside."
His jaw tightened.
"That has never been recorded in Aurelia."
He turned to Ayla.
"And you're certain she's still alive?"
Ayla wiped her tears fiercely and nodded.
"Yes," she said. "She was standing when I last saw her. Calm. Like she'd already decided she would survive."
Alaric closed his eyes briefly.
When he opened them again, the warmth was gone—replaced by the cold clarity of a commander preparing for war.
"This is no longer a guild matter," he said firmly.
"This is a national-level threat."
He turned toward Maris.
"Send word to the Arcane Council. Immediately." Then to Ayla , "You did the right thing," he said. "And Riven… " His voice hardened , I'm sure she's still alive; she's a strong girl.
The Guild Hall of Ironveil Covenant had not felt this heavy in decades.
Guild Master Alaric Thorne stood at the center of the council chamber, his hands braced against the round obsidian table. Around him sat the senior officers, archivists, and captains who had answered the emergency summons in record time. Candles flickered along the walls, their flames bending unnaturally as if even the air itself sensed the gravity of the situation.
A black gate.
The words alone were enough to make seasoned veterans uneasy.
Alaric broke the silence.
"What happened today," he said, his voice firm but carrying an undercurrent of steel, "is beyond the authority of any single guild. A red dungeon collapsing into a black one—while selectively trapping a single hunter inside—is unprecedented."
Murmurs rippled through the room.
"One hunter?" an elder archivist asked. "Are we certain this isn't exaggeration?"
Ayla stepped forward before Alaric could answer.
"I saw it myself," she said, her voice hoarse but unwavering. "The gate rejected her. Not us. Only her. And when we tried to re-enter, it rejected us too."
The archivist's face drained of color.
"That implies intent," he whispered.
"Yes," Alaric said coldly. "Which means this is no longer a dungeon problem. It's a sentient anomaly."
He straightened and raised his voice.
"By authority of Ironveil Covenant, I declare a Crimson Emergency."
Gasps followed immediately.
A Crimson Emergency had not been declared since the War of Fractured Gates.
"Effective immediately," Alaric continued, "all red-gate operations within fifty leagues of the capital are suspended. City defenses are to be reinforced. Evacuation protocols are to be prepared—but not executed without royal approval."
He turned to the arcane division.
"Send a sealed message to the Royal Arcane Conclave. Request immediate intervention."
One of the magi hesitated.
"Guild Master… are you certain? Summoning a High-Tier Archmage without royal summons could—"
"I am certain," Alaric cut in sharply. "If that black gate ruptures, we won't have time for politics."
Silence followed.
Then he spoke the name.
"Summon Archmage Seraphiel Vaelor."
Several council members stiffened.
"The Voidbound?" someone muttered.
"The same," Alaric said. "He is the only living mage in Aurelia who has survived direct contact with a black dungeon—and returned."
Ayla's breath caught.
"He's… alive?"
"Barely," Alaric replied. "And that's exactly why we need him."
He turned to the messenger corps.
"Use priority sigils. Triple encryption. Mark the request as Existential Threat Level."
The messenger bowed deeply and rushed out.
Alaric then looked back at Ayla.
"You will remain on standby," he said. "When the Archmage arrives, you will recount everything again—every sensation, every fluctuation of mana, every word she spoke."
Ayla nodded, her fists clenched.
"And her?" she asked quietly. "What about Riven?"
Alaric's expression softened for the briefest moment.
"We assume she is alive," he said. "Until proven otherwise."
Then his voice hardened once more.
"And if she is alive inside that black dungeon… then whatever resides there has chosen her for a reason."
The candles flickered violently.
Somewhere far beyond the city walls, deep within the forest, the black gate pulsed—slow, deliberate, alive.
The air inside the guild hall changed before anyone spoke his name.
The candles dimmed—not extinguished, but bent, as if their flames were bowing to something unseen. Mana currents twisted uneasily, crawling along the marble floor like restless serpents.
Then the temperature dropped.
A circular sigil ignited at the center of the hall, its runes carved not in light, but in shadow. Space itself folded inward, groaning softly, until the sigil tore open like a wound in reality.
And from it, Seraphiel valenna stepped through.
Half of him looked like a man—tall, thin, draped in layered robes the color of ash and old blood. His hair, once silver, was now streaked with void-black veins, as if mana itself had burned through it. His left side was… wrong.
Skin fractured like cracked obsidian. Veins glowing faintly violet beneath translucent flesh. One eye human and sharp, the other an abyss swirling slowly, endlessly consuming light.
Every instinct in Ayla screamed.
This was not merely a mage.
This was someone who had survived the abyss—and paid the price.
Seraphiel's gaze swept the room, lingering on no one for long, yet somehow seeing everything.
"So," he said at last, his voice layered—one tone human, another echoing from somewhere far too deep.
"Which of you dared to summon me without a royal seal?"
Guild Master Alaric stepped forward and bowed deeply.
"Ironveil Covenant requests your aid, Archmage. A red gate collapsed into a black one."
That single, intact eye narrowed.
"…Interesting."
Ayla felt the pressure shift as Seraphiel turned toward her.
"You," he said. "You were there."
She swallowed and stepped forward, her hands clenched.
"Yes. I was."
"Then speak," Seraphiel said calmly. "Do not embellish. Do not omit."
And Ayla told him everything.
The distorted entrance.
The dungeon's unnatural silence.
The overwhelming pressure.
The gate rejecting Riven—and only her.
The explosion.
The transformation of crimson into absolute black.
As she spoke, Seraphiel's corrupted side reacted—mana veins pulsing brighter, as if responding to her words.
When she finished, silence fell.
Seraphiel closed his human eye slowly.
"…A gate that chooses," he murmured. "Fascinating."
He opened his eyes again, sharper now.
"The dungeon is not broken," he said. "It is awakening."
Alaric stiffened. "Awakening… into what?"
Seraphiel smiled faintly. It was not a comforting expression.
"Into something ancient enough to remember names," he replied.
"And powerful enough to refuse exit."
Ayla's voice trembled. "Can… can we get her out?"
Seraphiel turned toward the distant forest, as if he could already see the black gate through stone and distance alike.
"I will not pretend certainty," he said. "But I will go myself."
The room erupted.
"Archmage—"
"That's too dangerous—"
"You can't—"
He raised one hand.
Silence snapped into place.
"I am already half claimed by the void," Seraphiel said evenly. "If the gate seeks a sacrifice, it will hesitate before choosing me."
Then his gaze hardened.
"And if it does not… then we learn something valuable."
Ayla felt both relief and dread coil in her chest.
Ayla rode at a relentless pace, the city's stone streets blurring beneath her horse's hooves. Beside her moved Seraphiel Vaelor, gliding rather than walking—his boots never quite touching the ground. The air around him warped faintly, as if mana itself recoiled from his presence. Veins of crystallized magic pulsed beneath half-decayed skin along his neck and jaw, glowing dimly with an unhealthy light.
They had not yet passed the northern gates of the city when two figures stepped into the road ahead.
Ayla pulled hard on the reins.
"Kara?" she said sharply.
Beside Kara stood a young woman cloaked in a travel mantle, hood drawn low. Her posture was disciplined, controlled—too refined for an ordinary traveler. Even disguised, something about her presence bent the space around her.
Ayla's eyes narrowed.
"What are you doing here?" she demanded. "The city is on alert."
The hooded woman stepped forward before Kara could speak.
"We were on our way to Maris's Tavern , As we agreed yesterday," she said calmly. Her voice was soft, but carried authority beneath it. " Raven would be there. We wished to see her. To make sure she returned safely from the gate."
Ayla's breath caught.
"…Raven?" she repeated.
Kara frowned. "Ayla, what's going on? Why are you riding out with—"
Her words faltered as her gaze landed on Seraphiel.
The high mage tilted his head slowly.
Silence fell.
Then he spoke.
"So," Seraphiel said, his voice layered, as if several echoes spoke at once, "the princess of Aurelia walks the streets in borrowed cloth and shadows."
Kara's hand flew instinctively to the sword at her waist.
The hooded woman stiffened.
Ayla turned sharply. "Princess…?"
The woman sighed, then reached up and lowered her hood.
Silver hair spilled free, catching the daylight like moonlight on water. Her eyes—clear, piercing silver —settled on Ayla with quiet urgency.
"Princess Lyria Vaelor," Seraphiel continued, studying her with unsettling calm. "Your mana signature is unmistakable. Even buried beneath suppression charms."
Lyria ignored him and stepped closer to Ayla.
"You said Raven," she said again, slower now. "You spoke her name as if something were wrong."
Her brows drew together. "Where is she?"
Ayla hesitated.
Kara noticed immediately. "Ayla," she said cautiously, "answer her."
Ayla swallowed.
"She… didn't make it out," Ayla said. "Not yet."
The words struck like a blade.
Lyria's eyes widened. "What do you mean didn't make it out?"
Ayla forced herself to continue. "The red gate collapsed. It turned black. Raven was trapped inside when it happened." Ayla told her the whole story from beginning to end, in short.
The street seemed to tilt.
Lyria took a step back, her breath unsteady. "That's not possible," she whispered. " but She promised—"
Seraphiel's gaze sharpened. "A black gate does not reject without reason," he said. "If she remains inside, then the dungeon has acknowledged her… or claimed her."
Lyria's hands clenched at her sides.
"No, No, Take me to it," she said suddenly.
Kara turned to her in alarm. "Lyria—no. Absolutely not. That's a black gate. Even elite hunters—"
"I said take me to it," Lyria repeated, her voice trembling now, fear breaking through the composure. "If Raven is inside, I will not remain here pretending this is none of my concern."
Ayla opened her mouth. "Your Highness, it's too dangerous—"
Lyria met her gaze, eyes burning. "She went in to protect others. She stayed behind so the rest could live."
Her voice cracked. "If I turn away now, then I am unworthy of every crown I wear."
Kara grabbed her arm. "You can't save her by dying too!"
Seraphiel watched the exchange in silence, then finally spoke. "She will come," he said simply. "Whether you forbid it or not."
All eyes turned to him.
"The gate has already chosen its focal point," Seraphiel continued. "And fate rarely tolerates absence."
Lyria straightened, resolve hardening through her fear.
"Then we waste no more time," she said. "Take me to Raven."
Ayla nodded slowly, dread and determination twisting together in her chest.
And with that, they turned their mounts northward—
toward the Black Gate,
and the fate waiting within.
The northern forest loomed like a living shadow as they arrived.
Tall, ancient trees crowded together so tightly that even moonlight struggled to pass between their branches. Torches burned along the perimeter, held by hunters and soldiers stationed in a wide defensive ring—men and women sent by Guildmaster Alaric Thorne to contain whatever might emerge if the worst came to pass.
Night had already fallen.
And the darkness here felt… wrong.
The moment Ayla stepped beneath the forest canopy, Kara stiffened sharply, her hand flying to the hilt of her sword.
"Did you feel that?" Kara whispered. "That pressure—"
She swallowed. "It's heavy. Vile. Like something is watching us."
Seraphiel moved forward, his half-corrupted form illuminated briefly by torchlight. The mana-crystallized scars along his body pulsed faintly, responding to an unseen call.
"That," he said calmly, "is the mana of a Black Gate."
Princess Lyria slowed her steps and looked at Ayla, unease flickering across her usually composed face.
"You said the gate lies in the center of the forest," Lyria said. "Then why does its presence reach this far?"
Ayla nodded. "That's what I don't understand either. Yes—it's deep inside."
Lyria frowned, her brows knitting.
Seraphiel's voice cut through the silence.
"This is the nature of a Black Gate," he explained. "Its influence has no clear boundary. Nor does the strength of the creatures bound within it."
They continued forward until the trees finally opened into a wide clearing.
And there it was.
The Black Gate stood like a wound torn into reality—its surface swirling with pitch-dark mana, swallowing light rather than reflecting it. The air around it felt distorted, heavy, as though the world itself struggled to exist nearby.
Several figures were gathered at a cautious distance.
Ayla's team.
Captain Samantha rose the moment she saw them and strode forward, relief briefly breaking through her exhaustion.
"Ayla—finally," Sam said. "Guildmaster Alaric sent reinforcements after you left. We're prepared if anything comes out."
Her gaze shifted to Seraphiel, eyes sharpening with professional focus.
"…Are you the high mage?" she asked. "Can you help us? We need to know why no one can enter the gate—and why Raven couldn't leave."
Seraphiel inclined his head once. "That is why I am here."
He stepped toward the Black Gate, eyes glowing faintly as he began to observe it in silence.
Sam turned then, noticing the two unfamiliar figures behind Ayla.
"And who are they?" she asked. "Hunters?"
Ayla shook her head. "No. They're Raven's friends. When they heard what happened, they insisted on coming."
She gestured. "This is Kara, a knight. And this is Lyria—she's a knight as well."
Sam studied them for a moment, then nodded.
"I'm Captain Samantha," she said. "I was Raven's captain when she was with the guild."
Her voice softened slightly. "I promise you—we will do everything in our power to bring her back."
Lyria clasped her hands together, tension visible in her shoulders.
"She will be fine," Lyria said quietly, as if speaking it aloud might make it true. "I know she will."
Seraphiel broke the silence first.
"I hate to be the one who says this," the High Mage said, his voice calm—too calm—
"but no one can enter this gate. And no one can leave it."
The words fell like a death sentence.
For a moment, no one spoke.
Captain Samantha was the first to react.
Her eyes burned as she stepped forward. "What do you mean no one can enter?" she snapped, anger sharp in her voice. "You are the strongest mage in the kingdom. How can you stand there and say you can do nothing?"
Seraphiel turned his hollow gaze toward her, unshaken.
"There is nothing I can do," he replied evenly. "Because this gate has sealed itself. A Black Gate does not obey spells or force. It will only open under two conditions."
Fear rippled through the group.
Princess Lyria swallowed, her voice trembling despite her effort to stay composed.
"…What are those two conditions?"
The High Mage raised one finger.
"The first," he said, "is death."
All color drained from their faces.
"The gate will not open," he continued, "until the person trapped inside dies."
A sharp breath escaped Lyria's lips.
Then Seraphiel raised a second finger.
"The second condition is victory," he said. "If the trapped individual defeats the Dungeon Boss."
He paused—then added coldly,
"But that is impossible. She is alone."
His gaze swept across them.
"So the only outcome," he concluded, "is waiting. Waiting until the hunter trapped inside perishes. Only then will the gate reopen."
Princess Lyria's legs gave out.
She fell to her knees, one hand pressed to her chest as tears spilled freely.
"Raven…" she whispered. "No… Raven won't give up. No matter what happens—she won't."
Samantha moved before anyone could stop her.
She grabbed Seraphiel by the collar and yanked him forward, fury blazing in her eyes.
"How dare you speak about her like that?" Sam shouted. "You don't know her! Raven will not die—she's stronger than all of us!"
For the first time, Seraphiel laughed.
It was low. Bitter. Broken.
He pointed slowly to the side of his face—where mana had eaten away flesh and bone, leaving a twisted scar that glowed faintly.
"Do you know how this happened?" he asked quietly.
His smile was hollow.
"It happened in a Black Gate."
The forest seemed to hold its breath.
"I was not alone," he continued. "We were ten. The strongest fighters across multiple kingdoms. Red Gates took us thirty minutes to clear."
His voice darkened.
"But inside that Black Gate… we were toys. Like children with wooden swords facing a dragon."
Images of slaughter seemed to echo in his words.
"One by one, my team died," he said. "Until only I remained."
He let out a sharp, humorless laugh.
"Half alive."
Then he looked directly at Samantha.
"And now you tell me that this hunter—this Raven—will survive alone in a Black Gate?"
He laughed louder this time, sharp and cruel.
"She is already dead," he declared. "The gate will open in a few hours. And when it does, the monsters will pour out and destroy everything in their path. No one will stop them."
"No."
Lyria's voice cut through the night—clear, trembling, but unbroken.
"You're wrong," she said, rising slowly to her feet despite the tears on her face. "Raven is alive. And she will walk out of that gate."
Seraphiel scoffed.
"Believe what you wish," he replied coldly. "Strength means nothing when you stand alone."
"She is not dead," Lyria repeated, louder now. "I know it."
The High Mage opened his mouth to respond—
And the world exploded.
A massive surge of pressure burst from the Black Gate, sending a violent shockwave through the clearing.
Samantha and Ayla were sheltering behind trees .
Kara moved instantly, throwing herself in front of Princess Lyria, shielding her with her own body.
Seraphiel slammed his staff into the earth, mana roaring as he anchored himself against the blast.
The ground shook.
The trees groaned.
And the Black Gate pulsed—
as if something inside had just awakened.
Kara was the first to move.
She pushed herself up from the ground and immediately reached for Princess Lyria, helping her to her feet. Her eyes were wide, her breath uneven.
"What was that?" Kara asked, her voice tight with disbelief. "Was it the monsters… or the gate?"
Seraphiel did not answer at once.
Instead, he stepped forward—slowly, cautiously—toward the Black Gate.
Ignoring the warning looks around him, the High Mage placed his hand against the surface of the gate for no more than a single second.
The reaction was immediate.
A violent force slammed into his arm, throwing him backward. He staggered several steps, barely managing to steady himself with his staff.
His expression had changed.
Gone was the mockery. Gone was the certainty.
Now, there was something else.
Shock.
"No…" Seraphiel murmured, staring at the gate. "That explosion was not caused by the monsters."
Everyone froze.
"And it was not the gate itself."
Slowly, he lifted his head, his voice dropping into something almost reverent—almost afraid.
"It came from a human."
A heavy silence fell over the forest.
"I felt it," he continued. "An aura. A presence."
His fingers tightened around his staff.
"It was darker… more malignant… more terrifying than any monster I have ever encountered in my life."
The wind stirred uneasily around them.
"What," Seraphiel whispered, staring at the Black Gate, "is happening inside?"
Then he turned.
His hollow, mana-scarred eyes fixed on Captain Samantha.
And for the first time since his arrival, his voice carried genuine curiosity.
"Tell me," he asked quietly,
"who is this girl you call Raven?"