The dungeon did not announce itself with grandeur.
There were no towering gates, no ancient statues welcoming challengers, no thunderous seals breaking apart.
Instead, it waited.
Hidden beneath the gnarled roots of a mountain oak older than the forest itself, the entrance was nothing more than a fracture in the earth—stone split open as if something beneath had clawed its way upward and failed. Crimson runes flickered faintly along the cracked walls, their light weak, unstable, and fading.
Eseren stopped the moment she felt it.
The air was wrong.
Not hostile. Not oppressive.
Just… dying.
"Daniel," she said softly, resting a hand on Blaze Bang. "There's something alive down there."
Daniel stepped closer, his gaze fixed on the darkness beyond the entrance. His senses brushed the space inside—and stiffened.
"Barely," he replied.
They descended.
The stairs spiraled downward, uneven and worn, each step carrying them deeper into silence. The further they went, the colder the air became, though no frost formed. It was a lifeless cold—absence rather than chill.
The first chamber opened suddenly.
It was small, circular, and broken.
Stone pedestals lay cracked and overturned, ancient sigils carved into them fractured beyond recognition. At the center of the room lay three eggs.
Eseren's breath caught.
They were beautiful—and wrong.
One was obsidian-black, veins of silver pulsing weakly beneath its surface. Another was deep crimson streaked with gold, its shell faintly warm. The third was pale white, almost translucent, glowing like a dying ember.
All three were cold to the touch.
And fading.
"They're dying," Eseren whispered, kneeling beside them. She pressed her palm lightly against the white egg and felt only the faintest tremor. "Their life force is almost gone."
Daniel crouched beside her, eyes narrowing.
"This place is draining them," he said. "Slowly. Deliberately."
A trial.
One that demanded sacrifice.
Daniel extended his hand.
Space folded inward, swallowing light and sound alike.
"Void Space."
Darkness opened like a silent abyss, enveloping the eggs one by one. The moment they vanished, Eseren felt it—the pressure in the chamber eased, as if something had been denied its prey.
Inside the void, time slowed to a crawl. Decay halted. Life stabilized.
"They'll live," Daniel said. "As long as they stay there."
Eseren exhaled shakily. "Then whatever built this place… wanted them to die."
"Or wanted someone strong enough to refuse."
They moved on.
The dungeon revealed its nature quickly.
Each floor was sealed by a stone gate engraved with a number. Each time they descended, the monsters changed—not in form alone, but in intelligence.
The first levels were simple.
Stone-scaled beasts. Demonic insects. Twisted animals warped by dense mana.
Daniel did not interfere.
"Your turn," he told Eseren.
She didn't argue.
Blaze Bang came alive in her hands.
Her first Blaze Blast tore through an entire corridor, fire blooming like a flower of death. Blaze Mirage followed, arrows splitting midair to slaughter flanking enemies before they could surround her.
She learned with every fight.
How much mana she could pour into Blaze Bang before her core protested. How to move and fire without losing balance. How to let the bow guide her instincts without surrendering control.
By Level Ten, the monsters fought in packs.
By Level Fifteen, they coordinated.
By Level Twenty, they wielded crude weapons and ambushed from blind angles.
And Eseren still stood.
Sweat drenched her clothes. Her muscles burned. Her core throbbed with exhaustion—but her grip on the bow never wavered.
The dungeon floor was a graveyard of ash and shattered corpses.
Daniel nodded once.
"That's enough," he said. "You've learned what you need."
The final gate loomed ahead.
Engraved upon it was a single symbol.
Not a number.
A crown.
The door opened.