14th Everdusk 2103, CGA Branch, Dyna Crest Country
Inside the deep recesses of the dungeon, Evan stepped through the third-stage portal, his figure swallowed by swirling light and fading into the depths. But while one story unfolded in silence beneath the stone, another continued above—louder, more chaotic, and fraught with anticipation.
Outside the dungeon, near the administrative hall of the CGA, teachers stood clustered before the glowing Dungeon Raid Board. On it flickered the names of students, neatly ranked according to their performance, their conditions, and current positions within the dungeon's twisted layout.
Unsurprisingly, the first rank belonged to Lucas—who was already navigating the third stage alone. Second place was held by Lyre, close behind him. Below them, a handful of students had also entered the third stage, though they moved in teams, unlike the two who were blazing forward solo.
Evan's name rested at the eighth rank, having shot up quickly after reaching the second stage. He'd started from rank twenty-one, a late riser in the early stage, but the moment he reached the second, he climbed like a phantom through smoke. Now, only a few minutes and one group separated him from seventh place.
In the top ten, most had entered the third stage, with even the tenth-place group stepping into the next zone. But not all students endured the pressure.
Some had exited early—tired, shaken, or overwhelmed. A few had barely completed the first stage before stumbling out. Overconfidence had driven many to attempt solo raids, only to find themselves crawling out with wounds and regret, understanding just how harsh a dungeon trial could be when faced alone.
Each teacher monitored their own class, their eyes glued to the names they had seen in lectures for months. Helen, stern yet watchful, stood silently while observing the board. He attention paused on a name he hadn't expected to see rise so quickly.
"Evan," he murmured. His expression shifted slightly, brows knitting in brief thought. "Late starter... but fast. Very fast."He watched as he transitioned into the third stage, trailing just behind the main cluster of elite students.
Maybe he was a sleeper. Maybe, just maybe, he would rank higher than expected.
He allowed himself a small nod and shifted his gaze back to the wider board, monitoring the progress of others in his class.
But not all teachers were as calm.
Tess, another faculty member, had her full attention pinned to one glowing name—Lucas. Her eyes refused to drift. Her breath caught each time the health indicator flickered, even slightly.
Unlike the others, her worry wasn't just professional. Lucas wasn't simply her best student—he was the one she loved, secretly. A relationship hidden from the academy, kept behind smiles and quiet moments until the raid ended and they could speak openly once more.
'Please… come out safely,' she thought, her fingers trembling. 'If something happens to you, I… I won't be able to...'
"Miss Tess," a voice broke her trance.
She flinched, turning to find Principal Miriam looking at her with a curious gaze.
"I think you're lost in thought."
"O-oh, yes," she stammered, trying to recover. "Just thinking about the safety of my students. Nothing more, sir."
He nodded slowly and turned away, unaware of the storm she kept tightly hidden behind her smile.
Once he left, she exhaled and turned back. "Please hurry, Lucas… Every second longer makes me feel like I'm unraveling."
—---
Inside the dungeon's third stage, amidst dark trees and blood-stained soil, Lucas crept through a hostile goblin tribe territory. His movements were sharp, precise, and silent.
Bodies lay behind him—green-skinned goblins, taller than dwarves, twisted in death. He had entered through the forest, silent as a shadow, eliminating scouts before they could even breathe a warning.
The village was simple, scattered with huts made of hides, bones, and wood. The central hut—larger, reinforced—was undoubtedly the boss's dwelling. Weapon-bearing goblins paced the makeshift streets, unaware that their ranks were thinning by the minute.
Snoring echoed faintly from within the central hut.
Lucas crouched low, thinking. "How do I pull them all out... without alerting the boss right away?"Then his gaze lifted toward one of the huts. The idea struck immediately.
Moments passed.
Then, without a sound, smoke began to rise. One of the huts caught fire—blazing and growing. Roars of confusion followed as goblins ran to douse the flames, tossing dirt, shouting guttural words, stumbling into each other in the chaos.
And while their attention burned elsewhere, Lucas slipped forward like a ghost into the central hut.
His blade gleamed in the dim light. He found the bed. Empty.
His instincts screamed.
Lucas rolled, barely avoiding the massive mace that came down like thunder, shattering the wooden frame, cracking the stone below, and obliterating the hut's rear wall in one earth-shaking blow.
The warlord had awakened.
Lucas landed in a crouch, eyes wide as he stared at the beast before him. A hobgoblin—taller than any he'd seen before. Its skin was bruised purple, its frame muscular beyond belief, and its eyes glowed faintly red.
He recognized the signs.
"A mutant," he whispered. "Just my luck."
The boss stood still, massive mace resting over its shoulder. Around its neck hung a strange, crude pendant—the dungeon's totem. Destroying it was part of the mission, but getting close would mean surviving this monster's wrath.
Then the hobgoblin roared.
Not a fear skill. A signal.
All around the village, goblins began to rush back from the fire. The noise had reached them. They came running from huts and shadows, weapons in hand, swarming.
Lucas cracked his neck and smiled.
"Well," he muttered, "you really know how to gather a crowd."
The goblin warlord advanced, mace dragging across the ground. Lucas reached into his coat, his fingers brushing the rune seal hidden beneath his shirt.
"Good," he whispered. "I needed a full test run anyway."
He raised his hand.
< -???? MP>
To be continued...