The journey to the dungeon had gone smoother than expected. No monsters along the road, no sudden storms, just the quiet crunch of boots through snow and the howling wind brushing against their cloaks.
They arrived ahead of schedule.
Now, the three of them stood atop a small rise, a snow-covered hill overlooking the valley below. The field stretched out in stillness, blanketed in white… except for one part.
The dungeon gate.
It swirled in the center of the frozen basin, dark and unnatural, as if the world itself had been ripped open and left gaping.
Even from over five hundred meters away, its presence could be felt.
Its pressure.
The weight of that dangerous dungeon.
The mana…
Larpard froze.
"Ugh…" he groaned suddenly, clutching his chest as his knees buckled, claws digging through his coat as he hunched forward. His small frame trembled, and sweat began to bead across his pale forehead.
