NOVPUBThe muddy swamp, soaked in blood, made creepy gurgling sounds as the team moved deeper into the dungeon. Each step sank ankle-deep into heavy, iron-smelling muck. Reddish mist slithered along the ground like snakes, curling around their boots and gear—almost like the dungeon was trying to pull them down.
The group came to a sudden halt as they spotted something… oddly familiar.
"Wait," Marcus whispered, raising a clenched fist.
Just ahead, the terrain sloped downward into a basin of rotting vines and stagnant blood pools.
Severed limbs jutted from the murk—an arm still gripping a melted sword, a leg pierced with thorns.
One head floated face-down in the mud, its helmet rusted, the Red Phoenix Guild's emblem barely showing under all the dirt.
Jarek gagged. "Shit... that's—"
Arden stepped up. He looked down at the bodies, his jaw tight behind his mask.
"That was Team Leader Reiss's team. I recognize that sigil on the gauntlet."
A grim silence followed. The team instinctively formed a tighter circle.
"They were the best assault team... Reiss could solo an entire raid boss… and yet his team was reduced to this," Marcus muttered.
"They didn't even make it past this point. This place didn't just kill them—it toyed with them," Arden said, his voice trembling with anger.
Suddenly, the mud churned.
A low gurgling sound echoed beneath the blood-soaked soil. The team scattered, weapons drawn, as a hand—pale, veined, and twisted—shot up from beneath one of the floating corpses.
"No time!" Arden shouted. "We're surrounded!"
Aberrants.
Marcus slashed at one charging toward him, but the blade barely grazed its hardened flesh. Then his eyes flared with an orange glow, and his blade forced its way through.
Another hurled itself at Jarek, who rolled to the side, firing a burst of regular flames, but the creature snapped away the attack as if it were a mere ball. His eyes widened in shock as it suddenly charged at him. He gritted his teeth as he took a battle stance, ready to use his massive gauntlets.
Draven narrowed his eyes in the distance. 'Foolish.'
As the creature got close and raised its massive claws, ready to strike—
Arden roared, "GET BACK!"
His blade ignited with a sharp hiss, green flames roaring along its length. He dashed forward in a blur as green flames ignited beneath his feet and at his shoulders, closing the distance in an instant, cutting the Aberrant straight through the waist.
The flame didn't just cauterize—it devoured.
The creature's upper body was consumed instantly, its howl echoing through the jungle before the rest of it crumpled into ash.
Another leapt toward him from behind—but Arden turned, hand outstretched.
A whip of green fire shot out from his palm, coiling around the monster mid-air. It screeched as it was yanked backward, straight into Arden's waiting blade.
A single upward slash split it from groin to skull, fire racing through its body until it, too, was no more.
The final one lunged from behind—but Draven, still unseen, flicked a pebble from his perch. The small stone slammed into the Aberrant's eye with force immense for something so small, staggering it long enough for Marcus to cleave its head off.
No one saw Draven move. No one even noticed.
He crouched again, his eyes narrowed.
'Fascinating,' he thought, watching Arden's form glow faintly with each swing of his fire-wreathed blade. 'This fury… it grants his green flames strength. And yet, it clouds his senses. He didn't even feel the third one behind him.'
The fight ended almost as quickly as it began.
Heavy breathing. Scorched mud. Ash and twitching limbs in the crimson muck.
Among the team, a woman with silver-white hair tied in a messy braid and violet eyes narrowed her gaze, her fingers twitching slightly as if plucking unseen threads in the air.
"They're still coming…" she said quietly, then raised her voice. "I can sense several more Aberrants swiftly approaching, and there are many more behind them. They're surrounding us slowly, like they're herding us. We may be strong, but fighting such numbers continuously will eventually leave us vulnerable."
Arden turned, sweeping his green-flamed sword in a slow arc to light the area. "Then we don't waste time. If we find the dungeon boss and kill it, the gate should disappear."
"That's the problem," the woman replied, her expression tense. "I've been using my sonar threads since we entered—sweeping the entire area in intervals. Mapping the walls, the layout, looking for a mana signature that would suggest a core guardian or boss."
She exhaled sharply, her violet eyes glowing faintly. "But I haven't found anything like that. No presence stands out… no anchor point for the dungeon's magic. It's like…"
She hesitated, lips tightening. "It's like this place isn't even a dungeon. It's a pocket dimension—one that's mimicking a dungeon. Or worse... feeding off the idea of one."
Jarek looked shaken. "A fake dungeon? That's—no wonder Reiss's team got annihilated. They probably thought they were dealing with regular threats… but if it isn't a dungeon, what is it?"
"No clue... But I may be wrong, because this space is very massive... So there may be a boss, but even if they exist, the amount of monsters we would have to get through to reach them would make it impossible to pull off," she said. "Besides this, I feel like my threads are being twisted somehow."
Marcus clicked his tongue, stepping closer to Arden. "That would explain the terrain shifts. Every few minutes it feels like we're walking in circles."
Arden's brows furrowed, but before he could respond, a sharp, vibrating buzz erupted in his head. Not like a sound in the ear—but like a scream behind his eye. His right eye.
"Gh—!" He winced, lifting a hand to cover it instinctively.
The others snapped to alert.
"Guildmaster?" the silver-haired woman asked, stepping closer. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing," he said, voice a little too strained. "Just… residual mana shock from the flame burst earlier."
But inside, he gritted his teeth as the voice echoed in his mind again, metallic and cold like a machine glitching:
[##### warns you against going further.]
[Your current strength will be ineffective.]
[You must accept the Contract.]
'That damned voice again…' he cursed, squeezing his eye shut as the pain slowly receded. It had been nearly two years now since he first started hearing it—right after returning from a clearing mission.
Sometimes, it whispered; sometimes, it screamed. But it always came from his right eye, and it always brought one thing: pressure, because it only ever spoke when his life was in danger.
While this... Contract sounded like it would give him more strength, he could sense—and was smart enough to tell—there were strings attached. And in this world, where all sorts of bizarre things happen, the last thing you'd do is listen to a creepy voice in your head... right?
Something—someone—was waiting behind it.
He forced a breath, then gave the others a small nod. "I'm fine."
They didn't look convinced, but they didn't press further.
The silver-haired woman's gaze lingered on him a moment longer. "Your eye. It flared for a second."
He stiffened. "You don't need to worry about it."
She didn't reply, but turned her attention back to her surroundings, her fingers weaving faint purple threads into the air—her sonar magic returning to work.
Meanwhile, Arden stood still for a heartbeat longer, his grip tightening on his blade.
….
….
Outside.
Naomi narrowed her eyes at the gate, the crimson glow reflecting in her pupils like twin sparks. The humming had grown fainter, almost like the portal itself was holding its breath.
"How long has it been since they went in?" she asked quietly.
Elias checked the glowing digits on his tactical wristband. "Five hours."
Naomi's expression darkened. "Then they've been inside for five days already."
Elias looked at her sharply. "You're sure the time dilation is that bad?"
She gave a small nod, eyes never leaving the swirling portal. "Sector II showed the same anomaly. A two-to-one ratio in the beginning. Then four. And now… it's stabilizing somewhere around twenty-four to one."
"So every hour out here… is a full day in there." Elias muttered, rubbing his temples. "Gods help them."
Naomi exhaled through her nose. "They're on their fifth day in hell. And we're still standing out here, praying they don't end up like the others."
Elias shifted uncomfortably, his gaze darting between the portal and Naomi. He could see the weight of the situation on her face, the fatigue and worry creeping through despite her typically composed demeanor.
"It's hard to keep holding onto hope when we've already lost so much," Elias muttered, his voice low. "Four teams, all wiped out. And now... the guild's best." He ran a hand through his graying hair. "I know you're trying to keep it together, but... we need to prepare for the worst."
Naomi didn't respond immediately. She was still staring at the crimson glow, her mind working, calculating every possibility. She had been with the Red Phoenix Guild long enough to know that when the stakes were this high, survival wasn't guaranteed.
But Arden's return—their return—had offered a glimmer of something she hadn't allowed herself to feel in a long time: hope.
"I know," she finally said. "But that's the thing, Elias. Arden's never been one to give up without a fight. I'm not about to write them off, not yet. Not while there's even a sliver of a chance."
