In a world forever changed by the Apocalypse, the emergence of dungeons altered humanity's fate.
These mysterious realms, brimming with magical energy and fierce creatures, forced humans to adapt.
Amid this chaos, a select few humans developed an extraordinary ability — an affinity with the Beasts that now roamed the land. These humans became Beast Tamers.
A Beast Tamer wasn't just someone who could wield the power of Beasts; they were able to forge Blood Contracts with them.
Only a rare few were capable of such a feat.
This was no simple skill; it was a bond born of blood and magic, a connection so deep that it allowed a Tamer to call upon the power of a Beast, whether for battle or protection.
The origin of this power was tied to the energy that radiated from the dungeons, which seeped into the world after the cataclysmic event.
As the radiation permeated the air, some humans evolved, gaining the unique ability to form these contracts.
But not everyone was capable. Those who could forge Blood Contracts were few and far between, and the ability set them apart from ordinary humans.
A Beast Tamer's potential was ranked — an essential measure of their strength and status in this new world. The rankings ranged from SSS-Rank, the highest, to D-Rank, the lowest.
These ranks were displayed by the number of stars on a Tamer's uniform. The higher your rank, the more prestigious your status, not only among other Tamers but also in society as a whole. But for now, that didn't matter to Alan... he was a measly D rank after all.
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Alan's breath came in ragged gasps as he stumbled through the portal and into the dungeon.
It was his first time inside one, and the transition from the outside world to the eerie, dimly-lit cavern left him feeling disoriented. His heart pounded as he surveyed the surroundings.
The dungeon was a sprawling expanse, shrouded in darkness. The only source of light came from the faint glow of crystals scattered across the floor, casting long, shifting shadows.
The air was thick with an odd, metallic scent, and Alan could feel the presence of magic humming just beneath the surface of the world. It felt alive, like the dungeon itself was waiting for something.
"Stick close to the others," the Captain's voice cut through the quiet, deep and authoritative.
Alan turned his head to find the tall, imposing figure of the Captain. He stood a few feet ahead of the group, his eyes scanning the dungeon with a steady focus.
"Higher ranks, stay close to the lower ranks. Protect them. We're all going to make it out of here," he continued, his words steady and reassuring.
The Captain exuded confidence, a certainty that was contagious. Alan nodded, though a knot of anxiety still twisted in his stomach.
As he glanced around, he noticed that the swirling portal they had passed through earlier had disappeared. He'd been told it would vanish once they entered the dungeon — another one of the many rules and nuances they had learned about in class.
Their only way out now was to defeat the Beast that resided at the heart of the dungeon. It was always the same: clear the dungeon, defeat the Boss, and return home... sounded simple enough right?
Alan's eyes flicked to the other Tamers around him — each one a different age, a different level of experience.
There was a sense of camaraderie among the group, but also an undercurrent of tension. They all knew the stakes. D-Rank dungeons were relatively tame compared to the higher ranks, but they were still dangerous. A Beast could strike at any moment.
"Summon your Beasts," the Captain said, pausing in his tracks.
His voice was firm. Alan, along with the rest of the group, reached for the small orbs that rested on their belts. Each orb was a key — a vessel that held the bond between a Tamer and their Beast.
Alan's fingers brushed over the smooth surface of the orb on his waist. It was warm from the magic stored within, and he could feel the power waiting to be released.
He closed his eyes for a moment, focusing, drawing on his own energy as he summoned his Beast.
He poured his magical energy into the orb, letting the flow of power surge through him. A soft hum filled the air as the orb began to glow brighter, the light intensifying until it erupted in a burst of crimson.
The energy coiled around him, crackling with power. Alan took a step back as a form began to materialize before him.
The Nighthound.
It emerged from the swirling light, landing silently on the stone floor with a low, almost imperceptible thud.
The creature stood tall, its sleek black fur shimmering under the dim light of the dungeon.
Its eyes gleamed like red embers in the dark, fierce and unblinking.
Alan could feel the familiar presence of his Beast at his side — its power, its loyalty, and its quiet intelligence. The Nighthound gave a low, throaty growl, its attention scanning the dungeon with a predator's alertness.
"Nice Beast," a voice beside him said.
Alan turned to see the brown-haired girl who had been walking alongside him earlier. She smiled at him, her eyes bright with genuine admiration.
Her own Beast — a sleek, green-scaled creature with wings — was perched beside her, watching him curiously. Alan's cheeks flushed at the compliment.
It was the first time anyone had ever said something like that about his Nighthound, and it caught him off guard.
"Thanks," he stammered, suddenly feeling a bit self-conscious. The Nighthound, sensing his unease, gave a low, rumbling growl as if to reassure him.
"Focus," the Captain's voice broke through, sharp and direct. "We don't have time for distractions. Move out."
The group began to move, and Alan fell in line, his Nighthound trotting at his side. Despite the tension, he couldn't help but feel a surge of pride.
He was ready. The Beast at his side, the bond between them forged through blood and magic, was more than just a tool — it was a partner, and together, they were going to face whatever this dungeon had to throw at them.
Yet never in his wildest dreams had he guessed what trouble lay ahead...