The portal, once a steady flicker of blue, had now expanded outward, its presence overwhelming.
Crimson energy surged from its depths, sending ripples through the air. The buildings surrounding it trembled, their foundations groaning under the intensity of the energy radiating from the rift.
Even from a distance, civilians could feel it — an oppressive weight pressing down on their chests, a tangible force that made it hard to breathe.
Fear seeped through the streets, people's eyes darting nervously as the ground beneath them seemed to pulse with life. It was like the very air had changed, turned alive with something dark and dangerous.
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Alan couldn't quite process it. His mind raced, trying to grasp what he was seeing, but his thoughts kept shattering against the flood of crimson that emanated from the dungeon.
It was… wrong. This wasn't just any dungeon; it had transformed.
"This isn't right," Alan muttered under his breath, stepping forward, his hands shaking as they gripped his weapon tighter.
The air was thick with the kind of energy that made his skin prickle and his instincts scream for him to run.
He tried to shake it off — he couldn't afford to be distracted, not now.
But it was clear now, the dungeon wasn't a mere D-rank dungeon anymore. No, something far more terrifying had taken root.
The sounds of distant grunts echoed through the air — guttural, filled with malice.
Not the high-pitched chattering of goblins or the hollow laughs of the smaller beasts.
No, these were deep, animalistic growls, full of hunger and cruelty. Alan's breath hitched, the weight of what he was hearing crashing down on him.
"Watch out!" William's voice cut through the air, sharp with urgency.
Alan barely had time to react, spinning around just in time to see a figure emerging from the shadows. His eyes widened. A goblin, but not any goblin.
This one was massive, towering over him by at least a foot, its skin darkened by the same crimson energy that poured out of the rift.
Its eyes glowed, feral and calculating, and in its hand, it held a baton, one crackling with a dark, malevolent power. Alan's heart skipped a beat.
Before he could react, the goblin swung the baton down with a sickening speed. Alan tried to jump out of the way, but he wasn't fast enough.
The baton slammed into his back with a force that sent him crashing to the ground. Pain shot through him like lightning, sharp and blinding.
His body hit the dirt hard, his breath leaving him in a painful gasp as the world spun around him.
His hands instinctively went to his back, but there was nothing but the searing pain of broken ribs, a back torn by the brutal impact, and blood quickly spreading beneath him.
The sounds of the battle, the growls of the goblin, and the distant roars of the monsters faded into a distant hum.
Everything was blurry, foggy, until all he could focus on was the pulsing pain that consumed his entire body.
William's voice cut through the haze of agony. "No, no, no!" He shouted in disbelief as he rushed forward. His gaze was fixed on Alan, who lay crumpled on the ground, blood pooling beneath him. The sight made William's heart stop.
"Help..." Alan's voice was weak, a whisper barely escaping his lips.
The pain was suffocating, drowning him in its intensity. His fingers twitched as if reaching for something, anything to stop the pain, but they didn't have the strength to move.
His vision darkened at the edges, the sounds around him growing fainter. Panic began to rise within him. Was this how it ended?
The beasts, the dungeon, it had all been too much. The mission had gone wrong. His body, his strength, they weren't enough.
William's eyes flashed with fury, the kind of rage that could burn everything in its path.
He didn't have time for this. Alan couldn't die here. Not like this.
"Don't you dare die on me!" William's voice was low.
He turned toward the goblin, his eyes flashing with the kind of power that came only from desperation.
A crackling energy rippled through the air as William summoned his Beast.
From the shadows, a white-furred Hellhound materialized, its eyes glowing with electric energy.
It moved like a streak of lightning, its body blurring as it tore across the battlefield, leaping toward the goblin with a primal howl.
The goblin barely had time to react before the Nighthound collided with it.
The force of the impact sent the creature skidding backward, but it quickly regained its footing, shaking off the blow as it steadied itself.
Alan's vision was fading, his breath shallow and ragged as the Nighthound nuzzled him gently.
The beast's warm, familiar presence was a small comfort amidst the agony, its soft whimper a reminder that he wasn't alone. But that wasn't enough.
"Stay with me," William's voice was a low growl as he knelt beside Alan, his hands trembling as he reached into his pocket. The vial of healing liquid felt like a small miracle in his palm.
The Healing potion — it was the only thing that could save Alan now.
William's fingers moved quickly, pulling the stopper off and lifting Alan's bloodied back just enough to pour the healing liquid onto the torn skin.
The formula was cool as it poured onto Alan's back, and though it was slow, there was a shift, a subtle change.
Alan gasped as the pain eased, his body quivering as his skin began to stitch itself back together. The intense, searing sensation dulled, replaced by the soothing calm of the healing magic.
Alan's chest rose and fell more steadily now. He could breathe. Slowly, his vision cleared, and he became aware of the weight of his body on the ground, the sound of the Nighthound's soft whimpers, and William's worried face hovering above him.
"I… I'm not dying," Alan croaked, his voice barely more than a whisper, a dry laugh escaping his lips as he met William's gaze.
William's eyes softened, though his expression remained serious. "You better not." He helped Alan sit up slowly, steadying him as the healing formula took full effect. "We're not done yet. We've got a job to do."
His eyes flickered to the goblins that had surrounded them... They needed to be ready.