After a grueling day spent registering his companion, Vaelistra, at the Guild, Darian was finally ready to raid his first A-rank dungeon.
The sun blazed overhead as he made his way to the outskirts of town, where the famous Rift Grounds lay—a desolate, chaotic expanse known for its unpredictable portals. It was the perfect place to choose a dungeon, but also a reminder of the sheer danger that came with such endeavors.
The air felt charged, alive with power, as if the many portals strained against the fabric of reality itself. Some shimmered with alien colors, others swirled with inky blackness, their forms pulsating like living entities. Groups of adventurers crowded around the more stable rifts, shouting orders, adjusting gear, and preparing for the plunge into another dimension.
Darian approached a luminous green portal that seemed to hum with an otherworldly resonance. This wasn't his first time stepping through a rift in space-time, but the overwhelming nature of it never faded.
"Who's that guy?"
"Where's his team?"
"You don't think he's going in alone, do you?"
"That's impossible! Nobody can solo an A-rank dungeon!"
The murmurs of disbelief followed him like an annoying swarm of flies. Darian ignored them, his focus sharp. He had long learned that people loved to talk, especially when they didn't understand what they were witnessing.
He was dressed in standard-issue Guild armor—a set designed more for appearance than protection. The reinforced plating was nothing more than a veneer against the monstrous strength of the creatures inside these dungeons. Darian had learned that the hard way.
Still, he wore the armor for formality's sake, blending in just enough not to raise eyebrows. The real battle wasn't about appearances.
Standing before the portal, he called up his system.
[Quest: Raid a dungeon and kill the Dungeon King.]
[Duration: 12 hours 55 minutes 39 seconds.]
"Twelve hours," he muttered, exhaling slowly. The timer was a harsh reminder that preparation had eaten into his schedule, but he still had time.
Without a second thought, he stepped forward, vanishing into the portal's emerald light.
The world around him warped, twisting into an incomprehensible kaleidoscope of colors and sensations. For a moment, it felt as though he was being pulled apart, his very essence scattered across dimensions. Then, with a lurch, he emerged on the other side.
The air here was thick and heavy, carrying an oppressive darkness that pressed down on his senses.
[Welcome, Player!]
[Slay the beasts, defeat the Dungeon Boss, and complete the raid.]
[Time Remaining: 12 hours.]
A floating notification materialized before him, casting an eerie blue glow in the dim cavern. This was different. Lower-ranked dungeons never greeted him like this.
"So they're upping their game," Darian muttered, smirking to himself. The sense of challenge stirred something primal within him—a mix of excitement and a hunger for conquest.
The cavern stretched before him, its walls flickering with the faint light of ancient torches. Shadows danced in the gloom, and the ground beneath his feet was littered with remnants of past failures: broken weapons, shattered armor, and the skeletal remains of adventurers who had perished long ago.
"Amateurs," he muttered, stepping over a cracked helm without a second glance. His powers had changed him, hardened him. Sympathy for the dead was a luxury he couldn't afford.
The silence in the dungeon was suffocating. It wasn't the peace of a quiet meadow—it was the unnerving stillness of a predator waiting to strike. Darian's senses were on high alert, his eyes scanning the dim corridors for movement.
Something was watching him.
The presence was subtle but unmistakable—a shadow trailing just beyond his vision. Darian chose to ignore it for now, focusing on the task ahead. Whatever it was, it would reveal itself soon enough.
And then, it did.
The sound of hooves scraping against stone broke the silence, followed by a guttural snarl. From the shadows, a towering minotaur charged at him, its monstrous form illuminated by the dim torchlight.
Darian sidestepped with a fluid leap, narrowly avoiding the beast's massive horns as it crashed into the cavern wall. The impact sent debris flying, and the creature let out a frustrated bellow, turning to face him once more.
The minotaur was no ordinary dungeon beast. It stood taller than any he had faced before, its muscular frame adorned with jagged horns, spikes protruding from its shoulders, and glowing crimson eyes. Two tails swayed behind it like living whips, and it clutched a massive war axe in its clawed hands—or were those hooves?
Darian grimaced. The thing was a grotesque amalgamation of man and beast, an abomination that defied logic.
"Whoever designed you needs therapy," Darian muttered under his breath.
The minotaur snorted, its breath a cloud of steam in the cold air. It didn't appreciate his commentary. With a furious roar, the creature charged again, its speed defying its massive size.
Darian didn't try to meet its attack head-on. He leapt into the air, the minotaur's horns grazing his boots as it barreled past. The creature's momentum carried it into another wall, leaving a crater behind.
"They hit hard," Darian noted, a cocky smirk tugging at his lips. "But they're not invincible."
Unsheathing his sword, he swung in a wide arc, sending a crescent-shaped wave of energy hurtling toward the beast. The attack slammed into the minotaur with explosive force, severing its horns and knocking it off balance.
The creature roared in pain, staggering back.
Darian wasted no time. He dashed forward, his movements a blur, and drove his blade into the beast's chest. The minotaur's glowing eyes dimmed as it collapsed to the ground, lifeless.
Darian stepped back, studying the fallen creature with a neutral expression. It didn't regenerate. Good.
But the dungeon wasn't done with him yet.
A sudden whooshing sound caught his attention, and he pivoted just in time to avoid a flaming spear that flew past his shoulder, embedding itself into the wall.
From the shadows, more figures emerged—hulking forms with glowing eyes and spiked armor. A herd of minotaurs stepped into the flickering torchlight, their weapons gleaming and their expressions murderous.
The death of their comrade had summoned them, and they were out for blood.
Darian gripped his sword tightly, a sinister grin spreading across his face. The thrill of battle coursed through him, sharpening his focus.
This was what he lived for.
"Let's dance," he muttered, charging toward the herd.
The dungeon had thrown down its gauntlet, and Darian was ready. This time, there would be no retreat, no hesitation. He would slaughter every last beast that dared stand in his way.
The quest had begun, and Darian's path to redemption would be written in blood.