The dungeon was quite, all one can hear was that, it was on verge of collapse.
Zortheus, who was feared by every adventurer, also known as the "Uncrowned King of the Dungeons". But he wasn't like the typical dungeon bosses who drowned in destruction or chaos. He had fought not out of malice but to protect his domain and test his strength against worthy opponents. One day he stood silently in the heart of his domain . His piercing eyes looked over the crumbling walls, once strong and unyielding, now covered with cracks and moss. The once-shining marble floors were dulled, and the air, which had once filled with the energy of countless battles, now felt heavy and still. He looked at the cracks along a broken pillar, his expression unreadable. For centuries, this dungeon had been his pride and joy, a bastion of his strength, the stage for countless clashes with adventurers, and a home to the loyal minions who had stood by his side. But even the strongest fortresses could not withstand the relentless passage of time.
The dungeon could no longer afford the battles it was known for. The traps, the mechanisms, the spell, they were wearing out. The very foundation was crumbling under the weight of its age. Zortheus knew that if it continued to stand, it would eventually collapse into nothing more than rubble, taking with it all the memories and stories it held.
He sighed, the sound low and heavy in the quiet chamber. This place was more than a dungeon to him, it was a part of who he was. Every stone, every corridor, every scar on its walls told a story of his life, his battles, and his companions. Letting it go felt like losing a piece of himself. But he had no choice. After much thought, Zortheus summoned his commanders. They appeared one by one, their forms materializing in the dim light of the chamber. These were his most trusted allies, the ones who had fought alongside him through countless battles. Each of them with their own stories, who gave their all to protect this very own dungeon.
He didn't need to explain the situation to them, they already knew. The state of the dungeon was clear to all of them. Still, Zortheus spoke, his voice steady but filled with an emotion he rarely showed. "This dungeon... it cannot endure much longer" he said. "We've fought too many battles, pushed it too far. If we continue, it will crumble entirely, and everything we've built here will be lost." The commanders listened in silence, their expressions was quite depressing. They too had spent their lives defending this place, pouring their strength and loyalty into its walls. The thought of leaving it behind was almost unbearable.
Zortheus paused, his glowing eyes looking over each of them. "I've decided to close it. Temporarily, at least." There was a long silence. They all knew what "temporary" really meant. The odds of the dungeon reopening were slim. Once they left, there would be no one to maintain it, no one to guard it. This was likely the end. Even so, no one objected. They had fought alongside Zortheus long enough to trust his judgment. One by one, the commanders gave their nods of agreement. There were no grand speeches, no dramatic farewells, just a quiet understanding among comrades.
Zortheus turned to the central pillar of the chamber, where the core of the dungeon's magic resided. With a heavy heart, he placed his hand on the glowing crystal. His magic flowed into it, activating the ancient spells that would seal the dungeon. The walls trembled as the doors and passageways began to close, one by one. The commanders watched as their home was locked away, their expressions heavy with emotion. This was the end of an era, the closing of a chapter they had all been a part of.
As the last door sealed shut, Zortheus turned to his commanders. "Thank you", he said simply.
And then they left. No one looked back as if they were hiding their emotions back.
---
For the first time in centuries, Zortheus was alone.
He wandered the world, his once-purposeful strides now aimless. Without the dungeon, without his minions, he felt... lost. He traveled through forests, mountains, and towns, always keeping to the shadows, hiding his identity.
The world had changed while he had been in the dungeon. Villages had grown into bustling towns. Now adventurers no longer roamed in search of his dungeon for glory, and his name, once whispered in fear, was now just a tale told to children.
At first, he didn't know what to do with himself. The battles, the challenges, the dungeon, those were the things that had defined his life. Now, they were gone, and he had no idea who he was without them. He wandered aimlessly for years, watching the world move on while he stayed the same. Until one fateful day, everything changed.
---
The jungle was thick and unwelcoming, the air heavy with humidity. Zortheus pushed through the dense undergrowth, his cloak snagging on branches. He wasn't sure why he had come here, perhaps it was just another place to pass through, another distraction. He felt nostalgic, as his dungeon too resided in somewhat similar forest, and memories were flashing down to him. As he walked, he heard a sound. It was faint, almost drowned out by the noise of the insects buzzing and the rustling of leaves. But his sharp senses picked it up, a weak, high-pitched cry. Curious, he followed the sound. It led him to a small clearing, where a bundle of cloth lay beneath a tree. The crying grew louder as he approached, and when he crouched down to inspect the bundle, he froze.
Inside he found was a baby.
She was tiny, her face was all red as she was crying. Her little hands waved in the air, and her cheeks were covered with tears. Zortheus stared at her, his mind blank. He had faced countless foes, commanded armies, and ruled over a dungeon for centuries, but this... this was something entirely new.
"Why are you here?" he murmured, his deep voice unusually soft.
The baby didn't answer, of course. She just blinked up at him, her cries slowing as if sensing that he wasn't a threat. He looked around the clearing, searching for any sign of someone else. There were no tracks, no scent of another human nearby. Whoever had left her here was long gone. For a moment, he considered leaving her. She wasn't his responsibility. But as he looked at her, so small, so helpless, something inside him shifted. A memory flickered in his mind, of the minions he had cared for, the companions he had fought beside.
No, he couldn't leave her.
Carefully, he picked her up. She fit easily in his large hands, her tiny form warm against his cold skin. Her cries stopped as she snuggled into his chest, her breathing evening out. Then she tightly held onto Zortheus's pinky finger, at that moment something struck him, something that even he couldn't render.
"This is going to be trouble" he muttered, though there was a faint softness in his tone.
As he walked out of the jungle, the baby cradled in his arms, he began to think. He couldn't keep wandering aimlessly with her. She needed a home, a place to grow up safely. By the time he reached the edge of the jungle, he had made his decision. He would settle in a human village, take on a new identity, and raise this child as his own. Looking down at the baby who now was sleeping , he smiled faintly. "Your name will be Lila" he said softly.
From that day on, Zortheus became Zora, a simple man with a newfound purpose, with a new beginning...