Voici une version corrigée et traduite avec une meilleure orthographe, ponctuation et cohérence :
The expedition had lasted two days.
They had managed to reach at least ten floors, but beyond that, it became increasingly difficult to protect Béatrice.
In the Amon Dungeon, by mutual agreement, they ended the expedition. As promised, Béatrice rewarded them.
Three days later.
In the evening.
BubbleWine Tavern
A team had rented one of the tavern's private compartments to celebrate their latest success.
The mercenary team, BBM.
"That was an easy job you found for us, Elea!"
"It makes a change from the mud we usually have to wallow in to earn money."
Igor was unusually talkative, a stark contrast to his serious demeanor during the mission.
"Yeah, but something feels off. You know exactly what we are, so why hire us for an escort mission?"
The room was secure, and with Melki present, it was even clearer that no one could spy on them without them knowing. It had become a habit of theirs to take such precautions.
They often spoke in innuendos, turns of phrase, and other subtle expressions.
"Based on what we know about the client, she's had some issues lately. Maybe suicidal thoughts?"
Though they officially weren't interested in Béatrice's past, they had done a thorough background check on her.
"I think she hid something in the dungeon. You probably didn't notice, but she dropped something on the ninth floor. Judging by the size and shape of the object, I'd bet it's now around the fifteenth floor. She threw it into the Blood Gorge."
Melki, true to his reputation, noticed everything around them.
"Maybe it's an artifact," Léa speculated.
"Should we go retrieve it and see what it is?" This time it was Danor who spoke, a man of few words.
"Of course! You guys are such bastards."
Laughter broke out as they sipped their liquors and enjoyed the appetizers they had ordered.
"Of course, we're going. We've done enough to maintain our cover; what happens next will be under a different identity."
"After all, we are BBM."
BBM—a mercenary team for hire, known for taking on the dirtiest jobs, all while operating under the shadow of this cover.
Three days after their tavern meeting.
The BBM team had prepared to return to the Amon Dungeon. Despite the alcohol and jokes from their evening celebration, they knew this mission would be different.
"We all agree: we're going back, but this time, it's not an official mission. No reports, no records," Igor said while adjusting his gear.
"No problem," Léa replied, tightening the straps of her light armor. "I'm more curious about what's in there than the reward."
Melki, ever methodical, had already studied the layout of the floors they would traverse. "The SOM probably sank deeper. Based on the trajectory and currents in the Blood Gorge, it's likely on the fifteenth floor or lower. But be ready: if what she dropped is an artifact, it may have disturbed the dungeon's balance."
Danor, silent as usual, nodded. His hand rested firmly on the hilt of his sword, ready for action.
The first levels were almost routine for them. The usual traps and monsters served as little more than a warm-up. But as they descended further, the atmosphere changed. A strange tension hung in the air.
"Do you feel that?" Léa whispered.
"Yes. It's as if… something's watching us," Igor replied, his eyes scanning the shadows around them.
On the thirteenth floor, they came across something unusual: the remains of monsters, all dead in positions of extreme agony. Their bodies seemed to have been consumed from within.
"This… this isn't normal," Melki muttered, crouching near the corpse of a giant lizard. "Look here: the bones are shattered, as if something burst from the inside. And this mark… it's not natural."
"They were contaminated by something," Léa added. "Maybe a new type of monster."
Meanwhile, deeper in the dungeon.
During the first expedition with BBM, Béatrice had taken advantage of a moment of inattention from the group to dispose of the SOM. While there was a reason for ending the expedition, this particular action was inexplicable—she had simply done it.
The SOM had expelled a fetus, and faint vibrations emanated from the artifact.
Now, on the fifteenth floor of the dungeon, a gray wolf watched the SOM intently. For a dungeon monster, it was nothing more than food.
The gray wolf shattered the SOM. Blood spilled onto the ground, the vibrations from the fetus visibly weakening, and the monster devoured it.
An hour later, the gray wolf died in excruciating pain, as if something was devouring it from within. Its body began to disintegrate, reverting to a primal fetal state. But this time, its size had changed—it now resembled that of a newborn.
It was something indescribable to human eyes.
But the dungeon, being a place of danger and constant combat, was a survival ground where only the adaptable or evolving could thrive. The danger was unrelenting. The process repeated countless times—the fetus was devoured, and the monsters that consumed it were assimilated.
Since the monsters remained active for a short time after consumption, they moved through the dungeon, eventually reaching the penultimate floor.
Then, something extraordinary occurred. Space itself seemed to stretch, as if a gravitational wave had rippled through, faint but perceptible.
Taking advantage of a dimensional rift, a hole appeared before the corpse of the last monster to have consumed the fetus, and it was pulled into the void.
The corpse now lay in a space devoid of light. This place felt simultaneously finite and infinite.
The monster's body began its assimilation process again, reverting to a fetal state, but this time, it was nearing the next stage of its evolution.
In these depths of darkness, a colossal being lay chained, drowned in its own essence. Its identity, unable to fully emerge, was confined to this space.
"What an interesting little thing we have here," a voice rumbled.
The dragon opened its eye.