"Hey bro, I thought ants weren't a native of this dungeon since it's highly difficult for them to survive"
"Hmm, that's not exactly true; if you read the dungeon handbook, it says only monsters are found inside a dungeon, and multiple monsters or creatures can be found in one."
"You're not saying the ants are dangerous are you?" He said as he took a step back.
"Nah, bro, I don't think they possess any abilities that might pose a threat to us; they're probably eco-friendly and foraging."
"Is that so huh? They make me uncomfortable" He said and immediately smashed it dead to the wall
Removing his palm, the ant juices clung to his palm, and he cleaned it clean, but there was a spot still purple on his palm.
He shrugged it off to be the ant blood pigmentation or something.
...
Soon enough, the argument between the supervisors of the raid was over, and it ended up with both parties choosing to split.
It was an unusual solution they thought of but only applicable because the dungeon had already been cleared, and this was the last leg.
When the situation was announced, it was done amicably.
"So due to some emergency circumstances and our limited, we will be splitting up with a group going back to report to the Hunter association, and the others who feel the need to see this to the end would follow me ahead," Mr Dede said, trying to pitch a hint of reward into his words.
Cyril made him announce this to take responsibility for anything that happens afterward
To both their surprise, everyone accepted the solution offered.
Their insecurity was already at an all-time high, and very soon, another split had happened with a few people moving over to Mr Cyril, who now leaned on the wall, and the others on the opposite side.
One had to know this tunnel was at least ten to fifteen meters wide now.
The deeper they went in, the more it expanded.
Shockingly the people who had voted to finish for the day with Mr Cyril had decreased by one.
He counted again and found that it was that two of them had moved over to Mr Dede, and there was a familiar face among them now, Timothy.
He had moved to Mr. Cyril's team due to the sheer trust in the man; besides, he was contented with his current earnings of the day.
Eight people were now with Mr Cyril and 16 with Mr Dede.
Timothy looked around and counted in his mind.
Of the eight there were four females.
Meanwhile, the remaining seven females in the group had gone over to Mr Dede.
Timothy could practically imagine him smirking.
Since this was settled they decided to venture their ways.
Mr Dede was quick to move ahead.
Mr Cyril sighed and just started walking ahead back the way they came with the crew
Not after twenty steps, a kid came up to him and whispered lightly...
"Mr. Cyril I don't feel so good."
Mr. Cyril turned to see Matthew, a rather striking kid with fair skin, almost albino in complexion.
Despite his youthful appearance, Matthew carried himself with a confident aura that made him stand out.
"What's wrong, Matthew?" Cyril asked, continuing to walk but keeping an eye on the boy.
"I… I don't know," Matthew replied, his voice weak and strained as he struggled to breathe.
Cyril stopped immediately, his expression tightening.
The rest of the group paused as well, and a boy around Matthew's age stepped forward to join them.
"Is it serious?" the boy asked, his concern evident.
"I… I don't know," Matthew said again, his voice growing fainter.
They quickly leaned him against the wall and helped him sit down. Cyril knelt beside him, taking on the role of a field medic.
"What happened, Matthew?" Cyril asked, his tone both calm and firm.
"I… don't know."
"How do you feel?"
"Losing… strength," Matthew whispered, his breathing becoming more erratic.
By now, the entire group had gathered around, their worried faces forming a tight circle.
"Give him some air!" Cyril barked, removing his coat and handing it to a nearby hunter.
"Fan him with this."
He began a quick physical examination, starting with Matthew's neck.
There were no visible marks or redness.
He checked the boy's eyes and found them slightly dull, his pupils sluggish.
Touching Matthew's forehead, Cyril noted that his body temperature was lower than normal.
Dungeon illnesses were not uncommon, especially for both rookies and seasoned hunters, but the symptoms always varied depending on the situation.
Cyril moved to check Matthew's pulse.
That's when he saw it.
A green vein stretched across Matthew's wrist, creeping from his palm like a sinister thread. Cyril's heart dropped as realization struck.
"Where's the healer?!" he yelled instinctively.
A voice responded from the crowd.
"With the other team!"
Cyril's eyes widened.
This was poison. But how? There were no cuts or wounds on Matthew's palm.
He quickly weighed his options.
Should he carry the boy to find the healer, or should they attempt to exit the dungeon entirely? The exit was farther, and there was no guarantee Matthew would survive the trip.
Could the healer even treat this poison?
The answer came to him almost immediately.
If it were truly lethal, Matthew would already be dead.
The healer should be able to handle it.
"Everyone, step back!" Cyril commanded.
As the group moved away, he bent down and hoisted Matthew onto his back.
He didn't care if the poison was contagious, saving the boy came first.
As he adjusted his grip, someone from the group pointed at Matthew's palm and blurted out
"That's where he killed the ant!"
"Ant?" Timothy asked, his voice tinged with confusion.
"We'll talk as we move," Cyril said sharply.
Without waiting, he bolted down the tunnel toward the other team.
Underestimating a C-rank hunter's strength and speed would be a mistake.
Cyril moved with practiced ease, carrying Matthew's weight, easily 70 kilograms on his back as if it were nothing.
His abilities as a wind mage only enhanced his agility, allowing him to sprint effortlessly through the uneven terrain of the dungeon.
...
Meanwhile, chaos had erupted outside the gate.
The Hunter Association had arrived in full force, accompanied by government representatives and corporate officials.
Men in black suits moved purposefully, their phones ringing nonstop as they coordinated efforts.
Sleek black cars were parked in rows, creating a makeshift command center around the site.
Technological tools and equipment were spread across the ground, with machines buzzing and glowing as they attempted to analyze the gate's activity.
But despite their best efforts, no one could make sense of what had happened.
The gate had sealed itself shut, and with people still inside, no one could offer a valid explanation.
"Yes, an ant," he said.
"While we were still waiting for the raid's conclusion..." he began explaining what had happened.
Everyone instinctively glanced at the walls, and sure enough, ants were there.
"I'll go ahead. Follow me closely," Mr. Cyril suddenly said, quickening his pace.
The kids behind him were mostly D-rank, with Timothy at E-rank, trailing behind but still pushing forward.
They soon caught up to the other team, who appeared to be facing a minor issue.
But it didn't seem important.
Mr. Cyril had arrived minutes earlier and seemed calm, so it likely wasn't a serious problem.
Timothy approached him.
"How's Matthew?"
"He's fine. It's just a paralysis toxin. She can heal him," Cyril replied, pointing to the healer kneeling next to Matthew, water hovering gently above him.
Timothy had seen many healers, but water-affinity ones were rare.
Still, it didn't surprise him.
He moved ahead to see the source of the commotion, a fork in the path.
No one was concerned about Matthew; even Mr. Dede was focused on sending in scouts.
The tunnel here on after was lit by the occasional mana crystal, wasn't dark, but Timothy felt something was off.
He approached Matthew's friend, who had been with them.
"Name's Tim. You?" he said, trying to sound impressive.
"Noah."
"You don't live around here, do you?"
Noah gave him a brief look but didn't answer.
"Sorry, but everyone seems to have non-native names," Timothy continued, trying to strike up a conversation.
"I'm an indigenous," Noah said, clearly irritated.
"Not trying to offend," Timothy replied, trying to smooth things over.
"Just curious. Anyway, what's your plan? We're all here to clear the boss, but you don't look ready for the journey, especially with your friend injured."
"I'm not teaming up with you," Noah cut him off.
Timothy clenched his fist and sighed, wanting to insult Noah but holding back, knowing it was because he was weak.
People usually formed teams when raiding dungeons, even if everyone was technically part of the same team.
Deep down, everyone was selfish.
Timothy and Noah stood there in silence, pretending nothing had happened