The room was heavy with tension, the echoes of that disembodied voice still ringing in our ears. The crystal's light flickered before settling into an eerie, steady glow, casting distorted shadows across the walls. The air was colder now, sharp and biting, as if the dungeon itself had shifted into something darker, something alive.
Sun-ho stood motionless, his eyes fixed on the pedestal. Ji-hye, gripping the hilt of her sword, took a cautious step back. None of us spoke for a moment, the weight of what we'd just heard sinking in.
"Did you hear that?" Ji-hye finally whispered, her voice strained.
I nodded, the voice still fresh in my mind: "You have opened the door. And now, the price will be paid."
"What price?" I muttered, almost to myself, the words hanging unanswered in the suffocating silence.
Sun-ho's voice broke through the quiet. "We can't stay here. That voice—whatever it was—knows we're here. Waiting won't help."
Before anyone could respond, the ground shuddered beneath us. The tremor started softly, then grew stronger, the stone walls groaning as if alive. The crystal pulsed erratically, its glow flickering like a flame caught in the wind.
We weren't just in a dungeon anymore. We were inside something ancient, something dangerous—a place that had been sealed away for a reason.
"Stay alert," Sun-ho commanded, his voice sharp. "We move forward, but carefully. No mistakes."
I gripped my weapon tighter, scanning the room. The silence stretched on, broken only by the faint scrape of our boots against the stone floor. Each step felt deafening in the oppressive quiet, as though we were intruding on something far older than us.
"This is the calm before the storm," Ji-hye murmured, her eyes darting to the shadows. She had been wary from the start, and now her instincts were on full display.
"It's too quiet," I agreed, my voice low. The room offered no clues—no other doors, no visible exit. Just the crystal, glowing ominously, waiting.
"We need a plan," I said, trying to steady my thoughts. "We can't just stand here and wait for something to happen."
"Agreed," Sun-ho replied. "Ji-hye, stay close to me. The rest of you, watch for movement. That crystal… I don't trust it."
His voice was firm, but I could see the doubt in his eyes. He was leading us, as he always did, but even he wasn't sure what we were walking into.
Ji-hye spoke up. "We need to find an exit or at least a clue about what's next. This place won't stay quiet for long."
As if to confirm her words, a faint sound reached us. It was distant at first, like the rustle of wings or the crackle of fire. We all froze, straining to listen as it grew louder, more distinct.
Then, the walls began to move.
The shifting started slowly, the stones grinding against each other, but soon the entire room was trembling. It wasn't random—the movement felt deliberate, as though the dungeon itself was stirring awake.
My stomach twisted as I realized the truth. This wasn't just silence—it was a warning. The calm wasn't natural; it was the precursor to something far worse.
The crystal suddenly flared, its light blinding as it surged in intensity. Shadows stretched and twisted across the walls as a low, rumbling growl resonated through the chamber. The ground beneath us trembled violently, and I stumbled, barely catching myself.
"Get back!" Sun-ho shouted, his voice breaking through the chaos.
But it was too late.
A deafening crack split the air, and from the far end of the room, something massive began to emerge. The shadows moved, shifting and growing, until a hulking figure stepped into the flickering light. Its form was monstrous, too large and too unnatural to fully comprehend.
The air grew heavier, charged with an ancient, malevolent power. Every instinct screamed at me to run, but my feet felt rooted to the spot.
The storm had arrived.
And we were its target.