"Survival isn't about strength. It's about the will to keep moving."
It was as if time had sped forward and back at the same moment when Kael felt his stomach drop upon hearing the gate close.
Monsters flooded the boss room.
There was no room for thinking, no space for processing betrayal, fear, or exhaustion settled deep into his bones. His body screamed, but his instincts were louder.
Survive.
A burst of mana coursed through him, drawing out every last bit of strength he had remaining. He warped the space around himself, bending the flow of gravity to obscure his presence. It wasn't perfect; his control was breaking down, fraying at the edges, but it was all he had.
The creatures sniffed the air, claws scraping against the stone. His heart pounded so violently he swore they could hear it. A single misstep and he was dead.
Then, they moved.
Some prowled toward the ruined remains of the throne. Others snarled before slinking back into the shadows of the cavern, their monstrous forms blending into the darkness. Seconds stretched into agonizing minutes, each one heavier than the last.
He didn't dare move. Not yet.Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the last of the monsters dispersed, their guttural growls fading into the depths of the dungeon. Only then did Kael allow himself to breathe.His brow dripped with sweat. His limbs were shaking. He was losing sight.
He must move.
He struggled against the exhaustion that weighed him down, pushing his legs to carry him toward the throne, stumbling with each step. The place where the Tyrant of the Abyss once sat in unchallenged dominance now stood silent, its bones and grotesque remains a mere monument to the carnage that had unfolded.
That's when he saw it.
A faint glow. Barely noticeable behind the throne's massive structure, buried beneath debris and dust.
A chest.
His breath hitched. Chests were rare in dungeons—a phenomenon that occurred only when something of value had been sealed away. A reward meant only for those who claimed victory.
But victory hadn't been theirs.
Why was it still here?His hands trembled as he reached for it, brushing away centuries of dirt. The metal was cold beneath his fingers, the lock rusted but intact. He held his breath as he pushed the lid open.
Inside, nestled within black velvet, were three items.
A potion, thick and viscous, glowing a deep crimson hue.
A ring, silver with intricate carvings that seemed to shift under the dim light.
And a necklace, its dark chain coiled around a single onyx gemstone pulsing with an eerie, rhythmic glow.
Kael exhaled sharply.
His fingers hovered over them, his mind racing. Potions were straightforward, but artifacts? Artifacts were dangerous. Powerful. Unpredictable.
And yet, he had no choice.
He was alone. Trapped in an A-rank dungeon. If he wanted to survive, he needed every advantage he could get.
With a steadying breath, he reached into the chest.
And took his first step toward whatever fate had in store for him.