The capital city rose before Selene like a mountain of stone and steel, its towering walls stretching high into the sky. The gates were flanked by statues of ancient heroes, their gazes solemn and unyielding—a reminder of the kingdom's strength in the face of chaos.
Selene tightened her grip on the reins of her horse as she approached the gates, flanked by the few survivors from her village. The atmosphere was suffocating—a throng of adventurers, refugees, and merchants crowded the entrance, each group vying for attention.
When her turn came, the guards scrutinized her closely, their spears gleaming under the midday sun. "State your business," one of them demanded.
Selene straightened her posture. "I bring news of a vortex disaster and a special dungeon that has destroyed my home." Her voice was steady, but the weight of the words tightened her chest.
The guard's expression changed, the stern mask slipping into something resembling concern. Without another word, he gestured to his comrades. "Escort her to the Guild Hall immediately."
The Adventurers' Guild Hall was a hive of activity. The walls were lined with trophies from past conquests—monster heads mounted on plaques, shattered dungeon cores encased in glass, and faded maps of explored territories. The air smelled of sweat, leather, and faintly of blood.
Selene stood before a panel of guild leaders, their eyes sharp and calculating. The head guildmaster, a burly woman with streaks of silver in her braided hair, leaned forward. "You're saying a special dungeon opened in your village? And a vortex pulled people into it?"
"Yes," Selene replied, recounting every detail she could. She described the glowing symbols on the dungeon's entrance, the deafening roar that heralded its arrival, and the destruction it left in its wake.
The room fell silent. One of the leaders, a thin man with spectacles perched on his nose, adjusted them nervously. "If this is true, it's unlike anything we've seen before. Special dungeons don't just appear randomly…they're deliberate."
"Deliberate by what or whom?" Selene demanded, her voice laced with frustration.
The guildmaster exchanged glances with her colleagues. "We don't know. But this is bigger than the Guild. We'll take this to the military council."
The council chamber was an imposing space—long tables filled with high-ranking officers, each clad in polished armor and decorated with medals of honor. Maps and charts cluttered the walls, marking the locations of dungeons across the continent.
Selene stood in the center of the room, her presence dwarfed by the imposing figures around her. "This is no ordinary dungeon," she began, recounting her story once more. "The vortex wasn't just a phenomenon; it was a trap. My village was destroyed, and the people who were pulled in...they're gone."
The generals whispered among themselves, their faces grim. One of them, a broad-shouldered man with a scar across his cheek, spoke up. "We've heard rumors of increased dungeon activity, but a vortex? This could mean a major shift in the dungeon pandemic."
Another general nodded. "Special dungeons have always been anomalies, but this...this could be the start of something catastrophic."
Selene clenched her fists. "If we don't act now, more villages will suffer the same fate."
The council deliberated for hours, debating strategies and implications. Finally, the decision was made—the king would be informed.
The royal palace was a sight to behold, its halls adorned with golden tapestries and chandeliers that sparkled like constellations. But Selene had little time to admire the grandeur. She was ushered into the audience hall, where the king awaited on his throne.
He was an imposing figure, his presence commanding respect. His eyes, sharp and calculating, studied Selene as she knelt before him.
"Rise," he said, his voice deep and steady. "You bring troubling news, young warrior."
Selene recounted her story yet again, her voice unwavering despite the weight of the moment. She spoke of the lives lost, the destruction of her home, and the unknown horrors lurking within the special dungeon.
The king listened intently, his expression unreadable. When she finished, he leaned forward. "This is no small matter. If what you say is true, then the entire kingdom is at risk."
He turned to his advisors. "Allocate all necessary resources. The Guild, the military, and the scholars will work together to uncover the truth behind this dungeon. This will be our highest priority."
The archives of the capital were vast, a labyrinth of shelves filled with ancient tomes and scrolls. Selene was granted access to this treasure trove of knowledge, accompanied by a scholar with a reputation for eccentricity.
The scholar, an elderly man with wild white hair and ink-stained robes, led her to a secluded corner of the library. "Special dungeons," he muttered, flipping through a worn book. "They're rare, yes, but not unheard of. Still, a vortex...that's new."
He pulled out a scroll, its edges frayed with age. "This text mentions something interesting—a prophecy. It speaks of dungeons that will mark the beginning of an era of chaos, a plague upon the world."
Selene frowned. "Do you believe the prophecy is connected to the special dungeon?"
The scholar shrugged. "Belief is irrelevant. What matters are the patterns. If this dungeon is tied to the prophecy, it may hold the key to ending this pandemic...or accelerating it."
The weight of the kingdom's hopes and fears pressed heavily on Selene's shoulders as she left the archives. She stood on the balcony of the palace, staring out at the bustling city below.
Lorian's face flashed in her mind, a painful reminder of what she'd lost. But she couldn't afford to dwell on her grief.
"If there's a chance to save him," she whispered to herself, "I'll take it. No matter the cost."
Selene resolved to gather allies, to prepare herself for the challenges ahead. The answers she sought lay in the depths of the dungeons—and she was ready to face them.