Voulton City had been quiet.
Too quiet.
Life went on in its usual rhythm—streets filled with merchants peddling wares, Hunters coming and going through the Guild, and citizens living under the looming presence of dungeon gates that had long since become part of the city's skyline.
Dungeons appeared, dungeons closed.
Hunters entered, Hunters died.
It was a cycle that everyone had accepted. And for years, Voulton had been fortunate. No Dungeon Outbreaks. No rogue Hunters using their Skills to terrorize civilians. No sudden tragedies that shattered the fragile balance.
Peace was perhaps too generous a word, but stability—yes, Voulton thrived on that. The city's gears turned smoothly, day after day, year after year.
But then the rhythm faltered.
