The antechamber had gone so quiet that even the drip of distant water felt loud. All eyes snapped toward the metallic groan rising from the shaft as the elevator cabin creaking its way upward through the darkness below.
Boots shifted. Fingers tightened around hilts. Nobody breathed until...
Ashe broke the silence first.
"...Should we help him?" he whispered.
"Help? Help?? You sure you wanna help? For all we know, that guy's clearing the whole bloody dungeon for us." Harlen snorted.
Camylle elbowed him sharply. "Say that out loud to him and he'll break your ribs. He looks like the type who'd stab you just for thanking him the wrong way."
Harlen shuts himself up fearing that, "That may actually happen... Didn't thought bout' that."
Nira sat in the corner, her one eye open in the room, the other lost in her shadow crow's vision. She tilted her head toward Trevus.
"Well, boss? What's the plan?" Nira said.
Trevus felt the weight of her gaze, and the weight of every choice that followed.
He hadn't expected anything like this today. Not a Null tearing apart Sentries with his bare fists. Not a one-man army descending into the lion's den without hesitation...
And now Trevus had to choose between two paths—Let Theseus shoulder the entire war alone, clean and shameful…or join him and risk leading Party 5 straight into a fight that they might not even survive.
"Nira," Trevus finally asked, voice low, "how many active Sentries do you see?"
Nira swallowed.
"Twenty-two of the big ones… and a battalion of stone soldiers. Maybe more crawling in from manifesting doors... The rest—maybe fifty—they're dormant however. For now at least..."
A thick silence followed.
Camylle clicked her tongue. "That's… a lot. Even for us."
Harlen crossed his arms. "That's suicide for a normal party."
Mina and Ashe exchanged a glance filled with half fear & half excitement. Nira watched Trevus with sharpened focus, waiting for his call.
Finally, after long seconds in which the world seemed to hold its breath—Trevus rose to his feet.
He buttoned his coat fully, tied his sabers tight, and spoke with the certainty of a man who had no choice but to lead.
"We're going down there..."
His voice was Steady. Firm. Unshakable.
Party 5 straightened as one unit with fear still in their chests, but resolve burns through it.
For better or worse…they would not let Theseus stand alone in the dark.
They boarded the rusty cabin as it shuddered & descended, rattling like ancient bones sliding down a spine of steel.
Trevus, Harlen, Camylle, Lotha, Nira, Ashe, and Mina pressed toward the narrow window carved into its frame, peering into the deepening dark.
The echoes reached them first—violent shockwaves, bursts of pressure rolling upward through the shaft. Then the screech of metal, high and razor-thin, like blades singing across stone.
Down in the Maintenance Chamber, Theseus danced with death.
Nira's shadow-crow saw everything, and through her half-lidded eyes, she relayed the scene in gasping fragments.
Below, Theseus outmaneuvered a sleek Sentry unlike any they had seen. It was a tall, spindly construct of polished iron, its limbs long and segmented, each one tipped with a blade so thin it shimmered like a line of dim light. It moved with frightening grace, slicing the air in arcs that would have bisected any mortal.
But Theseus wasn't any mortal.
The masked man wove between the flurry of blades with impossible precision—slipping under one strike, rolling past a second, twisting around a third so closely that the edge of the limb kissed the fabric of his coat.
A sweeping slash came at him from below as Theseus kicked off the ground, soaring upward, his body curling in the air like a shadow slipping through light.
The Sentry pursued him instantly, a needle-like blade thrusting upward to skewer him mid-flight.
But Theseus...in defiance of gravity, logic, and mana—stepped on the air itself, pushing off nothingness as though it were solid stone.
"Did… did he just—!?" Harlen choked, gripping the window.
Theseus shot forward, sprinting mid-air toward the Sentry as its limbs flailed to adjust. He planted a foot on one of the bladed arms as it whistled past him, using the weapon as a platform.
In one fluid motion, he lunged with his rusted spear.
The spearhead punched into the Sentry's core, a burst of sparks, a crackle of mana and Theseus didn't stopped yet. He drove straight through it, tearing out the other side as the golem split open like a gutted beast.
The construct collapsed in two halves, its limbs twitching as their inner glow died.
Above, the entire elevator cabin trembled as another shockwave rolled upward.
Even Trevus's hardened face paled.
Mina's breath hitched. Ashe's heart hammered. Camylle's fists ignited reflexively before dissipating.
And Nira, voice trembling with disbelief, whispered: "He… he burst straight through it. Like the thing was made of parchment…"
The elevator continued its descent and as Party 5 realized, with awe and dread alike...
They were descending into the battlefield of a monster who happened to be a Null.
The elevator shuddered to a halt, steel grinding against steel as the shutters groaned open. A stale metallic draft rolled in from the chamber beyond with thick dust, burnt wires, and the scent of shattered mana cores.
Nira stepped out first.
She lifted her right arm—now ending not in a hand but in a thick, writhing mass of shadow-ink. The darkness pulsed softly, alive. Overhead, her shadow crow spiraled down, landing with practiced precision on the inky stump. The instant its talons touched, the bird melted into liquid black, flowing seamlessly into the shape of Nira's hand as though sculpted from dark water returning to its mold.
Camylle snorted, equal parts amused and unsettled.
"It's still gross, you know. Using your hand as a summoning medium? What if the crow straight-up dies?"
Nira clicked her tongue, smug as ever. "If the crow dies, my hand reconstitutes. Temporary inconvenience. Zero permanent loss, it's not like I'm sacrificing it. Which is precisely why my magical techniques are several leagues more sophisticated than yours, thank you kindly~."
The rest of Party 5 stepped out into the Maintenance Chamber—a place that once operated with mechanical precision, now frozen in catastrophic ruin.
What had been an orderly workhouse of dormant Sentry Golems was reduced to a graveyard of mangled parts. Crushed stone torsos. Severed metal limbs. Flickering mana conduits bleeding weak light. Entire storage rows caved in, as if torn apart by a titan's tantrum.
And all of it pointed to one culprit—still somewhere within the wreckage.
More Sentries clattered in through the towering vertical doors: sleek models, heavy models, worker-soldiers with stone-forged limbs and glowing fracture lines. The chamber trembled beneath the synchronized thud of their advance.
Trevus and Camylle moved first—pure reflex.
A streak of blue mana flashed across the chamber as Trevus shot into the swarm, sabers drawn. Each strike left clean, precise lines carved through stone torsos and glowing cores, the air humming with the sharp rhythm of his momentum.
Orange light flared behind him. Camylle ignited one fist, then the other—both blazing like twin furnaces. She plowed through a row of Stone Soldiers, her punches bursting them apart in gouts of molten shards.
Lotha planted her boot down with authority. A halo of golden runes flared beneath her, then expanded outward. The Active Protection Barrier shimmered briefly over each member of Party 5—visible only when something struck it hard enough to threaten a breach.
"Covers up," she muttered, hefting her mace as the glyphs on her gauntlet came alive.
Harlen held the rear line by the elevator, arming blade lowered but ready. His breathing stayed slow, deliberate. He was conserving mana—his barriers would be needed soon, and they all knew it.
Nira hovered near the back, palm skimming the floor. Shadows coiled beneath her skin, eager to spill forth but she kept them locked down. Her gateway to the Realm of Shadows was still on cooldown, and opening it too early invited the Matron's grasp. She wouldn't risk being pulled under.
Mina and Ashe stood with her.
The chamber shook again as more Sentries activated, their cores flickering awake.
Mina tightened her hold on Ruth—the dagger enchanted with gravity as it thrummed faintly—when willed to life it is impossibly heavy yet weightless in only her grip. She swallowed hard. Even armed with Ruth, she knew her limits. She was a Null among constructs designed to kill mages and warriors without distinction.
Beside her, Ashe stood tense and pale. His illusions were useless here with no minds to cloud, no senses to mislead.
The horde surged forward as a large variety of Sentries ranging from small, towering, and everything in between surged forward.
And Party 5 braced for impact.
Theseus was somewhere in this storm of machines.
And now, they stepped down to join him.
A streak of red cut across Maintenance Line Row Eight, it was Theseus whipping over a rumbling treadwheel in a blur, threading himself between death closing in from both sides.
Two Sentry Golems converged on him—one ahead, one behind as their massive frames grinded as they swung. Theseus slipped between their blows with almost careless grace, catching one descending cleave on the haft of his long spear. Sparks flared as metal screamed against metal, yet his footing remained unshaken.
With a flick, he readjusted the iron mask slipping from the force of motion, just as both Sentries drew their fists back for a synchronized strike meant to crush him flat.
"Not today."
He lunged sideways, grabbed an iron cable hanging beside the treadwheel, and yanked. The wirework snapped—and the recoil slingshot him upward.
The Sentry fists slammed into each other instead.A thunderous crack echoed through the chamber.Both hands shattered at the wrists, fragments raining down like iron hail.
Theseus dropped from above like a falling star, spear angled in hand.
He hurled it in one smooth, sweeping throw, the rusted tip shrieking through the air before burying itself directly into the first Sentry's chest core. Heat pulsed along the weapon's length, the metal momentarily glowing red.
The second Sentry tried to pivot, but Theseus was already moving. He twisted mid-descent, rotated—
—and brought his heel down in a brutal axe kick.
The impact split its torso open like cracked pottery. The golem burst apart in a spray of shards, collapsing in a metallic avalanche as Theseus landed amid the wreckage, cloak settling behind him.
He stepped over the ruined scrap, wrenched his spear free as the heat faded from its blade, and gave it a short, practiced spin.
Behind him, Trevus approached cautiously.
"Theseus," Trevus warned, eyeing the multiple gates now opening across the chamber,
"isn't this too much? More and more are coming."
But in his mind, another thought whispered grimly: My magic still says he holds no malice toward us... yet he revels in killing everything else. What happens if that desire shifts? What if he turns?
Theseus planted his spear into the floor with a metallic tang, then barked a laugh.
"Too much? Too much? What part of 'I'm hella strong' didn't sink in? This whole dungeon's a snack—barely even a warm-up. Besides, think about it! Seven little adventurers clearing an entire Sentry Dungeon? You'll be the toast of your guild. That's premium bragging rights!"
Trevus exhaled through his nose. "Yeah, and then we have to file the paperwork. Mandatory written reports for every action taken inside a dungeon."
Theseus went rigid.
"…What?"
Trevus nodded grimly. "Every. Action."
Theseus threw his hands up—spear and all. "WHAT!? THEY DO THAT NOW!? By all the of Phosphora's hells, since how long have they've been doing this!?"
Trevus winced. "Since… maybe forty to fifty years ago? Probably longer. The I.H.M.A. started rolling out new regulations around that time."
"Those bastards…" Theseus snarled. "They're my mortal enemies, y'know? The lot of them. Back in my day the Authority tried taxing spells that were 'too powerful.' A tax. On magic. Can you believe that!?"
Trevus blinked. "…But you don't use magic."
"True," Theseus conceded with a casual shrug. "But my old friends did. Damn shame. Those were hysterically stupid laws."
Metal doors thundered open across the chamber—materializing as if summoned. Sentries of every class—sleek scouts, heavy enforcers, multi-limbed variants—marched in formation.
Theseus spun his spear once, propped it on his shoulder, and grinned behind his iron mask.
"Well then…"His crimson eyes burned faintly in the dark."Looks like round two."
Another roar of shifting gates split the air—panels grinding open, harsh white light spilling across rows of advancing constructs.
But then… something strange happened.
The weaker Sentries—those with cracked plating and dim, flickering oculars—stopped.Then, all at once, they retreated.
They spun around and sprinted back through the doors they came from. One by one, the shutters slammed shut, sealing them away until only Party 5… and Theseus… remained.
Trevus went pale.
Damn it—Theseus doesn't know. This isn't just a Sentry-Type Dungeon… it's a Shifter-Dungeon!
He opened his mouth to warn them—
Too late.
The ground shuddered. The walls groaned. And then—
Reality warped.
Stone, metal, and teal-bricked surfaces folded like living origami—panels twisting, sliding, rising, and sinking in impossible patterns. Floors split apart. Ceilings rotated. Corridors tore themselves into entirely new shapes.
Trevus was swallowed first—engulfed by a closing wall as the world rearranged around him. Camylle & Lotha held together before they vanished in a spiraling pillar of floor tiles.
Harlen lunged, grabbing Nira by the wrist—then Ashe with the back of his collar—but Mina, standing just a few steps further, fell beyond his reach as the ground split beneath her feet.
"Mina!—!"
A red blur crossed the room.
Theseus.
He surged forward with impossible speed, scooping Mina into his arm just as a shifting panel slammed down between them and the others. Both were swallowed by a sliding cascade of stone—spiraling downward like debris caught in a whirlpool.
They plunged into darkness, tumbling between cold shifting surfaces as the dungeon dragged them deeper and deeper.
"I've got you, kid!" Theseus bellowed over the roaring slide of shifting stone. "Didn't realize this cursed place was a Shifter as well! Damn thing's alive!"
Mina clung to him, heart thundering against her ribs, breath trapped in her throat. She had braced herself for danger—yes—but not this. Not a dungeon that twisted like a living maze. Not being torn from her party and cast into the unknown with no warning—
Their descent ended with brutal suddenness.
CLANG.
Theseus's spear shot from the chute ahead of them, skittering across metal tiles like a fiery comet.
A heartbeat later, Theseus and Mina tumbled out as well, rolling across the cracked floor until they came to a harsh stop.
They found themselves inside a dim, brooding chamber—some manner of long-forgotten boiling room.
Rust-choked pipes lined the walls, hissing faint breaths of steam. A lone bulb hung overhead, its sickly yellow glow flickering like a dying firefly. The place felt ancient, industrial… a relic from a world above—but hollow, abandoned, and unsettlingly still.
Theseus rose first, brushing the dust from his coat.
"…Damn," he muttered, voice low.
Mina scrambled upright, breath sharp and uneven."W–where are we!?" Her voice cracked—panic edging through with every syllable.
She wasn't just lost.She was lost with him—the ageless Null whose strength bent reason, whose presence earlier had stirred something she couldn't quite name.
"I'm sorry, kid," Theseus rasped—his tone rough, but unexpectedly gentle. "Had I known, I'd have told you all to stay topside. Shifter-Dungeons take what they want… when they want. Even if it swallowed me alone, I'd… manage. Eventually."
He crouched, lowering himself until his crimson gaze met hers from behind the mask.
"You frightened? If not… you're a braver Null than most."
Mina jolted—face flushing hot. "O-of course I'm not scared! And besides—look!"
She lifted her wrist, revealing the faint, shimmering thread stretching from her skin upward into the unseen heights.
"This is Trevus' Threadwork spell. It brightens when I'm headed the right way towards them. That means we can still find them!"
Theseus leaned in to study the glowing filament, humming thoughtfully.
"So… we've been dropped at the dungeon's lowest pit," he murmured. "And the others lie somewhere above, huh."
He stood, reclaimed his spear with a single effortless pull, and slung it across his back.
"Well then, kid."
His mask tilted toward her, crimson eyes glinting like embers in the dim.
"Looks like it's you and me… and the long climb out of the beast's belly."
Theseus glanced down at her—just once—before turning his masked gaze toward the rusted door at the far end of the Boiler Room.
"Alright," he said, voice low and unhurried. "Lead the way, kid."
Mina swallowed, nodded, and stepped forward.
The metal door screeched open under her push, its hinges crying out into the gloom. Beyond lay the dim, forgotten warrens of the dungeon's lowest levels. It was all damp stone, hanging wires, flickering bulbs, and corridors that stretched like the ribs of some slumbering beast.
Mina kept her eyes on the faint shimmering thread around her wrist. Trevus' Threadwork Spell responded subtly, it glowed brighter only when she moved in the right direction, fading when she erred.
Mina led the way, following the soft pull of Trevus's thread through winding corridors that twisted like the innards of some slumbering titan. They descended a stairwell that spiraled endlessly downward, then crossed a narrow metal bridge suspended over a bottomless pit of pitch-black nothingness.
Neither of them spoke.
Only the hollow clang of their boots echoed across the iron lattice, each step swallowed by the void beneath.
At last, Mina released a slow breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding.
"So… eerie…" she whispered.
"Eerie?" Theseus gave a low laugh behind his mask. "Kid, you should've seen the Underworld."
Mina nearly stumbled. "W–what!? You—you went there? Isn't that forbidden for us on the surface? Only High Mages or the even Authority can even—"
"Mmm. And yet I went," Theseus replied casually, falling into step beside her. "Not so different from up here, truth be told. Demons? They're people. Same as you. Same as me."
Mina stared at him, wide-eyed. Then, despite the fear and the strange emptiness around them, a small smile crept onto her lips.
"…Thanks," she murmured. "For… completely breaking how I thought the world worked."
"Hmph," he snorted, though amusement curled beneath the sound.
They crossed the long bridge toward a rusted metal door dimly lit by a flickering bulb on its last breath. The thread at Mina's wrist glowed brighter, pulsing with quiet certainty.
They were heading the right way.
But something in Mina's thoughts began to twist, it was subtle at first, like a whisper curling beneath her ribs.
Something inside her. Something ancient, hungry, long-caged...had stirred.
Her amber eyes darkened, the crimson spirals within them sharpening, brightening, craving...
Her pace slowed.
Before stopping entirely.
She turned toward Theseus. He halted as well, tilting his head, the faint red gleam behind his mask catching the dying light like a watchful ember.
"What is it?" he asked.
Mina's heart pounded—not with fear, but with something far more dangerous.
A feeling of Longing. Envy. A deep ache she had never dared to name.
"You…" She swallowed, throat tight.
"You have something. A power. An ability that lets a Null's like us—reach that kind of strength you pulled off."
Her fingers curled into tight fists, nails biting into her palms. Her voice trembled—not from weakness, but from a rising, feverish resolve.
"Teach me," she whispered. Then louder & stronger:
"Whatever it is—whatever you are—whatever you can do…"
The crimson in her eyes swirled, hungry spirals blooming like a curse awakening.
"…Teach me how to become powerful."
Theseus did not move.
For a heartbeat, the chamber hung in stillness—only the faint wail of distant metal shifting echoed through the vast iron skeleton around them.
Under the mask, something shifted.A flicker of amusement?A spark of concern?Or perhaps a shadow of recognition, of a hunger he himself once bore.
But in Mina's heart, the truth had already taken root:
This moment would change everything.