They all awoke to the steady glow of the mana node, muscles stiff and wounds sealed by both Eclipse and potions. After a few slow, careful breaths, all packed their gear and prepared to move on.
A dungeon isn't like a cave—each floor is a self‐contained challenge. You step through one portal to enter a floor, and your only way out is through the exit on that same level; backtracking to the entrance isn't possible.
First floor: low‐level flame orcs—challenging for newcomers, but no real threats once you've proven yourself.
Second floor: everything accelerates. High ranking Flame Orcs, Fiery Serpents that spit molten venom, Hobgoblins wielding crude fiery weapons.
And lurking above them all, the floor boss: the Lava Dragon. It's a creature of pure combustion—its scales molten iron, its wings thunderous heat. Where the Orc King was a brute force, the Lava Dragon is a living volcano. Its appearance is virtually synonymous with death; no sane adventurer dares draw its ire.
Adonis couldn't shake the thought: if the Orc King showed up unexpectedly this early, who's to say the Lava Dragon won't materialize next? One look at that beast's maw and they'd be incinerated on the spot—even working together, they'd stand no chance.
So the plan was simple but perilous: move swiftly, avoid large congregations of monsters, and find the exit portal. No heroics, no drawing line of sight—just get out, regroup, and return properly prepared.
With that, they stepped forward into the next cavern, torches flickering.
Every breath tasted of ash and every beat of our hearts echoed the distant rumble of a sleeping volcano—reminding us how close we were to true oblivion.
As Adonis's group tread carefully through the searing tunnels of the second floor, silence blanketed them—After all this is real second floor, only the crackling of lava and distant hissing of fire serpents filled the air. Each step was calculated, each breath controlled. The weight of reality settled heavy on their shoulders. This wasn't a school test anymore.
This was real life, in a dungeon if you let your guard down for single second, that means death.
Tyrant led at the front, his body faintly gleaming like tempered steel as his defense is highest in their group he was responsible for escorting. Any wrong turn here could be their last. Adonis followed with his sword summoned, he don't know from where danger come, so its best to be already prepared, his, Quackner also perched atop his head like a feathery radar dish for scouting.
Mia walked just beside him, her frost aura kept subtle yet present—a gentle mist cooling the heated path beneath their feet. Every few seconds, she would glance back at Ai and Alex. Ai's expression was tense but sharp, bow nocked and ready. Alex—though still ever-pessimistic—was the most alert any of them had ever seen him.
No one spoke. Their training echoed in every motion: Watch the airflow. Count your footsteps. Leave no trace. Leave no scent. Do not provoke anything within the dungeon.
This is teaching given to them in academy
Meanwhile, deep within the second floor…
Molten rivers carved paths through craggy rock, glowing orange beneath the looming silhouette of a volcano-shaped mountain.
A pair of elven siblings—a girl with golden-blonde hair and emerald eyes, and a boy with similar features—trudged forward, their feet blistered, their arms bruised and bound in dark enchanted chains. Their breathing was ragged, their hope near broken.
Behind them followed two cloaked figures, red eyes gleaming like embers beneath black hoods. The taller of the two cracked a flaming whip across the boy's back.
Snap!
"Aghh!" The boy stumbled forward, collapsing to his knees.
"Useless runt," the dark figure spat. "We don't have all day. The altar's awakening—move faster!"
"Please! He can't take more…" the girl cried, shielding her brother with her body.
"If you're stalling for time, think again," the second cloaked man said, his voice like gravel soaked in venom. "Your entire tribe is in our grip. Fail us, and their fate is sealed."
The girl bit her lip until it bled. She clutched her brother's hand tightly, her voice shaking as she whispered in the old tongue, probably praying, their tribe, called Gaza tribe; they are known to worship a deity called Celestial Immortal, their faith grew from their records of ancients. And now the girl currently praying for the lives of her people.
She raised her chained hands in trembling prayer. "I beg gods of ancients, lord Celestial Immortal, to clear the darkness within and show us the path of light"
Her voice echoed softly through the volcanic chamber, carried faintly by the rising steam and heat.
The chained boy looked at her, sadness in his eyes. Even with suffering for too long the girl never stopped praying, but with current situation he already starting lost faith in so called ancient gods "I hope her prayers don't go in vain," he murmured.