The dawn of the final exam day broke over Namil City, painting the sky in hues of dark skies. For Adam and his group, it was a morning charged with a unique blend of anticipation and profound readiness. Their two days of dedicated recovery had worked wonders. Muscles that had screamed in protest just days ago now felt supple and strong. Minds that had been clouded by fatigue were now sharp, focused, and braced for the ultimate challenge.
They rose early, the cabin buzzing with a quiet, efficient energy. Julian checked his blade for the hundredth time, the steel gleaming. Astrid performed her silent stretches, her movements fluid and graceful. Panchenko, surprisingly subdued for once, simply tightened the grip on his spear. Tom, his face a mask of thoughtful concentration, went over his gear. Edward, as always, was a silent sentinel, his crimson eyes gleaming with ancient wisdom.
"Alright," Adam said, his voice firm, drawing their gazes. "This is it. The final exam. Twain's test. Whatever he throws at us, we face it together."
Panchenko nodded, a grim determination replacing his usual boisterousness. "No turning back now. We've come too far."
Astrid met Adam's gaze, a fierce light in her eyes. "We're ready. All of us."
Julian strapped his sword to his back. "The culmination of our journey. Let us meet it with honor."
"Just hope it's not a philosophical debate with a monster," Tom muttered, a faint, nervous smile touching his lips.
Edward, ever the stoic, gave a slow, deliberate nod. "Remember your training. Trust your instincts. And above all, trust each other. Twain's challenges often prey on discord."
After a quick, protein-rich breakfast, they made their way out into the awakening city. The air was cool and fresh, carrying the faint scent of rain. The streets were still quiet, giving their walk to the Adventurers' Guild a sense of solemn purpose.
They arrived at the Adventurers' Guild, its grand facade looming impressively against the dark sky. The atmosphere within was different from previous exam days. There was no bustling crowd, no anxious thousands. The main hall was hushed, almost reverent. Only a handful of Guild officials and, more importantly, the other four applicants who had passed Fitzgerald's brutal brawl, were present.
As Adam and his group entered the exam hall, their eyes immediately sought out the others. They stood in a small cluster near the stage, their postures radiating the confidence and weary strength of true survivors.
Ronda, the tall woman with blonde hair and striking blue eyes, met Adam's gaze and gave a brief, respectful nod. Her athletic build was evident even under her practical adventuring gear.
Roman, the burly man with long black hair and dark brown eyes, offered a stoic nod, his immense frame radiating quiet power. His two-handed greatsword, carefully sheathed, seemed almost an extension of him.
Mysterio, the short, masked figure, merely inclined his head, his shadowed features giving away nothing. His movements, even standing still, held a subtle, unsettling grace.
Mei Jing, the petite woman with long black hair and chinky black eyes, gave them a polite, almost imperceptible bow, her expression serene yet focused.
A silent acknowledgment passed between the ten. They were the last. The elite. And they shared a profound, unspoken understanding of the trials they had overcome to reach this point.
On the central stage, Twain stood. He was less overtly imposing than Nietzsche or Fitzgerald, less intellectually distant than Fyodor. He was an older man, with a kindly face framed by wisps of grey hair, and eyes that twinkled with an unsettling mix of wisdom and mischief. He wore simple, almost professorial robes, yet his presence commanded an absolute, immediate silence.
As the last of the ten applicants arrived and found their positions, a profound hush fell over the hall. Twain's gaze swept over them, a gentle, knowing smile playing on his lips.
"Welcome, welcome, my formidable survivors," Twain began, his voice surprisingly warm and melodic, yet carrying an undeniable authority that filled the vast hall. "To the final stage of the Adventurer's Exam. To the last ten. Congratulations, each and every one of you, for coming this far."
He paused, his eyes twinkling as he looked from one applicant to another. "You have bested cunning, overcome unimaginable endurance, mastered agility, and triumphed in sheer strength. You are truly exceptional."
His smile faded slightly, replaced by a more serious, almost somber expression. "However, this is the final exam. And it is important for you to understand its nature.
Sometimes, no one actually passes this particular test. Sometimes, only one or two manage to prevail."
A ripple of quiet apprehension went through the ten. This was a stark reminder of the ultimate challenge.
"But today," Twain continued, his voice gaining a note of encouragement, "I stand before you with ten truly remarkable individuals. For the first time in many cycles, I can genuinely say: you 10 have already passed."
A collective gasp, a wave of stunned disbelief, washed over the ten applicants. They had passed? Just like that? After all the grueling trials, all the pain, all the despair?
"Yes," Twain affirmed, a knowing smile returning to his face. "Your journey through the previous stages, your collective display of all the core qualities an adventurer needs, has convinced me. You have proven yourselves worthy. Each of you possesses the potential to be a legendary adventurer."
Adam felt a wave of profound relief wash over him, quickly followed by confusion. If they had already passed, what was the final exam?
Twain seemed to read their thoughts. "However," he added, his eyes now holding a deeper, more serious glint, "potential is one thing. Living up to it is another. While you have 'passed' in my estimation, there is one final, critical test. A test that will determine not if you are worthy, but if you are truly ready for the harsh realities that await a full-fledged Adventurer."
He paused, then delivered the challenge with quiet intensity. "You need to complete this test. And you need to survive."
The word 'survive' hung in the air, a chilling counterpoint to the earlier relief. This wasn't about passing a subjective evaluation anymore. It was about facing a tangible, deadly threat.
"The exam will be held at the Astabal Dungeon," Twain announced, his voice gaining a slightly more authoritative tone.
"The Astabal Dungeon is renowned as a vast, multi-floored area, infamous for being seemingly alive. It is inhabited by various types of monsters, constantly spawning from its very walls and ceilings, adapting and growing more dangerous with each descending level."
A shiver went down Adam's spine. A living dungeon. Monsters spawning endlessly. This was a far cry from the controlled environments of the previous tests.
"For this final test," Twain continued, his gaze sweeping over the ten, "you will no longer be competing against each other.
Instead, you 10 will be teamed up. Your final objective is to descend into the Astabal Dungeon, navigate its treacherous floors, and collect the Energy Core of the Floor 10 Boss Monster."
He paused, allowing the gravity of the task to sink in. "This is a real dungeon. The threats are real. The stakes are real. Your success as a team, and your very lives, depend on your ability to work together, to adapt, to overcome. And to survive."
Twain looked at each of them, his eyes holding a profound sincerity. "There is no time limit. There are no restarts if you fall.
There is only the dungeon, and your collective will. Good luck, my adventurers. Your journey truly begins now."
With that, Twain stepped back, and the grand doors behind him, revealing a transport hub, slid open. The ten exchanged glances, their earlier relief completely replaced by a grim, shared understanding.
This was it. The ultimate trial. A real dungeon. As a team.
Adam looked at his group, then at the other four. The unspoken question hung in the air: could they, ten individuals honed by competition, truly work together as a cohesive unit in the face of such overwhelming odds?
"Astabal Dungeon," Julian murmured, his face etched with a mix of awe and trepidation. "Its legends are… unsettling. A living dungeon. It adapts to adventurers, learning their tactics."
"Floor 10 Boss," Panchenko muttered, shaking his head. "That's going to be a nightmare."
Astrid's eyes narrowed. "This isn't just about strength or speed anymore. It's about strategy, survival instincts, and most importantly, teamwork with people we barely know."
Tom nodded, his brow furrowed in thought. "A living dungeon means we can't predict its layout or its monster types. We'll have to adapt on the fly, constantly."
Edward's voice was calm, cutting through the rising tension. "This is the true test of an Adventurer. Not merely to excel as an individual, but to lead, to follow, to protect, and to sacrifice for the greater good of the team. Survival against overwhelming odds. This is the essence of the profession."
Adam looked at the other four. Ronda, Roman, Mysterio, Mei Jing. Their faces mirrored the same grim understanding, the same dawning realization of the immense challenge ahead.
"Alright," Adam said, his voice firm, stepping forward slightly. "We're a team now. All ten of us. We need to pool our knowledge, our strengths. We introduce ourselves properly. Quickly. What are your primary skills? Your specialties?"
Ronda stepped forward, her blue eyes sharp. "Ronda. Master of unarmed combat. Close quarters. Extremely durable." Her voice was clear and confident.
Roman followed, his deep voice resonating. "Roman. Heavy weapons specialist. Frontline combatant. Unwavering defense."
Mysterio's voice was a low rasp, almost a whisper, from behind his mask. "Mysterio. Reconnaissance. Stealth. Precision strikes. Evasion."
Mei Jing offered another small bow. "Mei Jing. Martial arts. Focus on pressure points and disabling opponents quickly. Agility."
"Adam Ashbourne," Adam introduced himself, gesturing to his group. "Dual meta pistols. Ranged suppression, tactical offense. This is Panchenko, spear and heavy brawling. Julian, master swordsman, tactical melee. Astrid, rogue, daggers, stealth, agility. Tom, tactical analysis, communications, support. And Edward, our strategist, unyielding defense, and… formidable combatant."
A flicker of recognition passed through the eyes of the other four as Edward's name was mentioned. His reputation, even within the Guild, was considerable.
"Okay," Adam continued, "So we have two heavy hitters, two agile melee specialists, two ranged/support, a dedicated recon, and a pure strategist. It's a surprisingly balanced team."
"Balanced, but untested as a unit," Ronda pointed out, her tone practical. "We just spent weeks trying to eliminate each other. Now we have to trust our lives to each other in a living dungeon."
"Which is precisely Twain's final challenge," Edward stated, his voice calm. "To forge a functional unit from competitive individuals. To rely on trust, not just strength."
"So, the plan," Roman rumbled, "We go in. We find the boss. We take its core. And we get out. Simple enough."
"Not simple, Roman," Mei Jing corrected softly. "Astabal is notorious. Its monsters adapt. Its layout shifts. We need constant communication, constant adaptation. And we need to conserve resources."
"Exactly," Tom agreed. "We can't just brute force our way through ten floors. We need to assess each floor, each threat, and determine the most efficient path. We need to be aware of the dungeon's 'living' aspect."
Adam looked at the transport hub, the maw that would take them into the heart of the dungeon. "Alright, then. We move as a cohesive unit. Frontline will be Roman and Panchenko, supported by Edward. Julian and Astrid will be flankers, ready to engage or disengage quickly. Mei Jing, your agility and precision will be crucial for quick, disabling strikes. Mysterio, you're our eyes and ears, scouting ahead, identifying threats. Tom, you're our mission control, managing information, advising on routes.
And I'll provide ranged support, covering all angles, breaking up enemy formations."
"Communication is paramount," Julian added. "Constant updates. No lone wolf maneuvers."
"And trust," Astrid emphasized. "We protect each other. No matter what."
The ten, a forced alliance forged in the crucible of competition, now faced their ultimate test. The Astabal Dungeon. A living entity of endless monsters and shifting paths. Their lives, and their future as adventurers, depended on their ability to become more than just ten individuals. They had to become one.
With a final, shared glance, they stepped towards the transport hub, the automated doors hissing open to reveal the dark, inviting maw of the Astabal Dungeon. The last exam had truly begun.