Morning light spilled through the tall dorm windows, its warmth a false promise of safety. Nicolas sat at the edge of his bed, boots half-laced, his mind still replaying last night's summoning by the Heavenly-SSG. He'd smiled, shrugged, and dodged their pointed questions—but their eyes had been sharp. They didn't believe him.
And now, with barely a night's rest between that tense meeting and today's test, Class F was marching straight into their first official dungeon raid.
The summons had been clear: meet at Gate Three in full gear.
The plaza outside the academy's third gate was buzzing with noise. Class F's twenty students stood in loose clusters, checking weapons and tightening straps. Their instructor, Master Gorren, paced before them—his scarred face and weathered robes a constant reminder of how dangerous dungeons were.
"Remember," Gorren barked, "this is not a spar. This is not the cafeteria. This is a dungeon—an unstable pocket of warped space where beasts don't play fair."
Some students smirked like it was nothing new. Others—especially the lower-tiered—looked pale. Nicolas stayed quiet, his hands resting in the pockets of his academy coat.
The portal shimmered ahead, a rippling vertical oval of deep green light anchored in an iron frame. Even from a distance, he could feel its pull—like standing at the mouth of a storm.
They filed through in groups of five, stepping into the green light and vanishing one by one. Nicolas's group was the last. His boots hit ground again—only this wasn't the stone of the academy plaza.
It was damp earth, scattered with broken flagstones and moss-covered ruins. Overhead, a ceiling of jagged stone hung impossibly high, dotted with glowing fungus that cast an eerie blue light. The air was heavy with the scent of wet stone and something faintly metallic—blood, maybe.
Around them, the dungeon stretched like a forgotten city swallowed by a cave. Crumbling walls leaned at odd angles. Statues with broken faces stared from the shadows.
"Stay together!" Gorren's voice echoed from the front. "Scouts—report."
Two upper-tier students dashed ahead, moving like blurs, scanning the corridors.
It didn't take long for trouble to find them.
A low, guttural hiss rolled from the darkness to their right. From between two shattered pillars, a creature stepped into view—a beast of pale muscle and sinew, standing on four clawed legs, its head split by a vertical maw that dripped black saliva.
"Level Four Maulhound," one of the scouts called. "Just one!"
"Take it down," Gorren ordered.
Three mid-tier students moved forward, forming a half-circle. Qi glimmered faintly along their weapons. Nicolas stayed back with the rest of Class F, watching.
The Maulhound lunged. Steel flashed. Claws met blade with a sharp clang. For a moment, the fight seemed even—until the beast feinted, spun, and caught one of them across the chest with its claws, sending him sprawling.
"Pull him back!" someone yelled.
Two students moved, but the Maulhound's attention had shifted—to the weaker ones standing behind. Nicolas's group.
The beast bounded toward them. The nearest student froze. Another fumbled his spear.
And in that split second—the system moved.
[Emergency Quest Triggered]
Objective: Survive the Maulhound's charge.
Reward: Skill Unlock Progress + EXP.
Time Limit: 10 seconds.
Nicolas's vision sharpened. He could almost feel the dungeon slow around him. His hands rose—not in a martial stance, but palm-out, fingers splayed.
It was instinct. And something deeper.
A faint circle of smoky purple light shimmered beneath his boots. The rune flared—and the Maulhound stumbled mid-lunge. Its front paw twisted, claws scraping uselessly against stone. The lunge fell short, its head snapping sideways instead of finding flesh.
[Skill Acquired: Lesser Hex]
Type: Witchcraft / Debuff Magic
Tier: Basic
Effect: Reduces target's agility (-20%) and accuracy (-15%) for 5 seconds.
Mana Cost: 15 MP.
Nicolas blinked. The rune had already faded, like it had never been. No one seemed to notice—except maybe the beast, which shook its head violently, off-balance.
The others seized the opening. Spears struck. A blade slashed deep into its flank. The Maulhound howled, staggered, and collapsed in a heap.
"Good teamwork," Gorren called, scanning the group. His eyes lingered on the uninjured lower-tier students for a moment—Nicolas among them—but he said nothing more.
The wounded were treated quickly. The group moved on.
But Nicolas felt it—the faint thrum of power still echoing in his veins. Lesser Hex. The skill was his now.
They passed through narrow alleys of collapsed stone, into wider plazas where shattered fountains lay dry. Twice more they fought beasts—smaller ones, easier kills. Nicolas held back, watching for the right moment.
The dungeon seemed to breathe around them, the air shifting with each step. Somewhere far ahead, a deep roar rolled through the ruins.
Gorren raised a fist, halting them. "That," he said grimly, "is not part of the plan."
From the shadows ahead, shapes emerged. Three beasts this time—sleek and fast, their eyes glowing red.
The front line engaged instantly, blades flashing, Qi crackling in the air. Nicolas stayed in the back—until he saw it.
One of the beasts had slipped around, circling toward the weaker flank. Its movements were too fast—its claws already reaching for the nearest student's throat.
The system didn't wait for him to think.
[Emergency Quest Triggered]
Objective: Prevent teammate casualty.
Reward: EXP + Item Drop.
Time Limit:8 seconds.
The rune flared again—smoky purple at his feet. Lesser Hex snapped into place, invisible chains of misfortune tightening around the beast. Its leap skewed sideways. Its claws scraped harmlessly against stone.
"Now!" Nicolas barked, surprising even himself.
The student it had targeted spun and drove a blade into its exposed flank.
The beast screamed and crumpled. The other two, distracted, fell moments later to the combined assault of the frontliners.
System Rewards
[Quest Completed]
EXP Gained: +150
Item Drop: Witch's Token (Common) – Used to upgrade Witchcraft Skills.
Skill Proficiency: Lesser Hex +5%
Level Up: +1
The faint chime of the system echoed in his mind. A warmth spread through him—not just from the EXP, but from the way his body felt subtly stronger. His hands curled into fists. Power. Quiet. Hidden.
With the beasts cleared, they pressed deeper. The dungeon's distortion grew worse—walls bent at odd angles, and gravity felt heavier in some spots. Eventually, Gorren raised a hand.
"This is our limit," he said. "We mark this point and withdraw. Class F isn't ready for deeper runs yet."
The return was slower, the group tired but alive. The corpses of slain beasts were already fading into black dust, their essence absorbed by the dungeon.
They stepped through the portal one by one, the cool green light fading as the academy plaza replaced the ruin's gloom.
Gorren's voice was steady. "You did well. Not perfect, but well. Lower-tier or not—everyone came back breathing. That's something."
Nicolas caught a flicker of something in the man's eyes—approval, maybe—but also curiosity.
And from the far side of the plaza, the Heavenly-SSG stood watching. Their leader, the silver-haired Marcellus, tilted his head ever so slightly as Nicolas passed.
Night fell. Nicolas sat at his desk, the Witch's Token turning between his fingers.
Lesser Hex had felt… natural. Like breathing. But it was also dangerous. Too different from cultivation. Too close to the kind of magic whispered about in old laws.
The system pulsed faintly in the back of his mind, waiting. More quests would come. More chances to grow.
He placed the token in his inventory. The faint shimmer of the slot closed around it.
Outside, the academy's bells marked midnight. Somewhere beyond the walls, the next dungeon pulsed, waiting for them.
And in the shadows of the Heavenly-SSG's quarters, quiet voices debated his name.