Outskirts of Bedford City.
Beneath the shadow of towering pines, Jack moved like a shade through the dense forest. A hood draped low over his face hid his features, while the long, cloth-wrapped Claymore on his back bumped lightly with each careful step.
His movements were deliberately stealthy—though if anyone were watching, it would be hard to tell if he was avoiding pursuit or just enjoying the theatrics.
His destination soon came into view: an old, half-rotted watchtower leaning against time itself, its stone mottled with moss and its roof sagging like a broken crown.
Jack rapped on the wooden door in a specific rhythm—three knocks, a pause, then two more. The hinges groaned as the door opened, revealing a dim, dust-choked interior that smelled faintly of old ashes and damp wood.
He didn't linger. Striding to the soot-streaked fireplace, he pressed a hidden switch. With a deep clunk, the stone-paved floor split apart, sliding aside to reveal a dark stairwell leading into the earth.
At the bottom stretched a wide underground chamber lit by flickering oil lamps—the secret heart of Bedford's black market. Here, anything banned, stolen, or too dangerous for public sale passed from hand to hand, far from the eyes of the city guard.
For a man like Jack, with his nimble fingers and questionable morals, this was the only place worth selling loot. Naturally, he'd made himself part of the smuggling circle.
"I need to see the boss," Jack said to the guard by the stairwell. "Got something worth his time."
Minutes later, he was ushered into a room tucked deep in the warren of tunnels. Behind a low desk sat a massive man whose rolls of flesh almost swallowed the chair beneath him. His scar-scored face and sharp, calculating eyes belonged to Kezman, the most seasoned dealer in Bedford's underbelly.
Everyone just called him Boss.
Jack didn't bother with pleasantries. He set the Claymore on the desk with a faint thud, the cloth wrapping shifting slightly to reveal dull steel beneath.
"Pulled this out of the Sein Dungeon," he said. "Have one of your boys try lifting it."
Kezman raised a brow. "What's with the mystery? Looks like a plain sword to me." He reached out lazily, but the moment his fingers closed around the hilt, his expression shifted.
"...Oh. Oh—by the Saints…"
Word spread fast. Within minutes the cramped chamber was packed with smugglers craning to see. The black market's appraiser stepped forward, brushing his hands reverently over the blade. When he finally set it down, there was an almost reluctant sigh.
"This," he said, voice tinged with awe, "is a magical weapon. And not just that—it grants the wielder combat skills. I've never seen anything like it."
"Not even in the records?" Kezman pressed.
The appraiser shook his head slowly. "Perhaps… only a divine artifact could rival this."
The air in the room seemed to tighten. Divine artifact.
Eyes widened. Breaths quickened. A dangerous excitement rippled through the crowd.
Kezman slapped the table so hard it rattled, his belly quivering with his booming laugh.
"Hah! This is it, boys—our payday!"
"Jackpot!" someone shouted.
"Old Jack, you've outdone yourself!" another cried.
For the first time in his life, Jack was the center of the room, basking in the heat of their cheers. His chest swelled.
"Listen up!" he roared, throwing both arms wide. "Gather a team—I'll lead the way! Time for us to strike it rich!"
This gang wasn't bound by blood, but years of theft, close calls, and running from guards had forged a loyalty of its own. The promise of fortune meant they'd share the risk as eagerly as the spoils.
They would be the first to seize the Sein Dungeon's wealth—before the rest of the city caught wind.
---
But the black market wasn't alone in moving on the dungeon. Others—more official—were preparing to act.
"Final equipment check! We're heading in soon!" Stella's clear voice carried over the bustle.
Behind her, the squad of adventurers she'd been assigned to protect was… less inspiring.
"You think these lot can handle it?" muttered Gibbs, a sword-and-shield fighter, eyeing the group with open doubt.
Stella gave a helpless shrug. "It's the Lord's request. We're just here to keep them alive as long as possible."
"I warned them the dungeon's changed. Told them it's dangerous now. But they insisted. What can I do?"
The previous day's mutations had spread through Bedford like wildfire, drawing both fear and thrill-seekers. Many fled—but just as many were drawn in.
The Count of Bedford, who ruled the city, made his fortune from the endless tide of greenhorn adventurers. One of his most lucrative ventures was the Blood Recovery Potion, a healing brew famous for its potency and low price.
Its key ingredient—a rare ore called Blood Crystal—came only from the Sein Dungeon. Every day, the Count's miners hauled it out by the cartload.
Until yesterday. Not a single miner returned.
The Count couldn't afford the loss. He quickly dispatched four Silver-ranked adventuring teams to escort his mineral researchers into the dungeon and assess:
Blood Crystal yield
Quality
Distribution after the anomaly.
Each team had ten members, the dungeon's maximum party size.
Any more than that, and the dungeon's strange magic would simply split the group into separate "dungeon"—identical copies of the same space, each unaffected by the others. Monsters, loot, traps—everything would reset after a day's cooldown.
The system was like a dungeon in MMO.
Unfortunately for Stella, her assigned "researchers" were far from professional.
"Why do we get the problem children?" she muttered as she glanced back at the laughing, wine-sipping group. Among them were the Count's first and second sons.
"This is going to be a nightmare…"
"Alright, move out! And put that bottle away!" Gibbs barked, glaring until the wine was reluctantly stowed.
"Stay close. Don't get separated," Stella ordered, stepping into the dungeon's teleportation gate. One by one, the others followed.
Then—thud. The last man bumped into the back of the line.
"What's the holdup?" he grumbled.
"No idea," another whispered. "Looks like the leader froze up. Guess some adventurers scare easy."
At the front, Stella stood motionless, eyes wide. Her lips parted, but no sound came.
Gibbs stepped forward, his voice carrying the disbelief on everyone's faces.
"Why in all the hells… has this place changed again?"
(*****)
If you'd like to read 20 chapters ahead, please consider joining my Patreon: patreon.com/ANeet. Your support means a lot. Thank you!