The chimera's corpse still smoked behind them, wings half-melted, black ichor spreading in steaming puddles across the cracked stone.
But before the silence could settle, the mist trembled.
The battlefield rippled, like a calm lake disturbed by a stone. Stone pillars sagged and bent. The ground beneath the chimera's carcass split, swallowing it whole, and in the span of a breath, the arena stretched wider, its jagged floor giving way to a new landscape: broken archways half-buried in sand, dunes of pale grit rising where blood-soaked stone had been moments ago.
The dungeon had shifted again.
Zane gritted his teeth, forcing his blades back into their sheaths. His chest burned, his soul thrummed with the strain of bending time too far, but he stayed steady. Lyra swayed on her feet, daggers vanishing, her eyes fixed warily on the rolling mist. Adrian leaned heavily on one knee, sparks flickering across his hand before guttering out.
"Not another fight," Lyra whispered. "Not now."
Adrian shook his head, scanning the empty dunes. "It's not spawning yet. We've got a window."
Zane crouched, dragging in a breath. "Then we need to rest before it changes again."
They retreated to the shadow of a collapsed arch. Lyra slipped a silver ring from her finger, Kane's gift. A ripple of warped space bled outward as she willed it open, releasing bundled wood, blankets, and a packet of dried meat. Adrian let out a low laugh, shaking his head. "Never thought I'd be this grateful for firewood."
"Don't thank me," Lyra said flatly, setting the supplies down. "Thank Kane."
Zane stacked the wood with steady hands, striking steel to flint until the fire caught. Flames rose, orange and warm, flickering against the pale sand. The three of them sat around it, shadows bending against the warped stone arch behind.
For the first time since entering the dungeon, there were no screams. No abominations clawing through the mist. Just the soft crackle of fire and the hiss of shifting sand.
Lyra broke the silence first. "It's not just monsters. The whole place keeps… changing." She hugged her knees to her chest, violet eyes sharp in the firelight. "First, the forest. Then that deserted battlefield. Now a desert? What even is this?"
Adrian poked the fire with a stick. "If it's a dungeon, it's nothing like the ones the Empire catalogs. They don't shift terrain. They don't throw D-rank monsters in a E-rank dungeon." He glanced at the dunes. "This feels… wrong. Like the rules don't apply."
Zane said nothing. His mind flashed back to the collapsing Soul Forge, the way its stone cracked and broke like glass, reshaping itself around him. The dungeon's rippling walls felt too similar. Too familiar. Like it's bound by something it can't hold.
He kept that thought to himself.
Instead, he murmured, "Whatever it is, it wants us to break. That's the only thing that makes sense."
Adrian gave a humorless laugh. "Then it's underestimating us."
The fire popped. The dunes shifted faintly under the mist. Somewhere far off, something roared, muffled and distant, as if the dungeon itself were breathing.
Lyra's voice softened. "If it keeps shifting like this… how long before it decides to bury us alive?"
Zane didn't answer. He only stared into the fire, jaw tight. Because he wasn't just worried about the dungeon's shifting rules. He was worried that whatever force twisted this place… was watching him most of all.
---
The fire crackled low, sparks curling into the mist before vanishing. The three of them sat in silence for a while, each lost in their thoughts. The dungeon had shifted again, dunes where there had been stone, but for now, it was still.
Adrian broke the quiet first, leaning back on his elbows with a tired grin. "You know… we've been training for almost a month straight, and I just realized I don't actually know either of you all that well."
Lyra raised a brow. "Now's when you want to chat?"
"Hey, if the dungeon's going to kill us eventually," Adrian said, smirking, "I'd at least like to die knowing something more than your dagger form and his suicidal sword swings."
Zane let out a faint snort. "So what, you want to trade life stories?"
Adrian grinned wider, eyes glinting in the firelight. "Nah, let's start simple. Zane, what's your type?"
Lyra gave him a flat look. "Really?"
"What?" Adrian shrugged, unbothered. "We're making small talk. Humor me."
Zane tilted his head, considering. Then, without hesitation, he said, "Tall. Around my height." He glanced down at himself, six feet. "Powerful. Strong enough to throw me through a wall if she felt like it."
The silence after that stretched long enough that even the fire seemed to crackle quieter.
Lyra blinked. "…that's oddly specific."
Adrian stared at him like he'd just confessed to eating babies. "Someone who could throw you through a wall? What are you, some kind of . . ." He cut himself off, dragging a hand over his face. "Forget it. Gods, I shouldn't have asked."
Zane smirked faintly. "What about you then?"
Adrian froze. "Me?"
"Yeah," Zane said, leaning forward. "Your turn. What's your preference?"
The storm mage cleared his throat, suddenly fascinated with the fire. "I, uh… I guess someone… cheerful? You know, nice. Smiles a lot." His voice trailed off, and his ears were definitely turning red. "And, uh… maybe… shorter than me."
Lyra's lips curved in the faintest smile. "Cheerful. Short. Cute. Got it."
Adrian groaned, burying his face in his hands. "This is why I don't talk about this stuff."
Zane chuckled, the sound low and rough, but real. "Relax. No one's going to hold it against you." He leaned back, letting the firelight flicker across his face. "Though I'll admit… I didn't expect the great Adrian Stormwell to go for someone who looks like they'd bake pies for a living."
Adrian threw a pebble at him. Zane caught it without looking.
For the first time since the dungeon began shifting around them, the mist felt a little less suffocating.
The fire burned low, wrapping their little circle in warmth.
Lyra tilted her head, her violet eyes narrowing just slightly. "So… let me get this straight." She jabbed her dagger tip into the dirt between them. "You want a woman as tall as you, stronger than you, and potentially into some questionable activities."
Zane shrugged like it was nothing. "Six feet. Powerful. Experienced. What's wrong with that?"
Her lips twitched, like she was fighting not to laugh. "What's wrong with that," she repeated. "Zane, that's just you. . . actually never mind, everyone have their quirks."
Adrian burst out laughing, nearly choking on the dried meat he'd been chewing. "She's not wrong! You basically just described wanting to lose every argument for the rest of your life."
Zane smirked faintly. "Maybe I like a challenge."
Lyra rolled her eyes, but there was something unreadable in her expression. "Or maybe you just have a death wish outside the battlefield, too."
Adrian was still chuckling when Zane leaned back and said smoothly, "Your turn, then."
That shut him up fast. "H–hey, I already said mine."
"Not you." Zane's eyes flicked sideways. "Her."
At the same moment, Adrian leaned forward, grin mischievous. "Yeah, Lyra. What about you? What's your type?"
The question hit her from both sides. Lyra froze, staring between them like she'd been ambushed in broad daylight. For once, her sharp tongue stalled.
She finally dragged a hand over her face, groaning. "Unbelievable. You two are impossible."
Adrian smirked. "That's not an answer."
Zane's lips curved in a rare grin. "Yeah, sis. play fair."
Her violet eyes narrowed dangerously at both of them. "You really want to know?"
They both nodded, leaning in.
Lyra sighed, stabbing another stick into the fire. "My type is someone who doesn't ask me stupid questions when we're stuck in a nightmare dungeon that's actively trying to kill us."
Zane chuckled low in his throat. Adrian groaned.
"Cheater," Adrian muttered.
Lyra smirked, finally looking relaxed for the first time since the mist swallowed them. "Deal with it."
For a fleeting moment, with the fire warm between them and the mist held at bay, it felt almost normal. Almost like home.