The fern's mana signature was faint but steady — a good sign. I crouched low, brushing back the moss to expose its root crown, and made a quick note in my field journal.
Specimen #144: Shadeveil Fern — mana affinity: shadow/water. Recommend relocation within two hours to prevent dormancy.
My breath fogged slightly in the cool air, even though the forecast for Seoul today was pushing twenty degrees. That was the thing about dungeons — they ignored the rules of the outside world. The forest here was older than anything I'd ever seen, each tree trunk wide enough to hide a house behind.
The entrance shimmered faintly behind me — the last point where the Association's comms booster could still push a signal through. I'd be losing that once I crossed deeper into the gate's territory.
I fished my phone out of my satchel, thumb hovering over the screen for a moment before tapping open Hana's chat.
Me: Little sprout, I'll be back before dinner. Promise.
Her reply came fast.
Hana: Don't make me call the Association again.
I smiled despite the cold, tucking the phone back into its waterproof pouch. "Bossy," I murmured. The satchel's strap creaked as I adjusted it over my shoulder, the faint green stains on my gloves already drying.
One last look at the light of the entrance — and then I turned toward the deeper forest, where the shadows moved like they were waiting for me.
I slid my journal back into its case, pausing to adjust the satchel strap over my shoulder. It was heavier than it should've been for just a morning's work. Field notes, pressed samples, and a few sealed vials of pollen — nothing that would impress an S-Rank, but to me, it was worth more than gold.
That was the thing about being a hunter like me: no one paid attention unless you were cutting down monsters by the dozen. The flashy ones got the headlines, the sponsorships, the guild contracts. C-Rank supports like me? We were background noise.
And honestly, I preferred it that way.
I wasn't guild-affiliated, not for lack of offers. It wasn't hard to imagine what they wanted from me: someone to catalog dungeon flora for resale, someone to heal their wounds when the real fighting started. Useful, yes. Valuable, maybe. Replaceable, definitely.
So instead, I worked freelance. Quiet contracts, small research teams, the occasional Association job. Enough to pay rent, keep food on the table, and make sure Hana had her tuition covered.
A faint vibration ran through the forest floor, and I stilled, crouching low. My glove brushed the soil, feeling for resonance. The pulse wasn't strong enough to be a boss monster, but something big was moving. Probably a patrol beast.
I shifted my weight and checked the short dagger strapped at my thigh. Nothing fancy, nothing enchanted — just steel. It wasn't for killing, only for buying time. If things got bad, I'd run.
Because that was who I was: Freya Seo-Hallrún, half-Korean, half-Norwegian, full-time support. Not a frontline fighter. Not a hero.
Just someone trying to keep her little sister safe in a world where everything wanted to eat you alive.
The pulse in the soil faded, and the forest stilled again. I let out a slow breath and rose, brushing damp moss from my gloves. My satchel was almost full — enough samples to keep the client happy and Hana's fridge stocked for another week.
I was halfway back toward the shimmering gate entrance when my earpiece crackled. Static buzzed against my skin before a voice broke through.
"Freya? You still alive in there?" It was Do-hwan, one of my few regular contacts in the Association. Mid-rank, good-natured, and constantly overworked.
I pressed the comm bead at my collar. "Barely. Found three fern strains and a creeper vine that shouldn't even exist in a C-rank gate. What's up?"
There was a pause, and then: "Something weird came in on the registry a few hours ago. Outskirts of Suwon. B-rank, supposedly… but the mana readings are messy. Like the whole terrain is shifting."
I frowned. "Living terrain?"
"That's what the survey team said before they backed out. You like plants that want to eat people, right? Figured I'd give you a heads-up before some guild snatches the job."
I adjusted the strap of my satchel, eyes narrowing. Living terrain. That wasn't something you found in ordinary gates. Most hunters would run the other way. For me… it was hard not to feel the pull of curiosity.
"Send me the coordinates," I said.
Do-hwan groaned. "Knew you'd say that. Just don't make me fill out the paperwork for your funeral, alright?"
His words were half-joke, half-warning.
I tried to laugh, but the sound caught in my throat. Somewhere deep inside, the Balance of the forest shivered, like even the dungeon knew what awaited me next.
The coordinates led me to a quiet stretch of woodland on the outskirts of Suwon. Hunters usually swarmed new gates, especially B-ranks, but this one stood alone — a shimmering oval of green light rising between twisted pines, its surface rippling like water caught in moonlight.
Two Association survey officers were stationed at the perimeter, both looking relieved when I showed my license.
"Don't tell me you're going in alone," one muttered.
"Research only," I assured him. "In and out. Just samples."
He didn't look convinced. But he stamped the paperwork anyway.
Inside, the air changed instantly. Dungeons always carried that weight, like stepping into a dream carved out of someone else's nightmare. But this place… this place felt alive.
The ground under my boots wasn't soil — it was a web of tangled roots, shifting just enough that I could feel the give of them. The trees stretched impossibly high, their branches braided together into a canopy that shimmered with faint mana threads. Fungi glowed pale blue along the trunks, casting soft halos of light.
I crouched to examine a cluster of sporecaps, their stems pulsing with energy. My journal came out almost by reflex.
Specimen #145: Unknown fungal cluster. Possible mana-reactive properties. Caution advised.
A rustle behind me made me stiffen.
"Easy," I muttered, turning slowly. A low-rank beast — boar-shaped, bark plating across its shoulders — pawed at the ground, eyes glowing faint green. Not aggressive yet.
I tossed a flash-seed from my belt, and the burst of pollen made it snort and retreat deeper into the brush.
I let out a breath. "Not here to fight."
The boar's retreat left silence heavy in its wake. I adjusted the strap of my satchel and let my fingers brush the living roots beneath me. They were shifting—slow, subtle—but enough to leave me unsettled.
I pressed on, deeper into the woodland interior. The mana grew thicker with each step, almost syrupy in the air. My lungs worked harder. My skin prickled. I'd catalogued dozens of gates in the last year, but this one… this one felt wrong. Not hostile, not yet, but watching.
An hour passed in steady trudging, notes scrawled whenever I found a new specimen. Thornvines that bled amber sap when cut. Moss that shimmered like silver dust in the dim light. All of it useless to most hunters, but priceless to me.
I nearly missed it.
The roots gave way to stone, slick and damp beneath my boots. The trees thinned into a natural hollow, half-lit by the glow of mana threads strung across the ceiling. At the far end, behind a wall of vines, a second light pulsed.
Not green, like the dungeon gate behind me. White.
My breath caught.
I pushed the vines aside. Beneath them, carved into the rock, was another arch. Smaller, narrow enough that I'd need to turn sideways to squeeze through. But there was no mistaking it—the faintly rippling film stretched across the opening, identical to a gate's surface.
A double dungeon.
They were rare. Almost unheard of. A dungeon within a dungeon. And when they appeared, they were never safe.
My fingers tightened around my journal. This was the kind of find that could change everything for me—proof of ecosystems evolving in ways the Association hadn't yet charted. But even as the thought thrilled me, dread sank heavier into my gut.
The mana leaking from that thin veil was… cold. Hungry. Like roots burrowing through flesh instead of soil.
I swallowed, backing a step away. My instincts screamed to leave it alone, to report it, let someone else claim it.
But I also knew the Association. If I reported it, a guild would swoop in, strip the place bare, and bury the records. No one would care about the patterns, the flora, the strange living terrain.
Only I would.
I exhaled slowly, pressing my palm against the satchel at my side. "Just a peek," I whispered. "In and out."
The gate's surface shimmered in answer, as if inviting me through.
And despite every warning bell in my body, I stepped closer.
The moment I stepped past the threshold, the world shifted.
The air grew heavy, thick with a silence so deep it pressed against my ears. The corridor behind me vanished. In its place stretched a circular hall that looked less like a dungeon and more like a cathedral carved from shadow and light.
My boots echoed against black stone, the sound swallowed quickly by the vastness around me. The walls rose impossibly high, tiered with balconies and arches, every surface studded with uncountable candles. Their flames burned steady, untouched by draft or time, dripping wax that never pooled.
At the center of it all was a tree.
A towering monolith of twisted bark and luminous leaves, its branches brushed the heights of the hall, shedding a soft violet glow that stained everything in shades of dusk. The roots broke through the stone floor like chains seeking freedom, spreading in jagged lines that pulsed faintly, as though the tree itself were alive—breathing. Watching.
And surrounding its base were rows of robed figures.
I froze, heart leaping to my throat. But they didn't move. They couldn't. They were statues—stone men and women caught mid-kneel, heads bowed or tilted upward, mouths open in eternal prayer. The candles at their feet flickered against their still faces, casting long shadows that danced like living things.
A shiver crawled up my spine.
This wasn't like any dungeon I'd ever seen. There were no monsters, no sounds of claws on stone or the usual reek of blood and decay. Instead, the silence was worse. It was suffocating. And beneath it, there was… something else.
An awareness.
Every step I took closer to the tree made the weight heavier. My chest tightened, breath shallow, like a hand was pressing down on me. It was absurd—I was alone in this place. Completely alone. Yet it felt as if a thousand unseen eyes followed me with each move.
The glow from the leaves shimmered faintly, almost like whispers in the dark.
I swallowed hard and forced myself forward, though every instinct screamed at me to turn back. This wasn't a place mortals should tread. This was a temple. A sanctum. A place meant for worship—and for sacrifice.
And I was the only living thing inside it.
I edged closer to the luminous tree, eyes drawn upward despite myself. The leaves pulsed faintly with violet light, their glow painting the cavern in eternal twilight. My breath hitched as the roots shifted—no, not the roots.
Something moved.
A low groan vibrated through the stone beneath my boots, resonating in my bones. My gaze traveled up, and I froze.
It wasn't just a tree.
A colossal serpent was coiled around its trunk, its scales the color of polished obsidian streaked with faint runes that pulsed in rhythm with the tree's glow. Its body wrapped the massive bark in endless spirals, thicker than houses, disappearing into the vaulted ceiling. For a moment, I thought it was sleeping. But then one eye cracked open.
Golden. Slitted.
It fixed on me.
The world narrowed. My body went rigid under the sheer weight of its gaze, like a rabbit pinned by a hawk. My instincts screamed—run, flee, vanish—but my legs betrayed me, locked in place.
The silence broke.
The serpent uncoiled with deliberate slowness, scales grinding against bark and stone with a sound that reverberated through the entire hall. Dust rained from the ceiling. Statues cracked under the shifting roots. One of the kneeling figures collapsed into rubble at my feet.
Then came the voice. Not spoken aloud, but carved into the marrow of my bones:
"Kneel."
The word was not a command. It was law. My knees buckled before I could think, slamming into the cold floor hard enough to sting. I gasped, teeth clenched, trying to fight it, but my body wasn't mine anymore.
The serpent lowered its massive head, breath hissing through fangs the size of spears. The stench of rot and earth filled my lungs. Its tongue flicked, tasting me, and the tree's light dimmed as if the serpent were drawing it into itself.
One of the stone figures near me shattered completely, its head rolling across the floor. Dust filled my mouth, choking me.
The serpent's eye glowed like molten gold, unblinking. The air thickened, heavy as stone, crushing me into the floor. My lungs fought for breath, each gasp rasping in my throat.
Then, in that same marrow-deep voice:
"Prostrate."
The word shattered what little resistance I had left. My arms buckled, forehead slamming against the cold stone until I lay flat. The command wasn't magic. It was older than that—something woven into the bones of the world. I couldn't fight it.
The ground trembled. More statues collapsed, breaking into dust and fragments. I realized now—these weren't decorations. They had been people, hunters like me, who failed this test.
I swallowed hard. If I faltered, I would join them.
The serpent's tongue flicked, tasting the air, then came the second decree:
"Offer."
My head jerked up despite myself, eyes wide. Offer? Offer what? I had nothing. No treasures. No relics. My weapons were cheap, barely holding together.
Panic clawed at my chest. My mind raced—what did I have left to give?
Only one thing.
I pressed my palms to the ground, blood dripping from split skin where stone had bitten into me. Slowly, I raised my arms and extended my hands toward the serpent. Not weapons. Not wealth. Just myself. My body. My life.
"I… have nothing else," I rasped. "If you want an offering, take me."
For a long, terrible moment, silence reigned. Then the serpent laughed—or something like it. A guttural hiss that shook the tree's branches and rumbled in my bones.
"Endure."
The word slammed into me harder than the others. The cavern went dark, the violet glow snuffed out. Pain followed. Not from a blow, but from inside me. My veins burned as though molten lead was coursing through them. My chest felt like it was splitting open. I clawed at the floor, teeth grinding against screams.
"Endure."
The command repeated, heavier this time. My vision blurred. My body shook. I wanted to give up, to sink into the stone and vanish.
But then I remembered Hana. Her laughter through the phone, teasing me about not knowing games, about being too serious. Her bright, annoying, precious voice.
I couldn't die here. Not yet.
I forced myself up, inch by inch, until I was on my knees again. My body was trembling, bleeding, breaking—but I didn't collapse.
The serpent's eye narrowed. For the first time, I thought I saw… approval.
The pain did not end. It grew. My skin split, blood running down my arms. My ribs groaned with every breath. The serpent's golden eye gleamed in the dark like a sun that would never rise.
"Endure."
The word tolled again. My chest convulsed. I spat blood, my vision swimming. Still, I forced my hands beneath me and pushed. Somehow, I stayed kn my feet. I swayed, but I stood.
A terrible silence filled the cavern. Then the serpent's body shifted, coils tightening around the tree. Branches groaned and split with the sound of bone snapping.
One of them moved.
A single branch uncurled like a spear, aiming straight for me. I knew what was coming. My body screamed to run, but I couldn't. Not because of fear—because my legs no longer obeyed.
The branch struck.
White-hot agony tore through me as the wood punched clean through my chest. I was lifted from the ground, nailed against the altar stone. The air left my lungs in a wet gurgle. Blood ran down the branch, dripping into the channels carved into the floor.
I tried to scream, but no sound came. Only a strangled gasp, cut short by the blood filling my throat.
The serpent lowered its massive head until its eye filled my vision. That same voice, calm and eternal, rumbled through my bones.
"You have offered. You have endured. You will serve."
The branch shuddered once, then withdrew. I collapsed onto the altar, blood pouring from the gaping wound in my chest.
I couldn't move. Couldn't breathe. My body twitched weakly, life draining out of me with each pulse of blood.
The cavern shook. Stone cracked and fell. The serpent coiled higher, around and around the tree, until its body disappeared into the branches. The light dimmed. The altar grew cold beneath me.
I felt myself slipping. My heartbeat slowed, weaker, weaker.
A voice, neither male nor female, resonated through the void.
[Candidate Detected]
[Status: Deceased]
[Offer: Rebirth as the Celestial Druid Summoner]
[Designation: Keeper of the Balance]
Accept? Y / N
The choice blinked before me, pulsing in time with the phantom beat of my pierced heart.
In the blur of my fading sight, I thought I saw Hana's face again—her smile, bright and stubborn. I reached for the only option.
Then darkness took me.