The dungeon shuddered.
At first it was subtle, a low hum beneath the stone, the faint trembling of dust from stalactites above. Then it deepened, rolling like thunder, shaking the very air in each corridor. Cracks split along the walls, fragments of rock raining down. Pools rippled violently, and torches guttered in their sconces as if the dungeon itself were gasping.
Adventurers across the upper floors froze.
On Floor 7, a spear-user staggered mid-swing, his weapon clattering as the ground lurched. His party scrambled, grabbing walls, shields rattling, boots sliding on loose grit. "Earthquake?!" he shouted, voice high with panic.
"No…" their priestess murmured, pale and clutching her staff so tightly her knuckles whitened. "That came from deeper."
The quake groaned again, a sound that wasn't just stone. It was like something alive had shifted far below.
Monsters felt it too. A pack of dungeon hounds bolted mid-fight, yelping as they fled into side tunnels. Slimes collapsed into quivering puddles, their gelatinous bodies flattening against the floor. Even the dungeon walls seemed to breathe, loose dirt cascading down like sweat.
Panic spread fast. Several groups dropped everything and ran. Some cursed under their breath, others muttered prayers, but most said nothing at all, just wide eyes and pounding boots rushing for the stairs upward.
And somewhere in the scramble, one rogue hissed to another, "If this shakes through to the surface…"
"Don't say it!" came the sharp reply. But the thought had already taken root.
---
On Floor 9, a group of five staggered breathless along the stairway upward. Their armor clinked, faces sheened with sweat, eyes sharp with fear. This was the Silver-rank party that had hired three porters not long ago.
The same party that had shoved those porters into danger.
The same party that had left them behind.
Their leader, Harrun, broad-chested and iron-plated, slammed his shoulder against the wall as the quake roared again. "Keep moving! Don't look back!"
Kael, the mage, stumbled beside him. His thin face was pale, sweat plastering dark hair to his brow. His satchel banged against his hip as he gasped, "That… that pressure. You felt it too, right? That wasn't rock moving. That was mana."
"Shut your mouth," Derrin spat, wiry frame darting ahead. His dagger trembled in his grip, though his eyes darted wildly at every shadow. "It's the mobs! From Floor 10! That thing that forced them up!" His voice cracked mid-word.
"Don't say it!" Selene cut him off sharply. Normally calm, the healer's tone shook, uncharacteristically harsh. Her belt of vials rattled as she clutched it, knuckles pale. "Don't even name it. Don't…"
Brask, the scarred shield warrior, lumbered behind them. His tower shield rattled against his back, dented from earlier fights. He hadn't spoken once since the quake began. But his eyes flicked from shadow to shadow, jaw clenched, as though bracing for something monstrous to leap from the stone.
"It's following us," Kael whispered hoarsely, voice breaking. "I can feel it. That heat. That pressure. It's chasing…"
"Enough!" Harrun barked, slamming his gauntleted fist against the wall. The clang drowned Kael's words, echoing down the corridor. He glared at his companions, jaw tight, but even in his fury his hand shook faintly. "I don't care what you think you felt. It doesn't matter. We are leaving. They're dead, and that's the end of it."
No one answered. Only the quake and their ragged breathing filled the air.
But guilt lingered, heavy and unspoken.
Selene bit her lip until it bled. Flashes came unbidden: the wiry porter screaming before the beast's tail snapped him against the wall. The bald one breaking and shoving Eron forward like a sacrifice, his pack straps jerking as he stumbled. The crack of impact when the tail caught him, the boy's body flung aside as the cavern floor split and swallowed him whole.
She had clenched her fists back then, healing light gathering at her fingertips. But she hadn't cast it. She had obeyed Harrun. She had let the boy fall.
Her stomach twisted. She told herself it had been necessary, that defiance might have doomed them all.
So why did her hands still shake?
Kael muttered something too soft for most to hear, words breaking apart. Brask caught them anyway. His scarred jaw tightened, but he said nothing.
And Harrun? He never looked back. But even he could not banish the memory of the cavern rumbling as if in rage the moment they left the boy behind.
---
Far below, on Floor 32, the tremor struck with full force.
The chamber was vast, high-domed like a cathedral, its walls glittering with crystals that pulsed faintly blue. Pools scattered across the floor rippled into violent waves. Dust fell like rain. The ground itself swayed as if the earth were sea.
At the chamber's center, a woman sat.
Her armor gleamed even through the haze, steel polished and etched with gold filigree. Her hair, long and golden, was tied in a high ponytail. She sat casually atop the corpse of a horned lizard the size of a carriage, its cooling body sprawled beneath her.
Her name was Seren, Gold-rank adventurer. Her blade was known further than her guild tag.
Her greatsword leaned against the monster's hide, as though resting. Her companions were anything but.
"This isn't normal!" the mage hissed, staff quivering in his grip. "Floors don't quake like this! Not unless the dungeon itself is collapsing!"
"Then we push deeper," the rogue countered quickly, eyes bright with something between greed and madness. "If the dungeon's shifting, treasures are shifting too. You know what that means, opportunity."
"You fool!" the healer snapped, fear cracking her voice. "Do you want to get buried alive? If even the upper floors felt this…"
"Enough."
One word. Calm, quiet, absolute.
It froze them. Seren hadn't raised her voice. She didn't need to.
She tilted her head, as if listening through stone. Silence fell except for the quake's dying echoes.
Her golden eyes opened, sharp and unflinching.
"That wasn't a collapse," she said.
The mage blinked, throat dry. "Then… what was it?"
"Magic." Her fingers curled faintly against the lizard's scales. "Raw. Violent. Not born of this floor."
The rogue paled. "From… below?"
Seren did not answer right away. Her gaze slid toward the far wall, beyond the crystals, as though piercing the bedrock itself. Her lips pressed into a thin line.
"…It felt like fire tasting freedom for the first time," she murmured. "Something caged too long, suddenly loose."
Her words stole what breath her companions had left.
The chamber fell still but for the faint patter of dust.
They were seasoned fighters, each with scars and stories of monsters most men would never face. They had descended deeper than nearly anyone alive.
And yet even here, thirty-two floors down, they felt it.
The weight of that power.
And the terrible truth that it had not come from above, but from the depths.
---
Far below them all, the smoke still curled through a shattered cavern, where fire had carved ruin into stone.