Golden morning sun poured down upon the academy training grounds, but there was little warmth to be found. The rows of first-years in front of them were white-faced with fear.
Before them was the open maw of a dungeon entrance.
It shone like liquid glass, its surface waving with purple-colored light. Whispers ran through the ranks—some of awe, some of terror.
For all but a few of the students, it was their first experience in a dungeon. For Lucian, it was a memory brought back.
He sat in silence as teachers marched the rows, handing out homework. Five groups. No exceptions. Each group a random collection of nobles and commoners, intended to "encourage harmony." In practice, it only bred resentment.
Lucian's eyes drifted to the gate, his expression impassive. He had been here. A simple cave crawl in its nature—low-level creatures, mild traps—but deadly to the unprepared.
I remember the bodies they pulled out. Students who never saw the light of day again. I will not let it happen.
"Vale, Lucian," called out the registrar.
He stepped forward. His name brought scattered laughter—E-rank failure, the gossip ran.
"Team Twelve assignment."
Four other individuals closed in on him:
•Darius Flint, a burly lord with a sneer on his face. He wore heavy armor that had been buffed to a gleam, as if appearances were everything.
•Mira Wynn, a healer with trembling hands, grasping her staff like a crutch.
•Roland Pike, a lean archer with sharp eyes and acid tongue.
•And, finally… Seraphine Lys.
Lucian's breath caught. Destiny—or perhaps bitter irony—had brought them all together.
Darius scowled immediately. "What is she doing with us?" His gaze snapped to Seraphine. "An S-rank should be commanding nobles, not. this." He jabbed a thumb in Lucian's direction.
Roland chuckled. "Guess we got the short end of the stick."
Mira said nothing, simply lowering her eyes.
Seraphine's voice cut through their gripes, silky but firm. "Assignments aren't debatable. We're one unit." Her amber-colored eyes moved over Lucian for an instant, lingering just that fraction of a second too long.
Lucian nodded curtly. He did not feel like arguing. The dungeon would close their mouths in due time.
The trainers lined the teams up in front of the gate. Headmaster Aldric raised his staff, his voice echoing over the field.
"Your quest: survive and reach the other side. Kill where you can, assist your allies, and return alive. Take this lesson to heart—real dungeons will not accept frailty."
The gate pulsed. Violet energy rippled out, the air buzzing with a low vibration.
"Enter.".
Teams vanished into the dungeon in single file. Some marched with assurance. Others hesitated, trembling on the doorstep.
When it was the turn of Team Twelve, Darius went first, shielding up in the air. "Stay together. Keep up."
Seraphine walked behind in quiet silence. Mira followed nervously. Roland stuck his bow between his shoulder blades and muttered to himself.
Lucian went last. The moment the violet light covered him, the world changed.
The dungeon air was damp, heavy with the scent of rot and moss. Glinting stalactites dripped from the ceiling like exposed teeth, and pale blue crystals sent a sickly light reflecting off walls of rock.
Mira trembled. "It doesn't feel. right."
"Grow a spine," Roland growled, already loading an arrow into his bow.
Lucian drew a breath. The stench of beasts was overwhelming. Too strong for a low-level gate. His gaze sharpened.
Something's different. In my last life, this dungeon was easier. Did I return… change it?
Darius led the way, shield raised, sword drawn. "Stay behind me. I'll crush whatever comes."
The first pack of monsters emerged from the shadows—wolf-like beasts with glowing red eyes and jagged fangs. Their growls echoed through the cavern, claws scraping stone.
Perfect, Darius smiled, charging. His sword clanged off the first beast, his shield sending another aside. "Is this all?!"
Roland's arrows arced through the air, hitting two cleanly between the eyes. Mira whispered spells, a soft glow around Darius as healing magic buoyed him.
Seraphine moved with smooth precision, cutting arcs of golden light. Every strike was beautiful, but searing with killing intent. She was no pampered lordling—she was a warrior.
Lucian hung back, watching. His instincts told him not to reveal himself yet. His shadows twitched with anticipation, but he held them in check.
"Vale!" Darius snarled between strikes. "Do something, or are you useless after all?"
Lucian met his glare calmly. "You seem to have it handled."
Darius snarled. "Coward."
But even as he boasted, the wolves multiplied. Dozens poured from side tunnels, snarling, surrounding them.
Roland cursed. "Too many!"
Mira's magic faltered, her glow dimming. Fear clouded her eyes.
And Seraphine—her blade slowed as she shielded Mira, fending off beasts from both sides. Sweat glistened on her brow, but her stance never wavered.
Lucian's hand curled. He could make them bleed. He could teach them hopelessness.
But his gaze confronted Seraphine's—those amber eyes flashing with teeth-clenched resolve, the same radiance he had observed before she had died in his arms.
He could not endure it once more.
The shadows responded to his command.
Black vines erupted out of the cavern floor, hidden like serpents. They lashed out, penetrating wolves, dragging them shrieking into the darkness.
The air chilled.
Seraphine's gasp was barely audible, her sword suspended in mid-air.
Darius stumbled back. "What in the blazes—?"
Roland's arrow dropped from his fingers, striking the stone floor.
Lucian moved forward, his eyes shining with soft violet light. The darkness around him engulfed the wolves, cutting them down with quiet efficiency. The strokes were economical, the movements silent. In a matter of moments, the pack lay in fragments, their blood vanishing on the ice-stone floor.
The dungeon was still.
He could only hear the rasping breaths of his comrades.
Lucian let darkness fade, die into the ground as if it had never existed. He adjusted his cloak, countenance calm. "Stay on your guard. More will come."
Darius slowly found his voice, quivering with anger. "You… what are you?!"
Roland growled, gaping in terror. "That wasn't mana. That was… something else."
Mira clutched her staff, half marveling, half afraid.
And Seraphine—her gaze locked onto Lucian, searching, demanding. Her lips parted to speak, and words would not come.
Lucian spun around and strode deeper into the dungeon. "Go on. We don't have time to waste."
The others followed, slowly, reluctance weighing in the air.
Seraphine paced him, her gaze not leaving his back.
You're not the boy I know, she thought, her heart pounding. So why. Why does it feel like I've seen those shadows before?
The team moved forward, the cavern becoming twisted tunnels. The air grew cold, the stench of beasts more overwhelming.
Every step reminded them: this was just the beginning.
Lucian's senses woke up. He could feel the rhythm of the dungeon, hear the breaths of the monsters that waited in ambush. His shadows extended with eagerness, ready to stalk.
And over all this, he felt Seraphine's gaze upon him, burdened with distrust… and something else he did not dare admit.
This dungeon was supposed to teach them cooperation. Now it has become something much darker.
And Lucian was aware, no doubt—his second life was already taking a different course than he remembered.