When consciousness returned, the first thing I noticed was silence— a silence where Aeldir's presence should have been.
I tried calling him.
Nothing.
No reply, no echo, not even the faint pressure of a shared mind. It instantly tightened my chest. Not only was I no longer in our shared body… I wasn't in *his* body either.
I wasn't anywhere familiar.
A cold breeze swept across my face. I opened my eyes fully and found myself standing in the middle of a vast, quiet forest. No castle. No princess. No guards. No Aeldir. Only the soft rustle of leaves and the unsettling emptiness in my head.
Then the system's metallic chime echoed:
**[System: Mission Initiated]** **[Dungeon: Unmapped | Creator: Curse Weaver of Fallen Timelines]**
My throat dried. So it had begun.
I looked down—my body was smaller, lighter, unfamiliar. The temporary form the Curse Weaver had assigned me.
Not even armor. Just simple leather clothing, a basic sword, and a chilling awareness that this body wasn't synchronized with my soul.
I attempted to gather light mana. It flickered, unstable, slipping through my fingers.
**[System: User unable to stabilize light affinity]** **[System will cast light magic on user's behalf when required]**
I exhaled slowly.
The forest felt ancient. Heavy. And ahead of me was the entrance to a cave… sealed with a cracked wooden board.
It read:
**DO NOT ENTER — DEATH GUARANTEED**
I almost laughed. Of course Curse Weaver would send me here.
I stepped forward—and instantly, a swarm of bats erupted from the mouth of the cave, shrieking past my face. I flinched. The mana pressure behind them was faint but unmistakable.
Something strong lived inside.
I swallowed hard and entered.
The cave was dim, lit only by scattered red mana crystals embedded in the walls. Their glow cast long, trembling shadows that shifted as I walked.
Two minutes in, a low growl echoed.
A wolf stepped into view—larger than normal, its eyes reflecting the red crystals. I tried to suppress my mana. In my own body, it would have been easy. In this one… the most I could do was reduce the leakage.
It sniffed.
Damn.
I moved behind a crystal for even a second of cover, waiting for its nose to shift away—and the moment it did, I struck.
My blade scraped its fur—barely a graze. The wolf dodged, faster than expected, and slashed with its claws. I twisted away but felt wind slice over my cheek.
My instincts screamed.
No space. No time. No Aeldir. No princess.
Just me.
I fired a mana bullet—off target. It hit its leg instead of its head. But the limp gave me what I needed.
I ignited my sword with fire mana. The wolf recoiled at the flame, fear overtaking bloodlust. I swung, heat erupting, and its neck fell cleanly.
Its body dropped.
A message appeared:
**[Curse Weaver: JUST KILL THEM DIRECTLY.]**
I snapped, whispering, "Then give me a body that isn't falling apart."
**[Curse Weaver is offended.]** **[Penalty: Lower-limb paralysis applied.]**
My legs buckled instantly.
I froze, unable to move or breathe properly.
**[Curse Weaver: Speak respectfully.]**
A chill went through me. If she wanted to, she could've ended the mission—and me—with a thought.
"I'm sorry," I muttered quietly.
The paralysis faded.
I moved deeper. Then I found them—a pack of sleeping wolves. Nearly nine.
If I made the slightest sound…
I crouched, inhaled quietly, and tried a silent assassination.
My blade entered the first wolf's throat— —and it SCREAMED.
The pack awoke in an instant.
I ran.
Worst decision of my life.
Claws tore into my back. I fell, face-first, and teeth sank into my torso, ripping flesh from bone.
The pain was unbearable—blinding, suffocating, burning. My mind tried to shut down, my senses collapsing under the agony of being *eaten alive*.
My final sight was blood dripping from a wolf's jaw.
Then—
**I revived at the cave entrance.**
I gasped, stumbling forward, hand on my chest as phantom pain lingered. Just remembering the sensation made my stomach churn.
But the mission demanded success.
No matter how many deaths.
I stepped inside again, walked several paces ahead of where the wolf would appear, and threw my sword. Mana ignited midair—
—and pierced straight through its skull.
My accuracy startled me.
**[System: Aim precision increasing due to synchronization with temporary vessel.]**
…Makes sense.
I returned to the sleeping pack. But this time I didn't attempt stealth.
I gathered mana.
Tried forming a blast.
Failed.
They awoke again.
But I was ready.
Two lunged—my sword blocked the first, my foot pivoted to dodge the second, though its claw slashed across my thigh. Pain spiked white-hot.
I raised my hand.
**[System: Light Burst Activated]**
A blinding explosion lit the cavern. The wolves staggered, yelping, blind.
And I fired dozens of water bullets—wildly, desperately. Five dropped. The others tried attacking through sound alone, but their movements were flawed.
I cut them down one by one.
When the last wolf fell, I collapsed onto the cold stone floor, gasping, letting regeneration knit the worst wounds together.
For a moment, I even laughed— A broken, exhausted laugh.
But then another message appeared:
**[You are not at the bottom. You are at the top. These were the weakest. —Curse Weaver of Fallen Timelines]**
My smile vanished.
I stood slowly… and looked ahead.
The tunnel opened into a massive stone gate veiled in darkness— huge, ancient, carved with runes that pulsed like a heartbeat.
Something waited behind it.
And it was far stronger than wolves.
I exhaled once.
Stepped forward.
And stood before the gate of the dungeon's true beginning.