My momentary triumph was short-lived. A creeping unease settled in as I realized something was wrong. My fist, still extended from the final blow, was stuck—embedded in what should have been Instructor Vallen’s stomach. But instead of flesh and bone, my hand had sunk into something soft, malleable.

  Clay.

  My eyes widened. The figure in front of me crumbled, disintegrating into a lifeless mound of earth.

  "Time’s up," Vallen’s voice rang out, calm and unshaken.

  I snapped my gaze to the side, and there she stood—completely unharmed—emerging from behind her decoy with a composed smile. "But you did well. I’ll admit, I’m impressed. Looks like accepting Aeloria’s Blessing was a smart choice."

  Swallowing my pride, I gave her a small nod, conceding defeat.

  I exhaled sharply, a bitter chuckle escaping my lips. I felt devastated. She didn't even use her high-tier spells. Not to mention her special abilities. I barely got past her basic toolkit. My legs gave out. Exhaustion crashed into me like a wave, dragging me to the ground. Every muscle in my body screamed in protest, and the lingering numbness from her whip’s poison only worsened my condition. I clenched my fists, frustration simmering beneath the surface. I had pushed myself to the limit, and it still wasn’t enough.

  A small vial entered my vision. "Here," Instructor Vallen said, offering me a potion.

  Without hesitation, I took it, gulping down the bitter liquid. A soothing warmth spread through my limbs, easing some of the pain but doing little for my battered pride.

  Vallen Raenhir. A veteran adventurer. Rumors claimed she had once reached the fourth floor of the Labyrinth—a feat so few had achieved. And here I was, barely surviving a sparring match against her.

  The difference in our strength was undeniable.

  I let out a slow breath, staring at the sky above. I still had a long way to go.

  ***

  My crushing loss against Instructor Vallen made one thing painfully clear—I was still weak. I had been blinded by my rapid growth, convinced I was making real progress, without realizing just how far I still had to go. The sky stretched far beyond my reach, and I had only just begun my climb.

  Determined to make the most of my time before our next Tower expedition, I established a strict routine. I spent hours at the Grand Library, combing through records and forgotten texts in search of hidden secrets about the Tower. I discussed battle strategies with fellow druids, especially Instructor Vallen, refining my combat style and perfecting my approach to druid builds. I re-evaluated our exploration plans, making adjustments to our strategies. Alongside Orin, I gathered materials for potions, ensuring we’d be well-stocked for the dangers ahead. I also made it a habit to check on Sam’s progress at the Adventurer’s Training Grounds, observing his development and offering guidance where I could.

  Beyond that, my team and I had officially registered with the Adventurer’s Guild under the name Ironwood—a fitting representation of our diverse group of elves, druids, and dwarves. We’d already started selecting potential quests, weighing the risks against the rewards. Though nothing was finalized yet, we had outlined our planned route for the next Tower expedition.

  Time passed in a blur, days melding together as we prepared.

  Stolen novel; please report.

  Before I knew it, the first of the month had arrived.

  It was time to enter the Tower once again.

  ***

  The vast, dark sky loomed above us as we stepped onto the first floor. A bone-chilling cold seeped into our skin, and an oppressive atmosphere pressed down on us like an unseen force. Unlike my first exploration, I wasn’t alone this time—I had the Ironwood team by my side.

  Our objective was clear: reach the Deepnest Tunnel. Without needing further instructions, we moved westward from the safe zone.

  A gaping, ominous hole awaited us at the tunnel’s entrance. Just standing before it sent a shiver down my spine. As we stepped inside, we were immediately greeted by scurrying Squeebs—small, rat-like creatures that thrived in these tunnels. They weren’t aggressive, but their presence came with a horrendous stench that clung to the air like a curse.

  “Ugh… what is that smell?!” Elena gagged, clutching her stomach.

  Orin wasn’t faring any better. She staggered to the side and emptied his stomach, her face turning an unhealthy shade of green. She coughed violently, her eyes watering as she desperately fumbled for something in her satchel. Even I, who had steeled myself for the journey, was barely holding it together. My stomach churned, but I clenched my jaw, refusing to succumb to the nausea.

  Orin quickly pulled out a small vial and uncorked it. A faint, sweet aroma replaced the putrid air as she activated Aroma Veil, an item designed to neutralize foul odors.

  “Bless you, Orin,” Elena groaned, still looking miserable but at least no longer dry-heaving.

  The tunnel itself was devoid of natural light. Only faint, pulsating glows from scattered crystal formations on the ceiling provided minimal illumination. The path ahead was straightforward—Deepnest Tunnel’s main route was easy to navigate, marked by an increasing number of crystals leading straight to the boss chamber that guarded the portal. The creatures along this path were weak, making it a popular route for beginners.

  But that wasn’t why the Ironwood team chose this route.

  Beneath its seemingly simple structure, Deepnest Tunnel harbored powerful monsters and hidden secrets within its countless branching paths. Fortunately, we had two elves on our team—Darwyn and Elena—who excelled at tracking.

  Just as druids specialized in potion-making and dwarves in forging weapons and armor, elves had a unique gift: scouting. Their heightened senses of smell, hearing, and sight allowed them to perceive intricate paths and detect dangers others would easily miss.

  “This way,” Darwyn said, his sharp eyes scanning the tunnel ahead. “Take the left path, but be mindful of the traps above. After the crossroads, another left, then a right.”

  We followed his lead, moving carefully in formation. Muradin took point, shielding the team from potential ambushes. Darwyn walked just behind him, keenly observing the terrain, checking for traps, and guiding us forward. Elena and Orin stayed in the middle of our formation, while I brought up the rear, keeping watch over them.

  Despite the eerie silence, the weight of unseen threats pressed upon us. Every step forward carried a sense of unease, a reminder that danger lurked just beyond the dim glow of the crystals.

  "Stop," Darwyn suddenly whispered, raising a hand. Without hesitation, he nocked an arrow and let it fly.

  A sharp thunk echoed as the arrow buried itself into something above us. Then came a low, eerie hiss, like air escaping from a punctured lung.

  A massive form detached from the ceiling, crashing to the ground with a sickening thud. Now fully visible, its chitinous body shimmered under the dim glow of the crystals. The monster’s fiery orange bristles stood on end, twitching in agitation. It was a Grimlurker—an insect-like abomination resembling a spider, its massive pincers snapping hungrily at the air.

  If Darwyn hadn’t noticed it, Muradin’s head would’ve been severed in an instant.

  We reacted immediately. No commands were needed.

  Hammer swinged, magic surged, and arrows rained down. The Grimlurker screeched, its death throes echoing through the tunnel before it collapsed, its body dissolving into nothingness.

  Silence fell. We stood there, catching our breath as the weight of the danger sank in.

  But unfortunately… this was only the beginning.

  And something far worse was already waiting in the shadows.

  watch from a safe distance.