The next few days at the academy blurred together—lectures, killing spawn summons in the training field, sparring, meals in the bustling halls. The tension from the field assignment finally began to decrease, though Suri was a bit annoyed since her patrol duty would begin next week, immediately. She had already decided to stretch her illusions thin and let them wander on her behalf. Even so, the thought of her reduced sleeping time pressed at the back of her mind.

  Now, though, the weekend brought something else.

  The trio waited at the western gate, thick cloaks drawn tight against the sharp winter morning. Their hoods were trimmed with rough fur, a poor man’s defense against the cold wind that sliced through the capital’s streets. Frost clung to the cobbles in thin veins.

  A clatter of hooves broke the quiet, and Leo approached with another rider.

  “This is Kier,” Leo announced, motioning to the stranger at his side.

  Kier’s long black hair was bound into a ponytail, and his narrow frame seemed swallowed by the leather armor he wore. Hollow cheeks and sharp eyes gave him the look of someone who’d seen one too many hungry winters. He dismounted with deliberate care, his boots crunching against the frost.

  “Class is [Fencer], copper rank adventurer.” He introduced himself in a low voice, scanning them one by one. His hesitation was obvious. “Are you sure we’re entering a mid-low rank dungeon?”

  “That’s the plan,” Kana said, meeting his eyes without flinching.

  Kier frowned, but said nothing more.

  One by one, they introduced themselves.

  Their journey south took them beyond the city walls, into a forest where the trees stood taller and older than those near the capital. The branches wove into a canopy that caught the morning light, though frost still crusted the bark and turned fallen leaves brittle underfoot. It felt like walking into the heart of winter.

  After hours of riding, the forest broke open. Before them stood one of the tallest trees Kana had ever seen. Its trunk stretched wide as a fortress tower, and embedded within the bark glimmered an oval gate of blue light. It pulsed faintly, like a heartbeat captured in crystal.

  No guards. No banners. The Duke’s money had bought exclusivity, and with it, silence.

  Kier drew his horse to a stop and studied the portal. His lips pressed into a thin line. Doubt flickered in his eyes, but he gave no warning—only turned, nodded once, and stepped into the ring of blue light.

  Leo followed, then Kana, Suri, and Boris.

  The world bent.

  Suri stumbled out on the other side with a groan. Her boots sank instantly into muck, the sucking sound unpleasant as she yanked them free. Brown mud splattered her leggings. “Ugh.”

  “Looks like we entered at a bad time,” Kier said from ahead, his voice flat, though not unkind. “The ground hasn’t dried yet.”

  The air here was heavy with damp rot, rich soil mixed with something faintly metallic. The dungeon’s sky overhead shimmered as though draped in a permanent twilight.

  Kier rested one hand casually on the hilt of his thin sword and stepped aside. “Anyway,” he said, “you’re on your own. I’ll step in if it’s necessary—but don’t expect me to swing first. Frankly, I doubt you’ll survive long enough to feel anything worth the trouble.”

  He moved to the back of the group, posture relaxed but eyes sharp, like a man watching actors stumble through a play he’d already seen performed a hundred times.

  ….

  Kier might have worn the air of a man at ease—leaning on his sword, eyes half-lidded—but he wasn’t relaxed. Not in the slightest. His every muscle was coiled, senses pricked for the slightest sound.

  The truth was, he’d hesitated before accepting this job. The pay had been too generous for the description: Escort promising young ones into a mid-low dungeon and return with them alive. Escort jobs rarely paid this well, and never alone. Why only one guard? And why so vague? He hadn’t realized until seeing them at the gate just how young they were. Barely older than children.

  The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

  He sighed. By law, no one under eighteen was supposed to enter a dungeon. At least, not in kingdom and guild-controlled ones. The Adventurer’s Guild enforced that rule with an iron hand though not so much in the kingdom. But nobles found their ways around such things. Buying dungeon rights was common practice—so their sons and daughters could get a head start, then flaunt their natural talent when they passed the adventurer guild’s exam. Boasting rights dressed up as tradition.

  Kier had accepted anyway. Partly because the money outweighed his suspicions, partly because he knew this dungeon. He’d been here four times before—enough to map its corridors in his head. And he wasn’t defenseless. [Increase Evasion], his bread-and-butter skill, could sharpen his reflexes beyond human limits for half a minute including those around him, for at least a few paces away. Thirty heartbeats was all he needed to snatch someone out of a monster’s jaws. Long enough to keep them alive. Hopefully.

  “I’m going to pass this time,” the red-haired girl—Suri—said. She trembled, eyes darting into the shadows. “I hate this type of monster. The crawling ones.. It has too many feet. You guys should be able to handle it.”

  Kier blinked. And then she was gone. Vanished, like smoke in the wind. Some kind of camouflage skill? He frowned. Even he wouldn’t take this kind of monster lightly. Confidence was one thing. Recklessness was another.

  The earth stirred. A wet, dragging sound echoed through the tunnel, followed by the staccato of dozens of chitinous legs clicking against stone. Kier set his jaw, hand tightening around his sword hilt.

  Then the creature emerged.

  Its body was long as a two storey house and flat, segmented like plates of dull bronze stacked end to end, each segment sprouting a pair of clawed legs. Its antennae waved in the air, tasting their heat, their fear.

  “A Great Centipede,” Kana whispered.

  Kier was impressed. Not many could name this creature. Not many wanted to. It wasn’t flashy, and wasn't well known. But it was deadly in ways people often underestimated.

  And now, the girl had just announced she knew exactly what they were up against.

  …

  The Great Centipede lifted its head like a serpent, mandibles snapping, and struck.

  Leo stepped forward with the shield raised. The impact shook his arm to the bone, boots skidding several paces back across the damp stone. But he held on.

  Boris lunged, spear darting like lightning. The tip glanced off the monster’s plated body with a sound like steel striking granite. He hissed between his teeth. Too hard.

  No hesitation. He pushed deeper into his skills. [Giant Spear] flared through his muscles, his arms tingling as if sparks danced beneath his skin. He chained the movement into [Consecutive Spear Strikes], thrusting again and again. Each impact rang uselessly against the chitin, leaving only shallow scratches.

  Above them, Kana loosed an arrow. The shaft sliced true—but the centipede coiled its head inward, plating overlapping to block the shot with almost casual defense.

  Then the monster lashed out. Its tail swept sideways, a blur of armored segments.

  Boris didn’t see it coming. But Leo did. His eyes narrowed, reading the rhythm of battle the way some men read words. He pivoted, shield snapping into place. The tail slammed against it, ringing like a gong, but Leo held his ground.

  “The head!” Kana’s voice cut sharp. “Pin it down!”

  Boris grunted his answer. He used [Giant Spear] again, the weapon thickening, lengthening with a surge of power. He drove it low, beneath the creature’s chin. Not a strike—this time, a shove. Muscles burning, he forced the writhing bulk sideways, slamming it against the dungeon wall. Stone cracked. The centipede thrashed, mandibles clicking furiously.

  Leo darted in, shield flashing as he intercepted another wild strike, buying Boris precious moments.

  Kana exhaled, steady hands drawing the bowstring back. The head was exposed now, thanks to Boris’s sheer stubbornness. She loosed.

  The arrow sang through the air.

  The Great Centipede shrieked as the shaft punched deep into its eye. Its body convulsed, then shattered into fragments of green light and a gush of ichor before dissipating entirely.

  For a moment, silence.

  Kier gave a low whistle from the rear. “Goodness..” he muttered, half to himself. “They actually pulled it off.” Relief loosened his shoulders—just a little.

  He provided an antidote after seeing Boris’ light scratch in his arm. Then they pressed on. Thankfully, the centipedes didn’t travel in swarms. Each new battle became a rhythm: Leo holding the line, Boris forcing the head down, Kana striking with her strangely stronger and faster than average arrows. Again and again, the segmented beasts fell.

  By the twelfth corpse, even Kier stopped feigning disinterest. He was impressed. More than impressed.

  And then Suri reappeared at the backline, as if she’d always been there.

  “That’s the last one,” she said cheerfully. Then, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, she added, “Oh! And I got the text from the god.”