Kael's Perspective
The silence on the eighteenth floor felt wrong today. It wasn't the calm of a place free of danger—it was the silence of a predator lying in wait.
Kael walked through the low mist that blanketed the paths, as if the very air was watching him. In the distance, he followed a small group of young adventurers, their steps still full of excitement. The supposed guide led them with confidence down paths Kael had never seen used. These weren't natural routes. Something was… off.
That's when he noticed it.
Subtle symbols on the stones. Inscriptions barely visible, etched with magical tools. Warps in the mana flow. Ancient marks—precise and deadly—that only someone like him, someone who was no longer entirely human, could perceive. Magical bait. Markers—or worse… anchors for future traps.
"They're being led like cattle," Kael thought, his jaw clenched.
The guide, with his calm face and soft voice, hid too much beneath his spotless cloak. Kael could smell the deceit like an animal scenting dried blood.
His instincts screamed. Jump now. Attack. Close the distance and cut the lie at its root.
But he knew what would happen.
He was an outsider with red eyes and an unnatural aura. If he attacked without clear evidence, he'd just be the monster who scared a bunch of rookies.
And they wouldn't believe him.
So he swallowed his rage. Gritted his teeth. And kept walking through the shadows. Waiting.
Just a little longer.
The Adventurers' Perspective
"I can't believe we got this lucky," exclaimed Rul, the one with the oversized spear he barely knew how to hold.
"Told you it was a blessing to meet this guy!" added Bram, the loudest of the group, pointing at the guide.
The man smiled kindly, pausing to indicate a fork in the path.
"This way. It'll take us to a hidden cavern—safe, low-level monsters, decent loot, and best of all: off the usual routes. Just don't make unnecessary noise."
"What if there are traps or something?" asked Lysa, the youngest. Her voice was low, but the crease in her brow showed her doubt.
The guide chuckled softly.
"The only trap here would be not taking advantage of this opportunity."
The rest of the group laughed with him, ignoring Lysa's uneasy look.
She stepped back half a pace, spotting a strange mark on the tunnel wall. A small circle, carved too precisely to be natural.
"This doesn't look untouched…" she murmured. But no one heard.
Not even when her steps slowed. No one wanted to stop when easy treasure lay just ahead.
And so they kept going. Straight into the trap.
The central hall of Rivira was more tense than usual.
Riveria Ljos Alf studied the maps with cold eyes, her fingers dancing across the surface of the enchanted glass. Beside her, Lefiya spoke with urgency.
"It wasn't a normal monster. It was like someone put it there… like it was waiting for us."
Riveria nodded slowly.
"And that man who appeared…"
Lefiya looked down briefly, a faint blush on her cheeks—a subtle, almost shy reaction more out of instinct than meaning.
"He saved us. Without him, we'd be dead," she said, her voice rising for the first time. "And I think… he's still here. Watching. Maybe even helping."
"The same one who disappeared without giving his name?" Riveria asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Yes. And if he was right about the trap… then the rookies who left this morning…"
The high elf closed her eyes.
"…might be walking straight into the lion's den."
She turned to activate a communicator rune.
"Call the team. We'll meet at—"
A crash shook the room.
Then another. And another still.
Mana explosions. Vibrations. And the worst part: some sounded like they were directly beneath the town.
"This can't be happening!" Lefiya shouted. "Is Rivira under attack?!"
Riveria tensed.
"We can't leave now. If the city falls, we lose everything we've built on this floor."
And even though she knew a group of young adventurers might be dying in some nearby tunnel, she couldn't abandon her responsibility.
They had to hold the line.
Even if someone else had to pay the price down below.
The cavern was vast. The mist thicker than anywhere else. Their footsteps made no echo. The group entered in awe, marveling at the space.
"Wow… now this is hidden," said Bram.
The guide smiled.
"Yes. Very… hidden."
The air grew heavier. Then—noises.
Not footsteps. Not growls.
Breathing.
Lots of it.
"Something's moving!" Lysa shouted.
Figures emerged from the shadows. Eyes glowing. Claws scraping. Dozens of mid-level monsters—far too strong for the group.
And they didn't attack.
They surrounded.
Contained.
The guide snapped his fingers. A rune on the ground flared, and a magic circle spread outward from his feet.
"No one gets in. No one gets out."
Lysa screamed. Rul raised his spear, shaking.
"What are you doing?!"
The guide no longer smiled.
"Following orders."
The monsters moved in.
But before the first strike—something fell from the ceiling.
Kael.
His blade drew a brutal arc, cleaving through a two-headed wolf. He spun, clashed with another beast, then lunged at a third without hesitation.
He didn't speak.
He didn't think.
He struck. He killed. He bled.
Red eyes blazing. Hooded face grim.
"Run to the back! Stick to the wall!" he shouted, voice raw.
The creatures attacked with everything. He fought back mercilessly.
One by one, they fell.
But with every strike, Kael staggered more.
He wasn't okay.
Not completely.
When the last beast dropped, Kael was gasping. Blood poured from a wound in his side. His left arm trembled. His vision blurred.
But the guide was still there.
And now held a black sword.
"You think this is over?" he said.
Kael straightened, lifting his blade with effort.
The fight began—brutal, unrelenting. The subordinate showed superior technique and stamina, but Kael kept up. With a precise move, he landed a cut to the man's side, twisting his expression in pain. The battle slowed into a savage exchange where every breath hurt, every step was an act of will.
Kael, bleeding and breathless, held his sword with both hands. Opposite him, Dix's subordinate bled from his side. His movements were sluggish. Tired. This was the moment.
Kael stepped forward. Then again.
"…I'll make it…" he whispered, his chest rising and falling like the air refused to come.
"I can win…" He gripped the hilt, shifted his stance, eyes locked on the enemy's heart.
"I will win…"
He summoned everything he had left. Body, mana, strength, rage. He ran, leaving the pain behind, charging toward the end.
The subordinate, pale and shaking, smiled. A weak smile—barely noticeable… but enough.
He pressed a hidden switch in his left hand.
The floor lit up with a turquoise glow. The grinding of gears echoed beneath Kael's feet.
"…Huh?" was all he managed to say.
The ground vanished. His body lifted for a second… then—
Kael fell.
His momentum was gone. His victory turned to smoke.
As he plunged into the dark tunnel, his battle-worn mind could barely grasp it.
There were no thoughts. No screams. Only silence. Only darkness swallowing him whole.
The trap snapped shut with a metallic clang that echoed like a sentence.
And in the distance, a voice rang out.
Cold.
Victorious.
"I've got you."