Darkness.
Not the kind filled with monsters.
Not the kind hiding dragons.
Just… darkness.
Cold.
Heavy.
Still.
Arya slowly opened his eyes.
Stone ceiling.
Rough.
Uneven.
There were no glowing symbols.
No collapsing dungeon walls.
No Black Dragon.
Only a narrow beam of sunlight slipping through a crack in rock above him.
His head throbbed.
A sharp, splitting pain like something had cracked inside his skull.
He tried to move.
His body felt weak.
Too weak.
Not battle-worn.
Not mana-drained.
Just exhausted.
Like someone who hadn't eaten properly.
Like someone who hadn't slept in days.
He blinked slowly.
Cave.
He was in a cave.
Not a dungeon.
Just a cave.
No ancient carvings.
No mana pressure.
No distorted space.
Only damp stone walls and the faint smell of moss.
His breathing became uneven.
No.
That was wrong.
He had fought.
He had seen the Black Dragon.
He had protected everyone at school.
The dungeon had formed.
Monsters had appeared.
He had—
