The hover car ride was surprisingly smooth. Comfortable, even.
I leaned back against the soft seats, letting the silence lull me into a rare moment of peace. Not a single sound came from the engine, it was like gliding through the air.
Before I knew it, we'd arrived.
The dungeon gate loomed ahead. According to records, it had been open for over two decades. A 7th-Tier gate, the weakest category. The boss monster had already been killed long ago, but the dungeon core was left intact. A training ground for rookies like us.
The car door hissed open. I stepped out.
David was already ahead, walking toward the security checkpoint with a file in hand. Documents, probably. Permits and team registration.
He really handled everything, huh?
I couldn't help but smirk.
Letting someone else do all the homework? I could get used to this.
David shook hands with the officer and came back to us.
"Everyone, get ready," he said, voice calm but focused. "Tell me your disciplines. We need to put a proper formation together."
He glanced at the gate ahead, then added, "Even if it's just a 7th-Tier dungeon, we can't afford to be careless."
In this world, every Awakener had a discipline. It defined how you interacted with mana, what you were capable of.
There were three kinds.
Wielding: That's the warrior path. You used mana to enhance your body and weapons. Combat-focused, front-liner types.
Channelling: The mage route. You manipulated mana inside your body to cast spells and control elements.
Weaving: That one was more... unconventional. Weavers weren't meant for direct combat, but that didn't mean they were useless. Alchemists, blacksmiths, and engineers. Weavers built things, crafted, and invented. They were the backbone of humanity. They are gifted with high intelligence.
Of course, just because you were a Wielder didn't mean you could swing every weapon. You had to train, master each one. Channelers needed precision, mana control and elemental mastery. And Weavers? They had to lean on one path. Be it an Alchemist or a blacksmith, or a manatech engineer.
Everyone began stating their disciplines, one by one. David nodded, making quick decisions, adjusting roles.
I tuned out.
Didn't really matter to me. I had other plans.
Soon, we started moving toward the gate. A swirling blue portal shimmered in front of us.
One by one, we stepped through.
As the portal swallowed me whole, a sudden thought crashed into my brain like a brick.
Wait.
Where's my weapon?
Shit.
The world twisted. My vision blurred.
***
My vision struggled to adjust after the sudden teleportation. The dizziness hit me like a punch to the gut. Nausea twisted in my stomach, but thankfully, there was nothing in it to throw up.
Then I looked around.
Bodies were sprawled around me, my party. All of them are unconscious.
Not dead. Just out cold.
They wouldn't wake until tomorrow.
I already knew the reason. It was due to the potion.
They'd breathed in its scent unknowingly before we entered the gate. And that smell dulled their Mana resistance. Combined with the raw mana surge inside the portal, it overwhelmed them.
Result? Instant blackout.
Honestly, it was kind of pathetic.
I crouched down and checked their gear.
A quick search turned up two daggers. Not ideal, but they'd do.
Second step done.
I stood up, flipping one of the daggers in my hand, and made a mental note.
Need to work on understanding the world's common sense.
The dungeon looked like nothing more than a cave.
But I knew better.
Its walls were jagged, its air damp and cold. Firesticks lined the path ahead, casting flickering shadows along the stone floor.
I walked carefully, every step measured.
No monsters. None would appear.
That was the point.
I wasn't heading down the regular path. I'd taken the restricted route, one that the Eclipse Council had sealed off for obvious reasons.
This one led directly to the dungeon core.
They didn't want anyone destroying it. If the core broke, the gate would collapse within three hours. And they needed this place to be open for training.
For me, three hours was more than enough.
Eventually, I reached it.
There it was: a golden orb, hovering silently in the air above a simple stone altar. It pulsed faintly, like it was breathing.
I gripped the dagger tightly and thrust it at the core.
CLANG.
A jarring vibration shot up my arm. The dagger shattered.
Not a single scratch on the orb.
I exhaled sharply.
'I underestimated this.'
Should've enhanced myself.
In Volume 4, Leonard, the story's real protagonist, comes to this very dungeon to help some juniors. He ends up fighting a demon. During the battle, the shockwave alone breaks this orb.
That's right. Just the shockwave.
I sighed again and readied the second dagger. This time, I infused it with mana before swinging.
CLANG.
The other dagger broke as well. But now, there was a small scratch.
Progress.
I picked up the broken blade and hammered it against the orb.
But no use.
Gritting my teeth, I began pounding at it with both hilts. Over and over.
CLANG... CLANG... CLANG...
My palms split open. Blood dripped down the handles. My arms trembled with each strike.
But I didn't stop.
The reward waiting beyond this pain? Worth it. Worth everything.
And finally, Crack.
A sharp sound echoed through the chamber.
SHATTER
The golden orb burst into fragments.
And then everything moved.