"Isn't that... the strange masked guy from before?"
One of the two bald men whispered under his breath, eyes darting toward Lee, who stood motionless—his gaze locked onto the door Gen had just entered. The girl in oversized armor silently trailing behind Gen like a shadow made it clear: these two weren't ordinary. Something about them sent alarms ringing in the men's instincts.
Still, reflex made one of them mutter aloud.
Lee didn't respond. He remained quiet, eyes lowered, watching that figure. The back of that mysterious man captivated him—he couldn't look away.
He knew... this man wasn't normal.
Spatial magic was one of the most difficult and dangerous types of magic on the continent. Not to mention mastery—even casting it steadily was the dividing line between prodigies and mediocrity. Yet this man wielded it like breathing.
"Who is that guy? Has anyone seen him before?"
"Never. And that armor... it's not something you just find anywhere."
"And that little girl... is she an adventurer? She looks like a living doll."
"Are they actually going to challenge the room?"
"Just two of them? One big, one small?"
The murmuring spread like wildfire, turning into a wave of noisy speculation. Amidst the voices, a few remained silent. They didn't speak, but their eyes were fixed on the two strangers.
"Did no one notice? The girl took down the two gate guardians with a single strike."
"Tch. Gatekeepers aren't much. Inside that room are level 50 Dead Trees!"
"Still... that armored guy hasn't even made a move. Could he be stronger than the girl?"
A wave of unease rippled through the crowd as Gen stepped into the room. No one spoke anymore—the atmosphere grew tense, as if everyone held their breath.
Inside, four Dead Trees stood like wooden death machines. Their twisted limbs resembled sharpened blades, and a frigid aura oozed from their dry, grotesque forms. Gen walked forward and stopped just a few steps away.
No weapon drawn. No magical aura.
Time seemed to freeze. An invisible pressure slowly radiated from him, making the air itself shiver.
"Is he going to strike now?" That thought flashed through everyone's mind.
But instead...
Gen lifted a single finger and beckoned.
A simple gesture, yet it carried the authority of a king commanding loyal subordinates.
From behind, Dolly stepped forward—silently, expressionless. Her lifeless eyes reflected the dim light of the room with a chilling gleam. Graceful, yet deadly.
Dolly didn't glance at her enemies. She didn't even look at Gen. She simply reacted.
Combat—programmed deep into this living doll.
A long whip in her hand shimmered with a dark glow as it sliced through the air.
SWOOSH.
Then...
CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK!
The dry splintering of wood echoed through the chamber.
A single whip slash tore across the torsos of all four Dead Trees, precisely hitting the cores where their life force concentrated.
Before a heartbeat could pass, cracks began spreading from their chests, like spiderwebs stretching to their heads and roots.
BOOM!
The Dead Trees collapsed like rotten trunks, reduced to piles of shattered wood.
Gen walked past the remains without sparing a glance. Dolly stood motionless, maintaining her stance, unmoved—as if her mission was over. She neither waited for praise nor expected admiration.
The two continued forward.
A door to the next floor opened and swallowed their silhouettes—one large, one small.
Only then did the crowd snap out of their trance.
"One hit? Just one hit?!"
"That girl... is she a monster?"
"And him... he never even moved..."
Some stammered, some stayed silent, and those who had mocked them earlier now kept their eyes down, lips sealed.
"Look! Items dropped!" someone shouted, pointing at the four pieces of loot scattered on the floor.
Stunned by the overwhelming battle, no one had noticed the level 50 monsters had dropped rewards.
To Gen, level 50 loot was garbage—unworthy of being picked up. He had a whole stash of level 90 items, and even legendary gear. The armor he currently wore? The full-body Deadroot King Set.
But for most adventurers and wandering warriors here, just one of those items could significantly boost their stats—or be sold for a small fortune.
And so...
A scramble began.
Elsewhere, Celestia gritted her teeth.
"Record everything! Every detail!" she ordered her subordinates, eyes fixed on the spot where the duo had disappeared.
She wanted to know who that armored man and that girl really were. But for now, she had to restrain herself.
She was still a commander... and suspected they would return.
"Interesting..."
Aaron, hidden far in the distance, murmured softly. No one saw him. No one sensed his presence. As if he was a part of the Dungeon itself—a manifestation of its hidden truths.
In his eyes, a flicker of intrigue lit up like embers reigniting an old flame.
He whispered, his voice fading into the dark: "I hope... they're both from the Empire."
---
Third Floor.
The atmosphere here was completely different from the previous two levels.
Everything was covered in a special kind of black stone—from the ground to the jagged walls, from the bizarrely shaped rock formations to the uneven stairs. All shared the same cold, gray-black hue, making the entire place feel like a world frozen by darkness.
This stone wasn't ordinary. It was far tougher than natural rock. Even when shattered, it didn't produce dust—leaving no trace behind.
In the past, adventurers and scholars tried to extract samples, hoping to study or build with them. But every time, the same thing happened: as soon as they left the third floor, the stone would turn to ash and vanish.
Eventually, analysts declared it worthless—not because of its properties, but because it couldn't leave this place.
Yet now, this strange floor once again became the center of attention.
Celestia had chosen the third floor as the main objective of her expedition. Why? Because the final distress signal from the missing princess had come from here—before vanishing completely.
Upon arrival, she ordered her troops to fan out and search every corner, leaving nothing unchecked. If not for that mysterious duo's help, she might never have made it this far.
Elsewhere, Gen searched too—but his goal was entirely different.
"So... when will you show yourself?"
In the quiet gloom, Gen suddenly stopped after half an hour of exploring. He turned slowly, eyes calm as he scanned the space behind him, speaking as if to the air itself.
No answer. No movement. No breathing.
Only silence.
Gen furrowed his brow slightly and turned back, continuing onward as though nothing had happened.
From a hidden crevice behind him, a faint breath escaped.
A figure slowly emerged, as if stepping out from a layer of invisibility. Clad entirely in black, face half-covered with a fabric mask, two short swords gleaming blue hung at his side. His eyes flickered with... unease.
"Did he... almost detect me?" the man whispered, gulping down a small MP potion in one go.
Even with his high-level stealth skill—an exclusive ability no one else possessed—he felt exposed. It didn't make sense. How could the target look directly at his hiding spot... and ask that question, as if aware of his presence?
"Impossible. No one's ever detected me when I use this technique." he reassured himself, but doubt crept in.
Advanced Stealth, a top-tier assassin skill that erased sound, heat, and presence. Even hyper-sensitive monsters couldn't detect it. He had stalked, stolen, and eliminated countless targets with it—never once failing.
And yet... that single, casual question had nearly made his heart stop.
"Just what... is that guy?"
Still cloaked in stealth, he refused to believe he'd been discovered.
The third floor remained as silent as ever.
---
Elsewhere, within the third floor.
Among the eerie black-gray stones stood a boulder no different from the countless others scattered across the ground. But behind it... lay a secret.
A hidden ancient dungeon—completely isolated from the outer space.
A cobbled stone corridor led deep inside, flanked by cells made of shiny black metal—an otherworldly alloy found only within this dungeon level. Each cell was lit by a wall-mounted torch that burned eternally, never dimming, needing no fuel.
Like eternal flames, they blazed in a world untouched by time.
No day. No night. No seasons. Only a still, chilling silence—as if this place had been forgotten by the world itself.
Along the corridor stood statues nearly two meters tall, one before each cell. Sculpted in the form of children with blank expressions, their bodies made of the same black-gray stone.
They stood motionless, like soulless sentinels.
Yet beneath that stillness lay a terrifying pressure—as if they could move at any moment.
BANG! BANG! BANG!
"Damn it!!!"
A furious shout echoed, followed by a loud kick against a cell door. Inside one of the deeper cells, a young man in tattered armor vented his anger on the unyielding gate—as if rage alone could break through.
His armor, though bloodstained and scratched, still bore the insignia of the Imperial Capital.
His name was Amar, a swordsmanship prodigy—one of the youngest lieutenants under Aaron. His handsome face and unmatched talent made him a beloved figure back in the capital, admired by many and pursued by noble ladies.
Now, all that glory was a distant memory.
He was a prisoner. Trapped in a place with no name.
And worst of all...
The princess was here too.
Amar kicked again, roared, and collapsed—panting, drenched in sweat.
He had no idea how long they'd been locked away. No sun, no time. Just helpless fury and a gnawing sense of powerlessness.
"L-Lieutenant Amar... do you think we'll make it out of here?"
A weak voice trembled from the next cell.
It was Charlotte, princess of the Empire.
Despite exhaustion, her voice still held a trace of gentleness. But its usual liveliness was gone—replaced by sorrow and despair.
Before Amar could reply, a calm, steady voice rose from the next cell.
"Don't worry, Princess. I believe... we'll get out. Just stay strong."
It was Sir Fay, a middle-aged man and one of Aaron's most seasoned lieutenants. His face bore signs of age and experience, calm even in the face of death.
He had the composure forged from decades of war.
And it wasn't just the three of them.
Seven elite knights of the Empire were also imprisoned—each in separate cells.
Nine had escorted the princess—all handpicked elite.
Under normal circumstances, this group could easily clear the third floor—maybe even push into the fourth.
But no one expected the brutal truth.
The third floor hid an underground prison guarded by immortal stone sentinels.
Magic and brute force barely harmed them. On top of that, the cells were reinforced with magic seals that suppressed the prisoners' power.
Even Amar's genius couldn't break the cell doors—made of materials unknown to the continent.
Fay continued: "Lord Aaron will come. He never abandons his own."
"I... I believe that too!" Amar nodded, clenching his fists and pounding his chest in defiance.
"We can't fall here—not while the princess remains captive!"
Amar's eyes shone with unwavering resolve.
Even in the deepest pit...
Even against immortal wardens...
As long as hope remained—they would not give up.