Hours passed. The adrenaline faded, replaced by exhaustion and the dull ache of fear that refused to leave.
Adam broke the silence. "So what now?"
"Rest," Bright said simply. "Then we move. We'll regroup with other teams, then find the captain. If we stay here too long, the Shrine will spawn more."
Link frowned. "You think others are still alive?"
Bright hesitated. "…everyone here is stubborn enough."
"Stubborn won't stop what's out there," Link muttered, glancing toward the corridor they'd entered from. "That projection was hunting us. The real thing might not need to."
Duncan looked up from where he was bandaging his arm. "So we keep moving. Hunt smaller beasts if we have to. Stock up. Then we head back."
Bright nodded. "We can't afford to linger. We've been looking for other projections and couldn't find any so there isn't much left we can do."
But even as they settled to rest, unease remained.
The air seemed heavier than before — as if something vast and unseen had turned its attention toward them.
Bright's Danger Sense pulsed faintly at the edge of his awareness, not from any immediate threat, but from observation.
It was as if the dungeon itself had eyes.
He looked to his team — tired faces, hollowed gazes. Adam's skin was pale, Link's lips cracked from thirst, Duncan's hands trembling from fatigue.
They'd been here too long. Their rations were thinning, and even the monsters' flesh — though edible — carried a lingering poison that ate away at their strength.
The Shroud wasn't just killing them with claws and fangs. It was wearing them down.
Later, as the others drifted into uneasy rest, Bright remained awake, staring into the faint glow of the moss.
His Danger Sense flickered again — a pulse, weak but certain.
He turned toward the deeper tunnels, every instinct screaming don't go there.
And for the first time since entering the Shrine, he felt something unfamiliar: a whisper. Not from the air, not from any creature — but from within the Shroud itself.
"You are seen…"
He froze.
The moss light flickered. A shadow passed over the far wall — long and thin, humanoid, but stretching far too tall. Then it was gone.
Bright's breath hitched. "Duncan," he whispered.
Duncan stirred, bleary-eyed. "What?"
"Something's watching us."
But when they looked again, the tunnel was still. Only silence and fog remained.
By the time they set out again, the fear had settled deep in their bones.
They moved quietly, weapons drawn, the thought of the Dungeon Boss heavy on every mind.
And though they didn't know it yet — though they couldn't — that moment marked the start of the slow unraveling.
The poison in their food.
The hunger.
The madness.
All of it began here.
With one realization echoing through their hearts:
If that was only a fragment… how could they ever face the real thing?
The morning fog was thicker than ever, as though the Shroud itself had decided to keep the sun hostage.
Every breath tasted of cold iron and ash.
Captain Roegan stood atop the crumbling steps of an old cathedral, his coat torn, the insignia of command half-buried beneath grime. Around him, nearly a dozen soldiers gathered — some standing, others crouched beside flickering lanterns, their faces pale in the dim light.
The heartbeat beneath the earth had returned during the night. Not a constant pulse now, but a rhythmic surge, as if something enormous was moving.
Roegan scanned the crowd. There were far fewer faces than before. "How many went in," he muttered under his breath. "How many remain."
Jorik approached, her rifle strapped to her back. "Sir, we've accounted for all the smaller groups except Drey's. They haven't checked in for two days."
Roegan's jaw tightened. "Then they're either dead… or being smart enough to keep quiet."
Duncan, who'd just arrived with Bright, Link, and Adam, stepped forward. "Captain, permission to speak."
Roegan nodded.
"We fought a crawler," Duncan said. "At first, we thought it was a regular one, but it had… something else inside it. Something that wasn't supposed to exist in a Tier Two."
Adam took over. "Its energy readings were identical to the pulse that's been shaking the Shroud. We think it was a projection from the Dungeon Boss."
A ripple of unease spread through the camp.
Roegan didn't move. "A projection?"
"Yes, sir," Adam said. "Meaning the real one is still watching. It's playing with us."
For a moment, the Captain said nothing. Then, with a quiet breath, he murmured, "That explains why it's not attacking yet. It's waiting to see which of us survive long enough to be worth consuming."
Bright shivered. "So it's letting us fight each other first."
"Exactly," Roegan said. "This entire place is a sieve — it filters the weak from the strong. And we're doing half its work already."
He turned to the soldiers. "From this moment, no one hunts alone. No more splintering off in twos and threes. I'm reinstating full command."
A murmur ran through the ranks. Some nodded in relief; others glanced around uneasily.
Link raised an eyebrow. "And what if the others don't agree? Like Silas and his people?"
Roegan's expression hardened. "Then they'll either join us… or the Shroud will have them."
Elsewhere — Silas' Group
Deep in the lower ruins, Silas crouched over a crawler's corpse.
Its body was still twitching, faint green light leaking from a wound in its chest. Besia stood a few feet away, breathing hard, her sword dripping black blood.
"Second one this morning," she said. "At this rate, we'll draw everything in the district."
"Good," Silas murmured. He pried the core free, the slick orb glowing faintly in his hand. "Let them come."
He rolled the core between his fingers. "Still not a crystal. But close."
Besia frowned. "You've said that every time."
"This one's different," he said, holding it up. "Feel it. The resonance."
She hesitated, then brushed her fingers against the orb — and flinched. "It's cold."
"Not cold," Silas corrected softly. "Hidden. Its energy folds in on itself. A stealth trait."
He smiled faintly, a hunter's grin. "This might be what I've been waiting for."
Behind them, one of his men muttered, "Boss, maybe we should head back to camp. If Roegan's regrouping—"
Silas cut him off with a glance sharp enough to silence him. "Roegan doesn't lead me. Not anymore. We find our own way out."
He slipped the core into his satchel, his eyes flicking briefly toward the unseen pulse in the distance. "The Dungeon Boss wants to test us? Fine. I'll make sure I'm the one still standing when the test ends."
Besia stared at him quietly. She'd followed him because she believed in his calm, his cleverness. But lately, there was something else in his voice — something darker.
Roegan's Camp — Tactical Council
Roegan gathered his officers around a crude map scratched into the cathedral floor. The layout was rough, drawn from scout reports and memory, but it was better than nothing.
"The ruins stretch north and east," he said, pointing with a knife. "That's where the heartbeat originates. But the last pulse we felt came from here." He tapped the far corner of the map, where an area was marked with jagged lines. "Sector Nine — the lower Maw."
Neith leaned over the map. "Sir, that's where Drey's team was last spotted."
Roegan nodded grimly. "Which means they're either dead… or close to something valuable."
Duncan frowned. "And you plan to go there?"
"Yes. We move in formation, sweep the streets, and locate Drey's squad. Whether he joins us or not, we need his manpower."
Link smirked. "Or what's left of it."
"Enough," Roegan snapped. "You've all seen what happens when we act alone. This Shroud doesn't just breed monsters — it breaks men. It whispers. It tempts. If we don't stand together, we'll start seeing each other as prey."
The room fell silent.
Bright's Danger Sense pulsed faintly, an unease creeping up his spine. He didn't know if it was from Roegan's words or something else lurking outside the cathedral walls.
He looked at the Captain. "Sir… what if it's already happening?"
Roegan met his eyes. "Then we root it out before it consumes us."
Hours Later — Into the Maw
The company moved through the streets in staggered formation, their boots crunching on broken glass. The fog had deepened to a silvery gray, curling around them like smoke.
Bright walked near the front beside Duncan and Link. His Danger Sense tingled intermittently — small flashes, faint warnings, as though the Shroud itself was watching their steps.
Adam carried the pack with the remaining cores. His mind, however, was elsewhere — calculating, measuring. The toxin's symptoms are accelerating. Even Duncan's breathing pattern has changed… we don't have much time.
Duncan adjusted his grip on his weapon. "Captain's right," he muttered. "This thing's trying to wear us down."
Link snorted. "Trying? I think it's succeeding."
A low growl cut him off. From the fog ahead, silhouettes began to form — hunched, shifting shapes crawling across the walls.
"Positions!" Roegan barked.
The soldiers spread out, forming a semicircle. The creatures slithered closer — Night Crawlers, but smaller than the ones before, their bodies twitching as if barely held together.
"Third wave," A soldier said quietly. "They're thinning out."
"No," Bright whispered. His Danger Sense flared violently. "They're baiting us."
The fog split open — and a massive shadow surged forward, easily three times the size of a crawler. Its head split into multiple jaws, each glowing with faint crimson light.
Roegan swung his blade, shouting, "Hold the line!"
The clash was immediate — steel against chitin, fire against darkness. Duncan's Bone Guard flared, his body hardening just in time to block a sweeping claw. Bright darted forward, slashing at the legs, while Link leapt onto a broken pillar to get a better angle.
Adam threw a vial that exploded into blinding light. "Now, Duncan!"
The creature roared — but even blinded, it fought like a storm. Two soldiers were grabbed and thrown into the walls before anyone could react.
Roegan lunged, driving his sword into its flank. Black ichor splattered across the ground. "Focus the core!" he shouted.
Bright's mind raced. The core… it's pulsing faster than the heartbeat.
He realized — with a flash of dread — that the core inside the beast wasn't its own. It was planted.
Someone had put it there.
"Captain!" Bright yelled. "It's a trap!"
The creature detonated.
Light and dust consumed the street — a thunderous blast that threw bodies and rubble in every direction.
When the shockwave faded, the fog began to thicken again, swallowing the flames.
Somewhere, far above, the Shroud's pulse laughed.
They weren't fighting some roided up monster but a smart, cunning predator.