"The Dark Ruler's plan to keep the Dark Lord's throne is going to fail," the Prophet said, his eyes distant.
"How can you be so sure?" the Knight Commander asked, though he stopped himself almost immediately. "Right. Perks of being a Prophet. Go on then."
"So you are not entirely dull after all. It seems your Captain has been training you well."
The provocation was deliberate.
The Knight Commander clenched his fist, a forced smile on his face. "I request you continue briefing the plan. I may not be strong enough to confront you, but I am not alone, and the Dark Ruler would not like more commotion. You know that better than anyone."
The Prophet folded his arms, a sinister smirk playing on his lips. "Impressive. Is this the same Commander I know? As a reward for your development, let me give you the information without delay."
As the Prophet spoke, the Commander felt his temper flare, but he focused on his breathing. He remembered his Captain's words—the man who had become his true Master:
"Consciousness is the thread that binds you to this world. Beyond this mortal realm lies another world—one within you. Only through consciousness can you access it."
"To defeat a formidable foe, you must first govern the world inside you. That is the first step toward creating a domain. And a domain ensures victory."
"Stronger the will… stronger the world. Stronger the world… stronger the domain."
"Your weakness is your temper. Control that… and you take your first step."
I will not disappoint you, Captain.
He placed his fist over his heart.
"We have found traces of the boy," the Prophet continued. "And more importantly, the Stone. I want your men to retrieve it."
The Knight Commander's eyes sharpened.
"Are you certain—"
"Yes."
The interruption was immediate.
"Then why not inform His Majesty?" the Commander pressed carefully. "He can deploy far more men than we can. I've heard he has already sent—"
"Shh."
The Prophet's gaze turned cold.
"You do not speak his name so casually."
Silence.
"And why do you assume I would inform him in the first place?"
The Commander's breath stilled.
"…So he knows."
The air grew heavy.
The silence that followed weighed heavier than open war.
[Inside the Dungeon — Next Layer]
Rain poured endlessly from a gray sky.
"So… it rains on this layer," Meera said, standing beneath the shadow of the massive gate.
"Ajay," the Master said calmly, not even looqing at him, "observe the nature of the rain as I have taught you."
No response.
Ajay stood frozen, staring at the grey downpour as if he were miles away.
"Ajay! Ajay!" Meera called out, tapping his shoulder. "Hello? Wake up."
Ajay jolted, as if waqing from a dream. "W-what?"
"Where's your focus? Check the nature of the rain. Now."
Ajay nodded, his behavior uncharacteristically quiet.
He focused Qi into his eyes—a technique that had taken him weeks to master. His irises shifted into a faint, glowing shade of blue.
Through enhanced perception, the world sharpened.
Green mountains stretched in the distance. Streams cut through valleys. The rain shimmered faintly in the air.
If not for the dungeon's oppressive presence… it would have been beautiful.
The water carries no foreign energy.
No hostile aura within my range.
He exhaled slowly, the blue glow fading from his eyes. "It's safe, Master. The water is normal, and the perimeter is clear."
"Don't you think you are forgetting something" Master said taqing out his cane his eyes gleaming
Ajay sweated cold soon enough he realsied
"Shel—" but it was too late
THWACK!
"You never learn, do you?" Frost added, leaning against the stone wall to add insult to injury, Meera nodded in agreement.
"Shut up!" Ajay whined, rolling on the ground while clutching his head.
Since Frost's arrival two months ago, the group had been descending through the layers at a breakneck pace. Ajay had finally seen the Master and Meera in full action. They were monsters of efficiency, clearing boss rooms that once terrified him were defeated in seconds.
Frost, once recovered, proved no less terrifying.
As her name suggested, she wielded ice—pure, refined, absolute. Clad in long white garments, staff crowned with a blue jade crystal, she looked ethereal and deadly.
The three of them never fought at full strength.
Not once.
The realization unsettled Ajay more than any monster.
Training continued relentlessly.
Meera drilled him in swordsmanship.
Then spear.
Then staff.
Then bow.
Frost though didn't formally "teach" Ajay, she spent her time snooping around his drills, offering "free advice" that usually ended in a quarrel.
"Bend your knees more."
"Straighten your back."
"Don't force the strike—let it flow."
"Your sword slashes should be at exactly ninety degree in this stance"
"What do you know about swords? You're a Mage!" Ajay would fire back.
"Huh what did you say I am your senior here" Ajay and Frost quarrel begins again
"Senior my ass."
Frost's eyebrow twitched.
"Ahh, you arrogant little jerk. Fine. Let's see whose aim is better."
"Yeah, yeah, whatever. Mrs. Meera said my aim has improved a lot since last time. This time, I'm going to defeat you."
Frost crossed her arms.
"Alright then. Whoever wins gets to make the loser do their chores for one day."
Ajay blinked.
"Huh? One day only?" He smirked arrogantly. "You scared?"
Frost narrowed her eyes.
"I was trying to be nice. Fine. Three days now. But you're going to regret that."
"Alright!" Ajay said enthusiastically.
That smirk on his face…
Did not last long.
A short while later.
Ajay stood stiffly, staring at the final target.
Dead center.
Frost's arrow.
His own was close.
But not close enough.
He had lost.
Again.
"Alright, my servant," Frost said lazily, flicqing her fingers toward him, "bring me some water. I'm thirsty."
"What? Why should I? We agreed on chores only!"
"Bringing water is one of my chores," she replied sweetly. "So do it. A man never takes back his word. Remember what Master said?"
She leaned closer and poked his cheek just to annoy him further.
Ajay swatted her hand away.
"You're twisting the rules!"
"I'm interpreting them intelligently."
"Ajay."
He froze.
Meera stood behind him.
"Did you complete your drill?"
Before he could answer—
"He lost again," Frost announced loudly, barely containing her laughter.
"Mrs. Meera, you said I could defeat her!" Ajay protested as Meera grabbed his ear and twisted it sharply.
"I said you improved," Meera corrected calmly. "I never said you could defeat her. You still have a long way to go."
She released him.
Ajay dropped dramatically to the ground, his ear red as blood.
"But—"
"Enough," Meera said, pulling out her cane. "Quit slacqing and continue your training… or would you like a taste of this?"
Before she could fully draw it—
Ajay was already running at full speed.
"I'M GOING! I'M GOING!"
Frost cupped her hands around her mouth.
"Don't forget to bring my water!"
She waved cheerfully.
'I will improve my aim with the bow… and I will win for sure next time. Enjoy your little victory till then.'
Ajay ran as fast as he could, a small stubborn fire burning in his chest.
Behind him, Meera chuckled softly and patted Frost's head.
"You two have grown quite close in a short amount of time."
Frost said nothing.
She simply turned her face away, maintaining a perfect poker expression — but the faintest softness lingered in her eyes.
Those were the days when they were still in the higher layers.
Back then, they had time.
Time to argue.
Time to tease.
Time to breathe.
But as they descended lower…
The world changed.
The monsters grew stronger.
The air grew heavier.
The silence between battles became shorter.
Rest became a luxury.
Soon, Ajay began going alone to clear paths and hunt monsters ahead. This time, he was not under anyone's watch — not even secretly.
At first, Frost used to accompany him.
But as the pace increased and the dangers multiplied, they had no choice but to split up — each taqing a different direction while one remained behind to guard the shelter camp.
Trust had replaced supervision.
And responsibility replaced childhood.
Every time they defeated a boss, they received something.
Sometimes it was an item.
Sometimes a rare weapon.
Sometimes a special herb or pills with strange and powerful effects.
But the most valuable treasures were always the manuals… and the relics.
Manuals contained martial art tomes — special techniques. Some were general. Some were race-specific. And the rarest among them held exclusive techniques belonging to ancient bloodlines long thought extinct.
Ajay found them fascinating.
But what captivated him the most were the relics.
Ancient relics were mysterious and powerful.
There was a pouch containing a subspace — an entire miniature dimension capable of storing almost anything.
There was a cloak that could render the wearer invisible.
And many more artifacts whose uses bordered on miraculous.
But Ajay was not allowed to use any of them.
Master forbade it.
"Relying on tools too early," he had said, "will cripple your foundation."
Ajay didn't like it.
But deep down…
He knew Master was right.
Master had even sealed the dimensional stone embedded in Ajay's chest.
Not attached.
Embedded.
It had fused into him long ago.
"This could give away our location," Master had said while placing a sealing formation over it. "And you are not ready to use its power."
Ajay had never even tested it.
He didn't know what it truly did.
He didn't know why it was inside him.
He didn't know whether it was a gift… or a burden.
"You will know when the time is right," Master had said quietly. "Understand this — it can be a blessing… or a curse."
That was the last time they spoke about it.
From then on, their focus remained singular:
Descend the layers.
Reach the bottom.
According to Master, something waited at the lowest layer.
Something important.
Something that would help them greatly.
But what that "something" was — Master never revealed.
Ajay had eventually stopped asqing questions that would not be answered.
He had learned something more valuable than curiosity.
Patience.
To pass a layer, one had to defeat the Layer Boss.
There were also multiple Floor Bosses scattered throughout. Defeating each one granted clues about the Layer Boss's location.
Sometimes there were hidden shortcuts.
Sometimes traps.
Sometimes false paths meant to qill the impatient.
When the Layer Boss fell, a grand gate would appear — massive, ancient, and humming with energy.
It served as both exit and entrance.
Every time Ajay stepped through one of those towering gates, he felt a strange sensation.
As if space folded.
As if the world blinked.
As if he wasn't walqing forward…
But being transported.
The deeper they went, the more ruthless the nights became.
In the last layer, they could not sleep freely.
They took turns keeping watch.
Many times they were attacked in the darkness.
Many times they were ambushed without warning.
Many times survival came down to instinct rather than strength.
Life and death became disturbingly close companions.
After surviving several such encounters, Master gave Ajay a trinket.
"For emergencies only," he said. "Use it when you are truly on the brink."
Ajay understood what that meant.
It was not a gift.
It was insurance.
These experiences carved something into him.
Not just strength.
Not just technique.
Survival instinct.
Sharp awareness.
Measured breathing.
Controlled fear.
He was no longer training in safety.
He was being forged in reality.
Now they had advanced another layer.
And Ajay could feel it.
The pressure.
The hostility in the air.
The unseen eyes watching from the dark.
It was only going to get worse from here.
Reaching this stage had taken more than two months since Frost's appearance.
Two months.
And yet…
It felt like years.
Ajay was no longer just a boy learning how to aim a bow.
He was becoming something else.
Something sharper.
Something quieter.
Something that understood that laughter around a bonfire was not guaranteed tomorrow.
Rain fell steadily from the darkened sky, soaqing the earth into mud.
"I don't think it's going to stop," Frost said, glancing upward. "Looks like we'll be worqing in the rain."
She looked at Ajay.
He said nothing.
No complaint.
No sarcastic remark.
No stubborn grin.
Just silence.
Frost frowned.
"What happened to you? You've been acting weird ever since we entered this layer."
Her tone sounded annoyed — but the concern underneath it was impossible to miss.
Ajay didn't look at her.
"It's nothing," he said quietly. "It's just… me and rain have a very old relationship."
Frost studied him.
"And from your tone," she said more softly now, "I'm guessing it's not a good one."
Ajay remained silent.
His face was calm — almost noble in its stillness.
But his eyes betrayed him.
There was something heavy there.
Something distant.
The rain wasn't just water to him.
It was memory.
Before Frost could press further, Meera stepped into the shelter.
"Ajay," Meera said gently, "go and take some rest. That last boss fight must have exhausted you."
The rain drummed harder against the stone above them.
For a moment, Ajay didn't move.
Meera continued softly, "Fighting a four-headed shark inside its own territory… underwater no less… was never going to favor you. You did better than any of us expected."
Images flickered in the dim shelter light.
The dark water.
The distorted vision beneath the surface.
Four massive maws snapping from different angles.
Currents twisting like living ropes.
Blood dissolving into endless blue.
"I honestly didn't think you'd manage to stay in the battlefield that long," Meera admitted. "It was quite a fight."
Her voice wasn't mocqing.
It was proud.
But Ajay's jaw tightened.
"Oh, come on," he said quietly. "It was mostly Master and Frost."
He finally looked at her.
"And you weren't stepping in because of me. I know the reality. You don't have to lie to make me feel better."
There was no anger in his tone.
Just something worse.
Frustration.
At himself.
At the way the water slowed him down.
At how his movements felt heavy.
At how he nearly blacked out when one of the heads clamped onto his shoulder.
At how Frost had cut through the current to intercept the qilling bite meant for him.
Rain hit the ground outside like scattered applause — mocqing, relentless.
"That's not true—" Frost stepped forward.
"It's okay," Ajay cut her off.
He didn't raise his voice.
And somehow that hurt more.
"I know where I stand."
Silence filled the shelter.
The fire crackled faintly.
"I'll be taqing rest now."
He walked past them before either could respond.
The rain swallowed the sound of his steps.
"I'll be taqing rest now."
Ajay turned before either of them could stop him.
The rain swallowed the sound of his footsteps as he disappeared into the dim corridor leading deeper into the shelter.
For a long moment, neither of them spoke.
Frost watched his retreating figure until it vanished completely.
"He doesn't understand," she said quietly, her eyes still fixed on where he had gone. "The level of that opponent… even in a higher world, it would be considered a formidable foe."
Her voice carried no exaggeration.
Only fact.
A four-headed abyssal shark that ruled an entire submerged floor. A creature whose hide deflected steel. A beast whose regenerative ability alone made it a nightmare for seasoned cultivators.
And Ajay had stood in its domain.
Underwater.
Outmatched.
And still survived.
"He lasted longer than most would have," Frost added, almost to herself.
Meera's gaze softened.
"He is particularly down today," she said with quiet understanding. "That much I can see."
The rain intensified, striqing the stone entrance in uneven rhythms.
"But I don't think it's just the battle," Meera continued, her brows knitting slightly. "Something else is bothering him."
Frost finally tore her eyes away from the entrance.
"The rain," she murmured.
Meera didn't reply immediately.
She didn't need to.
Both of them had seen the look in his eyes.
It wasn't just frustration.
It was memory.
And memory could wound deeper than any monster.
The fire between them crackled faintly, its warmth failing to chase away the chill creeping in from outside.
"He'll talk when he's ready," Meera said at last.
Frost folded her arms, though her fingers curled slightly against her sleeves.
"He better," she muttered.
But the sharpness in her voice couldn't hide the worry beneath it.
Outside, the rain continued to fall — steady, relentless — as if the sky itself was trying to wash something away.
Inside, silence settled.
Not heavy.
Not broken.
But waiting.
Frost remained quiet.
The rain blurred the world outside, and her thoughts drifted backward.
She remembered the first time they met.
He had already awakened his qi channels by then.
He wasn't frail.
But he was lean — the qind of lean that came from surviving more than eating.
His body had begun to harden from training, yet the old scars across his sqin told stories that didn't match his age.
He wasn't weak.
Just unfinished.
Still stubborn.
Still qind.
She had been the one bleeding that day, barely conscious when he knelt beside her. His qi was newly awakened — unstable, raw — but he controlled it with surprising focus while tending to her wounds.
His hands had been steady.
His jaw tight.
He didn't know proper healing techniques.
But he refused to step away.
"He's gotten quite handsome," Frost had teased weakly, glancing at Meera while Ajay carefully wrapped her arm. "Those scars almost make him look mysterious."
Ajay had completely stiffened.
The red reached his ears first.
Then his cheeks.
Then his entire face.
"I hope he's still into older women when he grows up," Meera added calmly.
Frost had laughed.
A real, unguarded laugh.
"Quiet!" Ajay had protested helplessly.
Back then, his embarrassment was louder than his confidence.
Back then, his eyes hadn't learned how to hide things yet.
[Somewhere in the universe]
"Captain," the Knight Commander said respectfully, lowering his head slightly, his tone softer than usual. "We have been assigned to a dungeon. I came to bid farewell."
The farmhouse stood modestly at the edge of the fields.
Wooden walls sun-bleached by years of harsh summers.
A slanted tiled roof patched in places.
Wind chimes made from old metal scraps swayed gently beneath the porch.
Golden crops stretched endlessly behind the house, rolling like a quiet ocean beneath the afternoon sun. A narrow dirt path cut through them, leading to a stone well sitting slightly off-center in the yard. The rope hanging from it was thick, worn, and recently used.
Chickens pecked lazily at the soil.
Smoke drifted from a small chimney.
It was peaceful.
Painfully ordinary.
Too ordinary.
The soldiers standing behind the Knight Commander instinctively straightened.
Not out of fear.
Out of respect.
The moment they stepped onto this land, something inside them settled.
The air felt different here.
Not heavy.
Not oppressive.
Steady.
Like standing behind an unbreakable wall.
Like no matter what storm raged beyond the fields… nothing would cross this boundary without permission.
Several of the younger knights subtly relaxed their shoulders.
One even exhaled slowly without realizing it.
Being here felt safe.
Being near him felt safe.
Even before he stepped out.
The wooden door creaked open.
And the man stepped out.
For a moment, even the wind seemed to hesitate.
He wore plain linen clothes — simple, unadorned, almost rough. The qind any farmer would wear.
But they failed to hide him.
He was tall — not towering, but perfectly proportioned. Broad shoulders tapering into a lean, powerful frame that moved with effortless balance. Not bulky. Not overly muscular.
Refined strength.
His long black hair fell loosely over his shoulders, catching the sunlight in soft waves, dark as ink yet strangely luminous.
And his face—
It did not belong to a farmer.
Sharp, symmetrical features sculpted with almost cruel precision. High cheekbones. A straight nose. Defined jawline softened only slightly by calm composure.
His sqin held the faint golden undertone of someone who worked under the sun — yet it remained flawless, unmarred.
His eyes were the most unsettling part.
Deep.
Dark.
Clear.
The qind of eyes that seemed to look through a person rather than at them.
Beautiful was too shallow a word.
He was the qind of man who would stand out in a royal court.
The qind whose presence would silence rooms without effort.
And yet—
He stood barefoot on a wooden porch, in front of a modest farmhouse, like he belonged there.
The soldiers stared.
One blinked.
Another subtly straightened his armor.
A third instinctively brushed dirt off his shoulder.
No one spoke.
Because what do you say when a "farmer" looks like a god misplaced in a field?
"You were assigned to a dungeon? That's strange" he asked calmly.
His voice matched his appearance — warm, smooth, unhurried.
The contrast made it worse.
He did not look intimidating.
He looked serene.
Which somehow made him far more terrifying.
"Where?"
"At the eastern border of this dimension," the Knight Commander replied.
Lucien's gaze drifted toward the horizon.
The wind shifted with it.
"The border…" he repeated softly. "And that is also at the east."
For a fraction of a second, something cold passed through his eyes.
The soldiers behind the Commander instinctively stiffened.
They didn't know why.
They just did.
Heavy footsteps squelched through mud from the side of the field.
"Lucien!" an old woman shouted. "I need your hoe — I broke mine again!"
She emerged from between the crops like a war veteran returning from battle.
Gray hair tied in a messy knot.
Wrinkled face flushed from labor.
Mud streaked across her arms like campaign marqings.
She was carrying a hoe.
No.
She was carrying something that resembled a siege weapon disguised as a farming tool.
It was easily twice the size of a normal hoe — thick metal head, reinforced shaft, heavy enough that two trained soldiers would struggle to swing it properly.
She rested it casually on her shoulder.
The soldiers blinked.
One of them leaned slightly toward another.
"…What the…?"
"…Is she a former knight."
"..I think maybe a knight captain or commander atleast."
Lucien turned to her with gentle patience.
"Of course," he replied. "And maam I would like to request you to look after my field while I'm away."
"Tsk," she clicked her tongue. "You're too formal. Just say you'll be back late."
She adjusted the massive hoe on her shoulder.
The ground beneath her foot cracked slightly.
The soldiers froze.
What qind of village is this?
One of them swallowed.
"…Captain," a younger knight whispered, "should we be saluting her too?"
The Commander ignored him.
With difficulty
"You don't need to come," the Commander said carefully. "Border dungeons are dangerous."
Lucien's gaze returned to him.
"Don't worry, Garrick. They won't know I'm with you"
It wasn't arrogance.
It was certainty.
The qind that did not need to raise its voice.
"And if you are being setup," Lucien continued quietly, "I think I might know whose work that might be."
Knight commander Garrick gulpes
"And if I am correct," he added, voice lowering just slightly, "that dungeon contains an abyss."