The television flickered twice before the image stabilized.
A red banner crawled across the bottom of the screen:
BREAKING: B-RANK DUNGEON INSTABILITY CONFIRMED — EASTERN SECTOR
The news anchor tried to keep her voice steady. She failed halfway through her second sentence.
Behind her, live footage showed a warped distortion in the sky a rippling violet fracture hanging over a commercial district like a wound in reality. Police barricades had already formed. Guild vehicles, marked with metallic emblems and reinforced plating, surrounded the area in tense formation.
"The Association has confirmed abnormal mana surge readings," she continued, swallowing. "Residents within a three-kilometer radius have been ordered to evacuate immediately. Multiple B-rank awakened teams are on standby in case of a dungeon break."
The camera zoomed in.
The distortion pulsed.
Like something breathing.
People screamed in the distance. Sirens layered over one another in mechanical panic.
A man in polished armor insignia of the Black Crest Guild stepped forward. Mana shimmered faintly around him like heat haze over asphalt.
"That's Guild Captain Rhaegar," the anchor said. "Rank A. If the dungeon collapses outward "
The distortion snapped.
Not fully.
Just enough to send a shockwave of pressure outward.
Glass shattered in nearby buildings.
A low, guttural sound echoed from within the fracture something between a roar and metal tearing.
The feed cut to static.
Silence.
Then commercials.
---
In a cramped apartment twelve kilometers away, the television's light painted faint blue shadows across peeling walls.
The room smelled faintly of detergent and instant noodles.
A chipped ceramic mug rested on a low wooden table. Beside it lay a thin black notebook, a pen aligned precisely parallel to its edge. The pen's cap had faint teeth marks along its end an old habit.
A young man sat cross-legged on the floor, elbows resting loosely on his knees.
His eyes did not leave the blank screen after the broadcast ended.
He didn't sigh.
He didn't curse.
He simply watched the reflection of his own face in the darkened glass.
A dungeon break.
Again.
He leaned back slowly against the wall.
The paint behind him was cracked where moisture had once seeped through.
Outside, the city continued moving traffic humming, distant chatter drifting faintly through the open window.
He picked up the pen.
Rolled it once between his fingers.
Set it back down exactly where it had been.
"…B-rank instability," he murmured quietly.
Not fear.
Not excitement.
Just acknowledgment.
His name was Kael.
No surname.
Orphanage records had listed one, but paperwork and fire didn't preserve history very well.
He had grown up in a system that catalogued children the way warehouses catalogued surplus.
At eighteen, the stipend ended.
At nineteen, the job rotation began.
Delivery assistant.
Warehouse stocker.
Night shift cleaner.
Mana-insulated gear packing assistant that one had paid slightly better, but only because of hazard risk.
Awakened passed through the loading docks often.
Laughing.
Confident.
Their boots made heavier sounds than normal people's.
There was always an air around them subtle, electric.
Not visible to the eye.
But felt.
Kael had once stood three meters from a C-rank swordsman and felt the pressure like being too close to industrial machinery.
He had not awakened.
No spark.
No anomaly.
No sudden surge of mana.
When the testing caravans visited the orphanage at fifteen, he had stepped into the crystal array with a straight back and quiet hope.
The crystal remained dim.
Others glowed.
Some faintly.
Some brilliantly.
He had walked back to his bunk with steady steps.
That was the day he stopped expecting sudden miracles.
The television flickered again, automatically switching back to normal programming.
A cooking show.
He muted it.
His gaze drifted toward the window.
The sky looked ordinary from here.
No violet fracture.
No mana tremor.
Just city lights and smog.
"…Twelve kilometers," he murmured.
He mentally mapped it.
Eastern sector commercial district.
Three B-rank teams on standby.
One A-rank captain deployed.
The Association would contain it.
Probably.
He stood and walked to the small kitchenette.
The refrigerator door creaked when opened.
Inside: half a carton of eggs, two packets of instant noodles, a bottle of water, and a single apple slightly past its prime.
He took the water.
Closed the door gently.
No dramatic slam.
He returned to the table, sat down, and opened the notebook.
On the first page were numbers.
Expenses.
Projected savings.
Rent due in eleven days.
If he took the extra shift tomorrow, he could afford better boots.
He tapped the pen against the margin.
Tap.
Tap.
Tap.
The rhythm was consistent.
His eyes shifted once more to the blank television screen.
The reflection of his own face stared back.
There was no mana halo around him.
No guild crest.
No armor.
Just a plain shirt and calloused hands.
"…Interesting timing," he said softly.
The tap stopped.
For a moment barely perceptible the air in the room felt heavier.
Not dramatically.
Not like the broadcast.
Just… thicker.
Like humidity before rain.
Kael's gaze sharpened.
He did not stand immediately.
He did not panic.
He simply waited.
The sensation faded.
He exhaled once, slow.
"Old buildings," he muttered. "Bad insulation."
He reached for the apple.
The television crackled faintly behind him.
He turned.
The screen was black.
But not off.
Black.
As if the pixels were absorbing light rather than emitting it.
The air shifted again.
This time, not subtle.
The pen rolled off the notebook and fell to the floor with a soft clatter.
The wall behind the television trembled.
Not violently.
But rhythmically.
Like something knocking from the other side.
Kael stood.
Every movement deliberate.
He took one step forward.
The wallpaper behind the television began to ripple.
As if it were fabric underwater.
The black on the screen deepened.
Darkened beyond shade.
Beyond shadow.
It was not absence of light.
It was density.
The rippling spread outward across the wall.
Paint cracked.
Plaster fractured in thin lines radiating from the center.
The air temperature dropped sharply.
His breath fogged faintly.
No alarm sirens.
No Association warning.
No emergency broadcast.
No mana flare in the sky.
Just his room.
Just this wall.
He did not scream.
He did not retreat immediately.
His pulse accelerated but his face remained controlled.
"…Not registered," he whispered.
The ripple expanded into a circular distortion roughly two meters wide.
The wall did not crumble.
It folded inward.
Reality bending like heated glass.
A faint sound emerged.
Wind.
Leaves.
Distant metal chains dragging across stone.
Inside the circular anomaly was not darkness.
It was depth.
A forest.
Twisted trees.
Ash-colored bark.
The sky beyond them was dim and heavy.
Clouds moved too slowly.
The scent of damp soil seeped into the room.
A branch snapped inside the forest.
Something moved between the trees.
Low to the ground.
Fast.
Kael stepped sideways and picked up the ceramic mug.
The creature emerged at the forest edge.
Humanoid.
Distorted.
Skin gray and stretched tight over bone.
Eyes sunken.
Jaw slightly unhinged.
Clothing torn prison garb.
Metal collar fused around its neck.
It stepped toward the boundary.
Its body pressed against the air and halted.
Like hitting glass.
It snarled.
Clawed at the invisible wall.
"…It can't cross."
The creature retreated.
Silence returned.
Kael stepped closer.
Mana pressed against his skin.
Dense.
Unfiltered.
His fingers brushed the distortion.
Cool.
Resistant.
Unknown dungeon classification.
No registration.
No backup.
Probability of survival: minimal.
Another thought surfaced.
Unclaimed.
A faint notification appeared before him.
Irregular Anchor Detected.
Subject: Unawakened.
Condition: Extreme Anomaly.
Proceed?
He stared at it.
Then at the forest.
Then back.
"…Proceed."
The boundary dissolved.
Cold earth met his feet.
The air thickened.
The forest swallowed him whole.
Behind him, the distortion snapped shut.
The apartment returned to silence.
Far beneath the twisted canopy, something massive shifted.
Chains rattled.
And in the center of the forest, within a circular stone seal, a pair of golden eyes opened.
Watching.
Waiting.