Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

The cold morning air bit against Jinwoo’s cheeks as he pulled his hood tighter, hands buried deep in his pockets. Seoul had not yet shaken off winter’s grasp, and the sun had barely risen, painting the sky with streaks of pale gray and muted gold. His boots crunched against gravel as he neared the construction site, the skeletal frame of half-finished towers looming like broken ribs against the horizon. It should have been another routine raid—at least, as routine as things ever were for an E-rank hunter like him. And yet, his heart wasn’t in it.

Not today.

Because all he could think about was Jinchul.

It had been a year since the first time they kissed.  A year since he had gathered the courage to take a step past the comfortable line of friendship they had built. Since then, life had been… different. Softer. Brighter. The moment played in his mind even now—hesitant, soft, full of panic. Jinchul had been surprised at first, then melted into it. Jinwoo’s heart had hammered against his chest like it wanted to break free. Neither of them had planned for it, but perhaps that was why it had been perfect.

Now, twelve months later, they were no longer “testing the waters.” No longer caught in the gray area between close friends and something more. They were boyfriends. Real, tangible and undeniable. The word still made Jinwoo’s chest ache with a strange, sweet warmth whenever he let it roll across his tongue.

Jinchul wasn’t just a presence in his life anymore, he was a constant. A steady pulse of reliability, someone who didn’t just appear when things were good, but someone who stayed through the mundane, the frustrating, and even the painfully ordinary. He had moved into the Sung household a few months back, though “moved in” might have been too casual a term. In truth, it had been inevitable.

There had come a point when Jinchul’s own apartment had felt redundant. He had been at Jinwoo’s place virtually every day, either helping Jinah with homework, cooking dinner when Jinwoo came home late from raids, or staying up with Jinwoo himself, sometimes talking, sometimes saying nothing at all. Jinwoo had tried to argue at first, worried about the space, about the risk of being too reckless with something so precious. But Jinchul had dismissed those concerns with the same quiet steadiness he carried into everything. ‘It makes no sense to keep an empty apartment when I’m already here most nights,’ he had said.

And just like that, Jinchul became part of their home.

The change had been… transformative.

Jinwoo had carried the weight of responsibility for so long. Ever since their father disappeared, ever since their mother fell ill. Even after his awakening, life had not eased, not truly. He had endured raid after raid, humiliation after humiliation, for the sake of Jinah’s future. He had been the sole pillar of their little family, too used to bending under pressure without complaint.

But with Jinchul? That burden no longer pressed on him alone. Jinchul fit into their lives so naturally it was hard to imagine a time he hadn’t been there.

It was in the little things; like Jinchul reminding Jinah not to skip meals when she was buried in textbooks, or insisting on getting her out of the house when she puts too much pressure on herself. It was in the way he tutored Jinah when she struggled with homework—never once treating her like a burden, how he quietly picked up Jinwoo’s laundry from the dryer, how he remembered to pay the bills before Jinwoo even noticed they were due. And it was in the quiet reassurance of his presence; the way Jinchul’s voice softened when speaking to Jinah, the way he always reached for Jinwoo’s hand under the dinner table, grounding him.

For the first time in years, Jinwoo could breathe.

And yet, there was something Jinwoo still hadn’t said. Something that clawed at the back of his throat every time Jinchul leaned too close, when Jinchul fell asleep on the couch with Jinah leaning against him. Every time he smiled, soft and tired, in the half-light of morning.

He was in love.

Hopelessly, deeply, terrifyingly in love with Woo Jinchul.

The realisation hadn’t struck him like lightning. It had settled in quietly, almost politely, something he’d understood long before he consciously acknowledged it.

By the time he finally admitted it to himself, they had already been together for a while, and the thought simply… fit. No panic, no sudden epiphany. Just a warm, steady certainty. He loved his boyfriend.

He found himself smiling whenever he thought about Jinchul, at how natural this all felt, how inevitable it had been from the start. Looking back, it was absurd how long it had taken him to realise something that now seemed so obvious.

A voice broke through his thoughts.

“Hey, Sung! You’re late again.”

Jinwoo blinked, realising he had slowed down, caught too deep in his own mind. He looked up to find the gathering party of hunters ahead, already milling near the dungeon gate. A few familiar faces smirked at him, others shook their heads with the weary tolerance usually reserved for him, the so-called “World’s Weakest Hunter.”

He offered them a sheepish smile, scratching the back of his head. “Sorry, sorry. Got distracted.”

By my boyfriend, he added silently, his lips twitching despite himself.

But now was not the time for Jinchul to be on his mind. He was about to step into a dungeon. Granted, it was a low-ranked one, but dangerous nonetheless. Carelessness was what killed hunters, and Jinwoo could ill afford any slip of focus. His scars from past close calls whispered that much into his skin with every step.

The construction site stretched out in slabs of unfinished concrete, the air tinged with the metallic scent of rebar and dust. At the center, the dungeon gate pulsed with faint, ominous light, an oval-shaped tear in the world, shimmering with otherworldly energy. Hunters gathered around it like moths to flame, weapons strapped, armor gleaming, chatter filling the air.

Jinwoo approached quietly, letting their voices wash over him.

“Should be an easy clear.”

“Just another D-rank dungeon, right? Barely worth showing up.”

“Yeah, but with Sung Jinwoo tagging along, it’ll be more trouble than it’s worth.”

A few snickers followed that, sharp enough to sting. Jinwoo’s jaw tightened, but he forced himself to swallow down the retort. He was used to it by now—the ridicule, the pity. Weak, unlucky Sung Jinwoo. Always the liability.

But then another thought rose, unbidden. Jinchul would have my head if he heard me say that. He’d probably do the same to the others for their taunts.

Jinchul never let anyone talk down to him. He’d proven it more than once, stepping into arguments with that cool, unshakable authority that even high ranking hunters hesitated to challenge. But beyond that, Jinchul always defended Jinwoo, not because he pitied him, but because he believed in him. Unconditionally.

And maybe that was why Jinwoo’s chest ached now, warmth blooming there despite the cutting words around him. Because for all their sneers, he knew that when he went home tonight, someone would be waiting for him. Someone who didn’t see the “Weakest Hunter.” Someone who saw only Jinwoo.

He exhaled slowly, centering himself. No matter what awaited inside, no matter what jokes were thrown his way, he would endure. He always had. For Jinah. For himself. And, though he would never admit it out loud, for Jinchul too.

Because loving someone meant surviving.

—

The gate pulsed with its eerie light, shimmering like a curtain made of liquid glass. Even after all these years of hunting, the sight still sent a faint shiver down Jinwoo’s spine. He adjusted the dagger at his belt, dull, secondhand, hardly worth anything, but familiar in his grip. The rest of the hunters were already moving closer, their chatter filling the air.

“Let’s get this over with.”

“Yeah, the sooner we’re done, the sooner I can grab breakfast.”

“Don’t drag us down this time, Sung.”

Jinwoo’s lips tugged in a tight smile, though it didn’t reach his eyes. Their words weren’t new. He was used to them. The “Weakest Hunter.” The one everyone tolerated at best and ridiculed at worst. It had been his title for so long that sometimes he wondered if they even remembered his actual name.

But this morning, the insults slid off him easier than usual. His fingers brushed the phone in his pocket, the one that held Jinchul’s messages. He’d left one just before heading out. “Text me when you’re back. Don’t push yourself. Dinner’s on me tonight.”

A small, private smile ghosted across his face. They had argued once—well, more like bantered—about how often Jinchul insisted on cooking. Jinwoo always said he could handle it himself, but Jinchul had only shaken his head, stubborn as ever. “You’ve been taking care of people your whole life. Let me take care of you for once.”

Those words lingered in him now like armour, protecting him from the barbs of others.

“Alright, everyone, listen up!”

The raid leader’s voice cut through the air, gathering everyone’s attention. His name was Song Chiyul, if Jinwoo remembers correctly, he was a C-rank hunter, broad-shouldered. His armor gleamed far newer than Jinwoo’s ever had. “This dungeon’s classified as D-rank. Shouldn’t be a problem for us. As always, prioritise safety, but don’t slack off. Clear quickly, split the loot fairly.”

There were nods all around, though Jinwoo caught the side-glances thrown his way. Safety. Right. They all knew who the weak link was.

Still, he followed without complaint as the party stepped through the gate one by one, disappearing into the rift.

When it was his turn, Jinwoo inhaled deeply, steadying himself. The familiar rush of mana washed over him as he crossed the threshold.

The world blurred—then reformed.

Inside, the air was thick and heavy, carrying the stale tang of stone and damp earth. The moment the hunters crossed through the gate, the cavern swallowed them whole, sealing them in its dim embrace. Shadows stretched high above where the jagged ceiling disappeared into darkness, broken only by the faint, unnatural glow of crystals embedded in the walls.

Stone pillars jutted up like the vertebrae of some great beast, holding the cavern aloft, and their presence gave the place the eerie impression of a forgotten temple.

There was no time to linger on the atmosphere though. The monsters came almost instantly.

A screech tore through the darkness, followed by the pounding of claws and feet against stone. Shapes moved between the pillars, hunched, twisted goblins with rusted weapons, their eyes gleaming with hunger. They charged in a ragged wave, howling.

“Frontliners, forward!” someone barked.

Blades flashed. Shields slammed down with a clang. Mages lifted their staves and began chanting, the air swelling with the heat of flame and the hum of gathering mana. Fire blossomed across the field, explosions rocking the cavern floor, while front-line hunters met the goblins head-on, weapons cleaving through wiry limbs.

Jinwoo was there, in the fray, but not in the way anyone else was.

He knew his role. He wasn’t here to shine. He wasn’t here to kill. He was here to scrape by, to survive, to help in ways that no one would ever notice.

So he moved along the edges, blade in hand, eyes scanning. When a goblin slipped through the melee, darting for the unprotected back of a mage, Jinwoo whistled, waving his arms, drawing its attention. It hissed and turned, chasing him instead. He ran, heart pounding, until another hunter noticed and cleaved it down in a single stroke.

Another time, he spotted two fighters locked with goblins, blind to the one sneaking up behind them. Jinwoo charged, swinging his dull sword with all his strength, the clang of metal on bone ringing as he knocked the creature off balance. The others finished it without so much as a glance his way.

That was Jinwoo’s part to play; the distraction, the decoy.

And nobody saw.

To them, he was stumbling, useless, barely surviving. The incompetent one, dragging behind. Which, in truth, he was. But still—he tried.

He had to.

Jinwoo had just spun around, tugging one monster away from a distracted fighter, when the air shifted. He felt it, the rush of danger from behind, and whipped his head around.

A goblin. Too close. Too fast.

It lunged with a shriek, jagged claws slashing down.

Jinwoo barely managed to bring up his blade. The rusted steel clashed against his flimsy sword with a spark, the weight almost tearing it from his grip. His arms trembled as he shoved the creature back, stumbling two steps before it came again, claws reaching.

He swung wildly, the dull edge connecting with its ribs. The goblin snarled, staggering but not falling. Jinwoo’s heart lurched.

Too slow.

Then pain ripped through his leg.

“Ah—!”

The goblin’s claws raked across his knee, deep and merciless. White-hot agony seared up his thigh as his legs buckled beneath him. He collapsed onto the stone floor, clutching the wound, vision swimming. His sword clattered uselessly against the cavern floor.

The goblin lunged again, and Jinwoo, panic flooding his chest, lashed out. Somehow, by some desperate stroke, his blade caught the thing across its throat. Black blood sprayed, and the monster fell with a guttural choke.

But Jinwoo wasn’t standing anymore. He was on the ground, gasping, the world tilting around him. His hands were slick with blood, his knee burning with every shallow breath.

He should call for help. He knew he should. The fight still raged only meters away, but here he was, injured and defenseless. Another goblin could appear at any moment and finish what the first had started.

But the words wouldn’t leave his throat.

And in the back of his mind, he could already hear Jinchul’s voice, sharp with reprimand.

“Why didn’t you call for help, Jinwoo? Do you want to die? Do you think I’d just stand by if something happened to you?”

He could picture it perfectly; Jinchul standing over him, jaw tight, eyes blazing with worry and anger all tangled together.

And then softer, later, when no one else was around. “Don’t scare me like that again.”

Jinwoo’s chest tightened. He stayed silent anyway, teeth gritted against the pain. He didn’t want to be the burden, not here, not now. He would endure.

Footsteps approached.

“Jinwoo!”

A voice cut through the chaos, warm and urgent. He turned his head and saw her. Joohee.

She was small but steady, her staff gripped tightly in one hand, robes flaring as she knelt beside him. Healing light was already gathering at her palms, spilling into the air in soft, green waves.

Of course it would be her.

Joohee. The only one in these parties who never gave him that look, the one that stung worse than insults. Pity. She didn’t sneer at him, didn’t sigh in exasperation at his weakness. She just… helped. Quietly. Without complaint.

They had run into each other in dungeons before. Enough that he could count her as a friend—or something close. Jinah had teased him once about it, smirking as she declared, “Oppa, you have no friends.” Jinwoo had winced but hadn’t argued.

Now Joohee’s hands hovered over his bleeding knee, light sinking into his flesh. Warmth spread where there had been only agony, the torn muscle knitting back together with steady precision.

“You really need to stop doing this,” she said, voice calm but carrying a sigh at the edges.

Jinwoo turned his face away, a flush rising to his cheeks. He could practically feel her eyes on him, the unspoken thoughts weighing heavy between them.

When the glow faded and the pain dulled to nothing more than a faint ache, Joohee sat back, studying him. Her gaze lingered on his, her expression serious.

“Why are you so set on being a hunter, Jinwoo?” she asked softly.

The words struck deeper than any goblin’s claws.

He froze, lips parting, but nothing came out.

Why?

He had asked himself the same thing countless times. And Jinchul had asked too, more than once. Always offering the same solution. ‘Let me help you. I can cover any costs you need. You don’t have to do this.’

But Jinwoo had always refused. Not because he didn’t trust him. Not because he doubted their relationship. But because this—this was his responsibility. His family. His duty.

He couldn’t hand it off, not even to the man he loved.

Even if it meant fighting with a blunt sword in dungeons he barely survived. Even if it meant coming home with wounds that healed slower each time. Even if it meant he was a joke to everyone else.

He wanted to stand on his own feet. For Jinah. For himself.

For Jinchul too. Because the last thing he wanted was to drag him down.

So he swallowed hard and forced a weak smile.

“I… can’t quit,” he said finally. “Not yet.”

Joohee’s eyes softened, but the worry didn’t leave them.

Jinwoo winced internally. Those eyes reminded him of another familiar pair, whenever Jinwoo worried him.

Jinwoo ducked his head, his voice barely above a murmur. “Sorry.”

The word hung between them, flimsy and insufficient.

Joohee sighed again, this time sharper, frustration cutting through the usual gentleness of her tone. “I’m not saying this because I want an apology!” Her brows knit together as she looked at him, her expression tightening with something closer to worry. “I’m just… worried, Jinwoo. That’s all.”

The firmness bled from her voice as quickly as it had come, softening into something fragile. “I’m your friend—at least, I hope I am—and I hate seeing you injured all the time.”

Her words pressed against the guarded corners of his heart, loosening something there. Jinwoo managed a small smile, gentle in a way he rarely allowed himself to be. “Of course we’re friends.”

He hesitated, the silence stretching between them, then added with a sheepish curl of his lips, “I just… I have my reasons for fighting in dungeons. I’d rather not concern you too much with them.”

Joohee huffed, puffing out her cheeks, but didn’t push. That was one of the things Jinwoo respected about her—she could scold, tease, and fret, but she knew where the line was. She didn’t pry into places he wasn’t ready to open.

They both lifted their eyes then, gazes sweeping across the cavern. The clash of steel and roars had dulled to the occasional grunt, the last goblins being cut down under the coordinated might of the other hunters. Soon the battlefield quieted entirely, leaving only the sound of heavy breathing and the distant drip of water echoing off the stone.

Joohee let out a long, tired sigh, her shoulders sagging. “At least this raid is almost over. What a relief.”

Jinwoo chuckled under his breath, leaning back against the cool stone. “Yeah, what a relief.” He allowed himself a wry grin, though warmth crept into his chest at the thought that followed. “My boyfriend would kill me if he found out I got even more injured.”

He could picture it perfectly; Jinchul’s arms folded, that signature disappointed sigh, and those ever-present shadows under his eyes deepening as he muttered about Jinwoo’s recklessness. The image tugged a fond smile across his face before he could stop it.

Joohee tilted her head curiously, watching him with a small, knowing smile tugging at her lips. “You must have one heck of a boyfriend to allow you to keep throwing yourself into dungeons, given your injury record.” Her tone was playful, teasing, but not unkind.

Jinwoo let out a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “Yeah. I’m… lucky. He doesn’t like it—never has—but he still supports me. Even when I come back looking like I’ve been through hell, he’s there.” His voice softened as he said it, warmth threading through each word. 

The glow in his expression must have been obvious, because Joohee broke into a laugh. “Awe, you look adorable when you talk about him.”

Colour flared hot across his cheeks, and Jinwoo quickly looked away, clearing his throat.

“Seriously,” Joohee pressed, leaning closer, her grin widening. “If you keep looking that cute, I might have to snatch you up for myself.”

Jinwoo rolled his eyes and gave her shoulder a light shove. “Stop it.”

Her laughter bubbled out, bright against the somber cavern. “What? I’m just saying. You’d better tone down that lovesick look, or he’ll get jealous if he hears me flirting with you.”

That earned her a laugh from Jinwoo, too. Quiet, but genuine. For a moment, the heaviness of the dungeon lifted, replaced by the simple comfort of banter between friends.

The reprieve shattered with a shout.

“Hey, everyone! There’s another entrance here!”

The call echoed across the cavern, drawing all eyes to the source. A hunter stood near one of the far walls, waving the others over with eager gestures. His lantern illuminated the rough outline of a second tunnel, a yawning gap in the stone that hadn’t been there when they’d entered.

Jinwoo frowned, pushing himself to his feet with Joohee’s help. She offered her hand without hesitation, and he clasped it firmly, letting her steady him as he rose.

Together, they walked toward the gathering group, the murmur of voices growing louder. Hunters clustered near the tunnel mouth, their faces lit with a mix of curiosity and greed.

“Looks man-made.”

“No, look at the edges—it’s natural. Like the dungeon’s hiding something deeper.”

“Could be treasure.”

“Or a trap,” someone muttered, though the thought was quickly drowned out by the others’ speculation.

Jinwoo’s stomach twisted. His instincts whispered caution, sharp and unrelenting. Something about the black maw of the tunnel felt wrong. Too quiet. Too deliberate.

It was pitch-black within, the shadows unbroken even as hunters leaned closer with their torches. Song, one of the more experienced mages, stepped forward with a grin, mana already flaring around his hand. Flames coiled along his palm before he released them in a crackling fireball that shot forward, illuminating the tunnel.

For a heartbeat, the cavern lit up—only to reveal nothing but more darkness stretching endlessly ahead. A long, narrow corridor, stone swallowing light, leading into depths that promised no easy return.

The fireball sputtered out, plunging the passage back into impenetrable black.

A hush fell over the hunters.

Jinwoo’s gaze slid to Joohee. She was already watching him, her brows drawn together, unease plain on her face. Their eyes met, and for a moment, no words were needed.

They were both thinking the same thing.

This was no ordinary dungeon.

And whatever waited down that tunnel… It wasn't good.

—

The air in the cavern still carried the smoke of burned goblin flesh and the metallic tang of spilled blood. Hunters gathered near the black maw of the tunnel, their murmurs rolling like low thunder, uncertainty etched across their faces. The torchlight wavered, shadows stretching over the stone, as if the dungeon itself was holding its breath.

Then Song cleared his throat.

“Everyone, listen up for a second.”

The chatter stilled. Sixteen pairs of eyes turned toward the party leader. Song’s face was contemplative, his hand resting on the pommel of his sword as though drawing strength from it. His voice carried clearly across the chamber, calm but deliberate.

“The gate doesn’t close unless we defeat the dungeon’s boss.”

The silence thickened. A few hunters shifted on their feet. Others frowned, brows knitting as they absorbed the words.

Song’s gaze swept across them, steady, firm. “Seeing as how the gate’s still up, it looks like there must be a boss inside that dungeon.”

The logic was sound enough, but Jinwoo’s stomach twisted. The bad feeling that had been gnawing at him since the fireball lit up that endless tunnel only sharpened, a warning crawling along his skin like cold fingertips.

Song continued, raising his voice slightly. “Usually, we’d report this to the association first and wait for them to make a decision.” He paused, his expression tightening, his tone shifting as something darker crept into his eyes. “…But other hunters might get their hands on the boss before us. And if that happens, our profits will drop. Drastically.”

A murmur rippled through the group. Greed stirred beneath the unease, some hunters already perking up at the thought of missed treasure.

“So,” Song said, his lips curling into a grin, “I say we go ahead and deal with the boss ourselves.”

The words echoed, bouncing off stone walls, burrowing into the silence.

Several hunters exchanged worried glances. Some drew back slightly, the anxiety plain on their faces. But others leaned forward, their eyes lighting with determination, with hunger.

Song let the tension simmer before adding, “It could be dangerous, so… how about we put it to a vote? All seventeen of us. And when the decision’s made”—his voice sharpened—“you won’t be allowed to say otherwise.”

That last line carried a weight, a subtle warning.

Hunters began muttering to themselves, some deciding immediately, others pacing, torn between greed and caution.

“Yes, let’s go!” someone called out.

“No way, I’m not risking my life for this!” another barked back.

The clash of voices filled the cavern, arguments piling atop one another.

Jinwoo stood in the middle of it all, arms folded tightly over his chest, a sigh slipping from his lips. He didn’t need to hear the rest of Song’s speech, he already knew where this was heading.

It was reckless. Stupid. Dangerous.

This was a double dungeon. Something no one here had experience with, something none of them were prepared for. Jinwoo had heard countless stories from Jinchul about the horrors lurking in dungeons: failed raids, traps disguised as treasure, bosses who outmatched entire teams. And Jinchul had always spoken with such weight, such certainty, that Jinwoo had learned to trust those warnings like gospel.

Jinchul had never mentioned a double dungeon. But even without his boyfriend’s stories, Jinwoo knew instinctively that walking into the unknown, half-prepared, was suicide.

He sighed again, quietly this time, wishing with everything in him that Jinchul were here. Not because he wanted saving, but because he wanted someone else to put their foot down. Someone whose authority would shut down this ridiculousness before it got momentum.

All Jinwoo could do now was hope—pray—that the majority voted against going in. If he walked home tonight and told Jinchul he’d agreed to this, he’d never hear the end of it. “You what?! You risked your life for a gamble?!” Jinchul would scold him for days, his worry hidden under that stern, sharp voice.

Near him, Joohee’s face mirrored his unease. Her lips pressed together, her grip on her staff tightening. Finally, she spoke, her voice quiet but steady. “I’m sorry… I don’t want to go.” She glanced sideways at Jinwoo, searching for his reaction.

He gave her a subtle nod, relief washing through him. At least she had sense.

Song began tallying the votes aloud, his voice cutting through the chaos. “Eight votes for going in. Eight votes against.”

The noise died down a little, hunters watching him, waiting. Song’s expression tightened, his eyes scanning the group. Then his gaze landed squarely on Jinwoo.

Jinwoo blinked. His stomach dropped.

“You haven’t voted yet, Sung,” Song said evenly.

Every head turned toward him.

Whispers began almost immediately, curling through the group like smoke.

“Why’s it up to him?”

“Doesn’t he usually hide in the back? Weakest hunter there is.”

“Figures he’d pick the coward’s path.”

Jinwoo heard them all, the sting sharp and familiar. The same taunts, the same doubts, always nipping at his heels. For a moment, something inside him clenched, insecurity rising like bile.

But then he pushed it back down.

He didn’t need this right now. He didn’t need to prove anything to these people. He knew what the smart choice was, and he knew what Jinchul would expect of him. And later, when he was safe at home—maybe curled up on the couch with Jinchul’s hand brushing lazily through his hair—he could deal with the ache their words left behind.

Right now, survival came first.

Jinwoo lifted his eyes, meeting Song’s expectant gaze. The leader’s stare was bright, almost eager, as though he already knew Jinwoo’s answer.

But Jinwoo’s voice was calm, steady.

“I vote we don’t go.”

The words cut through the air, sharp and final.

Silence followed. For a heartbeat, no one moved. Then a wave of relief passed through those who had voted no, shoulders loosening, sighs slipping free.

Beside him, Joohee smiled softly and placed her hand on his shoulder, squeezing gently in gratitude. “Good,” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

Jinwoo let out a slow breath, his decision settling over him like armour. He had no illusions, he knew this group wouldn’t let it end so cleanly. Greed rarely lost to reason. But at least, for his part, he wouldn’t be the one to drag them deeper into danger.

—

The silence that followed Jinwoo’s vote didn’t last long.

Whispers turned sharp, barbed, and ugly. Some hunters muttered under their breath, their voices dripping with venom, while others didn’t bother hiding the heat in their glares.

“Unbelievable.”

“Coward.”

“There goes our bonus.”

A few of them looked at him like they wanted to skewer him right then and there, their glares hard enough to pierce through skin and bone. If looks could kill, Jinwoo would already be sprawled across the cavern floor.

He kept his face carefully blank. He had grown used to those looks long ago; on raids, at the Association, even in the faint pity in strangers’ eyes when they realised who he was. The “World’s Weakest Hunter.” Easy to mock, easier to blame.

But this time, he didn’t care.

He wasn’t about to throw himself into a pitch-black corridor with no information, no preparation, and no guarantee of coming back. He wasn’t suicidal. And he wasn’t stupid.

If the others wanted to glare holes into his back, fine. He’d take it.

Song’s expression, at least, wasn’t filled with anger. The party leader studied him with a look closer to weary resignation, the corners of his mouth turned down slightly. There was disappointment there, yes, but also understanding. He gave a small nod, as though acknowledging Jinwoo’s logic, even if he didn’t fully agree.

Jinwoo took that as a small mercy.

He exhaled and turned, ready to make his way toward the gate. If this raid was ending, the sooner they filed out, the better.

But then the shuffle of hurried footsteps echoed down the cavern.

Two hunters burst into the chamber from deeper within the cleared section of the dungeon, their chests heaving as they slowed to a stop. Dust clung to their clothes, and sweat gleamed against their foreheads, but neither seemed injured.

“Sorry!” one of them called out, raising a hand sheepishly. “We were dealing with a monster corpse—didn’t hear the commotion.”

The other nodded in agreement, his breath still uneven. The moment they noticed the group huddled together, they approached, curiosity flickering across their faces.

Relief softened Song’s features. “Glad you’re both safe,” he said, inclining his head toward them.

Then, with the steadiness of a leader who didn’t want to waste time, he quickly filled them in; the unexplored tunnel, the possibility of the boss hiding within, the vote. “Right now,” he finished, “it’s nine to eight to leave.”

The two hunters exchanged a glance. For a moment, they said nothing, but Jinwoo caught it—the silent communication in their eyes, the way their lips twitched as if the decision was already made.

Then, slowly, grins spread across both their faces.

“We’ll go in,” one said.

“Definitely,” the other added.

It was as if a spark caught flame in the group.

Half the hunters broke into cheers, relief and excitement bubbling out of them in bursts. The sound of clapping hands and celebratory whoops echoed through the cavern. Their smiles gleamed sharp in the torchlight, greedy anticipation gleaming brighter than any gem.

Jinwoo’s stomach sank.

Of course. Of course the majority would tip this way. When has reason ever outweighed greed in dungeons?

He pressed his lips together, breathing deep through his nose, trying to steady the frustration clawing at his chest. His instincts were screaming at him to stop this, to drag Joohee by the arm and walk straight out of the gate while he still had the chance.

But he didn’t move.

He didn’t speak.

Because what was there to say? The decision was made. His single voice, his lone vote, wouldn’t overturn the tide.

Still, the hopelessness coiled in his chest, tight and heavy. He could already imagine Jinchul’s face if he ever found out about this. That sharp, disappointed glare, the flat tone that meant he wasn’t just angry—just worried, scared, furious that Jinwoo had been dragged into something so reckless.

And the worst part was, Jinwoo couldn’t even defend himself. He hadn’t wanted this. He had said no. But would that matter when Jinchul was pacing in their apartment, voice low and sharp with frustration?

“You knew it was wrong. Why didn’t you fight harder? Why didn’t you trust your instincts?”

Because he hadn’t.

Because even now, surrounded by cheering hunters, Jinwoo was trying to convince himself it would be fine. Maybe his instincts were wrong this time. That maybe this was just another dungeon, another raid, and he was letting his imagination spiral too far.

It meant nothing. It had to mean nothing.

But deep down, he knew better.

Jinchul always said a hunter’s instinct was rarely wrong—that if something felt off, it usually was. And that it was always wiser to listen to that inner voice, no matter how irrational it sounded.

Jinwoo clenched his jaw, fighting the urge to shiver.

Beside him, Joohee caught his gaze. Her face mirrored his dread, her lips pressed into a tight line, her eyes wide with unspoken fear.

They didn’t need words. They were both thinking the same thing.

This was a mistake.

A terrible, irreversible mistake.

And yet, with the roar of celebration rising around them, Jinwoo felt the inevitability pressing down like the weight of the cavern ceiling.

They were going in.

Whether he wanted to or not.

________________

The tunnel swallowed them whole.

Their flashlights cut pale beams through the darkness, illuminating little more than damp stone and uneven ground. Every step echoed, a hollow sound swallowed almost immediately by the oppressive silence that pressed in on all sides. The air was cold, stale, as though it hadn’t been disturbed in centuries.

It felt endless.

Minutes stretched into what felt like hours, their progress marked only by the rhythm of boots scuffing stone. The hunters at the front murmured to each other, their voices laced with nerves they tried to disguise as bravado. Every so often, someone would call out toward Song, the party leader, their unease sharpening into impatience.

“Leader, how much further does this even go?”

“Feels like we’re walking to the other side of the world…”

Their voices died quickly after, as if the cave itself disapproved of too much noise.

Jinwoo drifted near the back of the line, his place familiar by now—the space where the weakest hunter naturally fell. Joohee kept close beside him, her face pale in the beam of her flashlight, lips pressed tightly together.

Jinwoo’s unease grew heavier with every step. His instincts gnawed at him, clawing louder with each breath of the stale, icy air. They shouldn’t be here. They should have turned back. Every part of him screamed that.

And yet, here they were.

He sighed quietly, glancing sideways at Joohee. She hadn’t spoken once since they entered the tunnel. Her silence was telling; she was afraid too, even if she didn’t say it aloud.

“Hey,” Jinwoo murmured, his voice barely carrying over the echo of boots ahead. “Joohee… I’m sorry.”

She didn’t look at him right away, still staring into the darkness ahead. Her voice, when it came, was soft. “What for?”

Jinwoo angled his head toward her, forcing his words past the tightness in his throat. “For not doing anything to stop this.”

That finally earned her gaze. She sighed, the sound gentle, and gave him a small, weary smile. “There’s no need to apologise, Jinwoo-ah. This isn’t your fault.” Her tone wasn’t pitying—it was edged with quiet anger, aimed at the others who dismissed him so easily. Her eyes softened. “And besides… even if you had tried, would anyone have listened? Not with the way they whisper about you already.”

The truth of it stung, though her empathy softened the blow. Jinwoo’s chest loosened a little at her words. He smiled faintly back at her, grateful to have at least one person at his side. “I know. But that doesn’t mean I like staying back and doing nothing.”

The words tumbled out of him after that, low and fast, frustration spilling past his lips in a hushed rant. “I mean, this is completely stupid. Going into a dungeon inside a dungeon? With no knowledge, no preparation, no backup? It’s insane. Absolutely insane.” His grip on his flashlight tightened, knuckles whitening. “I had a bad feeling the moment we stepped into this raid, and the deeper we go, the worse it’s getting. Why can’t they see that?”

Joohee didn’t interrupt. She simply walked beside him, listening, her quiet presence a steady anchor in the encroaching dark.

“And gods,” Jinwoo continued, lowering his voice further, “if Jinchul ever finds out about this, he’ll have my head on a stake.”

The mental image almost made him groan aloud. Jinchul standing outside the gate, arms folded, his face carved into that blank expression that meant he was furious but too tired to waste words on yelling. That silence was always worse than shouting. Always.

“And then Jinah will join in,” Jinwoo muttered, dragging a hand down his face as if the thought alone was exhausting. “She’ll back him up like she always does. Two against one. I barely survived the last lecture about my ‘safety’—pretty sure I only escaped with my life because Jinchul had work the next morning.”

A shiver chased down his spine at the memory.

Joohee’s lips twitched. “Sounds terrifying,” she said, just dry enough to tease, though the fondness in her voice kept it soft.

Jinwoo groaned, covering his eyes briefly with his free hand. “You have no idea. Eternal wrath is not an exaggeration.”

Her quiet laugh carried down the tunnel, light against the heavy silence. It was fleeting, but it steadied him—if only for a moment.

Still, Jinwoo couldn’t shake the gnawing dread. The air seemed to grow colder the further they went, the shadows stretching deeper, swallowing the group one cautious step at a time. And no matter how much he tried to joke, the thought remained at the back of his mind.

If something happens down here… will I even get the chance to see Jinchul again?

Jinwoo shook the thought out of his head, instead trying to focus on the stretch of tunnel ahead.

Joohee’s gaze lingered on him, something unreadable flickering in her eyes. Her smile softened, warm against the chill of the tunnel.
“I’m glad you have someone who loves you so much.”

Heat rushed to Jinwoo’s face so fast it almost made him dizzy.

He really was lucky he had someone who loved him, and Jinwoo loved Jinchul just as much.

His cheeks burned at how obvious he was making it though. Joohee gave him a little knowing smile before she decided to continue.

“When I first met you, I didn’t think you had anyone… not with how much you were risking your life, how often you came back injured.”

The words hit their mark. Jinwoo flinched, unable to stop the wince tugging at his expression.

Her voice softened, gentler now, but no less firm. “I’m really glad you have people who care about you. I would hate for you to deal with this alone. To have no one to go home to after all this.” She tilted her head, still smiling faintly. “I’m glad you’ve found safety in your boyfriend. I really am happy for you.”

Jinwoo’s throat tightened.

Her words shouldn’t have struck so deep, but they did. For a moment, the chill of the dungeon fell away, replaced by the warmth of the apartment he shared with Jinchul and Jinah. The smell of instant ramen on the stove, the low murmur of Jinchul’s voice lecturing Jinah about her homework, the steady presence of someone who never left his side.

His heart warmed and ached at once. What would his life look like without Jinchul? Probably worse. Reckless. Empty. He would have cared less about his own safety. He might not even be alive by now. Maybe, without Jinchul’s grounding presence, he would have been desperate enough to agree to something as suicidal as this.

The thought made him grip his flashlight tighter, the beam trembling against the stone.

Their conversation faded into silence after that, but it wasn’t the suffocating silence of fear. It was quiet and steady, peaceful in its own fragile way. They walked side by side, following the pack deeper into the abyss, the world shrinking down to the sound of boots scuffing rock and the endless black pressing in around them.

Then—

“Hey! Up ahead!”

The shout echoed from the front of the group, slicing through the quiet like a blade.

The hunters quickened their pace, voices rising with nervous energy. Jinwoo and Joohee exchanged a wary glance before joining the rush forward.

The tunnel widened abruptly, and then they were no longer in a passage but standing at the threshold of something vast.

A pair of doors loomed before them, monstrous in size, carved from ancient stone that seemed to breathe an aura of weight and age. The surface was covered in strange markings, eroded yet still distinct enough to be unsettling. Their sheer presence dwarfed the group, their scale so immense it was difficult to imagine how human hands—or any hands—could have ever constructed them.

Curiosity began to seep into the others, overtaking the unease.

“Are those… doors?”

“They look ancient…”

“Maybe this is where the boss is hiding.”

The whispers built, nervous laughter bouncing between the stone walls. Fear hung above the group, but greed and curiosity decided to take charge and get rid of common sense.

Jinwoo hung back, unease coiling tighter in his chest. The hair at the nape of his neck prickled, a silent warning that made his grip on his dagger tighten. The little blade felt pitiful in his hand, useless, but he clutched it like a lifeline.

Song, ever the leader, stepped forward with two others. The three braced themselves against the heavy slabs of stone, muscles straining.

A low, grinding groan filled the chamber as the doors shifted, the sound so loud it seemed to rattle Jinwoo’s bones. Dust fell from above, dancing in the beams of their flashlights as the gap widened slowly.

The sound echoed down into the unseen depths beyond, like the dungeon itself was waking up.

Jinwoo’s stomach turned cold.

The doors creaked wider.

And wider.

Until the abyss beyond yawned open, waiting to swallow them whole.

—

A rush of stale air poured out, heavy and suffocating.

And beyond the doors… was another chamber.

Larger. Stranger.

A temple.

Pillars lined the walls, leading to a vast throne at the far end. Statues stood in neat rows, each one large and menacing. They clutched weapons, faces carved into twisted expressions of fury and reverence. At the center of the room was an altar, and etched into the stone floor were words in an ancient language.

The hunters filed in hesitantly, awed and unsettled.

“What is this place…?”

“Doesn’t look like any dungeon I’ve seen.”

“It feels… wrong.”

Jinwoo swallowed, his unease sharpening. His eyes flicked to the inscriptions on the floor, barely legible in the dim torchlight. He couldn’t read them, but the patterns of the characters seemed almost alive, vibrating faintly with menace.

His chest tightened.

Thoughts flashed through his head, all the safety lectures Jinchul had drilled into him came rushing back, about trusting your instincts, speaking up, never ignoring danger. If he weren’t so weak, so afraid of drawing attention, he would have said something already. If he were anything like Jinchul, he would’ve stood tall, voice steady and firm, calling out the threat without hesitation. But instead, Jinwoo stayed where he always did. At the back of the pack, silent, watching, hating the way it made him feel like a coward.

If Jinchul were here—no. He shook his head. He needs to steady himself, not cling to the idea of someone swooping in to anchor him. He had to stay sharp. He had to think.

But gods, it was hard to breathe when his instincts were screaming at him. It was hard not to hear Jinchul’s voice, calm and grounding, echoing in the back of his mind. You’re not alone, Jinwoo. You never have to be alone again.

He clung to the memory of that voice as the raid leader stepped forward, frowning at the altar.

“Alright. Spread out. Check the room. We’ll see if there’s anything worth taking.”

And so, the hunters did.

They ventured further into the room, the candles on the wall all lit up at once, illuminating the room with the bright flickering fire. 

The room itself had a dark almost foreboding atmosphere. It felt like an ominous presence was watching them, but it couldn’t mean anything… right?

no one else seems to have noticed or at least hadn’t pointed it out so Jinwoo kept quiet.

There was a lot of buzzing from the hunters present, people in awe of the torches and giant room.

Song was the one who spoke up. “I’ve never seen anything like this dungeon before. Now, Chop-Chop! Let’s all split up and take a look around.”

Everyone split up into mini groups, all being assigned a section to look at.

By this point, everyone was starting to get uneasy.

The stone statues.

Dozens of them lined the chamber, towering stone figures in robes, each one clutching a weapon or artifact. Their expressions were solemn, their eyes empty hollows that seemed to follow intruders with lifeless scrutiny.

Even in silence, their presence pressed down on the hunters like a weight. They were tall and imposing, all rusted and grimy from the amount of time they’ve been standing here.

“Each one is holding something different. Look, some are holding instruments.” People started to really comment on the state of the statues, some starting to become uneasy, why were the statues so creepy?

Jinwoo stared up at it all in trepidation. He had no clue what this meant nor what the purpose of these statues were.

Jinwoo turns to Joohee who is standing beside him. “Doesn’t it feel like someone’s watching us?” He muttered to her quietly

Joohee glares at him slightly, obviously uneasy as well. “Stop trying to freak me out Jinwoo”

Someone shouts from up front pointing to the statue in the middle. The statue was giant, the biggest one in the room, easily triple the size of all the other statues.

“That's not the boss, is it?”, “Nah. It’s just a statue.” People were starting to mumble, there are no beasts in this dungeon, the only thing in here were statues. Where was the final boss? Jinwoo didn’t have a good feeling about this at all.

Song then walks up to the centre of the room, to something like a divination circle. He inspects in more closely, others observing the rest of the room. Someone’s shout captures everyone's attention.

“Song!! There’s something written over here! I think you should take a look at this!”

The voice rang through the temple chamber, echoing off the stone walls.

Jinwoo turned his head, watching as the group clustered around one of the statues. This one was different. A rusted angelic figure, wings spread wide, its arms extended as though delivering judgment. In its hands it clutched a tablet, etched with worn script.

Song, the oldest among them and the one with the most experience, stepped forward. His brow furrowed as he studied the runes.

“Is this… a runic inscription?” he muttered, crouching lower to inspect it. His voice grew louder, carrying across the uneasy silence. “Commandments of the Cartenon Temple…”

The words scraped against Jinwoo’s nerves. A temple? In a dungeon? His grip on his dagger tightened unconsciously.

“One,” Song read, voice steady but grave. “Thou shall worship God.”

Jinwoo’s stomach sank.

“Two. Thou shall praise God.”

A chill slithered down Jinwoo’s spine.

Suddenly, he felt fingers clutching at the back of his hoodie. He flinched, twisting his head to find Joohee standing behind him, her face pale, her voice trembling.

“H-Hey, Jinwoo…” she whispered, pointing shakily.

He followed her gaze—and his blood ran cold.

At the far end of the temple stood a colossal statue, seated like a king upon a throne. Its massive head tilted ever so slightly downward, its hollow pupils glowing faintly in the dim light.

Joohee’s words cracked through the silence. “I-It was looking at us… its eyes moved.”

Jinwoo’s throat went dry. He forced out a whisper, though his heart hammered against his ribs. “What? No way… you must be mistaken.”

But even as he said it, he felt it too—that presence.

The silence deepened. It pressed in on him, suffocating, as though the air itself had thickened. His palms began to sweat, his legs heavy.

Why does it feel like something’s watching us?

No… not something. Someone.

And then, from the altar, Song’s voice broke the tension again.

“Three. Thou shall prove thy faith.”

Jinwoo swallowed hard. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from that statue. He could feel it—those glowing pupils weren’t still anymore. They were alive.

Song’s voice rose again, grim and final:

“Those who fail to obey these commandments… shall not be spared.”

SLAM!

The massive doors behind them swung shut with a thunderous crash. The sound echoed like the crack of doom.

Several hunters screamed, spinning around.

“The doors!”

“What the hell!! The doors closed!!”

“What do we do now—”

A younger hunter’s panic was cut short as a broad-shouldered man shoved past him. His face was twisted with rage, his jaw clenched.

“Damn it! I’m at the end of my rope!” he roared, storming toward the doors. His voice boomed through the chamber. “I’ve tried to be patient, but this nonsense is the final straw! We should’ve never come to this godforsaken dungeon in the first place!”

Jinwoo staggered forward, alarm rising in his chest.

The man slammed his palm against the sealed door, sneering back at the rest of them. “I’m leaving. Take all the bosses and treasure for yourselves—I don’t give a damn. Good luck!”

He reached for the handles.

“Stop!! Don’t touch the door handle!!” Song’s desperate cry rang out—

—but it was too late.

Vwoom!

A blur of motion cleaved the air. The statue nearest the door, once lifeless, suddenly shifted. Its stone spear sliced through the hunter’s neck with brutal efficiency.

The man’s head toppled from his shoulders. Blood sprayed across the sealed door in an arc, splattering onto the cold stone floor. His body crumpled, twitching once before collapsing in a heap.

A shrill scream tore through the chamber.

The statue stilled, its weapon once again at rest, returning to its position as if it had never moved. Only the grotesque stain of blood dripping from its stone spear betrayed what had happened.

The air reeked of iron.

Chaos erupted.

“Th-That thing moved!”

“It killed him!!”

“They can move—?!”

Everyone panicked, their voices blending into a cacophony of terror.

Joohee clung to Jinwoo’s arm, trembling violently. Her nails dug into his sleeve, her breath coming in shallow gasps. “W-We have to get out of here… Jinwoo, we can’t stay here—”

But Jinwoo didn’t answer her.

His eyes were locked on the corpse by the doors, on the pooling blood spreading across the floor. His chest heaved, nausea clawing at his throat. The stench of death was sharp, suffocating.

For a fleeting second, Jinwoo’s thoughts spiraled. This is what I’ve been walking into all these years. Death waiting for me, any second. Was this karma? For dragging myself into dungeons, for not doing anything and stupidly following the pack? 

His hands trembled violently. His thoughts scattered, slipping like sand through his fingers. He couldn’t think. Couldn’t breathe. He needed something—anything—to anchor him, to grab onto before he fell apart—

Jinchul.

The name surged up like a gasp for air. Not a conscious thought. He saw Jinchul’s face in his mind, his brows drawn in that quiet worry he always tried to hide, voice steady enough to cut through his panic. Grounding.

“Jinwoo. Breathe.”

Jinwoo sucked in a ragged breath. His chest still burned, his legs still shook, but he held onto that imagined voice like a lifeline, steadying himself, inch by inch, against the rising tide of fear.

But then—

He felt it.

A weight. A heavy presence, heavier than the terror of the other hunters.

Slowly, stiffly, Jinwoo turned his gaze back to the colossal statue seated on its throne.

And his heart stopped.

Its pupils were glowing.

Glowing—and staring straight at him.

—

The chamber was chaotic.

“Th-That thing is moving!” someone shrieked, their voice cracking with terror.

“You’re telling me we have to fight those statues?!” another hunter shouted, clutching his weapon with white knuckles.

Jinwoo’s jaw clenched, his own fear clawing at his ribs. Fight those statues? That was impossible. He replayed the image in his head, the spear cleaving through the D-rank hunter like he was paper. A single strike. Instant death.

And that hunter hadn’t been weak. D-rank. Stronger than Jinwoo by several leagues. If someone like that could be erased in a heartbeat, what chance did he have?

His gaze flicked around the chamber, over the countless stone giants standing sentinel. The walls bristled with them, each one clutching a weapon, each one looming with silent menace. This was supposed to be a D-rank dungeon. D-rank. The weakest category above E, something barely worth the Association’s attention.

But this? This was no D-rank dungeon.

A voice cut through his panic. “All of the statues here are able to move, so…” Song’s voice was tight, his hands shaking slightly as he gestured toward the massive figure at the far end. “…does that mean that one can move, too?”

The group followed his trembling finger.

The colossal statue seated on its throne loomed above them all, its pupils burning with faint, eerie light.

Jinwoo’s stomach twisted. He couldn’t look away. The longer he stared, the brighter those eyes seemed to glow—piercing straight into him, burning through his chest, his skin, his very bones.

It’s staring at me.

His heart lurched violently.

Beside him, Joohee whimpered, curling into herself. Her hands clutched his sleeve, trembling.

Jinwoo’s instincts screamed. He grabbed her shoulder, pulling her down sharply. “Everyone—duck down!!” he shouted, voice breaking with desperation.

The hunters froze, confusion and fear etched into their faces.

And then the glow in the statue’s eyes ignited into blinding brilliance.

A split-second later, beams of searing yellow light blasted out, sweeping the chamber in wide arcs.

Jinwoo tackled Joohee to the floor, pressing her beneath him as the beams scorched over their heads. The heat seared the air, stone walls splitting apart, molten rock spraying as the rays carved straight lines of destruction into the chamber.

The roar of stone shattering, hunters screaming, and the hiss of molten smoke filled the air.

Then—silence.

Dust rained from the ceiling. The walls groaned, chunks of stone crumbling and collapsing. The acrid stench of scorched rock and flesh clung to the air.

Jinwoo coughed, blinking through the haze. Slowly, he lifted himself up on one elbow, keeping Joohee shielded beneath him. His arms shook, his ears still ringing.

All around him, hunters stirred groggily, groaning in pain.

“Wake up!” someone shouted, urgency in their tone.

“Hey!” Another voice, closer. Jinwoo turned to see Park helping Kim to sit upright, clapping a hand on his shoulder.

On the far side of the room, a woman screamed. Jinwoo’s head snapped toward her. His stomach dropped when he saw it, her severed hand lying limp on the floor, fingers still twitching.

Blood pooled around her, spreading in dark rivulets.

“So many casualties…” Park muttered, scanning the room. His voice was hollow, exhausted.

Kim grimaced, his face pale. “I got out of the way by the skin of my teeth. If Sung hadn’t shouted out—” His voice cracked, the rest of the words dying on his tongue.

Jinwoo’s chest tightened. He forced himself upright, ignoring the pain in his ribs, still shielding Joohee.

She trembled violently beneath him, her breaths short and sharp. Tears welled in her eyes when she finally looked up at him, lips quivering.

His heart clenched painfully. She hadn’t even wanted to come on this raid. She wasn’t cut out for this—she was a healer, a B-rank on paper but fragile in spirit, someone who avoided combat whenever she could. And now she was trapped here in this nightmare.

He swallowed hard. I have to protect her. Even if I can’t protect myself, I have to protect her.

And then, against the tide of fear, a flicker of warmth spread in his chest. He had noticed the statue’s glow. He had realised what was coming before anyone else. He had shouted. And because of that, lives had been saved.

“Everyone, stay where you are!!” the raid leader’s bark cut across the chamber, drawing every head. He stood, blood streaking his face, but his voice rang strong.

“If you stand up, we’ll be attacked again! Stay low!”

A murmur rippled through the room, hunters clutching at their injuries, others still trembling in terror. But slowly, cautiously, they obeyed, keeping to the ground.

Jinwoo shifted, brushing dust from Joohee’s hair, trying to steady her. His chest ached at her fragile expression, but he couldn’t let it break him now.

“Jinwoo.”

He looked up. Song had moved closer, his face drawn with pain but his eyes sharp. The older man knelt beside him, resting a hand on Jinwoo’s shoulder. He glanced at Joohee, offering her a gentle smile before meeting Jinwoo’s gaze.

“Joohee can’t handle frightening situations,” he said softly, almost kindly. “That’s why she only takes easy raids, even though she’s a B-rank healer.”

Jinwoo looked at him, uncertain how to respond.

Song’s eyes softened further, his lips tugging into a faint smile. “Those who survived just now… did so because of you. Thank you.”

Heat rushed to Jinwoo’s face. He looked away, embarrassed, shaking his head. “I-I just sensed danger…”

Song sighed, but his smile lingered. “You really should listen to yourself more, kid. You just about saved everyone’s life in this goddamned room.” His gaze pinned Jinwoo in place, steady and warm. “You’re a smart kid. Give yourself more credit.”

The words landed like a weight in Jinwoo’s chest.

One good accomplishment to make up for his lack of action before. He’ll need to tell Jinah and Jinchul about it when he gets out of here. 

The thought came with a bittersweet ache. He could vividly picture Jinchul giving him that tiny smirk that lifted only one corner of his mouth, eyes bright, before reaching out to ruffle his hair or flick the back of his head.

‘Stop putting yourself down, Jinwoo. You’re sharper than half the idiots I work with.’

Jinwoo almost smiled at the memory. Almost.

But then his eyes caught something else. Blood.

“Mr. Song—your arm!” Jinwoo gasped.

Song grimaced, glancing down at the mangled limb. His sleeve was drenched in red, blood dripping steadily from a ragged wound just below his elbow.

“It’s bearable,” he said through clenched teeth. “Just… help me stop the bleeding.”

Jinwoo fumbled quickly through the first aid kit, pulling out bandages. His hands shook, but he forced them steady, wrapping the cloth tightly around Song’s arm, fashioning a crude tourniquet.

The silence between them stretched, heavy with unspoken dread.

Finally, Song broke it. His voice was low, thoughtful. “Sung… how high do you think that statue ranks?”

Jinwoo hesitated, knotting the bandage tighter. His voice was barely a whisper. “I’m not sure. I’ve never been on a raid higher than D-rank.”

Song’s jaw tightened. “I’ve been on B-rank raids before. But…” He paused, his eyes narrowing at the massive statue on the throne. “This place is way beyond B-rank. There weren’t any magical beasts in a B-rank dungeon strong enough to insta-kill someone.”

Jinwoo froze, his heart hammering in his chest.

Song’s voice was grim, final. “I think we both know what rank this dungeon is.”

S-rank.

The word crashed through Jinwoo like a guillotine. His hands trembled uncontrollably. S-rank. They were sitting in an S-rank dungeon, a place where only the strongest hunters in the world survived. He was E-rank. The weakest. His death felt inevitable, already written.

His breath hitched.

No. He shook his head violently. Thinking about death wouldn’t solve anything. He had Jinah waiting at home. Joohee trembling beside him. And Jinchul—

Jinchul, who had promised him he wouldn’t have to shoulder everything alone anymore.

Jinwoo forced himself to meet Song’s eyes. “Mr. Song… the ‘God’ in these commandments…” His gaze drifted to the throne, to the monstrous statue with its still-glowing eyes. “…it’s probably referring to that statue.”

As though it had heard him, the ominous pressure in the chamber deepened. The air grew heavier, suffocating. The hairs on Jinwoo’s arms stood on end.

Song leaned closer, his voice barely above a whisper. “Looks like it’s only a matter of time before we’re annihilated.”

—

Jinwoo tightened the tourniquet one last time, his fingers sticky with blood. The cloth darkened fast, already soaked through, but at least it slowed the flow. He leaned back on his heels, worry tugging at him.

“Are you going to be okay? You haven’t stopped bleeding yet.”

Song exhaled through his nose, weary but steady. “I don’t have a choice.”

His words were blunt, final. And yet, Jinwoo could see the exhaustion dragging at his features, the pain behind his forced calm.

The older hunter shifted uncomfortably, his jaw tight as he scanned the ruin of the chamber. “I thought we’d clear this dungeon with ease,” he muttered bitterly. “That’s why I only brought three healers, but…” His eyes roamed the room. Bodies slumped in corners, blood pooled in streaks, groans and whimpers echoing in the thick air. “…There’s no trace left of the one that was attacked.”

Jinwoo followed his gaze to the far side, where a younger hunter cowered behind a boulder, trembling so hard his weapon clattered against the stone. His face was pale, eyes glassy with shock.

Song’s voice softened. “Another one is sitting over there scared out of his mind.” He looked back at Jinwoo, regret flickering in his eyes. “I’m sorry I made the decision to come in here instead of going back. I know you didn’t want to be involved, and I effectively just sentenced you to death.”

Jinwoo didn’t respond right away. He didn’t need to. It was Song’s fault for suggesting they press forward but he hadn’t swayed the vote. Everyone had chosen. Still…

Jinwoo exhaled. Tired. I just hope… we can find a way out of here. Soon.

His throat tightened as his mind drifted home. He could almost smell the broth simmering on the stove, see Jinah bent over her homework, hear Jinchul’s easy laugh filling their small apartment. He still needed to cook dinner tonight. They’d all be waiting.

He couldn’t die here.

Song’s gaze hardened, pulling Jinwoo back to the present. “Once things have settled down, let’s try to figure out how to get out of here.”

Jinwoo nodded, scanning the room. Trembling bodies, shallow breaths, hushed attempts at comfort. This wasn’t a raid party anymore; it was a gathering of survivors waiting for death.

His mind replayed the moment at the doors. The statue cutting down the hunter who had tried to escape. Even if they avoided the throne’s lasers, the guardian at the exit would never let them through.

A sharp voice broke through the quiet.

“I refuse to die like this!”

Heads turned toward the speaker. A younger hunter, mullet brushing his collar, stood abruptly. His chest heaved as he clenched his fists, eyes blazing with wild desperation.

“I just signed with a major guild!” he shouted, as though that fact alone could shield him from death. His voice cracked, fury and fear lacing together.

Jinwoo’s stomach plummeted. “No—”

Song barked sharply, “Sit down!”

But the hunter wasn’t listening. His legs coiled, then—

Boom.

He launched forward in a desperate sprint, his speed decent for a lower-rank. His boots pounded against the stone, echoing across the cavern as he made for the massive doors. His jaw was set, his eyes locked on escape.

Jinwoo’s pulse spiked. His gaze shot to the throne.

The statue’s eyes lit gold.

“No! Stop! Get down!!” Jinwoo screamed, his voice raw with panic.

The hunter never even looked back.

A beam split the air, swallowing him whole.

The blast was instantaneous. Golden light engulfed his body, searing brighter than the sun. In a blink, he was gone. Only his feet—his feet—remained, still standing for an instant before collapsing lifelessly to the floor.

The smell hit next. Burnt flesh.

The chamber was silent, save for the sound of those feet hitting stone.

And then came the screams.

Hunters wailed, some collapsing, others clawing at their hair in horror. The raw terror in their voices scraped against Jinwoo’s ears until it blurred into a muffled ringing, as though he were submerged underwater.

He stared, frozen. His chest heaved, his heart slamming so violently it hurt. His whole body trembled—fear, grief, something breaking apart inside him.

He’d seen death before. Too many times since entering this cursed dungeon. But this—this felt like the last straw. The crack that split him open.

Song’s voice, unsteady but firm, cut through the noise. “This means it can annihilate us at any time.”

Jinwoo’s teeth ground together. His breath came sharp.

“They could kill us all right now…” His voice was hoarse, cracking. “…so why haven’t they?”

Song’s frown deepened. “Good question.”

Jinwoo forced himself to look back at the god-statue. The throne. The glowing eyes. He studied it harder, straining to find sense in its silence.

Why aren’t they killing us?

His thoughts shifted. Back to the door. The guard statue that had slain the first man instantly when he approached. A sentinel. A guardian meant to stop escape.

Then, the god on the throne—obliterating anyone who dared move freely.

Patterns. Rules.

His heart pounded faster, this time not just from fear but from realisation.

The commandments. The stone angel’s script they’d read when this horror began.

The answer had been there from the start.

Jinwoo’s eyes widened. How stupid could he have been? 

“Their attacks… are based on rules,” he whispered.

Hope flickered through him, fragile but burning. A stupid idea. But an idea nonetheless.

And if it worked…

He shifted onto his knees, steadying himself. His pulse thundered in his ears as his gaze lifted back to the throne.

Thou shalt worship God.

God.

The word echoed, chilling and sharp.

He pushed to his feet.

Song’s voice cracked in panic. “What are you doing?!” His hand shot out as though to grab Jinwoo back down. “Are you crazy? Sit down!”

Jinwoo’s heart pounded, his body screaming to obey. But he kept his eyes on the statue.

“If what I’m thinking is true…” His voice shook, but he forced it steady, wrapping it in false confidence.

Song’s eyes widened in disbelief. “You’re insane.”

Jinwoo’s lips pressed thin, his jaw tight. He ignored Song’s protests, standing tall before the god.

The statue’s eyes flared gold, brilliant and merciless.

Every instinct screamed at him to run, to hide, to throw himself down and beg for his life.

His breath hitched. His knees buckled—

And he dropped, heart hammering as he pressed himself flat to the floor.

The light flickered, then dimmed.

The statue’s eyes returned to their cold, lifeless stare.

Jinwoo’s breath tore from his chest in a shuddering gasp. He dared a glance upward, sweat dripping down his temple.

Song stared, wide-eyed.

Jinwoo’s lips quirked faintly, bitter and grim. “I was right. That statue doesn’t attack all moving beings…”

He swallowed hard, the adrenaline still rattling his bones. “…It attacks if you’re above a certain height.”

Jinwoo’s chest burned, breath ragged, but he forced himself to kneel again. The others needed to hear him.

He turned, forcing his voice to project though it trembled. “We all need to bow towards the god statue.”

For a heartbeat, silence hung.

Then came the laughter. Bitter, incredulous.

“You’re joking, right?” one sneered, his face twisted in disbelief. “You want us to kneel to a rock?”

A chorus followed. Scoffs, mutters, angry protests.

“Why should we listen to an E-rank?”
“This is insane.”
“He’s lost it. He’s lost it!”

The panic clawed higher, voices overlapping into chaos.

But Song’s voice cut clean through the noise. Calm, deliberate. He was staring straight at Jinwoo, searching his eyes. “You’ve figured something out, haven’t you?”

Jinwoo met his gaze. The older hunter’s trust pressed heavy on him, but it steadied him, too. He swallowed and nodded stiffly, eyes darting back to the throne. The pressure of that thing’s gaze pressed against his skull, heavy and suffocating.

“That’s what Thou shall worship God means,” he shouted over the ruckus. His voice cracked but he forced it louder, more certain. “So I suggest—if you don’t want to die—you bow to these stupid statues.”

He straightened his spine, glaring out at the crowd, daring them to defy him.

For a moment, no one moved. The silence stretched.

Then one hunter cursed under his breath and got on his knees. Another followed. The ripple spread, resentment simmering in a few glares, but no one dared test him. Soon, the room shifted, hunters pressing down into crouches and bows. Some pressed their heads low to the ground. Others knelt half-heartedly, muttering bitter curses through clenched teeth.

Jinwoo’s chest tightened. He felt a strange rush—pride, relief, maybe both. He let himself imagine Jinchul’s smirk, the way he’d clap him on the shoulder for taking command. So this is what it feels like for him… to be the one everyone listens to.

He lowered himself, knees scraping the cold stone. The chill bled through his pants, into his bones. His heart thundered as he dared a glance upward.

And froze.

The god-statue’s eyes dimmed. The suffocating gold light flickered out into nothingness.

The danger had passed. For now.

But then came something worse.

A shadow slithered across the chamber. A presence, thick and dark, oozed from the statue like tar. 

Jinwoo trembled slightly, mind buzzing with the repeated words of death, death, death and the need to get out of here… he’s going to die—

It grinned

The carved stone mouth stretched wider, cruel, predatory. Jinwoo’s breath hitched. He forced himself not to look away, not to bolt like prey before a predator. Every instinct screamed at him to run. To hide. To curl into nothing.

Instead, he clenched his fists until his nails dug into his palms, bowing his head low again. His thoughts whirled, frantic. How many survivors are left? How many more will die before we get out? How many…

A voice broke the tension.

“…I think its attacks have stopped,” Park muttered, halfway rising from his crouch.

“Stay down!” someone snapped.

But Park’s eyes widened as he stood taller, relief flooding his features. “L-look! Its eyes— they’re not glowing anymore!”

“No, don’t just—” Kim shouted from beside him, voice cracking.

But Park was already grinning, throwing his arms up. “I told you! It stopped attacking!”

The chamber erupted in relieved voices.

“Seriously? We made it?”

“It’s over?”

“We survived!”

Hunters laughed, shaky and unhinged, adrenaline spilling into giddy relief.

But Jinwoo stared ahead, horror hollowing him out. His gut twisted, dread screaming louder than the cheers.

No. It isn’t over.

The ground rumbled beneath his knees.

Then—boom.

The god-statue rose.

The throne cracked beneath its weight as it stepped forward, each motion shaking the chamber. The floor split in craters where its feet landed, the sound like distant thunder pounding straight into their bones.

Hunters screamed, stumbling as the ground trembled.

“We’re not fighting that thing, right?!” one cried, voice breaking.

Song spun toward Jinwoo, desperation raw in his voice. “Sung Jinwoo! Got any other tricks up your sleeve?!”

Jinwoo’s chest tightened, panic pressing at his throat. He shook his head, guilt crashing over him. I don’t know. I don’t know what else to do—

The statue’s gaze locked on him.

For a terrifying moment, its golden eyes bored into his very core. He could feel it—like it wanted him, specifically.

Then, it turned its gaze away. Toward the doors.

Jinwoo sucked in a shuddering breath. His imagination? Or was he being singled out?

The floor quaked again as it lifted its massive foot, shadows swallowing the room. Screams rose sharper now, panic threatening to spiral.

Jinwoo snapped up, forcing his voice through the fear. “This dungeon has a set of rules!”

The words boomed louder than the chaos, halting some of the panic. His eyes darted to the angel-script. His chest heaved as he shouted again. “The first one is Thou shall worship God!”

Murmurs rippled. Frantic.

“Then what’s next?!”

“The second rule, what’s it say?!”

Jinwoo’s eyes scanned desperately. His throat felt dry as stone as he forced the words out. “The second one is—Thou shall praise God!”

The panic exploded anew.

“Praise? What the hell does that mean?!”

“Do we clap? Chant?!”

“What does praising even look like?!”

“Stop panicking!” Song barked, though his own voice trembled. “Just… say something respectful!”

The crowd scrambled, voices tumbling over one another.

“Great… uh… mighty god,” one hunter stammered, raising his voice awkwardly.

Another tried to copy, their words tumbling over each other, voices overlapping in a chaotic chorus of forced reverence.

“Glory to you, god of—uh, of statues—”

“Praise be! Praise be!”

The words overlapped, hollow echoes bouncing off the walls. Desperation thickened the air, choking Jinwoo’s throat. His lips moved before he realised it, his whisper swallowed by the chaos. “…Praise be.”

The absurdity of it all clawed at him. Bowing, chanting at a rock, begging for mercy like ants before a boot. But terror pushed the words out anyway.

“This is ridiculous,” a voice sneered from the back. A hunter with short dark hair stepped forward, eyes narrowing in thought. “I think it means… hymns.”

“What?!” someone barked.

Another hunter stepped forward. A hunter with long dark hair and a determined face.  “I used to sing in a church choir,” the hunter declared, voice shaking only slightly. Determination hardened his expression. “I’ll give it a shot. I’m confident in hymns.”

Jinwoo’s chest clenched. No—don’t…

But the man had already stepped forward, striding up to the base of the throne. He closed his eyes, clutching the cross around his neck, and raised his voice.

“Lord, I stand before you.”

The words echoed solemnly. The chamber seemed to hush.

“Renew my spirit…”

The statue’s grin deepened. Its massive foot began to rise.

“...And shower me with grace, Lord.”

Jinwoo’s pulse spiked, sweat slick on his palms. His gut screamed at him. Stop. Stop, stop, stop—

“I’ve come to see the weakness within me. Let it be washed away… by the power of your love.”

The statue’s shadow swallowed him whole.

Kim whispered hoarsely beside Jinwoo, “Is it responding?”

Park, voice trembling, muttered, “It feels like… it’s moving slower.”

Jinwoo’s nails bit into his skin. No. No, it’s not—

“Like an eagle flapping its wings, I rise—”

The statue’s eyes blazed. Its grin widened, cruel and gleeful.

“—I rise with you, Lord, and walk with thee.”

The foot loomed above, blotting out what little light filled the chamber.

Sweat beaded down the hunter’s temple. Still, his voice did not falter. “With your love, Lord—”

Jinwoo’s breath hitched as the foot paused, lingering just above. The grin stretched wider, mocking, hungry.

He’s praising the wrong god.

“—your love keeps me in your presence—”

No.

Squash.

The foot slammed down.

The sound was wet, final. Blood spattered outward, painting the stone in dark streaks. Bits of cloth, bone, and flesh crushed under an impossible weight.

The chamber rang with silence, broken only by the slow drip of blood sliding off the statue’s foot.

Jinwoo stared, hollow. The sound of screams dimmed again, muffled by the haze in his skull.

Blood. The ground slick with it. His vision swam with red.

He didn’t move. He couldn’t. His chest rose and fell in shallow gasps as his mind spun.

The god had smiled. And it had killed again.

—

The screaming roared back to life.

The brief silence after the choir hunter’s death shattered into chaos as hunters bolted in every direction.

“Ahhh!”

“Help me!”

“Run!”

Boom.

The god-statue stepped forward, slow and deliberate. Each step crushed the ground and sent a deep tremor through the chamber. It grinned still, that same carved, merciless smile as its gaze followed the scattering mortals.

Boom.

Its foot came down again, on top of another hunter too slow to escape. A wet crunch followed, screams doubling in pitch.

Jinwoo didn’t think, he just grabbed Joohee’s trembling hand and hauled her up. “Run!” he shouted, dragging her with him as Song sprinted at his side.

Song’s voice cut across the chamber, raw and commanding. “It’s dangerous to stay in groups! Everyone, split up!”

Jinwoo’s lungs burned, his legs aching already, but he nodded through the panic. He clutched Joohee’s hand tighter, dragging her as her sobs spilled freely. She was shaking, eyes wide, lips moving but no sound coming out.

I’ll get you out. I swear I will.

Around them, hunters were breaking down, sobbing, screaming, begging for a way out.

“Please—someone, help—”

“I don’t want to die!”

Park stumbled back into a corner of the room, his face pale, eyes darting frantically.

“Park! Behind you!” Kim’s voice cracked as he screamed.

But Park turned too late.

A massive stone blade sliced him neatly in half. His eyes bulged in horror as his body split, each half collapsing to the blood-slick ground.

The guard statue withdrew its sword, resuming its rigid stance as if nothing had happened.

Then, one by one, the other wall statues began to stir.

Stone axes lifted. Spears gleamed. Maces swung. Shields raised.

The chamber erupted into even greater chaos. Hunters darted wildly, trying to avoid the strikes. Blood splashed across the cracked stone floor as bodies fell, one after another.

Jinwoo kept running, pulling Joohee as far as he could from both the god-statue and the animated guards. His chest heaved. His mind spun.

Thou shall praise God.

His thoughts repeated it in a fevered loop.

Thou shall praise God. Thou shall praise God.

Jinwoo’s breathing turns erratic, he tries to suck in air, ragged and sharp, but it wasn’t enough. His chest felt tight, like he was drowning.

Breathe, Jinwoo. Think about something—anything. Think about Jinah or Jinchul. About how he steadies you, how he always breathes through the panic. Steady and controlled. Calm down, Jinwoo. You can’t fall apart here.

Jinwoo exhaled, shaking. His hands trembled even as he forced his grip firm on Joohee’s.

What would Jinchul do?

He looked back. Behind him loomed the god-statue, eyes glowing gold.

Ahead of him, hunters were being slaughtered by the advancing stone guards. Spears pierced flesh, hammers crushed bone. The screams wouldn’t stop.

Weapons… swords, axes, spears…

And then his eyes caught it.

Among the weapons, some statues held something else entirely.

…Instruments.

A trumpet raised to stone lips. A violin clutched in marble hands.

Jinwoo’s breath caught. Can they… attack with those too? Or…

His heart hammered. The rules. Always rules.

If the statues acted when approached—then maybe the instruments weren’t meant to kill.

His pulse spiked with sudden clarity.

He spun toward the survivors, shouting with everything in him. “Everyone—go to the statues holding instruments!”

For once, no one hesitated. Desperation overrode doubt, and hunters scrambled.

Song darted toward a stone figure clutching a horn. The moment he stepped in front of it—

A clear note rang out, echoing through the chamber..

Song froze, blinking in disbelief. “Did it… just play?”

The others saw, and hope surged. Hunters rushed to statues with violins, flutes, and drums.

One knelt before a violinist, as he sat down at her feet, the statue’s bow drew across strings. A trembling melody filled the air. The hunter wept openly, relief flooding his face. the other alive hunters racing to stand under a statue with an instrument.

Jinwoo sprints, dragging Joohee behind him as she continues to tremble, looking around terrified. Still not responding.

They reach a statue clutching a bass drum. He skidded to a stop. “Play—damn it, play!”

The statue remained motionless.

Jinwoo, confused, glares at it. He then glances back and sees the God statue come closer, his stomach twisting. “Come on!” He slammed his fist against the stone base. “Do it!”

Nothing.

Joohee’s wide eyes brimmed with tears as she stared up at the silent drummer.

Jinwoo’s gaze darted around, frantic. He looks around at the people standing in front of instruments and notices something. Each statue only played for one person.

Jinwoo looks at Joohee, tears flowing down her face with more vigor.

Jinwoo takes a breath.

“Stay here,” he rasped, heart pounding. He pushed Joohee toward the drummer, ignoring her desperate grip on his sleeve. “It’ll work for you. Stay.”

Jinwoo’s heart hammers as he leaves Joohee with the drummer and sprints off to find another statue.

“Jinwoo!” she sobbed, clutching at him as he tore away. Her voice broke with desperation, but he forced himself forward.

I can’t protect her if I die here. I have to find my own way.

The god-statue paused at the drummer’s beat, its golden eyes swiveling toward Joohee. Then its gaze shifted—grinning wider as it turned to watch Jinwoo sprint alone.

Jinwoo rushes past a bunch of other statues with weapons, trying to find one with an instrument.

His lungs burned. His legs screamed and his vision blurred.

He pants, legs threatening to give out. Jinwoo was used to running for his life, but never like this. If I survive this… I swear I’ll train. I’ll build stamina. I’ll never be this weak again.

Jinwoo is desperate. Just a little further.

A giant foot towers right above Jinwoo’s head.

Boom!

A massive foot crashed down where he’d just been, sending him stumbling forward as the ground cracked and gave way.

The stone floor collapsed beneath him, turning into a jagged slide of rubble. He tumbled, rock scraping against his arms, his body battered. Dust filled his mouth as he gasped for air.

Jinwoo slides down it, trying to avoid getting hit with giant pieces of the floor. He hears a shout behind him.

“Jinwoo, you’re going the wrong way!” Song’s voice shouted desperately from above.

Jinwoo’s eyes widened. Ahead, a statue with a massive shield loomed.

That’s not an instrument.

Jinwoo is unable to stop or slow down. He reaches the statue as it raises its shield a little higher.

“No—!”

The shield raised, then slammed down.

SLAM.

The impact rocked his body, agony lancing through his leg. The world went white-hot.

“Jinwoo!” Joohee’s scream carried across the chamber.

His ears rang. His breaths came shallow, fast. He coughed as smoke and dust filled the air, refusing to look at the crimson pooling beneath him.

Keep going. Don’t stop. Move.

He clawed at the cracked stone, dragging himself forward, every motion sending white-hot pain through his body. His vision swam, his arms trembling as adrenaline barely held him together.

He prays, desperate. He needs to survive.

Jinah. Jinchul. I can’t die here. Not here.

His body wanted to give out. His will refused.

Then—

Music.

Sweet, melodic notes drifted through the chamber, glowing faintly against the oppressive darkness.

Jinwoo lifted his head weakly. Through blurred vision, he saw the outline of a statue-woman cradling a harp. Her fingers plucked the strings, releasing a harmony so beautiful it cut through the screams, through the blood, through everything.

The God statue froze, unmoving. Its grin faltered. It went still.

Joohee rushed toward him, her cries piercing through the haze. “Jinwoo! Are you okay?!”

He forced himself to sit up, every muscle screaming in protest. “Yeah… more or less.” His lips twitched, a pathetic attempt at reassurance.

She skidded to his side, eyes going wide as she gasped, covering her mouth with shaking hands.

“Oh my god… Jinwoo…” Her voice cracked, tears spilling fast.

Confused, he blinked slowly, exhaustion weighing him down. “What’s wrong?”

He looked down.

The puddle of blood.

The twisted ruin of flesh below his knee.

Or what had once been his leg.

His breath stuttered. 

He looked up.

Dead bodies sprawled across the floor, blood soaking every jagged crack of the dungeon stone. The stench was unbearable, metallic and thick, clawing at Jinwoo’s throat.

And there—just a few feet away—lay his leg.

The sight alone nearly broke him. He forced his gaze elsewhere, focusing on breathing, shallow and ragged. If he let himself think about that severed limb, about how it used to be part of him, he’d spiral into madness.

“Hang in there just a little longer, Jinwoo!” Joohee’s trembling voice was frantic. She knelt beside him, both hands pressed over the stump, her healing light flickering erratically. Sweat dripped from her pale face. She was shaking violently, her nose bleeding from overuse of mana.

“That’s enough, Joohee…” Jinwoo rasped, barely lifting his head. His lips twitched in something resembling a smile. “You can stop now… it won’t matter. It’s already gone.”

She shook her head furiously, tears streaming down her cheeks. “No! I can heal you—I have to heal you—” She coughed hard, forcing the spell to continue.

He reached up weakly, brushing her arm in a feeble push. His smile softened, pained but gentle. “If you keep going like this, you’ll collapse. Save your strength.”

She sniffled, biting her lip as the light wavered, refusing to give up even as her body broke down.

Nearby, the few survivors had gathered, their expressions grim. Song leaned against a broken column, his face pale, blood soaking the torn fabric where his arm used to be.

“Do you think he’s gonna be okay?” Song asked quietly, his brows knitting together.

Kim exhaled sharply, arms crossed. His face was tight, shadows deep under his eyes. “…It looks really bad.”

“At least he’s still breathing,” Song muttered, though he winced as his gaze swept the ruin around them.

Kim’s eyes narrowed. “We started this raid with nineteen members. Only six of us are left.” His voice was flat, heavy with accusation.

Song glanced at him, jaw tight.

Kim’s stare hardened, his voice cutting like a blade. “Out of those six, two are seriously injured.” His gaze flicked toward Jinwoo’s bloodied body before returning to the raid leader. “Song, you need to take responsibility for this.”

Song’s expression collapsed into guilt, his shoulders sinking.

Jinwoo glared weakly at Kim, summoning every ounce of defiance he had left. He thought of Jinchul—of that sharp, unyielding glare that could silence an entire room—and tried to mimic it, even as his head spun. “Don’t… forget,” he croaked, his voice shaking but firm, “you agreed to continue too.”

Kim’s lips pressed into a thin line, but before he could answer—

Stomp.

The dungeon shook violently. Dust rained down from the ceiling as the giant god-statue stirred.

“That bastard… it’s moving again?!”

The hunters scrambled, fear twisting their faces.

The god-statue extended its hand. The ground split, the entire chamber rumbling as if the earth itself was groaning.

Cracks spiderwebbed outward. Then, from the very center of the room, something began to rise. Stone grinded against stone, ascending higher and higher until it towered above them all.

A platform.

An altar.

The god-statue stood still, arm still outstretched, as if presenting its creation.

Kim’s voice trembled as he stared at it. “What… what is that?”

Jinwoo’s chest tightened. He knew. Deep down, he already knew. His lips parted, his voice hoarse but certain. “…An altar.”

Everyone turned to him.

“An altar?” Song echoed, disbelief in his voice.

“Yes.” Jinwoo’s eyes didn’t leave the towering structure. “Like in myths. Altars are used to offer sacrifices to God…”

The room seemed to shrink around them.

He continued, his voice quieter now, almost bitter. “Sacrifices could be livestock. Cows, pigs, sheep… But sometimes, children. Maidens.” His eyes flicked to the terrified faces around him.

“And the third commandment is…” His lips twisted into a hollow smile, the pain eating away at him. “…Thou shall prove thy faith.”

A silence fell. Heavy. Crushing.

Then—

Shing.

Kim unsheathed his sword, the sound splitting the air. He grinned, but it wasn’t relief—it was sharp, cruel, predatory.

“I might not be the brightest,” he said, voice dripping with menace, “but even I get what you’re saying.” He raised the blade, pointing it directly at Song.

Song’s eyes widened, though he didn’t flinch.

“You’re saying we have to offer a sacrifice.” Kim’s teeth ground together. “Then I think we all know who should go.”

He pressed the edge closer, nicking Song’s neck. A thin line of red appeared.

“Who dragged us here in the first place?” Kim snarled. “It was you, Song Chiyul.” His voice grew louder, more furious with each word. “Park died thinking about his wife. Twelve others were slaughtered because of your call!”

Song bowed his head, shame heavy in every line of his body.

“You said you’d take responsibility.” Kim’s eyes burned. “Then prove it. Right here. Right now.”

Jinwoo’s blood boiled, rage slicing through his pain. He forced his voice out, cracking but fierce. “This is your fault too! You—”

“Shut up!” Kim barked, his sword never wavering from Song’s throat. His glare pinned Jinwoo, who flinched back, teeth clenched.

The dungeon felt smaller with every breath. The altar loomed, the god-statue’s grin never fading.

For the first time since Kim’s blade touched his neck, Song raised his eyes. He didn’t look at Kim. He looked at Jinwoo.

“Kim is right,” Song said quietly, his voice carrying with a strange steadiness. “I have to take responsibility.” His eyes softened—apologetic, almost fatherly—as if to assure Jinwoo it was all right.

Jinwoo’s stomach twisted.

Song pushed the blade away with his good hand. “Put that sword away. I’ll walk to the altar myself.”

Without waiting for argument, he turned and began the long, slow march toward the raised platform at the room’s center. His steps were heavy, unsteady, his severed arm hanging uselessly at his side.

“No…” Jinwoo muttered, teeth grinding. His entire body screamed in protest as he shoved himself up, ignoring Joohee’s frantic hand reaching for him. “No, this is wrong!”

“Jinwoo!” she cried, panic lacing her voice.

He didn’t stop. Couldn’t stop. Every nerve was on fire, his missing leg threatening to drag him back to the ground, but he forced himself forward anyway.

This is stupid! There has to be another way!

We decided together. He remembered it clearly. They had all voted. Even this bastard—Kim—had voted to keep going. How could they pin everything on Mr. Song now?

It would be cowardly. Cowardly to let Song walk into that deathtrap alone.

Song reached the altar. He paused at its base, staring down at the intricate engravings etched into the stone. Lines that twisted into circles. Patterns that bled into symbols. Every mark whispered of death, of sacrifice.

Then—whoosh.

A spark of fire burst into existence at Song’s feet. A lone flame flickered beside the altar, glowing eerily orange.

“What the—?!” Kim’s jaw dropped. His eyes went wide. “What’s happening?!”

Song startled, but quickly looked across the room to Jinwoo, his voice trembling for the first time. “Hey, Sung! Did I do something wrong?!”

Jinwoo froze, his chest heaving. What does this mean…?

Everyone turned toward him, expectant, desperate. The pressure nearly crushed him.

“…I want to see the altar myself,” Jinwoo said finally. His voice was quiet but firm. “Can someone help me up?”

Joohee immediately shook her head. “No! You can’t—”

He locked eyes with her. Whatever she saw there, either stubbornness, fire, maybe even Jinchul’s shadow, stole the protest from her lips. Her face twisted with frustration and pain, but she stayed silent.

Two hunters stepped forward, lifting Jinwoo carefully by the arms. He clenched his jaw against the agony and limped toward the altar.

“Jinwoo!” Joohee called after him, but he didn’t look back.

As soon as his foot touched the inner circle, three more flames burst to life around the altar’s edge, encircling them in firelight.

His eyes widened. The flames… they’re tied to people.

Turning toward Song, he asked quietly, “If we wait here… will rescue teams eventually come?”

Song’s face twisted into a grimace. “…Today makes one week since this gate first opened.”

Jinwoo’s blood ran cold.

Song continued, voice heavy. “If reinforcements were coming, they would have been here by now. Those statues will make their move long before anyone arrives.”

“One week…” Jinwoo muttered. His fists clenched at his sides. They left it until the last minute? Because it was only D-rank?

Song’s lips curled bitterly. “That’s the Hunter’s Association for you.” Oh, Jinwoo will be having a talk to Jinchul about this.

He turned toward the others—Kim and Joohee—who stood frozen on the other side of the chamber. “The number of flames matches the number of people on the altar. I think all of us need to be here before anything happens!” His voice cracked as he shouted, frustration bleeding through. “Stop standing there and get over here already—especially you, you ugly-faced bastard!”

Kim bristled, his glare cutting like a knife, but Joohee moved first. Hesitant, trembling, she stepped onto the altar. Her flame sprang to life, flickering brightly.

Kim cursed under his breath, hesitated, then finally followed.

Two more flames ignited in a 

burst, the circle complete.

Then—crackle.

Blue light surged through the cracks in the altar’s surface, racing along the engravings like veins filling with fire. The glow intensified, spreading outward until the entire platform shone with electric brilliance. The orange flames were suddenly joined by blue companions, a circle of otherworldly fire surrounding them. The crackling echoed through the vast chamber, eerie and alive.

The hunters stood still, their faces pale in the unnatural glow, waiting for whatever came next.

Creaaak.

All heads snapped toward the doors.The massive gates—shut tight since the nightmare began—were yawning open.

“What—?!” Song’s eyes widened.

“The doors… opened?!” Kim’s voice cracked, disbelief sharp in every syllable.

Gasps and shouts filled the chamber, hope flaring wildly.

Jinwoo stared at the opening, heart pounding. The exit… after all this time.

But something was wrong. It was too simple. Too easy. He narrowed his eyes, refusing to let himself hope. No. Not yet. This dungeon hasn’t finished with us.

And then—he saw it.

A single blue flame fizzled out beside him.

No one else noticed. But Jinwoo did. His gut dropped.

Creaaak… BOOM.

The ground quaked. Heavy stone footsteps reverberated through the chamber.

Kim paled. “What is it this time?!”

And then—

Grind.

One by one, the statues lining the walls shuddered.

Their weapons raised, their limbs groaned, their stone eyes flared to life.

The entire army began to move.

—

The blue flames sputtered, one after another, each flicker vanishing into nothingness. Their disappearance felt like a heartbeat slowing, a countdown to the inevitable. The statues marched forward, every booming step echoing doom across the chamber walls.

“W-what should we do?”

“What’s going on, damn it?!”

Their fear was thick enough to choke on. The two hunters holding Jinwoo up were trembling so badly he could feel the shakes in their arms. He wanted to curse, wanted to scream. Damn it, hold steady! But his own legs were gone, and he knew, terrifyingly well, that without them, he was just as fragile as they were.

The statues pressed closer.

Jinwoo forced his ragged breath steady, sweat stinging his eyes. His body screamed, every nerve aflame, but he didn’t let himself blink. Not when one of the soldiers loomed beside him.

Its foot slammed down, the sound rattling his bones.

And then… it stopped.

Jinwoo froze. His heart skipped. He turned his head toward another statue stalking nearer.

It, too, stilled.

His lips parted. No way…

A laugh, thin and bitter, crawled up his throat. His chest burned as he forced his head to stay lifted.

He glanced sideways. Joohee had her face buried in her hands, her shoulders shaking violently. Fear had her locked in its grip.

Jinwoo gritted his teeth. No, not like this. If she closes her eyes…

Slowly, painfully, he lifted his hand and set it gently on her trembling shoulder. She flinched at the touch, eyes squeezing tighter.

“Don’t close your eyes, Joohee,” he said softly. His voice cracked, but there was a steady thread under it. A thread he tried to imagine was Jinchul’s calm steel.

Her hands lowered just enough for him to glimpse her wide, wet eyes.

Good.

Jinwoo straightened—or as much as his broken body allowed. His voice rose, trembling but clear. “You have to keep looking at the statues!”

Faces snapped toward him.

He pressed on, forcing his words out with ragged urgency. “Think of those games we used to play as kids—the rules are the same!”

Confusion rippled through them, but the statues had stopped in their tracks. Jinwoo’s heart hammered harder. “They’ll come closer if you stop looking at them! Don’t—don’t look away, no matter what!”

As if to prove his point, he fixed his gaze on the same soldier beside him. It halted again, frozen mid-step.

“Don’t look away from the statues!” Jinwoo shouted, voice hoarse, lungs burning.

And then—another blue flame sputtered and died.

The statues inched closer to the altar, their shadows lengthening over the hunters.

The hunter supporting Jinwoo on his left whimpered, squeezing her eyes shut for a heartbeat too long.

BOOM.

A soldier’s foot slammed down, breaching the glowing circle of the altar.

The woman screamed. In the next instant, she tore away from Jinwoo and sprinted toward the doors.

“Stop! Don’t—!” Jinwoo’s voice shredded his throat, but it was too late.

Her flame blew out the moment her feet left the altar.

The chamber shook with her frantic footsteps as she darted between the towering guardians. The massive doors groaned open just a little more, letting her through.

And then—she was gone.

Everyone froze. The silence was deafening.

“She… she made it,” someone whispered.

“She actually got through…”

Kim’s eyes were wide, disbelief etched across his face. “W-what the…?”

Jinwoo stared at the door, his blood running cold. His heart told him the truth before his brain caught up. No… it’s too easy. Too clean. 

Still, the voices around him swelled.

“She escaped!”

“The doors closed a little, but… she made it!”

Hope, false and dangerous, spread like fire through dry grass.

Jinwoo’s gaze swept back to the altar. Another blue flame fizzled out. His jaw clenched. The blue flames die on their own over time. But the orange ones, the ones tied to us, they disappear when someone runs.

His eyes flicked between the five remaining orange flames circling them. Five. It’s just us now.

He swallowed, mind whirling despite the haze of pain.

The first commandment was worship. The second was praise. Both had their twisted answers, but answers nonetheless.

This last one… prove thy faith.

Jinwoo’s hands curled into fists. The open doors aren’t salvation. They’re temptation. Proof of faith means staying here, holding our ground even when everything screams at us to run.

The realisation chilled him to the bone.

Beside him, the hunter who had been supporting his weight began trembling violently. His voice cracked, almost childlike. “I-I’m sorry… I can’t do this anymore…”

“No—wait!” Jinwoo reached for him, but the man shoved him off.

Jinwoo hit the altar hard, pain blooming white-hot in his side.

“Damn it!” He tried to force himself up, but the man was already sprinting.

Another orange flame sputtered out.

“Stop! You idiot, stop!” Jinwoo’s roar echoed uselessly across the chamber.

The hunter fled through the doors, disappearing just like the woman before him.

Jinwoo’s chest heaved, fury and dread boiling together.

Now there were only four flames left.

Only Joohee. Song. Kim. And himself.

“…Uh…” Kim stammered, his usual sharpness blunted into shock. Joohee stood pale, trembling, her hands clasped to her chest.

Jinwoo gritted his teeth, dragging himself upright on shaking arms. His voice tore through the chaos, raw and furious.

“Don’t move!” His throat burned, his words jagged and sharp. “We can’t have any more people leave!”

His shout cracked, but he forced the steel into it, the kind of steel he’d always admired in Jinchul.

“If any more of us leave, a blind spot is created—and we’ll all die!”

The altar burned around them, the statues pressed closer, and Jinwoo’s voice was the only thread holding them together.

Song’s voice cracked across the altar, raw and frantic.
“Sung, what’s happening? You need to explain to us what’s going on!” He never once turned his eyes away from the looming soldiers, but panic shook every syllable.

Jinwoo swallowed hard, forcing his throat to work. “Keep looking at the statues. That’s all we have to do—stay still and keep our eyes open. Until the blue flames all go out.”

He raised a trembling hand toward the flickering circle of fire. “The blue flames… they’re a timer.”

Song’s breathing hitched, strained. “What you’re saying might be true but…” His words faltered into silence, then rose again, weighted and heavy. “…Realistically, there’s still a chance the doors will shut once time runs out, no?”

Slowly, fearfully, his gaze tore away from the statues to meet Jinwoo’s eyes. “Are you sure about this?”

Jinwoo faltered, his voice catching. He wasn’t sure. Not even close. His gut screamed this was the only answer, but what if he was wrong? What if staying meant waiting to be slaughtered?

His chest tightened, a desperate ache filling it. I don’t want to die here. I need to get out. I need to go home. He could almost feel Jinchul’s hand in his, grounding him, steadying him. He could almost hear Jinah pestering him about homework. I want to live. I want to see them again.

Before he could speak, Kim’s voice cut in. Quiet, but carrying through the cavern.
“To be honest… I had no idea you, the weakest of us, would play such an active role in this raid.”

The words stung. Even now, with death breathing down their necks, Kim was still saying it. Still branding him with the label everyone had always given him. The weakest. Kim really was a bastard, insulting Jinwoo when death was staring back at them. He wished Kim could bite his tongue.

And yet… he wasn’t finished. His eyes closed briefly, his head bowing. “I looked down on you. I didn’t expect much whenever you joined a party.”

Jinwoo’s chest tightened.

Kim’s eyes swept the blood-strewn floor, the corpses of comrades long gone. “Many have died in this dungeon, but…” His voice cracked. He turned his head, meeting Jinwoo’s gaze head-on. For the first time, there was no contempt, no dismissal. Only raw honesty. “…those of us still breathing are alive because of you.”

The chamber was silent but for the flickering flames and the soldiers’ relentless footsteps. Kim’s next words trembled with weight. “I’m alive because of you, too. So… thanks.”

Jinwoo’s stomach twisted. He knew where this was leading. He could already feel dread clawing into his chest. “Mr. Kim…” His voice was low, warning, pleading.

The silence shattered with a metallic clang. Kim’s sword hit the stone floor.

His shoulders hunched, his voice breaking as sobs poured out. “...I have a family.” Tears streamed unchecked down his face, snot dripping as his words dissolved into shaking cries. “I don’t want to die. I don’t want to die yet!”

“Mr. Kim—” Jinwoo rasped, his throat raw.

“I’m sorry…”

Step.

“Don’t!” Jinwoo’s voice cracked as he lurched forward, agony tearing through his body.

Step.

Kim’s sobs rose into a broken wail. “I can’t do this anymore!”

He sprinted.

“Mr. Kim!” Jinwoo’s scream split the air, his vision blurring with tears.

Another orange flame blew out.

Jinwoo’s heart plummeted. His hands shook violently as he watched the bastard sprint through the narrowing gap in the doors.

Coward. Coward!

“You have a family?!” The words screamed in his skull as tears streaked down his own cheeks. So did Park! So did the twelve others who are rotting on this floor! Do you think you’re the only one?!

His vision wavered, his body trembling with grief and fury. He wanted to sob until his chest split open—for the dead, for the betrayed, for the false hope of survival slipping further away with each flame that died.

He wanted to run too. To crash through those doors and claw his way back to life. He wanted Jinah safe. He wanted Jinchul warm beside him, forcing him to sleep when he pushed too hard. He wanted all of that so badly it made his bones ache.

But he stayed.

The statues were nearly at the inner circle now, their shadows engulfing the altar.

Jinwoo’s head dropped, fingers tangling in his sweat-matted hair as despair swallowed him whole. His body slumped forward.

Three flames flickered faintly. Their orange light no longer promised salvation—only the cruel reminder of how few of them were left.

Only three remained.

Jinwoo’s lips trembled. His thoughts echoed like a death sentence.

We’re not going to survive this.

Song’s eyes lifted to the closing doors, his voice low but clear. “The doors are shutting. It’s too late.” His expression shifted, hardening with resolve that sent a chill through Jinwoo’s chest. “…But I understand the rules now.”

That determination burned like a torch in the dark. But why?

“You guys should leave.”

The words struck Jinwoo like a blade. His heart froze in his chest.
“…Mr. Song?”

Song’s gaze never wavered from the slow, thunderous approach of the statues. “The doors won’t close if one of us stays behind. Right?”

Jinwoo’s breath caught.

“You have more years ahead of you than I do,” Song continued steadily. “So you should be the ones to get out.” His eyes flicked to Joohee, gentle but firm. “Joohee, give Sung a hand.”

“O-okay…” she stammered, turning toward Jinwoo—only for her legs to buckle beneath her.

She crumpled to the floor with a weak gasp. “Ah—!” Her legs trembled violently as she tried and failed to rise. “Huh…? What’s wrong with me?”

Her wide, terrified eyes turned to Jinwoo. “My legs won’t move.”

Jinwoo’s chest twisted painfully.

Song’s voice was grim as he assessed her. “You’re out of mana. You used too much when you were healing Sung.” His focus returned to the statues now pressing closer, looming shadows with every step.

Jinwoo clenched his jaw, mind racing. There was no time, but—there was only one answer.

He forced his battered voice out. “…Mr. Song. Take Joohee and leave this place.”

Song’s head whipped toward him, fury flaring. “I said I’m going to be the one to stay behind!”

Jinwoo’s teeth ground together. He shouted back, throat tearing with the effort. “Then who’s going to help Joohee?!”

The statues were nearly upon them, their weight shaking the altar. Jinwoo’s voice broke, raw and desperate. “We don’t have time for this—GO!”

Song stared at him across the altar, face carved with conflict. Jinwoo met him head-on, his gaze unflinching.

Then Joohee’s trembling voice cut in. “…No. Jinwoo, let me stay behind instead.”

His heart lurched painfully. He couldn’t. He wouldn’t. He had promised her safety, her survival, no matter what.

His bloodied fingers fumbled in his pocket until he found it: the dull glimmer of a mana crystal, the one he’d kept after killing the goblin. With trembling hands, he pressed it into her palms, curling her fingers around it gently.

“Use this to buy yourself a meal,” he whispered with a faint smile.

Her tears fell freely as she shook her head.  “I promised to get you out of here didn’t I?” He continues to smile softly at her, even as his heart clenches.

Tears stream down her face as she whimpers slightly “Jinwoo, no” She sobs. “What about your boyfriend? You need to get back to him—” her voice breaks.

The mention of Jinchul nearly shatters him. His throat tightened with longing, with grief. Of course I want to go back. Of course I want him. But I can’t… not if it means leaving you here.

He brushed the tears from her cheeks softly, a small smile tugging at his lips. “If I make it out, I’ll come get the change first thing, okay?”

She sobbed harder, glaring at him through the blur. Her small hand smacked weakly against the back of his head. “How can you joke around at a time like this—”

“Enough.” Song’s voice cut through. He bent down and lifted Joohee onto his shoulder, ignoring her protests.

“…I’m sorry,” Song said quietly, meeting Jinwoo’s gaze. “But I don’t think we have any time left to waste.”

Jinwoo looked up at him, a trembling smile breaking through the pain. “I’ll leave her in your hands.” Relief washed over him. At least she would make it out.

Song held his stare one last time, expression grim but softened with something like respect. “…If anyone can overcome death, it’s you.”

He turned and strode quickly toward the doors, Joohee limp against his shoulder. His voice echoed back, firm, almost hopeful. “I’ll see you alive and well when you outsmart this challenge, yeah?”

And then he was gone.

The echo of the doors lingered. The silence returned.

Jinwoo was alone.

The statues loomed, their shadows blotting out everything, their faces carved in mockery. The altar’s flames sputtered weakly.

One by one, the last two orange lights winked out—
leaving only a single flame burning beside him.

The doors closed behind them.
Song. Joohee. Gone. Safe.

A shaky breath escaped Jinwoo’s lips, and for a moment, relief cut through the pain. At least they got out. If I’m the one who has to die, then… so be it.

The echoing thunder of stone footsteps filled the dungeon, each one like a countdown to his end. He closed his eyes, body trembling.

If I’d known…
His throat clenched as the thought carved through him. If I’d known this was how it would end, I would’ve hugged Jinah until she couldn’t breathe. I would’ve kissed Jinchul breathless, then told him how much I loved him. I would’ve…

His chest heaved.

I would’ve had the courage to stand up for myself.

A broken laugh slipped out, thin and airy, the sound of a dying man mocking himself.

His eyes cracked open, catching the glint of metal just behind him. Kim’s sword. He reached with shaking fingers, grasping it in both hands. The weight nearly pulled him down, but he forced it upright, the blade trembling in front of his bloodied chest.

The statues closed in, slow, deliberate, savoring his helplessness.

“No way out now,” Jinwoo rasped, gritting his teeth against the blackness tugging at his vision. Fine. Then I’ll take at least one of you stony bastards with me.

He huffed raggedly, eyes darting between the hulking forms. But he couldn’t keep them all in view. His eyelids were sandbags. His arms shook, the blade slipping lower.

“Come at me,” he whispered hoarsely, every syllable drenched in fury and fear. “Come at me, you bastards!”

The first statue loomed overhead. Its massive spear lifted high, glowing eyes locked onto him. And then—

Shhk—

The spear plunged down, through flesh, through bone, through him.

“Gahhh—!”

Blood sprayed from his mouth as agony exploded through his chest. His scream ripped the air, cut short as the spear wrenched upward, tearing him open. His body arced before slamming onto the altar, blood pooling fast beneath him.

Air wouldn’t come. His chest rattled. Each gasp was knives in his lungs.

So much blood…

His insides felt torn apart, spilling into the cracks beneath him. His limbs convulsed, trembling weakly. Tears blurred his vision. He wanted to sob, but all that came out were choking gasps and wet coughs of blood.

I… don’t want to die.

His mind clung to images like lifelines.
That morning—Jinah rolling her eyes at his fussing, her smile so alive.
Jinchul leaning at the counter, watching them bicker, lips tugged into that little smirk only Jinwoo ever got to see.
The three of them crammed on the couch, watching a cringy movie, warm and safe.

A sob tore through his chest. Tears streaked down his face.

How can I die now? How can I leave them? I promised Jinah I’d always come back. I swore I’d protect her. And Jinchul—he’s waiting, he’s—

The spear lifted again. His bloodied chest heaved.

“I don’t want to die!” The cry echoed only inside his mind, raw and desperate.

The statues’ glowing eyes bored into him. They raised their weapons higher, circling him like executioners.

Please… just one more chance. One more chance. I don’t want to die. 

The spear descended. Its tip burned blue, trailing fire as it fell toward him.

The last blue flame flickered. And died.

The world ignited.

Blue lightning ripped through the altar, racing through every crack, crackling and roaring to life. The whole dungeon shuddered with energy.

Jinwoo’s vision blurred. Everything slowed, the spear frozen midair inches from his heart, the statues frozen in their murderous vigil. Even his own ragged breath seemed to stop.

Silence.
Stillness.
Suspended death.

Then—

Ding.

—

Blue light flooded the room like a living thing, crawling across every crack in the altar. Lightning hissed and snapped, wrapping the statues in electric veins. The spear above Jinwoo’s heart froze mid-air, the glow at its tip flickering like a dying star.

Jinwoo blinked. Once. Twice. Everything was still. The statues, the blue flames, even the sound of his own ragged gasps—all of it hung in the air like a paused video.

His heart thumped weakly in his chest.

“What…?” His lips didn’t move, but the word echoed in his skull. Am I dead already?

And then:

[You have met all of the requirements to complete the secret quest: “Courage of the Weak.”]

Jinwoo’s bloodshot eyes widened. He stared at the glowing words floating above him in midair.

“What…?” The whisper rasped from his throat, weak and wet with blood. What is that?

The words stayed there, waiting, burning into his fading consciousness.

[You have met all of the requirements to complete the secret quest: “Courage of the Weak.”]

Secret… quest? His mind struggled to wrap around the words. Like in a game? A quest?

[You have met all of the requirements to complete the secret quest: “Courage of the Weak.”]

The message repeated. Over and over.

Where is it coming from? Jinwoo thought, his eyes darting around the frozen dungeon. Am I hallucinating? Am I finally losing it?

Another box flickered into existence.

[You now qualify to become a Player. Do you accept?]

Qualify? Player? He stared up at the glowing text, his mind sluggish with blood loss. Accept? What is it even talking about? I’m about to die…

[You don’t have much time left.]

His heart lurched.

[If you decline, your heart will stop beating in 0.02 seconds. Do you accept?]

He choked on a wet laugh, tears spilling freely now. 0.02 seconds? That’s it? The edges of his vision blurred, the world dimming like a dying candle.

If I accept… then does that mean… I won’t die?

[If you decline, your heart will stop beating in 0.02 seconds]

Do You Accept?]

Accept      Decline

The words floated in front of him, sharp and bright against the dark.

His breathing was a rattle now, each gasp scraping his throat raw. His trembling fingers twitched at his side. He could almost feel Jinchul’s arms, Jinah’s small hands grabbing his sleeve to drag him home.

I want to go home. I want to see them again.

His lips barely moved. His voice was a whisper of a whisper.

“All… right…”

His vision narrowed, everything fading except the glowing words.

Make me…

His consciousness flickered like a dying bulb.

…A player.

[Congratulations! You have become a Player.]

The message blazed white-hot.

The dungeon exploded with light, bright, orange light sparking to life around him, swallowing the statues whole. Every towering figure was erased behind the flash, their glowing eyes snuffed out.

The pain receded, replaced with a rushing warmth, a strange sense of weightlessness.

Jinchul… Jinah… just wait a little longer.

Then the world turned black.