Even from atop the cliff, the sheer scale of the dungeon was unmistakable.

It wasn't just wide—it felt like a world unto itself.

Beside him, Millie peeled off her outer jacket and stuffed it into her inventory. The heat was climbing fast.

"Feels like a tropical night out here," she said, half-laughing.

"More like the Amazon," Jhin replied, eyes fixed on the jungle below.

Beneath the cliff spread a vast ocean of verdant canopy. Branches shuddered and danced under the weight of a breeze, the whole forest rippling like waves. For many of the players, this was their first visit to a C-class dungeon, and their reactions were all the same.

Awe.

Until now, dungeons had mostly been stone chambers, underground labyrinths, or claustrophobic caverns. Even the few open-air types were limited to abandoned buildings or fenced-off industrial lots.

But this… this was different.

A living, breathing continent.

You could see the horizon from here. And it wasn't an illusion—this dungeon was truly rendered to stretch that far.

The boss monster might be out there, beyond those distant trees, past that curve of green that met the sky.

Finding it alone would be a quest unto itself.

Speed, strategy, and synergy. A successful raid would come down to how well a team could adapt to this kind of sprawling chaos. And this? This was exactly the kind of battleground that would reveal who the real "Kyle" was.

Jhin nodded to himself.

Yeah. Now this is a dungeon.

He'd thought it before—so many of the ones they'd tackled so far had felt dull, uninspired. A real dungeon, in his mind, ought to be like this: untamed, overwhelming, and utterly alive.

"Are we heading straight to the lizardmen's stronghold?" asked Captain Adonis, who had come up alongside him. He and his unit had been part of Arthur's party since BeyWorld. Familiar faces now, and more importantly, reliable.

Behind them, several players who had fought beside him in the D-class "City of the Dead" dungeon had also signed up. They might not be heavy-hitters, but they made up for it with loyalty and grit. They'd serve as the rear support—handling supplies, recon, and recovery.

"Wasn't there a survival camp here?" Jhin asked.

"Yes, sir. Opposite side from the lizardmen's territory, near the western falls,"Adonis said, pointing to a shimmering cascade in the distance. The water poured from a cliff above the jungle canopy—ideal for clean water and perhaps even food.

"Let's head there first," Jhin said.

At that moment, Nazoral approached from the side.

"I'm taking the east path," he said.

That was toward the swamp. The lizardmen's breeding grounds.

So, he was planning to jump right into the kill-zone.

Jhin narrowed his eyes. "You've done a C-class dungeon before, right?"

Nazoral didn't answer. He just turned and marched off, his team trailing behind him like a blade slicing into the trees. Confident. Arrogant. Like always.

Adonis looked uneasy. "Should we really let them go alone?"

"They'll manage," Jhin said. "They're not idiots."

And as much as he hated to admit it, Nazoral wasn't just some imposter. He was a monster. Stronger than Millie. Stronger, maybe, than Jhin himself.

If we fought at full power, I'd lose.

He glanced at his own status window. Even with everything he had, he wasn't even close to Hart's total stats. Barely reaching the man's chin, so to speak.

But I'm not planning to lose this bet.

He turned back to look at his own party.

In terms of raw combat ability, they were the underdogs. Most of the heavy hitters in Ark had already defected to Nazoral's team, lured by his overwhelming power and brutal charisma. Arthur's team was mostly made up of those who'd been sidelined, cast-offs and skeptics. The weak.

Were it not for Millie standing beside him, this group wouldn't even pass as a raiding party.

"Let's move," Jhin said.

They turned toward the west.

The swamp was low-lying and dense with lizardmen. But this side—elevated terrain, clean water, fewer threats—made for the perfect place to establish a camp. And that was exactly what Lingling had done. Secretly. Carefully.

Jhin had a reason for not charging straight at the enemy.

Of course, most of his team didn't understand that.

"I thought this was a race," someone muttered. "Why's he giving up the lead?"

"Honestly, I don't get him," another whispered. "His level's clearly not what he says it is."

"Same with Millie. You believe that crap? That she's really Clark?"

Doubt was inevitable. No one believes in legends until they see them fight.

Jhin didn't bother correcting them.

"Hold up," he said, raising a hand.

His golden eyes swept over the jungle, sharp and piercing. He picked up on something almost immediately.

"When did Bellatris say she built the survival camp?"

"About a week ago,"Adonis replied.

"And no one's been there since?"

"No, sir."

"I see."

Jhin gestured for silence and signaled his party to follow quietly. They moved through the brush, weaving between trees and ferns until the distant roar of a waterfall began to fill the air.

Then they saw it.

The camp—half-hidden beneath an overhang near the falls, just as Bellatris described.

But they weren't alone.

Jhin narrowed his eyes.

"There," he whispered.

Figures crouched in the shadows, clutching weapons, still as statues.

They wore masks. Each one identical.

Company.

Those bastards were already here.

They were concealed with masterful precision.

Had it not been for the strange traces that caught Jhin's attention, the hidden threat might have gone completely unnoticed. The concealment skill used was clearly high-level—enough to elude even most seasoned players. In fact, apart from Jhin, no one else in his party sensed anything off. Captain Adonis and the rest simply matched his wariness out of instinct, unaware of what lurked around them.

"…Is something wrong?" Adonis asked quietly.

"Yes," Jhin replied with certainty.

What tipped him off was the flow of Power—an unnatural ripple in the air around the survival camp. According to Adonis, this site had supposedly been uninhabited since Bellatris set it up a week ago. Which meant one thing: this dungeon, too, was compromised.

'The Company has its claws in here as well.'

Hidden under clever camouflage and expertly cast silence spells, the masked figures lay in wait. The signature white masks—they were unmistakable. The Company.

There were thirty of them by Jhin's count.

Some hidden high in the trees, others buried shallow in the dirt. A few even concealed themselves behind the crashing veil of the waterfall itself. They'd made an effort. But with "Soft Skills"—his vision skill—reading the mana trail they couldn't mask, it wasn't nearly enough.

They'd used sound-dampening spells too. It would've been impressive—had it not been for the fact that Soft Skills's perception pierced deeper than S-rank stealth. There was virtually no one alive capable of avoiding Jhin's eyes now.

From behind him, Millie's whisper reached his ear.

"What do we do?"

He responded without hesitation.

"They went through all this trouble to set a trap… would be rude not to spring it."

The grin that curved his lips was icy and deliberate—an expression that none of the Arc players had seen on him before. One that sent a chill straight through the air.

The camp, hidden between trees and waterfalls, was silent as death.

No birds, no animals. Just the gentle sound of leaves rustling and water flowing—serene, almost too serene.

And into that quiet wandered a lone lizardman.

Kirrk?

The creature's tongue flicked out with every step as it slithered deeper into the camp. The faintest tint of blue shimmered in its scales—evidence of a mutation. It seemed aimless, pawing and sniffing its way through tents and makeshift shelters.

But it was not alone.

Eyes watched it. Cold, unblinking eyes behind blank white masks. Hidden within the foliage and shadows, the masked soldiers of the Company remained still as stone.

[Should we kill it?] one whispered over the comms.

[No. Leave it. Don't draw aggro.]

The lizardman chirred again and padded toward the edge of the camp. Toward the creek.

Where one of the hidden men waited.

[It's coming to me. Divine will, maybe?]

[I said don't engage.]

But the man crouched in the shallows wasn't listening anymore.

Closer.

Just a bit closer.

The moment the lizardman reached the water's edge, its head snapped up. But too late—the blade that burst from the stream pierced clean through its throat.

Kirrk—!

It gurgled and crumpled. The man exhaled slowly, satisfied.

And then his earpiece crackled.

[He's here.]

The message wiped the smirk from his face.

Jhin had arrived.

He strode calmly into the camp.

Alone.

No weapon drawn, no combat stance. Just a casual gait toward the stream—toward the very spot where the lizardman had fallen.

But the corpse was gone.

The Company agents stiffened. All thirty of them still in hiding, watching. A creeping dread trickled down their spines.

It should've been there.

Gone?

Standing at the edge of the water, Jhin smiled thinly.

"…Figures. Underwater. You were the hardest one to pinpoint."

He drew his sword in a single smooth motion.

The operative lurking beneath the water had no choice. He kicked off the streambed and burst from the surface, dodging by inches. But it was over before it started.

"How… how did you know?"

"Because I'm just that good."

The man didn't hesitate. "All units—engage!"

It was their only option now. Ambush blown. But as the figures began to emerge from their cover, something was wrong.

There weren't enough of them.

Half their number was missing.

And then—

Thud.

A corpse dropped from the tree canopy.

Their own.

Eyes wide, they turned—too late—to see what had happened.

A whispering rifle crack.

One after another, bullets whistled through the woods. Foreheads snapped back. Bodies dropped.

It was her.

'Millie.'

The silent assassin of Arc, the "Gunslinger in the Dark."

Panic gripped them.

"…You really think you can afford to be distracted?"

The voice came from just behind.

The man wheeled, his blade already rising—but the golden flare in Jhin's eyes stole the strength from his limbs.

The sword moved like moonlight.

With a hiss and a gasp, he fell.

There was no struggle.

Just the knowledge, in those final moments, that there was no fighting back.

Resistance is meaningless.

This is what it means to fight against the top.

The rest was a blur.

One by one, the agents were hunted. Some tried to run. Most never made it ten steps.

Bang. Bang. Bang.

The two of them—just two—cleared out the entire hidden force.

And from a distance, the others watched.

"…They're really doing it. Just the two of them," Ed muttered, wiping sweat from his brow.

He hadn't believed it at first.

Thirty high-level operatives. A fortified position. An ambush.

And they still didn't stand a chance.

If they'd tried to help, it would've been a hindrance.

Across the hushed crowd, murmurs broke out—half reverent, half stunned.

"This is what it means to be 'Whitevalley'…"

The sky above the sky.

The ones who stood at the absolute peak.

And the one who led them—

The real Kyle.