CHAPTER 81: "...BROTHER."

The chamber was wide—too wide.

Lucian’s boots stepped onto the pale stone floor, eyes scanning slowly. The walls curved into each other like a cracked sphere, edges flickering faintly with what looked like frozen lightning trapped in glass. The deeper they went, the heavier the air got. Not hot. Not cold. Just... thick. Like the dungeon was aware of them now.

The others followed behind him, quiet. Focused.

They didn’t talk much anymore.

No jokes. No tension. Just that silent readiness.

Lucian stopped near the center and turned. His voice was low but clear.

"Reia. Scan the layout."

Reia nodded once. Her golden eyes flickered with faint rings of light. Her mind stretched out—far. Further than it ever could before. She didn’t even have to close her eyes.

Her voice echoed in their minds next. Not words—images. A mental projection. A full map of the dungeon appeared in their shared consciousness. Hallways. Layers. Empty zones. Trapped segments. Loops.

At the far end... a sealed chamber pulsing with dense mana.

"That’s it," she said, speaking out loud now. "That’s the core. But it’s buried under five mana pillars and a cloaking field."

Silas raised a brow. "How do we get to it?"

Reia smirked slightly. "Already working on it."

Lucian folded his arms and let her work. He didn’t rush her.

She was faster now.

Sharper.

Reia blinked once. "There’s a back route. Twisted corridor behind a dead-end wall. It bypasses the main corridor traps and leads straight into the core’s chamber."

"How much resistance?" Vyn asked quietly.

"Four monster packs," Reia replied. "Maybe five if we make noise."

Lucian nodded. "Then we move quiet."

Silas cracked his knuckles. "No noise. Got it."

Evelyn tilted her head at Lucian. "What about you?"

Lucian lowered his gaze. "I’m low on mana."

They all looked at him.

He didn’t blink.

"I’ll hang back and recover. I’ve used too many skills. I’ll catch up when I can."

Reia opened her mouth like she wanted to say something—then stopped.

If Lucian said he was low, then he was.

That was enough.

He turned to the wall. "I’ll wait here. Vyn, you lead with Reia. Silas holds the front line. Evelyn covers the rear."

Vyn gave a single nod and moved first.

Reia walked beside her, head slightly tilted as if listening to an invisible pulse. Evelyn followed, her silver threads already shimmering faintly around her wrists. Silas brought up the front—eyes steady, movements heavier than before.

Lucian stood in silence and watched them go.

Only when they were a few steps ahead did he let the lie settle on his tongue like ash.

He wasn’t low on mana.

He wasn’t tired.

He was giving them space.

They needed this. Not the danger—he’d step in if it got too much—but the weight. The pressure of a real fight. A real decision. A mission without him as the fail-safe.

If they were going to be hunters someday... real hunters... they needed to learn what it felt like to lead. To move. To think.

They needed the scars.

Lucian closed his eyes and leaned lightly against the wall. He didn’t even summon a barrier. He just listened.

Their footsteps faded.

And the gate shifted again—softly.

Ahead, the group moved down a tight passage that curved like a serpent, the walls vibrating softly under their steps. Pale blue veins pulsed under the surface like the dungeon was alive and breathing.

"Trap ahead," Reia whispered, already stepping back. "Mana glyph. Defensive. Area burst."

Silas didn’t wait.

He took two steps forward and slammed his boot into the ground. The shockwave snapped the glyph open mid-charge, disrupting its core before it could fully form.

Clean.

Precise.

Evelyn glanced at him. "Okay, that was kind of hot."

He didn’t answer, but the smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth.

Vyn slowed as they reached a cross-section, her fingers brushing the air. "Hold."

They stopped.

She pointed.

"Magic distortion. Right side. Hostile pack."

Reia nodded. "Then we take the left."

The group slipped down the new corridor—clean. Silent.

Two monster encounters later, they reached the narrow slope that led toward the core. The air here buzzed like a storm waiting to break.

Silas wiped blood from his knuckles. "Something’s ahead."

Reia tensed. "I feel it too."

Lucian caught up by then, walking silently behind them.

"Still low," he said casually when they turned.

Nobody questioned it.

They moved together now, Reia scanning every glyph, Vyn dismantling each magical trap with a flick of her fingers, Evelyn marking anchor points for fallback, Silas anchoring the center with pure mass.

Then—

The air changed.

The tunnel opened into a large antechamber. The walls here were cracked with age, symbols drawn in patterns they didn’t understand, pulsing with red-orange heat like dying stars.

And there, across the room, stood the core.

It wasn’t floating.

It wasn’t protected by glass or barrier.

It throbbed in place. A bleeding crystal, radiating pure dungeon mana in surges that made their skin crawl.

But that wasn’t what stopped them.

It was what stood in front of it.

A shape. A thing. Not fully visible.

Just... present.

Lucian’s eyes locked on it.

Then his mind froze.

A wave of pressure rolled out from the creature. Not mana. Not magic. Something worse.

It drenched the room in silence.

Silas stepped back unconsciously.

Reia clenched her fists.

Evelyn’s threads fluttered like they were trembling.

Even Vyn—always composed—took a sharp breath and whispered, barely audible,

"...Jesus Christ."

The room stood still.

And the monster hadn’t even moved yet.

The Academy

Dean Garos sat behind his desk, eyes locked on the silent projection floating in front of him. The data flickered—unchanged, unyielding. The gate had registered as S-Rank. Clean. Stable. Nothing out of the ordinary.

And then it wasn’t.

Now it was sealed. Twisted. Dead silent. No one in. No one out. Not even a trace of mana drift.

That didn’t happen on its own.

Not unless someone forced it.

Someone who could bend the system. Rewrite data. Warp classifications.

Garos clenched his jaw.

There was only one man he knew with the power—and the ego—to tamper with a gate when he felt threatened.

A man who saw rising talents as a problem.

Not potential.

Not future.

Just competition.

A shadow passed by the doorway.

Then a quiet voice.

"...Brother."

"Eron."