Alix smirks faintly. "So they just kill each other later. How civilized."

The wolf's lip curls slightly, he looks back at Alix. "You'll see once you go in. The teleportation circle inside the gate sends you to random spots on the first floor. Once you're in, if you meet someone from the other side…" He drags a clawed finger across his throat. "…you finish what started out here."

"Random teleportation?" Alix repeats, glancing toward the glowing circle carved into the stone gate. The runes pulse faintly, humming with old mana.

Alix nods once in understanding. "I see. Thanks."

The wolf snorts. "Don't thank me yet. You go in there alone, you won't last long. Even if you're diamond-ranked, that dungeon eats Tier Sixes alive."

Alix gives a faint, calm smile. "I'll manage."

He turns and walks toward the entrance. As he passes through the line between the two camps, several eyes follow him—some curious, some mocking, some filled with open hostility.

A human adventurer lounging near the edge of their camp calls out with a smirk, "Hey, monster boy! You planning to stroll in there all by yourself?"

Alix doesn't answer.

The man laughs, elbowing his companion. "Let him. Maybe his corpse will drop something useful."

When he reaches the base of the stone archway, the teleportation circle glows brighter, sensing his presence. The hum of mana fills the air, a deep resonant vibration that stirs the dust around his feet.

Mero glances at the two opposing camps one more time and grins. "You have to admit, it's almost funny. They hate each other so much."

Alix steps into the circle, his cloak brushing lightly against the runes. "That's why this world stays divided," he says quietly. "They only stop killing when someone tells them to."

The light intensifies. The circle flares—white, blinding—and in the next instant, Alix vanishes.

He lands softly on cracked, gray earth. The air is heavy and still, thick with the faint stench of decay. Around him, a barren wasteland stretches endlessly—no grass, no leaves, just the skeletal remains of trees jutting out of the ground like bones. Even the soil looks lifeless, dry and blackened as if burned ages ago.

Zevran flutters off his shoulder, wings twitching uneasily. "...This place feels wrong," he says, scanning the horizon. "It's like the mana here's been drained."

Mero hovers beside Alix, his form flickering faintly. "Dead mana. Also known as Corrupted mana."

Alix kneels briefly, running his fingers through the soil. It crumbles to dust instantly, slipping through his hand.

"So it's the same," he murmurs under his breath.

Alix straightens, his eyes glinting faintly. "Every dungeon has a realm of its own—separate from the surface world. This one's no different. The entrance we saw above is just the gateway."

Suddenly, a faint rattle echoes through the air.

Then another.

And another.

Bones clatter together somewhere in the mist ahead. Figures begin to emerge—dozens of them. Skeletal warriors, some carrying rusted blades, others clutching spears or cracked shields. Their eye sockets burn faintly with pale blue fire.

Alix narrows his eyes as more skeletons appear, the sound of rattling bones growing louder by the second. The fog shifts, revealing a small army of skeletal warriors—fifty at least—moving in uneven ranks, weapons raised.

He exhales quietly. "They're weak," he mutters, sensing their faint auras. "Tier 3 and 4 at most. But there's a lot of them."

Zevran hops off his shoulder and stretches his small wings. "Master, let me do it," he says, his tone soft but his crimson eyes gleaming faintly.

Alix glances down at him and nods once. "Go ahead."

The little dragon's grin flashes mischievously. Without changing into his battle form, Zevran flaps his wings and darts forward in his tiny, adorable shape.

The skeletons turn toward him, hollow eyes glowing brighter as they clatter forward. One swings its sword down with a hiss. Zevran doesn't even dodge. He taps its skull lightly with his paw—

Crack!

The skeleton explodes into a cloud of dust.

Another lunges from the side. Zevran whirls in midair, his tail flicking across its chest. Boom! The bones scatter in every direction.

He continues like that—bouncing through the battlefield, tapping, kicking, and tail-whipping skeletons into oblivion. Each blow releases enough force to obliterate a lesser monster instantly.

Alix has already introduced Mero to Zevran, which is why the little dragon can see him, Mero allowed it. Now, Mero decides to tease Zevran.

Mero crosses his arms, floating beside Alix, and smirks. "Look at him. Still sulking because you made him your pet, Master."

Alix's lips twitch slightly. "I noticed."

Hearing that, Zevran stiffens midair and jolts as if struck by lightning. "N-No, I wouldn't dare, Master!" he blurts, his tiny voice panicked. He kicks another skeleton out of frustration—sending it spinning into three others with a clack-clack-clack! that somehow makes him look even cuter.

Mero chuckles. "He says that, but his tail's twitching. Classic prideful dragon behavior."

Alix just shakes his head. "You said earlier this place has corrupted mana," he says, turning his gaze toward Mero. "What exactly does that mean?"

Mero's tone shifts, becoming more serious. "Corrupted mana… it's dead mana. It's not like the pure mana flowing in the outside world. Here, it's stagnant, lifeless. It doesn't respond well to control."

He gestures around them, his form flickering slightly as the air hums with dull, heavy energy. "That's why most people hate dungeons like this. Tier six and below—those who rely on drawing mana from their surroundings—can't do that here. They have to rely entirely on the mana stored inside their own bodies."

Zevran finishes crushing the last skeleton under his paw, the bones turning to dust as he hops back toward them, tail flicking smugly.

Mero continues, "As for Tier 7 and tier 8… even for them, this kind of place is a nightmare. Laws here are thin—barely present. Their power comes from manipulating laws, and when those are weak or suppressed, even they feel the strain."

Alix hums thoughtfully, eyes scanning the barren land. "So both mana and law are dulled here. That explains why it feels so… empty."

"Exactly," Mero replies. "A corrupted dungeon eats away at both. It's not just dangerous—it's unnatural."

Alix glances at Zevran, who's now sitting proudly on a pile of crushed bones, chest puffed out like he's claiming victory. "Guess that's why the others warned me not to come alone."

Alix smirks, looking toward the distant red glow pulsing through the fog. "Let's move."

Zevran flutters back to his shoulder, still looking faintly embarrassed. "Understood, Master."

They continue walking through the lifeless wasteland, the fog growing thicker with every step. The faint red glow ahead pulses like a heartbeat, distant yet steady. The air grows colder, heavier—the silence so deep that even their footsteps sound wrong.

Then, the stillness shatters.

The ground beneath Alix's feet trembles, cracks forming in a wide circle around him. From the fissures, dozens—no, hundreds—of undead surge upward. Skeletal warriors, ghouls with tattered flesh, and floating wraiths cloaked in mist howl as they rise. The air fills with their shrieks, echoing through the dead expanse.

His tone is calm—almost bored. "I've seen worse. My subordinates who wield death laws are far stronger than these things."

He raises his hand slightly, mana flickering around his palm like faint black fire. The ground responds, dark tendrils of death unfurl from his feet, creeping across the cracked earth like living shadows. Every undead that steps into the spreading darkness freezes mid-charge. Their blue soul flames flicker violently—then snuff out all at once.

Thousands of bones clatter as the undead collapse into heaps of ash and dust.

They move again, and this time, the mist seems to thin, as if afraid to touch them. The red glow ahead brightens, revealing a dark stone structure rising from the barren plain—a massive tomb, half-sunken into the earth. Its gates are sealed by chains glowing with faint crimson runes, and a deathly chill radiates from within.

Alix studies it silently. "That must have something to do with getting to the second floor," he says.

Zevran tilts his head. "There's is something sleeping in there."

"Then let's wake it up."

Inside lies a grand chamber lined with statues of fallen knights. In the center stands a single coffin—massive, black, etched with glowing sigils. The air hums with thick, oppressive mana.

Alix approaches, each step echoing like a drumbeat in the tomb's silence.

The coffin lid shifts. A deep rumble rolls through the chamber as a towering figure rises—armor corroded, cloak torn, a massive greatsword dragging along the floor. Its eyes blaze with green flame.

A low-level Tier 6 Death Knight.