Zevran lands lightly on Alix's shoulder, his tail flicking with a proud twitch. "Little lizard?" he scoffs. "You mean majestic dragon," he corrects, lifting his chin.

From there, clearing the rest of the swamp barely takes any time. Every undead, every rotting creature, every lurking shadow—none lasts longer than a breath. Zevran sweeps through hordes like a cutting wind, and Mero ensures no mana lingers behind to summon more.

The deeper they go, the darker the swamp becomes. The ground turns to tar, the air thicker and colder. But the moment a larger mana presence stirs—a hulking swamp wraith rising from the murk—Alix ends it with a single flick of his wrist. The being dissolves without so much as a scream.

Mero lets out a soft sigh. "Alright, I'm calling it—this dungeon is very easy."

"Too easy," Zevran mutters. His wings shift, uneasy. "There's no real challenge at all."

"It's because we are too strong for this dungeon," Alix replies calmly.

The ground beneath them hums. Light seeps up through the mud, glowing brighter with every pulse.

"Next floor already?" Zevran tilts his head, wings half-folded.

Alix looks down as the swamp begins to fade into light. "Yeah," he says quietly. "Let's see what's next."

——

When the light fades, the air changes instantly.

Instead of the humid, stinking swamp, cool, dry air fills Alix's lungs. He steps forward—and hears the sharp echo of stone beneath his boots.

All around him stretches a vast cavern—its walls glimmering faintly with veins of glowing minerals, pale blue and gold. Stalactites hang from the ceiling like jagged fangs, dripping water that echoes softly into the stillness below.

Zevran flaps his wings once, eyes scanning the dark expanse ahead. "A cave, huh?"

Mero floats beside Alix, his gaze tracing the glowing veins running along the cave walls. "Well… at least it smells better than the swamp."

Alix lets out a quiet breath and pulls a folded sheet of paper from his coat. The parchment rustles faintly as he unfolds it—a detailed sketch of a rare herb with long silver leaves and faint glowing roots.

"The Elder Vain," he says, studying the drawing for a moment. "It says here it grows where the glowy rocks are formed… so it should be easy to find."

Zevran peers over from his shoulder, tail flicking. "So basically, anywhere with those glowing walls?"

"Pretty much," Alix replies, glancing toward the deeper tunnels where the blue light burns brightest.

Mero tilts his head. "Then finding it should be quick." He smirks. "Unless something decides to jump out and make it interesting."

Alix folds the parchment and slips it back into his coat. "Let's move," he says, his voice calm, echoing faintly in the vast chamber.

They continue walking, their footsteps crunching softly against the stone floor. The air hums faintly with mana, the veins of light pulsing gently as if alive. Every few steps, distant growls and faint shuffling echo through the tunnels.

Before long, the first wave of undead appears—skeletal miners with rusted pickaxes, hollow eyes glowing blue.

Alix draws no weapon—he simply walks forward. The undead charge, but each one that enters his range turns to ash before it can touch him, erased by the sheer pressure of his presence.

Minutes pass. Dozens fall. None of them slow the group's pace.

After clearing another bend, the tunnel widens, revealing a split path ahead—one veering down into darkness, the other slanting upward where the walls shine brighter. The faint glow of mineral veins converges there, gathering into a luminous shimmer.

Mero drifts forward, squinting. "That way looks promising."

Alix nods slightly. "Yeah… that should lead to the glowing rocks." He pauses, glancing at both of them. "Keep your eyes on the walls. If you see a herb that looks like the one in the sketch, tell me immediately."

Zevran hovers up to eye level, wings folding back slightly. "Understood, master."

Mero gives a lazy salute. "Got it. I'll let you know if I spot anything shiny or useful."

They press on. The deeper they go, the brighter the light becomes, the veins of glowing ore weaving together like streams of molten stars. Small clusters of mana crystals jut out from the stone—proof that they're close to the source.

Alix hums quietly in response, his gaze focused ahead. "Then we keep going."

They continue deeper into the glowing tunnels, the light from the mineral veins painting their faces in shades of blue and gold. The air hums faintly with mana, thick and heavy, carrying the scent of metal and stone.

Zevran's eyes flick to the side. "Still no sign of the herb."

Mero yawns. "Or anything alive. I'm starting to think this place's empty."

Then—

A voice echoes softly through the cavern. "Finally… a new prey."

The tone is cold, mocking, dripping with amusement.

Zevran freezes mid-flight, wings half-folded. "That wasn't you, right?"

Mero smirks. "Nope. But I'm suddenly not bored anymore."

Another voice follows, deeper and crueler. "Too bad this guy's alone. Guess we don't get much this time."

Alix doesn't react right away. He simply stops walking, his eyes sweeping over the softly glowing walls. "Come out," he says evenly. He had sensed them miles away, he just hadn't bothered to care until now.

Five figures emerge from behind the rocks and shadows—human adventurers, clad in worn armor and scavenged gear. Their weapons glint faintly in the cave light: blades, axes, a spear, and a bow drawn tight. Four of them radiate the aura of low-level Tier 6s. The one in front—their captain—stands tall and confident, a middle-level Tier 6 with a cruel smile and a scar running down his cheek.

The captain chuckles. "Too bad, monster," he says, resting his blade against his shoulder. "You took the wrong mission. Count yourself unlucky."

Mero chuckles darkly, floating a little higher. "Ah… humans. I was wondering when they'd show up."

Alix doesn't move. His expression remains calm—almost bored—as his eyes settle on the group before him. "So," he says softly, his voice echoing faintly off the walls, "you know where the herb is?"

The human captain grins, amused. "Of course we do. We've been guarding it—waiting for anyone stupid enough to take that mission." He gestures toward Alix with his sword. "Then we kill them and loot whatever's left. Simple, right?"

The men behind him laugh, the sound harsh and mocking. One spits on the ground. "Didn't expect one monster to show up though. I guess your body is valuable too."

Another smirks, lifting his bow. "Think the guild'll pay extra if we bring its head?"

Mero hums, his grin sharp. "They sound confident."

Zevran's claws flex. "Do you want me to—?"

Alix raises a hand slightly, cutting him off. "No," he says quietly, his tone steady, almost gentle. "Let them talk."

The humans hesitate for a moment—something about his voice, his calm, seems off. But the captain snorts, brushing it off with a scoff. "What's the matter? Scared? You should be. We love killing your kind. You're nothing but—"

He never finishes.

A faint crack echoes through the cavern. The captain's sword suddenly bends in his hand, the metal groaning under unseen pressure. His men look around in confusion—then one by one, their weapons begin to distort, melting and twisting like wax under a flame.

Alix takes a single step forward. The air thickens instantly, mana veins along the walls pulsing erratically in response to his presence. "You've killed my kind?" he repeats, voice low, almost amused. A faint smile curves his lips. "Then I suppose we're alike… I enjoy killing humans like you too."

The nearest adventurer—a spear wielder—grits his teeth and lunges forward with a shout. "Don't just stand there, kill him!"

He doesn't even reach Alix. The moment he steps into range, his body folds in on itself—bones snapping with sickening cracks. The light in his eyes fades before he hits the ground.

The cavern falls silent.

The captain's confident grin vanishes. "W-What the hell—"

Another of his men stumbles backward, his knees shaking. "T-this isn't right! That thing's not Tier 6—it's—"

Alix's eyes glow faintly gold. The air distorts.

The panicking man screams—but the sound dies halfway out of his throat as he's lifted into the air, his body slowly unraveling into glowing dust.

Zevran watches with half-folded wings, his gaze cold and unblinking. "Even if they beg for mercy," he murmurs, "I doubt Master will stop."

Mero lets out a low, dark chuckle. "Mercy? Oh, they're far beyond that now."