CHAPTER 54: [A DOOR]

’Just keep looking. Just keep looking.’

The silence in the corridor pressed in on Eli’s ears, so heavy it made the sound of his own breathing feel deafening. Each inhale seemed too sharp, each exhale too shaky.

Step by step, they advanced—Caelen leading, Eli shadowing him.

The gargoyles loomed on either side like ancient sentinels, their massive wings half-curled, claws extended in mid-swipe, as if someone had frozen them in the middle of striking.

Every pass brought Eli’s gaze across another pair of jagged stone teeth, another set of hollow eyes that seemed too aware.

The details were too perfect—the cracks along their hides looked less like erosion and more like old battle scars. Their muscles, carved from granite, looked coiled... ready.

From the corner of his vision, Eli stole a glance at Caelen. The man’s movements were smooth, calculated—his golden eyes fixed ahead, not even flicking toward the statues.

His breathing was steady. His posture didn’t waver.

Even here, surrounded by silent killers, Caelen carried himself like nothing in this place could touch him.

’How is he this calm? I’m sweating like I’m in a sauna and he’s walking like we’re headed to a café.’

They were almost through. Just a few more rows and the gargoyles would be behind them—

That’s when his Danger Detection slammed into his chest like a spike.

The sudden pulse was jagged and sharp.

Eli’s blood turned cold.

’Oh, fuck me.’

From behind them came the grinding rasp of stone against stone. It was slow. Heavy.

Eli’s stomach dropped. He knew

that sound.

"...No," he breathed.

Caelen started to turn, but Eli slapped a hand against his chest, his voice low and urgent. "Don’t. Look. Back."

Caelen’s brows knit. "Why—"

"I said don’t."

Eli turned his head just enough to see over his shoulder—

—and instantly regretted it.

The gargoyles they’d already passed were moving.

Not jerking or stumbling, but gliding forward with a disturbing smoothness, as if stone had turned to flesh the moment no one was watching. Clawed hands flexed, wings shifted with faint, grating creaks.

One had already closed half the distance between them. Its head was tilted, jaws spread in a silent snarl—frozen again the moment Eli’s eyes locked on it.

Far too close.

"Shit—" Eli hissed, his pulse hammering.

They shifted instinctively until they were back-to-back, still holding hands. He could feel Caelen’s solid presence pressing against him, unyielding.

From ahead, Caelen’s voice held that infuriating curl of amusement. "So your perverted idea actually became useful."

’Seriously?!’ Eli bit back a groan. "This was the plan from the start—"

"Mhm."

They didn’t waste more words. Caelen adjusted their grip, their hands tightening together.

"Alright," Caelen said, tone low and even, "you keep your eyes on them. Walk backward. I’ll guide your steps."

Eli swallowed hard. "No pressure, right?"

"Plenty of pressure."

’Fantastic.’

But he forced a deep breath. Caelen was arrogant—yes—but he was also a proud, lethal S-Class Hunter.

He wasn’t the type to let other hunters under him die.

If Eli had survived being in a dungeon with Kairo, then Caelen probably wouldn’t let him die either... right?

They began to move.

Caelen’s steps were precise, controlled. Eli mirrored them in reverse, boots scuffing against the uneven floor. His gaze stayed locked on the gargoyles creeping in perfect sync, always stopping just short when caught.

The distance between hunter and monsters never changed—but the threat felt closer, thicker, like it was breathing down the back of his neck.

The crypt felt endless now, every echo of their footsteps like a ticking clock counting down to the moment one of them slipped.

They kept walking.

One step. Two steps. Three.

The world seemed to stretch unnaturally with each movement, time warping until it felt like they’d been in this suffocating corridor for hours.

The air was stale and heavy, clinging to Eli’s lungs, carrying the faint grit of stone dust—and beneath it, a metallic tang that made the back of his tongue itch.

The beam of his flashlight cut across another row of gargoyles. Then another.

And that’s when the cold dread hit him like a slow knife.

There weren’t just twenty.

There were more.

A lot more.

Every few meters, new ones emerged from the darkness—some crouched low, their stone talons scraping faint grooves into the floor, others perched like vultures on leaning pillars, claws sunk deep into the brittle stone.

They weren’t arranged in neat lines anymore. They were everywhere.

Dozens—no, maybe hundreds—of empty, unblinking eyes tracking their every step.

’Nope. Nope. This is hell. Actual hell.’

He didn’t even want to imagine the sound it would make if all of them moved at once.

The math was ugly. Even if Caelen was stupidly strong, taking them all on at the same time? Suicide.

Instant, ugly suicide.

Then—without warning—Caelen’s grip tightened around his hand.

Not enough to hurt, but enough to make Eli’s stomach drop.

He stopped walking.

Eli halted too, boots scuffing against the stone. "...Why did you stop?"

No answer.

Just silence. The kind that felt wrong. The kind that felt like the dungeon itself was holding its breath.

Caelen’s back was still pressed against him, but there was a subtle shift in the man’s body—his weight settling, muscles coiling, as if preparing for something.

Something Eli couldn’t see.

"What’s going on?" Eli asked, keeping his voice low but sharp.

When Caelen finally spoke, his voice was steady, but there was a weight in it—a heaviness that made Eli’s throat tighten.

"There’s a door."

Eli blinked, eyes still glued to the unmoving gargoyles. "...Okay. Is it locked?"

"No."

"...Then why aren’t we opening it?"

There was a short pause. Long enough for the thudding of Eli’s heartbeat to start drowning out the silence. Long enough for his grip on the flashlight to tighten until his knuckles ached.

When Caelen spoke again, his tone was quieter. Heavier. "Because I can feel an overwhelming presence inside."

Eli’s stomach knotted. "...Overwhelming... like...?"

"Like something that shouldn’t be in an A-Class dungeon."

Oh.

That saved Eli the trouble of explaining that the system had already confirmed—this wasn’t an A-Class gate at all.

The gargoyles behind him loomed in the shadows, still frozen. But the thought of turning his back to whatever was beyond that door?

Somehow, that felt worse.