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Unspoken Tension

  The team stood before the dungeon's entrance, a gaping maw carved into the earth. Jagged stone framed the opening like the fangs of some slumbering beast. A damp, musky air seeped out from the depths, carrying with it the scent of wet stone and something fouler—something that clung to the senses like rot left to fester in the dark.

  The surrounding area was eerily silent. Not a single bird chirped, no leaves rustled in the breeze. Even the ever-present hum of distant insects had faded, as if the forest itself dared not intrude upon this place. The contrast was unsettling. Only moments ago, the woods had been alive with the distant cries of creatures lurking just out of sight. Now, it was as though they had all vanished, swallowed by the oppressive stillness that loomed over the dungeon's threshold.

  Ishar's gaze swept over the ground. There were tracks—too many to count—layered over each other in chaotic patterns. Deep claw marks marred the dirt, some fresh, others long since dried. Footprints of various creatures crisscrossed the area, some leading inside, but more conspicuously, many led away.

  As if whatever lurked within had already driven them out.

  Kael stepped forward, peering into the darkness. His fingers flexed around the hilt of his sword, the dim light of the overcast sky reflecting off its edge. "No signs of recent adventurers," he muttered.

  Rudrik knelt beside the entrance, brushing a hand over the disturbed earth. His sharp eyes narrowed. "Some of these tracks are erratic. They weren't just leaving," he said, voice low. "They were fleeing."

  Ishar exhaled slowly, the weight of his unease pressing down on his shoulders. He had already suspected it, but hearing Rudrik confirm it only made the tension sink deeper into his bones. He turned toward the others, expecting some measure of concern, but Kael simply adjusted his grip on his blade and strode forward.

  Lyria followed without a word, her expression unreadable.

  Ishar clenched his jaw. Maybe they had noticed the strangeness, or maybe they were ignoring it—choosing to press on without entertaining doubt. Either way, the result was the same.

  The dungeon awaited.

  ***

  Ishar cut down the last monster in his path, his sword slicing clean through flesh and bone. The creature crumpled before it could let out a final screech. He exhaled, steadying himself as the echoes of combat faded into the stillness of the dungeon.

  His gaze flicked toward his teammates.

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  Vael stood firm at the front, his posture unwavering, blade still dripping with dark ichor. His stance was as solid as ever—calm, collected, and completely in control. Rudrik, further back, had just lowered his bow, his expression as unreadable as always. No sign of strain, no wasted movement. The usual.

  Then there was Lyria.

  She wasn't in her usual position. Not quite off-formation, but… different. Her grip on her staff was slack, her stance unfocused. Her face told an even stranger story—her expression distant, as if she wasn't even here.

  Something was off.

  Ishar frowned. A bead of sweat rolled down her cheek, but it wasn't exertion. She wasn't exhausted. She was distracted. Somewhere else entirely.

  And that wasn't like her.

  For a brief moment, he considered saying something. Calling out to her. But before he could, his instincts pricked at the back of his neck.

  Someone was watching him.

  Slowly, subtly, he turned his head—just enough to catch the faintest flicker of movement.

  Vael.

  She was beside him, closer than he'd realized. And she was staring.

  Not at the battlefield. Not at their surroundings. At him.

  The moment his gaze met hers, she looked away. Quick. Too quick.

  It wasn't the first time.

  A hollow weight settled in his gut. A nagging sensation he couldn't shake.

  Something was wrong.

  He pushed the feeling aside. Now wasn't the time for it.

  His grip tightened around his sword as he forced his focus back to the path ahead. Whatever it was—whatever was going on with Vael—he would ask later.

  For now, they had a dungeon to clear.

  Ishar led the way, his steps swift but measured. Behind him, the others followed in disciplined silence, their formation unshaken despite the mounting unease that clung to the dungeon's depths.

  A faint growl echoed from ahead. Without a word, Ishar raised a hand, halting the group. They stood motionless, their breaths slow, their fingers tightening around their weapons. Then, a hulking mass lurched from the shadows—a beast of muscle and jagged bone, its maw lined with rows of uneven fangs.

  "Positions," Ishar murmured, his voice devoid of fear, only certainty.

  Lysia took a step back, already weaving the incantations for a barrier spell.

  [Skill: Barrier Spell C]

  Kael shifted his stance, sword raised to deflect the inevitable charge. Rudrik adjusted his grip on his crossbow, sighting down its length. Vael vanished into the darkness, her presence a whisper between blinks.

  [Skill: Shadow Step C] Activated

  The monster lunged.

  Ishar met its charge head-on, his blade flashing as he sidestepped, slicing into the beast's side. A roar tore through the air, but before the creature could retaliate, Kael was there, his sword cleaving into its exposed flank. Blood sprayed, black and steaming. The monster twisted, its tail whipping toward them, but an arrow embedded itself in the joint mid-swing, forcing it off balance. Vael struck from the rear, her daggers carving deep into its tendons.

  The fight lasted seconds.

  As the creature fell with a final, shuddering groan, Ishar flicked his blade clean, the movement automatic, practiced. Around him, the others did the same, their breathing only slightly uneven. No words were exchanged. There was no need.

  They pressed on, deeper still, their path marked by the remnants of felled creatures. Each encounter ended the same—a silent, lethal display of coordination honed over countless battles. The deeper they went

  The deeper they went, the air grew heavier, the walls pressing in as if the dungeon itself watched their every step. Then, finally, they reached it—the heart of the labyrinth.

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