"I won't go down without a fight!" With that unwavering determination, Dante surged forward, and the Ghast Wolves pursued. The one leading the pack opened its jaws wide, attempting to bite his head. Dante swiftly tilted his head to the side and slashed his dagger at its neck. Blood spurted out, and the force of his strike left his hand numb. An opening appeared in front of him, revealing a bag within.
In a resounding crunch, Dante seized an opportunity, but in the same instant, another Ghast Wolf clamped onto his hand. As he pressed forward, the wolf's relentless pull tore his hand from his elbow. The excruciating pain had yet to register in his mind, yet Dante refused to halt. He dropped to a low crouch and sprinted forward. Upon touching the bag, he skillfully evaded a Ghast Wolf lunging above his head. This bag was one of the same bags he had hurled when the monsters had first appeared.
Dante snatched up the bag and clenched it between his teeth, never slowing his pace. While running, his still-intact right hand rifled through the bag's contents. Ghast Wolves continued to leap from behind, and he deftly dodged them, though most managed to sink their teeth into him. His body bore numerous bite wounds, some leaving gaping holes from which blood constantly streamed. Ignoring the searing pain, Dante persevered, his teeth gripping the bag's material until he finally located what he sought—a packet of cooked meat. It was their food, or rather, the squad's food, not Dante's.
"Go away!" Dante shouted, hurling the meat in a graceful arc. The savory aroma of the cooked meat wafted through the air, enticing the Ghast Wolves with their keen noses. Some leaped, desperately attempting to snatch the morsel mid-flight.
Though his plan seemed to be working, Dante didn't allow himself a moment's relief. Instead, he sprinted toward the platform, fixing his gaze on the stone hovering above it.
His skill was now on cooldown.
Despite their attraction to the meat, a few Ghast Wolves persisted in chasing Dante. Just a meter away from the platform, Dante made a snap decision to leap. But before he could complete the jump, he felt sharp teeth sink into his feet. Despite the searing pain, he managed to launch himself forward.
Bang!
Dante's fist connected with the stone, shattering it into a cascade of radiant particles. The luminous energy enveloped Dante, and with a resounding swoosh, he disappeared in a brilliant flash of white light.
Thud! Thud! Thud! Ghast Wolves continued to crash into the spot where Dante had just vanished.
***
Outside the dungeon, a looming black rift, radiating an aura of death, hovered in the air. It stood at the height of an average adult. This peculiar location was once an abandoned train station, yet despite its desolation, the place remained remarkably clean. Positioned on either side of the ominous fissure were two government-assigned guards.
A few meters away from this enigmatic phenomenon, a simple desk counter was stationed. Behind it stood a woman dressed in formal attire, her demeanor exuding boredom as she incessantly tapped her desk with a pen.
A weary yawn escaped her lips.
Within this dungeon site, several other squads had gathered. Being an F-class dungeon, most of these groups consisted of inexperienced rookies who sat on the floor, engaged in conversation while awaiting the final squad's emergence.
"The last squad that ventured into the dungeon, they certainly are something. But a rookie is still a rookie," the woman thought, her interest only mildly piqued. It wasn't the first time a supposedly "powerful" guild had dispatched a new squad into an F-class dungeon. Growing increasingly bored, she retrieved her phone and began to browse social media. Most of the squads present had already been issued number badges, ensuring orderly entry into the dungeon.
As they waited, a sudden ripple of anticipation coursed through the group, their attention drawn to the quivering air. All eyes converged on the enigmatic fissure or portal before them. The squad next in line to enter the portal rose to their feet, hurriedly assessing their equipment, though their approach was rather hasty and careless.
In a dazzling display, four white lights materialized in front of the portal, each one merging into a luminous convergence.
The first figure to emerge was Lucius. Startled by the multitude of onlookers, he swiftly concealed his fear-stricken countenance, replacing it with his usual air of arrogance. Ignoring his evident injuries, he proceeded directly to the counter desk.
Observing the battered state of Lucius and his squad, a young man couldn't help but voice his concern to his companions.
"Why are they so full of injuries?" a young man inquired of his fellow squad members.
"Perhaps because they're weak?" retorted one of his comrades, eliciting shared laughter. The idea that they had sustained such injuries in an F-class dungeon was nothing short of amusing.
"That's the result of biting off more than you can chew in these dungeons," advised a squad captain from another group, his words finding unanimous agreement among his team members.
Hearing these comments only deepened the sense of shame within Lucius and his squad. Sarah bore the brunt of the injuries, her right arm hanging nearly limp from her shoulder, her face contorted in agony. She had collapsed the moment she emerged from the white light, unconscious. Michael gasped for breath, teetering on the brink of exhaustion, with both light and severe wounds. George, although physically robust, sported the most wounds, still managing to remain on his feet, though his mental and emotional state had been pushed to the limits.
Thankfully, in every dungeon, a standby medical team consisting of specialized healing Holders is readily available.
As Lucius approached her, the woman appeared perplexed but proceeded to extract a device to assess whether the dungeon would reset soon to allow another squad entry.
"Don't bother; we didn't succeed," Lucius declared icily. Given that most individuals in this vicinity were Holders, their keen hearing, particularly in this confined space, allowed his words to be heard by all. A hushed silence fell upon the assembly, leaving them without words. To bear such extensive injuries and still fail to conquer an F-class dungeon left everyone stunned. Though speechless, an unspoken sense of unease lingered among them, signaling that something had gone awry.
"What do you mean, Lucius Vesper?" the woman inquired, her demeanor unwavering despite Lucius's intimidating presence. She still held faith in the government's strength. Some among the group were taken aback to learn that he was Lucius Vesper, the son of the Vesper Guild's master, the same guild that had previously labeled them as weak and cowered behind.
But their astonishment deepened as Lucius continued, his voice rising nearly to a shout, filled with a mix of fear and determination. "Ghast Wolves! There are at least a dozen of them in this dungeon!" He didn't wait for them to recover from the shock of his revelation.
"Lost Monsters? No, if there are at least a dozen..."
Recognizing the gravity of the situation, the woman quickly dialed a number, fully aware that this was an emergency requiring an immediate investigation.
"We've encountered an anomaly!"