It was a small feline beast, as if born of the North’s cold weather. Its fur shimmered the color of untouched snow, each strand made for the hunt, for concealment. When it moved, it became the wind—darting in sudden, impossible angles across the drifts. To the untrained eye, it was nothing more than a flicker of white in white.

  The royal knights had split into two groups, spreading wide to cover more ground.

  Artin, now in his snow-feline form, bounded through the terrain with a silent grace that betrayed his size. Each leap was a blur, snow compressing and bursting beneath his paws. His rider—Lex, the only [Assassin] class among the royal knights—moved with him from his shadow.

  There were no words exchanged. None were needed. Each knew their task—survey the area, locate the [Dungeoneer], strike if the moment came. Capture if possible. Kill if not.

  Artin’s body rippled as he shifted direction again, claws barely touching the snow. The air itself seemed to bend around him, muffling the sound of his sprint.

  They passed a group of students along the ridge—young, shouting, unaware of the storm of purpose that flashed by them.

  “Keep running,” he murmured, voice almost lost to the wind.

  Artin grunted. Through frost-thick air, through trees that blurred into streaks of white and gray. Every heartbeat brought them closer to the target area, closer to the truth buried beneath this northern snow.

  And if their prey truly was what the King anticipated… then dungeon overflow may end in this era.

  …

  Kana still buzzed with energy even after two battles, her steps light, eyes gleaming with that same restless excitement. The others, however, dragged their feet through the drifts, breaths coming out in pale clouds. Their armor creaked; their boots sank deep into the snow with every step. A few had already dropped to the ground near the campfire, clutching steaming cups of heated water like it was treasure.

  “Rest for now,” Wor-en called out, voice carrying easily over the whistling wind. “Recover your mana. We move in an hour—unless the principal sends new orders.”

  A murmur of relief passed through the students. Some slumped down instantly, others simply nodded, too drained to speak.

  Kana, meanwhile, didn’t sit. Her curiosity refused to let her. She and Suri made their way to the dungeon entrance, boots crunching against the crusted snow.

  Up close, the portal pulsed—an oval of swirling light suspended just above the frozen ground. It should have been blue. But it wasn’t.

  Kana frowned. The light wasn’t shimmering—it churned. The glow had deepened into a red like fresh blood, its edges flickering with something that felt alive, aware.

  Suri crossed her arms, eyes narrowing as she studied the aura. “That’s… not right,” she murmured.

  Jarl, the captain of the northern squad, approached from behind them. The man’s beard was crusted with frost, but his tone was calm, matter-of-fact. “First time seeing a dungeon gate in the North?”

  Kana glanced at him, still unsettled. “We’ve studied them. But this color—”

  Jarl nodded before she could finish. “Aye. They’ve all been like that for centuries now. Red as blood. No one knows why.” His expression didn’t change, but his hand rested on the hilt of his sword, as if by habit. “Rumuored that all the dungeon entrances leads to the same dungeon.”

  Zia approached last, her golden eyes reflecting the red shimmer of the gate. She stood there for a long moment, silent, as if listening to something none of them could hear.

  Then she smiled faintly—too faintly. “Interesting.” she said, “Didn’t know humans made this much progress.”

  She winked, turned away, and left them staring into the red glow.

  She knows something.

  The portal pulsed again, and for just a heartbeat, Kana thought she saw something moving inside—something looking back.

  ….

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  “Principal Light is out!”

  Suri’s voice broke the silence of the camp. She stood near the smoldering firepit, its embers still faintly glowing against the snow, her cloak whipping in the wind as she hurried toward Wor-en.

  He was patrolling the perimeter, watching the horizon with the stillness of a man who’d seen too many campaigns. At her words, he turned.

  “He told me through one of my illusions,” Suri said. “We’ll stick to the plan.”

  Then, lowering her voice, she leaned closer—close enough that her breath clouded near his ear. “He also told me to inform you secretly that… Zia can clear the dungeon by herself.”

  Wor-en blinked once. Just once. Then took a long breath, his shoulders rising and falling like the slow rhythm of a mountain settling after an avalanche.

  “Of course she can,” he muttered under his breath. Then louder, “Alright.”

  He turned, his voice carrying over the soft crunch of boots and the crackle of burning wood. “Everyone, pack up! We’re moving in. Principal’s orders. We’ll enter and clear the dungeon—nothing fancy, just by the book.”

  A dozen groans and muffled protests followed. Some students tightened their belts, others downed the last of their heated water like condemned soldiers.

  Wor-en smirked faintly. “Don’t worry,” he added. “We have Zia here. Our principal assures me she’s… quite capable.”

  Every head turned toward Zia. The ageless woman simply smiled that same serene, knowing smile, the red light of the portal dancing in her golden eyes.

  Kana, of course, was grinning from ear to ear, nearly bouncing on her heels. “Finally,” she whispered to Suri, “More e-x-p.”

  Suri groaned. “You sound like you’re about to open presents.”

  “Maybe I am.”

  Wor-en exhaled, just barely audible. “I miss my kids,” he muttered, as if to himself.

  And then the northern soldiers began to move—disciplined, silent, vanishing into the bloody red light one by one. Zia followed next, her silhouette dissolving as if the portal itself swallowed her whole.

  Kana and the others stepped forward, boots crunching in the snow. The crimson glow painted their faces as they disappeared into it—each one unaware that the light pulsed once more behind them, almost as if the dungeon had drawn breath.

  Kana paused at the dungeon’s entrance, her boots sinking slightly into the white snow. The crimson light of the portal rippled before her, whispering against the wind like something alive.

  Her gaze wasn’t on the eerie glow, though—it was on the faint, hovering script only she could see. Her own view of the Text of God. She checked the details of her party’s current state.

  Almost there. Lvl 10.

  Her lips curved, a quiet thrill running through her. They were right at the edge of something new—stronger upgraded skills, higher stats and more importantly an evolved skill.

  She turned to her group, who were waiting near the dungeon entrance, their faces half-lit by the pulsing red glow. Each of them looked tired but eager, like adventurers standing on the brink of a story they didn’t yet understand.

  She whispered something in the ear to each of her party members who were about to reach lvl 10 as they entered the glowing entrance.

  “When the long Text of God appears before you, tell me.. I need to know exactly what you see and hear. Don’t choose anything yet.”

  Apart from Boris and Suri, Adam and Leo were excluded from her whisper that made everyone curious. Adam simply shook his head while Leo was expecting but got caught in an awkward staring contest instead.

  Then she stepped forward, and the crimson light swallowed her whole.

  Wor-en lingered last, the wind tugging at his coat. He glanced once at the empty horizon, the faint shimmer of snow, and whispered, “Let’s hope you’re right, Light.”

  Then he stepped into the red dungeon entrance.

  …

  The dungeon was… not what they expected.

  Most dungeons opened into other realms—a shimmer of new skies, new air, a place that whispered differently. But this… this was just more snow. A vast expanse of white, wind howling as if to mock them for expecting anything else.

  It was colder here, though thanks to Toby’s recent blessing, none of them felt it. The buff clung to their skin like invisible warmth, turning the sting of the blizzard into something tolerable.

  “It’s hard to see anything,” Suri said, shielding her eyes as gusts hurled snow across the field. Her illusions shimmered faintly around her, “Don’t count too much on my illusions in this mess.”

  Kana turned to Wor-en, voice raised over the storm. “What’s the plan, professor?”

  Wor-en gave a half grin, “You’re the leader, remember? We’ll follow you.”

  Kana muttered something impolite under her breath, but nodded. “Then we keep straight. No splitting up.”

  And so they walked.

  An hour passed—snow crunching under boots, wind whispering endless things they couldn’t quite hear. The landscape didn’t change. The horizon never shifted. Even the wind sounded the same, a constant hollow sigh.

  No monsters. No traps. No movement.

  Kana slowed, frustration simmering behind her calm expression. “I don’t like this,” she murmured. “Feels like we’re walking in circles.”

  Eventually she drifted toward the back, where Zia moved like she had all the time in the world. Her golden eyes seemed to glow faintly in the stormlight.

  “Miss Zia,” Kana said, her tone a little more formal than usual. “I think I need your expertise. I think we’re lost.”

  Zia chuckled softly, brushing snow from her shoulder. “An interesting dungeon indeed,”

  Kana frowned. “What do you mean?”

  Zia’s grin widened, unreadable. “Not going to tell you. I once heard a human say—discovering the unknown is part of the fun.”

  Boris, walking just ahead, glanced back with a grimace. “That human must’ve died early.”

  Zia’s gaze flicked to him, playful yet sharp. “Hmm. He died because of the human curse—a short lifespan and I heard he was a well-known human hero, little spear.”

  Boris stopped dead. “Really? But Little—? I’ll have you know there’s nothing little about my spear…”

  Zia only smirked.

  The group chuckled softly, though the laughter faded quickly into the whisper of the wind. Kana noticed something then—a flicker at the edge of her perception. The snow wasn’t falling straight anymore. It was bending. Moving in a slow spiral above them.

  She looked up, eyes narrowing.

  An abandoned campsite. Her [High Awareness] could tell. No one was there.