The descent into the third floor was different.
The moment they stepped forward, an unnatural chill swept through the air—not the damp cold of underground tunnels, but something deeper. Something that clung to the skin and whispered of things that should have remained buried.
Lena rubbed her arms, exhaling softly. "It's freezing down here…"
Strangely, it wasn't just a lack of warmth. The air itself felt heavy. Stagnant. Unlike the usual dungeon that they had explored.
A long, dimly lit corridor stretched before them, the walls lined with weathered stone carvings. Ancient warriors, locked in battle—shields raised, swords clashing. But time had eroded their faces, leaving only faceless figures frozen in combat.
Garron's grip on his shield tightened. "Stay alert."
A faint clatter echoed through the chamber.
Darin's sharp gaze flicked to the ground—scattered remains. Not just bones, but rusted swords, decayed armor, and brittle helmets long since abandoned.
Then—movement.
A single skull twitched.
A bony hand jerked upright, fingers curling as if grasping something unseen.
A shattered ribcage shifted.
One by one, the bones knit together, the remains dragged upright by some unseen force.
The air turned colder.
With an eerie creak, the skeletal warriors rose.
Their empty eye sockets burned with a ghostly blue fire, their fingers tightening around their long-forgotten weapons.
Darin exhaled sharply. "Oh, fantastic. Skeletons."
Lena took a step back, gripping her staff. "They shouldn't be able to rise on their own… something is controlling them."
There was no time to think.
With a bone-rattling screech, the undead charged.
Two of them lunged at Garron, rusted blades flashing in the dim light.
CLANG!
Garron met them head-on. His tower shield slammed into the first, sending it staggering backward. He turned, broadsword flashing as he cleaved through the second, severing its spine in one powerful stroke. The skeletal warrior collapsed into pieces, its bones scattering across the stone floor.
But the first didn't stop.
Despite its fractured ribcage, it raised its sword again, lunging with unnatural precision.
Darin's staff ignited with flickering red flames.
"I hate undead," he muttered. "Fireball!"
A searing orb of fire blasted forward, colliding with the skeleton's torso. Unlike goblins or kobolds, the flames didn't consume it entirely—but the intense heat cracked its brittle bones.
Garron finished the job, his broadsword crushing its skull in a single downward swing.
More of them were coming.
Lena took a deep breath, her staff pulsing with a chilling blue glow. "Frostbind."
A cold mist swirled at her fingertips before rushing outward in a wave of freezing air. The skeletons closest to her froze mid-step, their limbs encased in a thick layer of ice.
One tried to move—but its joints snapped, breaking apart under the frost's grip.
Darin whistled. "Nice. I forget you can actually be useful sometimes."
Lena shot him a glare, already preparing another spell. "Less talking. More fighting."
A skeletal archer from the far end of the room notched an arrow, its bow creaking under the strain.
Lena saw it move—but she was faster.
"Icicle Spear!"
A shard of razor-sharp ice materialized in an instant, launching forward like a missile. It pierced straight through the skeleton's skull, shattering its head completely.
The body collapsed, lifeless.
Garron stepped forward, swinging his blade in wide, brutal arcs, crushing what remained of the opposition.
The last skeleton twitched, its glowing eyes flickering. Then, as if the force sustaining it had finally given way, it crumbled into lifeless bones.
Silence.
Lena exhaled, lowering her staff.
Darin rolled his shoulders. "That was… annoying."
Garron studied the walls, his expression unreadable. "Something's wrong here."
Lena bit her lip. The air was still too cold. Too unnatural.
"This dungeon… it's different from the others."
They continued to press on deeper.
The fourth floor's stone corridors were narrower, more jagged, forcing them into a single-file formation. Unlike the previous floors, where kobolds fought recklessly, these ones waited.
Garron was the first to notice the shift.
"They're not rushing us," he murmured, eyes narrowing.
Lena's unease deepened. Kobolds weren't known for patience.
Then—whispers.
Low, guttural chanting slithered through the corridors like a creeping mist.
A faint red glow flickered from the shadows ahead, growing brighter with each passing second. Then suddenly—a blast of searing fire erupted from the darkness.
Garron barely raised his shield in time before the flames crashed against it, spreading out in a wave of heat.
Darin's eyes widened. "Are you kidding me? Since when do kobolds use magic?"
From the shadows, figures emerged.
Kobold sorcerers. Their small, scaled bodies were adorned with crude bone charms, their claws glowing with the embers of magic. Their yellow eyes gleamed with intelligence, far sharper than their lesser kin.
Lena's pulse quickened. This wasn't normal.
Kobolds weren't supposed to be this organized.
Garron took a step forward, gripping his broadsword. "Stay behind me."
Darin scoffed. "Like hell I'm letting some overgrown lizards out-magic me."
He whipped his staff forward, flames surging to life. "You want fire? Fine—take this! Inferno Surge!"
The wave of fire roared through the corridor, colliding with the first kobold sorcerer.
But instead of panicking—it countered.
A barrier of flame erupted around it, absorbing the impact. The creature hissed, raising a claw—and a jagged spear of fire materialized in an instant, hurling straight toward Darin.
He barely dodged.
"Okay—what the hell?!" Darin snapped, skidding back.
Lena's breath hitched. "They're… they're casting advanced spells."
Garron didn't hesitate. He rushed forward, shield raised, crashing into the first sorcerer with the force of a battering ram. The creature screeched, its frail body crushed under his sheer strength.
Another one raised its claws—but Lena was faster.
"Frostbind."
A pulse of freezing air surged outward, coating the kobold in a thick layer of ice.
Garron didn't waste the opening. His broadsword flashed—one clean swing.
The frozen creature shattered.
Within moments, the corridor fell silent once more.
Darin blew out a breath. "That… was not normal."
Garron knelt, examining the remains. "These kobolds were trained."
Lena swallowed hard. By who?
She didn't have an answer. But as they moved forward, she couldn't shake the feeling that they weren't just fighting mindless dungeon monsters anymore.
Something was changing. The guildmaster was right. Something about this dungeon wasn't normal.
By the time they reached the fifth floor, the change was undeniable.
There were no torches, no crystals—just pitch-black corridors stretching endlessly before them.
For the first time, even Garron hesitated.
Darin rubbed his arms. "Why is it so damn quiet?"
There was no sound.
No scuttling of distant creatures.
No shifting of stone.
Just their own footsteps, echoing unnaturally against the cavern walls.
Lena swallowed. "This dungeon… feels abnormally alive."
Garron exhaled. "Keep moving."
The silence stretched too long.
Then—a sound.
A low, distant scraping.
Then another. And another.
Darin tensed. "Okay. Nope. I don't like this."
A faint blue glow flickered in the distance.
Then another. Then dozens.
And suddenly, they weren't alone anymore.
From the darkness, the skeletal warriors returned. But these weren't like before—they were stronger.
Their armor wasn't rusted—it was blackened. Their weapons weren't falling apart—they gleamed with unnatural sharpness.
And their eyes—their eyes burned brighter.
Garron gritted his teeth. "Get ready."
The first lurched forward.
Garron raised his shield—but the impact was heavier this time. Stronger.
Lena barely had time to process it before the rest rushed at them.
Darin reacted first, slamming his staff into the ground. "Fireball!"
The explosion of flames illuminated the battlefield, revealing the sheer number of them.
Lena inhaled sharply. "Are you kidding me? There's too many!"
Garron didn't falter. His broadsword swung wide, carving through the nearest undead. But for every one he cut down, two more surged forward.
Darin cursed. "This isn't normal! We should be overwhelming them—why are they this strong?!"
Lena's pulse raced. This wasn't just a dungeon anymore.
Something else was happening here.
Something far worse.
She raised her staff, calling forth a blast of freezing wind. The frost coated the ground, slowing the horde's advance.
"Move!" she shouted.
Garron barreled through, breaking their formation.
They ran.
Not out of fear—but because they needed to regroup.
This wasn't a fight they could win in a single clash.
Darin panted, glancing back. The blue lights followed.
He swore under his breath. "I don't think they're gonna stop."
Garron's grip on his broadsword tightened. "Then we find out what's controlling them."
Lena exhaled, staring into the darkness ahead.
Somewhere, something was watching.
And it was waiting.
A low, distant scraping echoed through the stone corridors.
Then—thud… thud… THUD.
The sound wasn't like the erratic scurrying of kobolds or the rhythmic clatter of skeletons. This was different. Heavier. More deliberate. Each step reverberated through the dungeon like a war drum, a harbinger of something far more dangerous than anything they had faced so far.
Lena's fingers tightened around her staff, a cold sensation crawling up her spine. "Something's coming."
Garron adjusted his grip on his shield, his stance firm as he moved to the front. "Formation."
Lena nodded, raising her staff. "Revival Heal." A soft, golden glow shimmered around Garron, reinforcing his endurance as he activated Taunt, a battle skill designed to draw the enemy's attention onto himself.
Darin took a step back, fire already flickering to life at his fingertips. He exhaled sharply, his knuckles white against his staff. "I don't like this."
Then—they emerged.
Towering figures, their grotesque forms illuminated by the eerie blue glow of dungeon crystals.
Ogres.
Each one loomed at nearly three meters tall, their grayish skin twisted and marred by thick, bulging black veins that pulsed faintly, as if something vile coursed through them. Their usual dull yellow eyes had darkened, burning with a sickly crimson glow.
The first ogre dragged a jagged, crude club along the stone floor, leaving deep gouges as it moved. It snarled, thick, blackened saliva dripping from its tusked mouth.
The second exhaled in ragged gasps, dark mist curling from its nostrils like smoke from a dying fire. Its chest heaved unnaturally, as if struggling to contain the corrupted energy within.
Then a third stepped into view.
Lena swallowed hard, her heart hammering. Ogres didn't appear this early. They were monsters of the deeper floors, far below where they stood. Something was wrong.
Garron didn't hesitate. He lifted his broadsword, his expression grim. "Whatever they are, we need to take them down."
Then, with a ground-shaking boom, the first ogre launched itself forward—far faster than anything that size had the right to be.
Garron barely had time to react before the creature's massive club came crashing down.
CRASH!
The impact sent a thunderous shockwave through the chamber, stone dust exploding from the force. Garron's shield caught the full brunt of the blow, but the sheer power behind it rattled him to his bones. His boots scraped against the stone, his heels digging in, but he was still forced back several feet.
His arm burned from the strain.
"Damn it—this thing hits harder than it should!" he gritted out, shaking off the numbness creeping into his muscles.
The second ogre was already in motion.
It lunged, massive fingers curled into a wrecking ball of a fist aimed straight for Darin.
Too fast.
Darin's instincts screamed. He threw himself into a desperate roll as the ogre's fist obliterated the space where he had stood, shattering the stone floor into a crater of dust and debris.
The air whooshed past his face, carrying with it a suffocating heat. If that had connected…
He didn't waste time. His grip tightened on his staff, flames igniting at the tip.
"Inferno Surge!"
A roaring wave of fire exploded forward, a hungry inferno racing toward the two nearest ogres. The heat was scorching, illuminating the dim dungeon with a flickering, hellish glow.
For a moment, the fire swallowed them whole.
Then—they stepped through.
Unscathed.
Darin's stomach dropped. That wasn't possible.
"What the hell—"
The ogres kept moving, their grotesque, pulsating veins glowing faintly with something unnatural. The flames didn't burn them. Didn't even slow them down. Instead, their skin hardened, darkening like charred stone—but rather than showing signs of damage, it almost looked like…reinforcement.
Darin took an unconscious step back. This wasn't normal.
Then—Lena's sharp gasp.
His head snapped toward her just in time to see the third ogre grab an enormous chunk of dungeon wall, its massive fingers crushing through stone like wet clay.
With inhuman force, it hurled the boulder straight at her.
Too fast.
Lena's breath caught in her throat. She wasn't going to dodge in time.
Then—a blur of steel and red.
Garron threw himself in front of her, raising his shield.
BOOM!
The impact detonated against his shield, sending a deafening shockwave through the chamber. The sheer force ripped him off his feet and sent him skidding across the stone floor, the metal screeching against rock.
He didn't stop until he hit the wall.
Lena rushed to his side, her hands already glowing with a soft, icy-blue light.
"Healing Frost!"
A soothing aura wrapped around Garron's battered frame, numbing his pain and sealing minor wounds, but she could still see his pained grimace. That hit had been bad.
And they weren't done yet.
"We're getting overwhelmed!" Darin barked, his eyes darting between the advancing ogres. They weren't slowing down. "If fire doesn't work—"
Lena wasn't listening. Something wasn't right.
The blackened veins.
The unnatural speed.
The way they shrugged off attacks that should've killed them.
Her mind raced, analyzing everything, until the answer hit her like a lightning strike.
Her breath caught.
"They're corrupted."
Garron, still shaking off the last hit, looked up at her. "What?"
"Something's twisted them," she said, her voice tight. "This isn't normal dungeon behavior. They've been altered."
Darin's expression darkened. Corruption.
It was a whispered fear among adventurers, something out of nightmares.
But this wasn't a rumor.
This was real.
And as if to confirm their worst fears—the third ogre's entire body convulsed, its corrupted veins pulsing violently, as if something inside it was awakening.
Then—a thunderous rumble.
Behind them, the corridor leading back to the fourth floor collapsed.
A wall of stone and debris slammed down, sealing off their only escape.
Lena's stomach twisted.
They were trapped.
And the only way forward—was to go deeper.
End of Chapter 34