By the time Etzel saw the first signs of the city through the trees, his body had submitted a formal complaint against nearly every decision he'd made that day.
His back hurt.
His ribs hurt.
His shoulder hurt.
The three fresh lines across his chest had begun to burn properly now that there was no Razorwing trying to remove the rest of him.
Level Four had helped.
Just not enough to make consequences disappear.
Etzel considered that deeply unfair.
He stopped on the trail.
DK stopped beside him.
Ahead, the forest thinned toward the outer roads.
Beyond those roads was home.
Etzel looked at DK.
“This is where you disappear.”
DK turned his helmet slightly.
“You make that sound suspicious.”
“Because saying, ‘Please hide so my family doesn't discover my undead knight,’ sounds worse.”
“I am not undead.”
Etzel paused.
“That is actually a very good point.”
DK waited.
Etzel looked him over.
Silver armor.
Sword.
Shield.
Very real breathing.
Very real opinions.
Annoyingly real opinions.
“We need a better category for you.”
“Summon.”
“Too boring.”
“It is accurate.”
“So is ‘tall.’ I'm not introducing you as Tall.”
DK stared at him.
Etzel sighed.
“Fine. Summon.”
He reached for the connection between them.
Soul Space answered.
The bond shifted.
DK's body dissolved into pale particles of light, armor disappearing last.
Before his face vanished completely, he said:
“You should have those injuries treated.”
Etzel stared at the empty space.
“That was absolutely deliberate.”
No answer.
“Coward.”
Still nothing.
Etzel looked down at himself.
Blood had dried along his shirt.
One sleeve was torn.
Bandages were visible beneath the fabric.
His chest looked like he'd tried to hug something with knives for fingers.
He considered his options.
There were not many.
“This may require lying.”
A pause.
Then he corrected himself.
“Improvisational truth.”
That sounded much better.
The front door opened.
Etzel stepped inside.
Ismera looked up.
Silence.
Etzel stopped.
His mother looked at his face.
Then his shirt.
Then the bandage visible beneath it.
“Before you ask—”
“Sit.”
Etzel sat.
Immediately.
Neris looked up from across the room.
Her eyes widened.
“What happened to you?”
“Nature.”
She stared at him.
“Nature?”
“Yes.”
“Nature has claws now?”
“Nature has always had claws.”
“Those are very large claws.”
Etzel looked down at the three lines across his chest.
“That is a fair observation.”
Veydan entered from the next room.
He stopped when he saw Etzel.
Unlike Neris, he didn't ask immediately.
His eyes moved over the injuries.
Measured them.
Etzel knew that look.
His father was deciding how angry he was allowed to become before knowing what had happened.
Ismera was already pulling medical supplies from a cabinet.
“Shirt.”
Etzel blinked.
“I feel there should be dinner first.”
“Etzel.”
“Right.”
He carefully pulled the damaged shirt off.
That was a mistake.
The fabric caught one of the bandages.
Pain shot across his back.
He hissed.
Ismera's expression changed.
Not dramatically.
That was worse.
“Turn around.”
He did.
Her fingers touched the edge of Tessa's bandage.
“Who did this?”
“A healer.”
Neris leaned closer.
“You know a healer?”
“I met one.”
“Where?”
“The forest.”
Neris stared.
“You met a healer in the forest.”
“There were other people involved.”
“That sentence created more questions.”
Etzel looked at his father.
“Can you help me?”
Veydan folded his arms.
“No.”
“Betrayal.”
Ismera began removing the damaged bandage.
Etzel clenched his jaw.
“Tell us what happened.”
He had prepared for this.
Mostly.
“I went farther into the forest.”
True.
“I encountered creatures.”
Also true.
“One was stronger than expected.”
Very true.
“I met three Hunters who were already operating in the area.”
True again.
“We fought together.”
Technically true.
“And you came home looking like this,” Veydan said.
Etzel glanced over his shoulder.
“I came home.”
Nobody laughed.
That bothered him.
He turned forward again.
Ismera cleaned the wound across his back.
Etzel watched her hands.
They were steady.
Almost.
A tiny tremor passed through two fingers before she pressed fresh cloth against the injury.
Etzel's smile faded.
For him, the forest had become numbers.
Progression.
Patterns.
Levels.
New creatures.
Problems to solve.
For his mother, none of those things mattered.
She saw blood.
His blood.
Getting stronger was exciting when the blood was his.
It looked different on his mother's hands.
Etzel looked away.
Neris sat opposite him.
“What kind of creature?”
“A large one.”
“That isn't an answer.”
“It had whips.”
Silence.
Neris frowned.
“Whips?”
“Bone whips.”
“That is worse.”
“Yes.”
“You fought something with bone whips?”
“There were four of us.”
Five, technically.
Etzel didn't say that.
Veydan's eyes narrowed.
“Why?”
That question was harder.
Etzel thought about the dungeon.
The black fragment.
The clearing.
DK's reaction.
The second moving influence.
He could tell them.
Not everything.
Maybe enough.
But once he started explaining DK, there would be no simple stopping point.
Limited Necromancer.
Soul Space.
A-Rank summon.
A knight who remembered dying in another world.
And that wasn't even the strangest part anymore.
Not yet.
He needed more time.
He needed to understand what he had before placing it in his family's hands and asking them to carry the fear with him.
So he gave his father the simplest truth.
“Because I need to get stronger.”
Veydan's expression didn't change.
Etzel continued before he could answer.
“But I was reckless.”
That did change something.
Neris looked surprised.
Ismera's hands stopped for half a second.
Etzel frowned.
“Why does everyone look shocked?”
Neris answered.
“You admitted it.”
“I admit things.”
“Not that.”
“I feel attacked.”
“You were attacked.”
“By you.”
“By nature, apparently.”
Etzel pointed at her.
“See? This is why I keep secrets.”
Silence.
Etzel froze.
Neris narrowed her eyes.
“What secrets?”
“Excellent example.”
Ismera tightened the new bandage.
Etzel inhaled sharply.
“Mother.”
“Done.”
He looked suspiciously over his shoulder.
“That felt personal.”
“It wasn't.”
He wasn't convinced.
Etzel woke the next morning expecting pain.
He found it.
But less than he expected.
He lay still for several seconds.
Then sat up.
His ribs complained.
His shoulder objected.
His back reminded him that Briar Shepherds were terrible company.
But underneath all of it—
something was different.
Level Four.
He stood.
Balance came easier.
Not dramatically.
He hadn't become superhuman overnight.
But his body responded more cleanly.
Less wasted movement.
Less hesitation between intent and action.
He lifted one foot.
Turned.
Stopped.
Interesting.
The injuries remained.
The improvement remained too.
Leveling didn't erase damage.
It simply changed the body carrying it.
Etzel liked that distinction.
He walked downstairs.
Neris was already eating.
Ismera placed a cup near the edge of the table.
Neris reached for something.
Her elbow clipped it.
The cup tipped.
Etzel's hand moved.
He caught it before it fell ten centimeters.
Everyone looked at him.
Etzel looked at the cup.
Neris looked at him.
“Since when can you do that?”
Etzel slowly placed it back on the table.
“Since apparently breakfast became dangerous.”
Neris continued staring.
Etzel took a piece of bread.
“I'm adapting.”
“To cups?”
“They're unpredictable.”
His device vibrated.
Etzel looked down.
A message.
From Maerin: We reported the Shepherd.
A second message arrived immediately: They found something.
Etzel stopped chewing.
A location followed.
Then: Come when you can.
Etzel stood.
Ismera looked at him.
“No.”
He paused.
“No?”
“You are injured.”
“I noticed.”
“You're resting.”
Etzel considered arguing.
Then reconsidered.
“I need to meet the Hunters from yesterday.”
“Why?”
“Because whatever attacked us wasn't behaving normally.”
That was more truth than he'd intended.
Veydan looked toward him.
Etzel continued.
“They reported it. Someone investigated.”
His father studied him.
“This is dangerous.”
“Yes.”
No joke this time.
Etzel looked at Ismera.
“I won't go into the forest alone.”
Technically—
He stopped himself.
No.
That one was becoming too dishonest.
“I won't fight unless I have to.”
Better.
Ismera didn't look happy.
But eventually she nodded.
Etzel picked up his things.
Neris called after him.
“Try not to fight nature.”
Etzel opened the door.
“No promises.”
He waited until he was well beyond the populated road.
Then summoned DK.
Light gathered.
Silver armor formed.
DK appeared with one hand already near his sword.
Etzel smiled.
“Did you miss me?”
“No.”
“You answered too quickly.”
“You were gone for several hours.”
“Several meaningful hours.”
DK looked at the fresh bandages.
“You were treated.”
“Yes.”
“Good.”
Etzel stared.
“That almost sounded like concern.”
“It was an observation.”
“There you are.”
They continued.
Sivenne saw him first.
She looked at his bandages.
Then at DK.
Then back at Etzel.
“You went north.”
Etzel stopped.
“That sounds accusatory.”
Maerin stood beside her.
“Did you?”
“Yes.”
Sivenne spread her hands.
“Then it was accurate.”
“Accuracy doesn't make it less accusatory.”
Tessa approached.
Her attention immediately went to the bandage across his chest.
“You got hurt again.”
Etzel pointed at Sivenne.
“See? She sounds concerned. Learn from her.”
Sivenne smiled.
“I am concerned.”
“Really?”
“That you're stupid enough to make Maerin change the plan.”
Maerin ignored both of them.
“Level?”
Etzel looked at her.
He allowed himself one second.
“Four.”
Sivenne's eyebrows rose.
“Already?”
Tessa smiled.
Maerin simply nodded.
“Good.”
Etzel waited.
Nothing else.
“That's it?”
Maerin looked at him.
“I told you to reach Four.”
“I expected celebration.”
Sivenne raised both hands.
“Do you want us to clap?”
“A small ceremony would have been appropriate.”
DK spoke behind him.
“No.”
Etzel turned.
“You weren't invited to the ceremony.”
“There is no ceremony.”
“This is exactly why morale is low.”
Tessa laughed.
Then Maerin's expression changed.
“Come.”
The humor ended.
They gathered around a map.
Not the public map Etzel had used.
This one contained marked patrol routes, creature sightings, dungeon boundaries, and several handwritten notes.
Maerin pointed to the eastern section.
“The report was escalated after they examined the Shepherd remains.”
Etzel frowned.
“They found something in the body?”
“Not enough. Most of the black material degraded.”
“As expected.”
“But your System warning mattered.”
Sivenne leaned against the table.
“Enough that they sent a proper survey team.”
“Into the dungeon?”
“No,” Maerin said.
“Why not?”
“Because they're not idiots.”
Etzel nodded.
“I'm beginning to like these people.”
“They surveyed the perimeter first.”
Maerin pointed to several markings.
“The creature population around the dungeon is falling.”
Etzel looked at her.
“That sounds good.”
“It isn't.”
“Of course it isn't.”
Tessa pointed to arrows drawn away from the dungeon.
“They're leaving.”
Etzel remembered the wounded creature from yesterday.
The way it had looked toward the dungeon.
Frozen.
Then fled in the opposite direction.
“They're afraid of it.”
Maerin nodded.
“That's the current theory.”
Etzel studied the map.
“How many?”
“Enough to change established movement patterns.”
Sivenne added:
“Things that normally hunt near the dungeon aren't going near it.”
Etzel looked toward DK.
The knight said nothing.
Maerin continued.
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“There's more.”
Etzel sighed.
“There always is.”
“The dungeon is drawing more ambient energy than expected.”
He looked back.
“More?”
“Significantly more.”
Etzel knew enough about dungeons to understand the basic cycle.
They accumulated energy.
Used it.
Generated creatures.
Maintained internal environments.
Created rewards.
Different dungeon types behaved differently, but energy did not simply disappear.
Etzel pointed to the map.
“If it's drawing more energy, shouldn't there be more activity?”
“Yes.”
“But there isn't.”
“No.”
Etzel looked at the dungeon marker.
“So where is the energy going?”
Maerin held his gaze.
“That's the problem.”
Nobody knew.
Etzel leaned back.
“Good.”
Sivenne frowned.
“Good?”
“No. Terrible. I'm trying a new coping mechanism.”
“It sounds exactly like your old one.”
“Then it's reliable.”
Maerin looked at him.
“What did you find north?”
Etzel's humor disappeared.
He told them.
The straight trail.
The clearing.
The dozens of tracks.
Creatures entering and leaving in different directions.
The black marks on the tree.
The root.
Tessa's expression tightened.
Then Etzel told them about the System message.
“Two influence signatures.”
Maerin became completely still.
“One was the dungeon?”
“Yes.”
“The second?”
“Unknown.”
“And moving,” DK said.
All three women looked at him.
Maerin's eyes narrowed.
“Moving?”
Etzel nodded.
“The distance between the signatures was increasing.”
Sivenne pushed herself away from the table.
“So whatever the second source is, it's heading away.”
“Apparently.”
Tessa looked at DK.
“How did you know where to look?”
There it was.
Etzel glanced at him.
DK's face revealed nothing.
Etzel could tell them about the vision.
The dark hall.
The roots.
The kneeling shapes.
DK believing he'd seen it before his death.
But that memory belonged to DK as much as the Soul Link belonged to both of them.
Etzel wasn't going to give it away without permission.
So he gave them what mattered.
“DK recognized the influence.”
Maerin looked at the knight.
“From where?”
Etzel answered.
“He doesn't remember.”
Not the whole truth.
But true.
Maerin watched them for another moment.
Then returned to the map.
Dungeon.
Energy flow.
Creatures moving away.
Second source heading north.
Her finger stopped.
“What if we're looking at this backward?”
Etzel leaned closer.
“Meaning?”
“We assumed the dungeon was spreading whatever affected the Shepherd.”
“Yes.”
“What if it isn't?”
Sivenne frowned.
Maerin pointed at the energy readings.
“The dungeon is drawing more energy than it should.”
Then north.
“The second influence is moving away.”
Then the clearing Etzel had described.
“Creatures were being distributed from a point outside the dungeon.”
Etzel saw it.
A second before she said it.
His expression changed.
Maerin looked at him.
“What if the dungeon isn't spreading the influence?”
Etzel finished:
“What if it's feeding it?”
Silence.
Tessa stared at the map.
Sivenne spoke first.
“That's worse.”
Etzel pointed at her.
“You people keep saying that after every new discovery.”
Tessa answered softly:
“Because every new discovery has been worse.”
Etzel considered.
“Fair.”
The dungeon entrance sat less than an hour east.
They could see the boundary marker from where they stood.
Etzel looked toward it.
“So what happens now?”
“We enter,” Maerin said.
Etzel looked at her.
“That was surprisingly fast.”
“Tomorrow.”
“Less surprisingly fast.”
“The survey team cannot investigate the interior directly.”
“Why?”
Maerin looked at him.
“You've never entered a dungeon.”
It wasn't a question.
“No.”
Sivenne smiled.
“Oh, this is going to be fun.”
Etzel looked at her.
“I dislike that expression.”
Maerin ignored them.
“Dungeons maintain threat bands.”
Etzel waited.
“They don't simply allow anyone powerful enough to enter and clear them.”
“That seems inconvenient.”
“It prevents higher-level Hunters from farming low-threat dungeons.”
That made sense.
More importantly, it explained why some veteran Hunter hadn't already walked inside and solved the problem.
Maerin continued.
“This dungeon's current registered band is Level Four through Seven.”
Etzel's attention sharpened.
“And above Seven?”
“Rejected.”
“Below Four?”
“Rejected.”
Sivenne added:
“Usually.”
Etzel looked at her.
“I don't like that word.”
“You'll get used to it.”
“I hope not.”
Maerin tapped another part of the report.
“Rank is evaluated separately. The dungeon's current Rank tolerance still accepts us.”
Etzel nodded slowly.
Level and Rank.
Two different forms of progression.
Two different restrictions.
That was becoming important remarkably quickly.
“And summons?”
Maerin looked at DK.
“Genuine bound summons don't occupy Hunter entry slots.”
Etzel smiled.
“Finally, a rule I like.”
“Don't become attached.”
“Too late.”
DK looked at him.
Etzel pointed at the dungeon.
“To the rule.”
“I know.”
“Good.”
Maerin folded the map.
“We're going in tomorrow.”
Etzel looked at her.
“You make terrible invitations.”
“Are you coming?”
Etzel looked toward the dungeon.
Yesterday, Level Four had been a target.
A number.
A condition.
Now he had it.
And the dungeon was no longer just a place to gain experience.
The Shepherd.
The black roots.
The disappearing creatures.
The energy.
DK's past.
The moving second source.
Somewhere inside that dungeon was part of the answer.
Maybe.
Or another problem pretending to be one.
Etzel smiled faintly.
“Yes.”
DK turned toward him.
“You said entering would be incredibly stupid.”
“That was yesterday.”
“What changed?”
Etzel gestured toward Maerin, Sivenne and Tessa.
“Now we're doing something incredibly stupid with a plan.”
Sivenne grinned.
“I like him.”
Maerin didn't look pleased.
“That is not reassuring.”
Preparation took the rest of the day.
Not heroic preparation.
Mostly boring preparation.
Which Etzel was beginning to suspect was what kept heroes alive long enough to become heroic.
Water.
Food.
Bandages.
Basic healing supplies.
Light sources.
A dungeon route marker.
Emergency signals.
A compact map that would update only where the System permitted it.
Maerin made them repeat the retreat conditions.
Twice.
Sivenne complained both times.
Tessa checked everyone's medical supplies.
Etzel checked his hatchet.
The edge was chipped.
The handle had new cracks.
It had survived creatures stronger than anything a normal tool had any right to survive.
He turned it in his hands.
“We need to discuss your career prospects.”
DK looked over.
“Are you speaking to the weapon?”
“It has been more supportive than you.”
“The weapon cannot speak.”
“Exactly.”
DK returned to checking his sword.
Etzel examined the crack again.
Soon.
He would need something better.
Not yet.
But soon.
Morning came cold.
The dungeon entrance stood between two broken stone formations in the eastern forest.
It looked less impressive than Etzel expected.
No enormous gate.
No glowing tower.
Just an opening descending into dark stone.
Which somehow made it worse.
Maerin stood first.
Sivenne beside her.
Tessa checked her equipment one last time.
Etzel stopped with DK at his side.
The System appeared.
┌────────────────────────────────────────┐
│ [Dungeon boundary detected.] │
│ [Registering party...] │
└────────────────────────────────────────┘
Etzel waited.
┌────────────────────────────────────────┐
│ Hunters: 4 │
└────────────────────────────────────────┘
He looked at DK.
Another line appeared.
┌────────────────────────────────────────┐
│ Bound Summons: 1 │
│ (Bound summons do not occupy slots.) │
└────────────────────────────────────────┘
Etzel smiled.
“Told you I liked that rule.”
Nobody asked.
The System continued.
┌────────────────────────────────────────┐
│ Registered Threat Band: Level 4–7 │
│ Party requirements satisfied. │
└────────────────────────────────────────┘
Then the text flickered.
Etzel's smile disappeared.
The dungeon name appeared.
For half a second—
nothing.
Just broken symbols.
Then:
┌────────────────────────────────────────┐
│ Dungeon: Throneburrow │
└────────────────────────────────────────┘
Maerin frowned.
“Did that flicker for everyone?”
“Yes,” Tessa said.
Sivenne nodded.
Etzel looked at DK.
The knight was staring into the entrance.
The System changed.
┌────────────────────────────────────────┐
│ WARNING: │
│ Dungeon state does not match │
│ registered parameters. │
└────────────────────────────────────────┘
Nobody spoke.
Sivenne eventually broke the silence.
“That's new.”
Maerin's voice hardened.
“No one enters until we're ready.”
“We are ready,” Sivenne said.
“You know what I mean.”
Etzel felt it then.
Soul Link.
A faint reaction.
He immediately looked at DK.
But DK wasn't looking into the dungeon anymore.
He was looking north.
Etzel's stomach tightened.
“What?”
DK remained still.
“It is farther away.”
“The second source?”
“Yes.”
Etzel looked into the dungeon.
Then north.
The System flashed again.
┌────────────────────────────────────────┐
│ External influence connection detected.│
└────────────────────────────────────────┘
Maerin stepped closer.
“What does yours say?”
Etzel didn't answer yet.
Another line appeared.
┌────────────────────────────────────────┐
│ Connection status: weakening. │
└────────────────────────────────────────┘
The second source was moving away.
And whatever linked it to this dungeon was weakening with distance.
Etzel wasn't sure whether that was good.
He had developed a strong suspicion that anything which initially looked like good news was simply waiting for additional information.
The System changed one final time.
┌────────────────────────────────────────┐
│ Enter Dungeon? │
│ [ YES ] / [ NO ] │
└────────────────────────────────────────┘
Etzel looked at the others.
Maerin nodded.
Tessa tightened her grip.
Sivenne smiled.
DK remained motionless.
Etzel selected:
[ YES ]
Stone groaned beneath them.
Cold air rolled from the entrance.
Darkness shifted below.
Etzel took a step forward.
Then stopped.
Because DK had moved.
Not toward the dungeon.
Backward.
One step.
Etzel stared at him.
DK had walked toward an Elite without hesitation.
He had stood between Etzel and creatures that could tear a human apart.
He had faced everything in this world with the same impossible calm.
Until now.
For the first time since Etzel had chosen Limited Necromancer—
DK took one step backward.