Chapter 18

  The dungeon entrance remained ominously still. No signs of movement, no welcoming party of mechanical horrors—just a silent, dark opening carved into the earth.

  Vael had seen many dungeons before, but none like this.

  He signaled the team to spread out, keeping their distance. They weren’t going in blind. Not yet. Observation first.

  Gareck’s warning echoed in his mind.

  "It learns. It adapts. It wants us to understand that this isn’t a normal dungeon."

  A typical dungeon was an ecosystem of monsters, spawning and growing based on instinct. But this? This was deliberate.

  Dain crouched beside him, eyes narrowed as he scanned the entrance. "No movement. Either it's laying a trap or…"

  "Or it knows we're watching," Vael finished.

  Dain grimaced. "Yeah. That."

  Elric huffed from behind them, shifting his grip on his axe. "Then why wait? We’re here to assess it, aren’t we?"

  Vael didn’t answer immediately. The answer was obvious—because rushing in had already failed once. Gareck and his team had been overwhelmed by strategy, not just force.

  They needed to be careful.

  His gut told him the dungeon was watching them right now. Studying them just as they were studying it.

  And they weren’t going to learn anything by standing around.

  Vael exhaled. "We move in."

  Ethan’s scouts relayed everything.

  The adventurers were cautious. Smarter than the last group. No immediate aggression, just careful evaluation.

  Good. That meant they weren’t here just to mindlessly loot him.

  But that didn’t mean he was about to roll out the welcome mat.

  Ethan pulsed a command.

  From deeper within the dungeon, his constructs shifted into place. The first wave would be simple—Scavenger Golems Mark I, positioned to corral the intruders down specific paths. They weren’t built for combat, but they didn’t need to be. They only needed to guide.

  Further in, Combat Striders waited in key positions. Not in overwhelming numbers—just enough to pressure, to test.

  And beyond them?

  A chamber, prepared specifically for this moment.

  Chip hummed in amusement. “You’re really going for the dramatic entrance, huh?”

  Ethan ignored him.

  The adventurers were here to assess him. Fine. Let them try.

  And let them see just how different this dungeon truly was.

  _

  Dain moved ahead of the group, stepping lightly over the uneven ground. He had been in plenty of dungeons before, and the ones that talked were always the worst. Some ancient lich trying to sound wise, some forgotten spirit pretending to be more than it was—every single time, it was just arrogance propped up by a fragile core.

  This dungeon was no different.

  It thought itself special because it had managed to beat Gareck and his team? That was nothing. Most dungeons could get lucky. That didn’t make them invincible.

  And now, the Guild had sent a real team.

  "Tunnel ahead is narrowing," he reported back. "No obvious traps. Feels… too easy."

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  Vael nodded. "Expect misdirection. Move in slowly."

  The others followed, weapons drawn, eyes sharp. They had numbers, skill, experience. This dungeon wasn’t going to surprise them the way it had surprised Gareck.

  Or so Dain thought.

  The first encounter came fast.

  A Scavenger Golem skittered into view, its metallic frame catching the dim light. Not a threat—not really. He’d seen the reports. These were utility units, not combatants.

  Elric scoffed. "That’s what we’re dealing with?" He swung his axe, a quick downward strike.

  The Scavenger dodged.

  Not just avoided—it reacted.

  The moment the axe came down, the golem shifted, its movement eerily precise. Not instinctual. Calculated. It darted backward, and before Elric could step forward, more figures emerged from the tunnel ahead.

  Not just scavengers.

  Combat Striders.

  The air tensed. Dain's grip tightened around his dagger. These weren’t slow-moving constructs blindly following patterns. They were poised, waiting, watching. The instant Elric moved, the nearest Combat Strider lunged.

  Elric barely got his guard up in time.

  The golem’s claw scraped against his shield, the sheer force knocking him back a step. The others reacted quickly—Vael leading a counterattack, a flash of mana-infused steel cutting through the dimly lit tunnel. The Combat Strider recoiled but didn’t fall.

  Dain cursed under his breath. This wasn’t like fighting normal dungeon mobs. There was no pattern to exploit, no easy gaps to punish. The golems moved with eerie coordination, shifting seamlessly between attack and defense.

  This dungeon wasn't just fighting them.

  It was testing them.

  Vael’s voice was sharp. "Stay together. Control the flow!"

  Easier said than done.

  The deeper they moved, the worse it got.

  Every step forward felt like a controlled retreat. Golems didn’t charge recklessly; they pressured, pushed, redirected. A battle that should have been a simple dungeon raid had turned into something else entirely—warfare.

  Dain grit his teeth. Arrogant bastard.

  This dungeon wasn’t just acting like it was superior.

  It was proving it.

  Even Vael, despite holding his own, was being kept busy. He couldn’t assist the others because the golems never gave him the chance. That left the rest of them on their own, slowly being worn down.

  Dain exhaled sharply. This wasn’t a battle they were winning.

  They had two choices.

  Keep pushing until they were overwhelmed.

  Or acknowledge the truth.

  And the truth was simple:

  This dungeon wasn’t just talking like it was strong.

  It was.

  Dain let out a slow breath. He hated to admit it, but it was time to reconsider. "Vael," he called out, voice tense. "We need to talk."

  From the depths of his core chamber, Ethan observed everything.

  They had lasted longer than the last group. That was expected. This was a better team, after all. Stronger, more coordinated.

  But it wasn’t enough.

  His forces had controlled the flow of the battle, kept the pressure up, and now… they understood.

  Ethan pulsed a command.

  The Combat Striders halted. The pressure lifted. The dungeon fell silent.

  And then, for the first time, Ethan’s voice reached them directly.

  "You came to assess me. Consider your assessment complete."

  Silence.

  Then Vael lowered his sword.

  And finally, the adventurers listened.

  ____

  Vael exhaled slowly, keeping his blade at the ready even as the constructs around them stopped their assault. His team wasn’t in any real danger—not yet. The dungeon’s forces had proven themselves formidable, but this wasn’t a fight they had to win. It was a fight they could outlast.

  If the dungeon had truly intended to kill them, it would have taken days—attrition warfare at best. Its golems were strong, but none of them had the raw power to deal serious damage to a Gold-ranked adventurer like himself. They lacked overwhelming force and if they had really wanted to, they easily could have escaped.

  But that wasn’t the point.

  It hadn’t needed to kill them.

  It had held them off, forced them to fight on its terms, dictated their movements, and demonstrated a level of coordination that no ordinary dungeon should have had.

  And Vael had to acknowledge one simple fact: if the Guild wanted to raid this dungeon and destroy the core like any other rouge dungeon, they would lose more people than they could afford.

  That meant negotiation was on the table.

  He glanced at his team. They were winded but still combat-ready. Elric looked frustrated, but Dain’s earlier anger had settled into something more analytical. The others had varying expressions, but none of them seemed eager to throw themselves back into another wave of constructs.

  Vael nodded, making his decision.

  He turned toward the darkness of the dungeon’s tunnels, where he knew the dungeon’s awareness was watching. "Alright," he said, voice steady. "Let’s talk."

  A moment of silence stretched between them before the dungeon’s voice echoed back.

  "Good. Then let’s begin."