The team swept through each room of the warehouse with ruthless efficiency, never staying in one area for more than a minute or two… And with each area they passed, the feeling of unease Sulika had been feeling grew stronger.

  There was something wrong with this place.

  The outside of the warehouse appeared no different than the twenty others that surrounded it. But the inside was different, almost unbelievably so.

  Sure, a part of her had expected the cult to have spooky paraphernalia all over the place; religious symbols, blood on the ground, people walking around wearing hooded robes - the usual ‘culty’ stuff.

  But there was nothing here. Absolutely, positively, Nothing.

  After entering the warehouse, the first place they stumbled across was an open room meant for dry storage.

  A single, unbroken path ran the length of the room. On either side thirty-foot-high shelves formed narrow rows from the double doors they’d come through until they pushed against the farthest wall.

  “We moving towards the bay door at the back?” Derrik asked in a low voice. The rest stopped looking around long enough to look at the back wall, where a large wooden door sat atop a wooden track.

  “You said the ritual was taking place near the center of the warehouse, right Oladi?” Sulika asked while walking towards the sliding door.

  “Based on what I saw a few days ago? I’d assume so.” She replied while keeping pace with the shorter woman’s gait.

  “Good enough for me.” The corner of Sulika’s lip twitched upwards. “Derrik and Zarud, you two move up and get ready.” The pair grunted in understanding before increasing their pace, slowly pulling away from the rest of the group.

  While they made the two-minute walk from one end of the room to the other, Sulika took the time to observe the room - Not because she wanted to, but because she had to. She couldn’t help herself.

  She’d been in a few warehouses in her time - Though it felt like a lifetime ago, now.

  From what she could remember, she’d expected a warehouse of this size to house tons upon tons of non-perishable goods: clothing, resources like wood or stone, toys of some kind, electronics - Any of those would fit perfectly in a place like this… But the shelves were empty.

  Not only that, Sulika didn’t see so much as a single box the entire walk across the room. Which was, to put in bluntly, impossible.

  They’d spent weeks watching this place. And they’d all seen the cargo being moved into the warehouse - So, where was it? Where did it all go?

  Sulika knew she couldn’t be mistaken about this either. She’d personally gone over every minute of footage they’d gathered from the recording spheres.

  Recording spheres were an amazing bit of technology. They appeared to be a small crystal ball about the size of Sulika’s fist, with a short telescopic lens running through the center of the sphere.

  By channeling mana into it and saying the activation phrase, you could quickly and easily start or stop the recording process.

  Anything that passes in front of either end of the telescopic lens has its image captured and stored within the sphere for later review. The original sphere model imprinted the images directly onto the sphere, but the newest models didn’t. They opted for a simpler process, albeit at the cost of recording time.

  The images were all stored on the surface of the telescopic lens - which could hold about ten hours' worth of visual information before it ceased functioning and must be replaced with a blank lens.

  It did take a special projector to view recordings made on the newer models. However, provided you could cover the cost to purchase one, they weren’t difficult to obtain.

  Case in point: The sphere they’d been using was actually Faeyra’s personal device, not property of the guild. Of course, Sulika had purchased all the recording lenses herself. Faeyra offered to pay, but Sulika refused. She wouldn’t make her friend foot the bill for something she’d chosen to do.

  Regardless - She had proof that the warehouse should be packed to the brim with goods waiting to be distributed all across the city. And some of that footage had been taken as early as yesterday.

  Logically, there was no way these shelves could be empty… Yet they were?

  None of this sat right with Sulika.

  Reaching the back of dry storage, the five silently approached the bay door. Zarud moved to the left of the door to grab the handle, while Derrik took up position next to him.

  Zarud waited for Sulika, Oladi, and Ralocan to move clear of the opening before he pulled the handle - *Click* Zarud’s big body froze in an instant. “Shit.” He grumbled. He held his breath and kept his body as still as possible.

  “Hang on.” Sulika whispered. She motioned for the others to take a step back before approaching on Zarud’s left.

  Zarud had opened the door about half of an inch before stopping. Not enough to get even the tip of her wand through, but more than enough for her to see what caused the noise.

  There was a length of copper wire visible through the gap, which was coiled around the inside handle of the door. Sulika tracked the wire beyond the top of the door, where it disappeared somewhere out of sight.

  “Looks like a tripwire.” Sulika whispered.

  “Hey, Ralocan?” Zarud muttered without moving anything except his lips. “Mind making a wish to that god of yours? I don’t wanna get blown up again.”

  Sulika rolled her eyes at the remark and ignored the barely audible snickers from her other teammates. “You screw up *one time* during a training exercise and you never hear the end of it.” Sulika shook her head and unzipped her jacket enough to get at the inside pocket located on her right breast.

  She retrieved a dull white crystal from the pocket and held it towards the gap. The crystal wasn’t big, by any means - barely four inches long, with a diameter of point-five millimeters.

  But it didn’t need to be large to fulfil its purpose.

  The needle-like crystal was pushed through the gap until it touched the copper wire - and the crystal changed the second contact was made. A dim line of red light shined through the center of the needle until Sulika pulled it off the wire.

  “You want the good news or the bad news first?” Sulika asked the half-orc.

  “Give it to me rough, captain. I can take it.” He replied, looking under his arm at her.

  “It's booby trapped - Pact magic, if the crystal’s right.” She said without batting an eye.

  “Figures.” He snorted. “Alright. What’s the sugar?”

  “There’s about a ninety percent chance that it’s just an alarm, not an explosive.”

  “Oh, ninety percent? Well, if that’s all then let’s pop this bitch open.”

  Sulika glanced over at the others and saw three heads nodding their agreement.

  Truth be told, she was in agreement too. It was already too late to go back, the stealth mission was over the second he’d pulled on that handle.

  It was a stupid mistake, Sulika knew that. They should’ve been more careful, and She should’ve thought to check the door for traps before letting him touch it… But she didn’t.

  She saw the wooden door, wooden tracks, wooden handle and assumed no magic was being used.

  It was common knowledge that wood was a horrible conduit for magic. That’s why runes had to be carved into the surface of her wand and Oladi’s staff. Without them, the wood couldn’t withstand the flow of mana and would likely burst into flames after a few spells.

  That’s why she’d assumed, incorrectly, that it was fine. She’d have never guessed they’d use metal for something as mundane as a tripwire.

  Metal, and especially copper, made a fantastic conduit for mana currents. There was a slight risk of melting if too much mana passed through at once, but that was beyond rare. Most spell casters couldn’t reach the levels required to melt aluminum, never mind copper or iron. And forget about steel, no one could melt that stuff with sheer mana output.

  But here’s the issue and why Sulika was now frowning at the waste of metal - because it couldn’t be used for anything else. The instant the alarm is tripped, the wire would be destroyed to fuel the alarm spell.

  The copper wire they used for this trap? It could have fed a family of four, for about six months. Maybe longer. Metal was scarce, and every ounce of it was precious. That’s why it was primarily used by the common folk as currency.

  Two grams of scrap copper became one “Copper Bit”, Twenty-five bits became a “Copper Piece”, and eighteen pieces became a “Copper coin” - Which was about the monthly salary for one of the warehouse workers they’d locked outside.

  Sulika took a step back and motioned for the others to do the same. “If they’re going to know we’re here anyway, then there’s no point in taking this slow. We hit them hard, and we hit them fast. Take them alive, if possible, but don’t make it a priority. I’m not willing to risk your lives just to capture these dickbags. Is that clear?” She asked, while waiting for Zarud to get ready.

  “Aye.”

  “Yes.”

  “Of course.”

  “Why are we still wasting our time discussing this? Let’s smash some cultists heads!” Zarud growled, a bloodthirsty grin on his face.

  Sulika nodded and took a breath to calm her nerves while Zarud yanked on the handle. The tracks whined as the door slid open - a wave of cold air hit them before Zarud had gone more than a foot.

  “Looks like we’ve found the cold storage.” Sulika zipped her jacked up as high as it would go and pointed her wand at the opening.

  *Snap!*

  *Clang!*

  The trap triggered once Zarud passed the two feet mark - An ear-splitting wail hit Sulika’s ears, causing her to wince and almost making her too slow. “Abbas: Shield,” she said, casting the quickest defensive spell in her repertoire.

  A six-foot by six-foot, semi-transparent disk appeared in the air before her and filled the gap in the door.

  Not an instant too soon either, as a pair of purple mana beams smashed into the shield with enough force to crack it down the middle.

  As Sulika cast her spell, the others were making their move too.

  “Sylthen Laiara - Thaelorn vas Laithnor.

  Theren thi valar nor thalvar. (Impart with us the strength of beasts.)

  Nael sylthen, Laiara, fael thi aelora: Thalvar Verithyn. (Wild soul reshaped: Monstrous Form)” Oladi’s nose and mouth elongated into a grayish-black beak with a sharp point, her neck lengthened slightly, and a wave of feathers cascaded from her scalp to the souls of her feet.

  At her level, Oladi was capable of casting “Monstrous Shape” in between one step and the next. Shapeshifting was a great party trick, kids loved it... But that was when she was shifting into a bunny, or some other small, fuzzy creature. The beast standing in front of Sulika now, was anything but cute and cuddly.

  Dark feathers covered her body, though most of it was hidden beneath her robes.

  A pair of large wings protruded from her back, passing through otherwise unseen slits in the fabric of her robes. Her visible arms rapidly shifted hues, going from pale to almost pitch black and doubled in size as muscle appeared out of nowhere. Though she couldn’t see it, Sulika knew her legs would be doing the same.

  The last to change was Oladi’s beautiful, gem-like eyes - They turned the color of obsidian as Oladi threw back her head and let out a quiet gasp.

  With limited time to waste, Oladi sprinted into the room, her powerful legs giving her an incredible boost of speed for the duration of her transformation.

  Derrik entered the room alongside her. Many assumed dwarves to be slow, but that wasn’t always the case - especially when their class is “Warrior”.

  “Dralak’nor khazrim, Rosa! (Let’s crack some skulls, Rosa!)” The dwarf yelled. “Thranak! (Charge!)”

  [Warrior exclusive skill ‘Charge’ has been used.] An emotionless voice intoned inside Derrik's mind.

  A violet-colored spark of mana came to life near the center of Derrik's chest, and he started running - a beat of the dwarf’s heart later, the mana bloomed into a cloak of purple flames that covered his entire body like a suit of armor.

  Derrik's speed quadrupled in the blink of an eye, momentarily putting him on par with a beastified druid. He raced after Oladi without hesitation, passing through the open doorway with his hammer held high.

  That was when the screams started.

  “Sounds like Oladi found the cultists.” Zarud chuckled as he readied his battleaxe. “Save some for me, you wild bitch!” The half-orc shouted before sprinting into the room.

  Ralocan and Sulika glanced at each other before calmly following the others. “Keep an eye on Zarud, make sure he doesn’t get in over his head. And keep a defensive incantation on Oladi as often as you can.

  “Yes, captain.” Ralocan nodded while pulling his morningstar from his belt. “What about Derrik?”

  “I’ve got him.” Sulika said before breaking away to focus on her own fight.

  The author's content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

  The battle for the city was on.

  “No no no no no! They shouldn’t be here - Why are they here?” A tall, thin man swore from beneath the dark hood covering his face. He could hear the angry shouting, the fearful screaming, the pitiful begging of his allies.

  But he wasn’t about to come to their aid. Absolutely not, fuck those guys. They’d made fun of him for wearing the hood - said it was too ‘cliché’, and he was just ‘feeding into the cultist stereotype.’

  Well, shows what they knew.

  He’d tried multiple times to warn them, ever since he first caught wind of the group snooping around the guild. But they laughed him off.

  When he saw the orcish brute staking out the warehouse from a nearby rooftop, he tried again. And again, he was laughed at.

  The last time he’d tried to warn them was just three days ago. He’d caught that druid strumpet watching them through a skylight and immediately reported it - Only for his superior to wave him away.

  Yes, he knew not all ravens were druids. And yes, he also knew the likelihood of one stalking them was low - But it was never zero! As evidenced by them being attacked at this very moment!

  “Vernaril, alinora tyel! (Dullards, the entire lot of them!)”

  He told them not to rely on the guardian’s protection. He swore that when push came to shove - Their beloved ‘Thaelorn (Guardian)’ would shove them all off a cliff if it meant he could protect himself. But did they listen, no - Because they never listened to him.

  And that’s why he wouldn’t help them.

  It was pure luck that he was already in hiding when the attack started. He’d worked a double shift the day before and was not in the right headspace to deal with those arrogant blowhards tonight. So, he’d snuck off to get some shut eye where no one, not even his own ‘allies’ could find him.

  He’d be a fool to risk his own hide to save any of those tarhvelin narsil (bullheaded pigs) from their own hubris. And he may have been many things, but he was no fool.

  Which is the only reason he’d given a few of the peasant workers a… ‘just-in-case’ gift; bracelets enchanted with an alert spell. He’d passed them the bracelets a few days ago, with instructions to immediately head to the Hunters Guild in the event the alarm was triggered.

  With four requests for emergency aid being filed, the guild was sure to respond. Then, it was just a matter of holding out long enough for the do-gooders to respond to the request, catch their fellow hunters in the act of attacking ‘innocent’ warehouse workers, and they’d be golden… Provided the workers actually obeyed him and went to the guild when they were supposed to.

  All that was left to do now was kick back, relax, and wait for this to all blow over.

  Their job was done here, anyway. They’d opened the dungeon the night before, thanks in no small part to him deliberately speeding up the process. And they were just waiting for the mana to overflow.

  Soon his wishes would be granted, the Lord had promised him as much.

  He wouldn’t be looked down on anymore.

  He wouldn’t have to put up with those megalomaniacs at the guild or watch as they turned their eyes away from the travesties committed by their ‘Golden Children’ in the Ten.

  They would be held accountable for everything they’ve done. With the power he’d attain from holding up his end of the contract, he’d make sure of it… Even if it meant a few thousand had to die first.

  He’d gladly give up his place in paradise if it meant he could personally drag those vektilor (psychopaths) down to hell where they belong.

  If she hadn’t been attacked as soon as the door was opened, Sulika wasn’t sure if she’d have known the people inside cold storage were the cultists they were looking for.

  The seventeen people awaiting them looked too normal to be genocidal maniacs.

  Maybe that was the point?

  But the large, floating portal in the middle of the room explained why they didn’t try to pretend otherwise. No one, at least, no one with their sanity intact, would dare stand so close to a dungeon.

  However, considering they’d planned to let this dungeon break, she doubted any of them were sane to begin with.

  Dungeons were a naturally occurring phenomena. Hundreds of them appear every year, and when they do form, it’s usually a spontaneous event. The portal appears in the blink of an eye, without so much as a sound of warning.

  Thankfully, aside from the few unlucky souls who have a portal form on top of them, most dungeons were only deadly to those who willingly entered them... Except in one case.

  A dungeon break.

  The dungeon break phenomenon happens when a dungeon is left unchecked for too long and the mana inside is allowed to build.

  The overabundance of mana causes the monsters who live inside the dungeon to propagate at an alarming rate - the more monsters there are, the quicker the mana builds.

  Should the dungeon continue to grow without check. Eventually cracks will begin to form, as the dungeon fails to survive beneath the weight of its own mana.

  From the moment that first crack appears, the fate of the dungeon is sealed: It will, unfailingly, break.

  Once a dungeon break occurs, the monsters and mana inside will flow over the bounds of the dungeon and pour into the outside world.

  A monster inside the city is bad; they attack without discrimination, will relentlessly pursue anyone who catches their attention, and are almost impossible for non-hunters to stop. But even worse than the monsters waiting to take a bite out of them, is the Miasma accompanying them.

  No one knows where the miasma comes from. Only that, where there are monsters, there is miasma.

  And miasma is impossible to stop once it’s broken free: It’s a vicious, airborne poison without antidote that pollutes the sky and corrupts the soil.

  A hunter can resist the effects of the miasma, for a time. But a normal person has no such protection. Minutes after exposure they’ll start having trouble breathing. Then comes the migraines and nausea, and the fever induced hallucinations. The final stage comes about twenty-four hours after exposure - which is when their fingers, lips, toes, and eyes take on a violet-colored hue.

  "Those draped in violet are Death’s to take.” is a common phrase among those who’ve seen the aftermath of miasma exposure.

  So, yes, a dungeon break is one of the most disastrous events that can occur in the modern day. And these maniacs were still here despite knowing the dungeon was going to break?

  Why? For what purpose could they have stayed behind?

  She’d assumed they were here because they were still in the process of opening it. But clearly, that wasn’t the case. The portal was enough proof of that. So… Why? Don’t they know it’s suicide to stay here?

  Then again, they are cultists. Maybe dying was all a part of the plan?

  A stray fireball flew towards Sulika’s head, forcing her to duck and pulling her out of her thoughts. “Dumbass!” She cursed. “Save the thinking for after the fight has been won!”

  Sulika leveled her wand and quickly glanced around the room to take stock of where everyone was and attempt to classify them as best she could.

  Six were wielding melee weapons, five were either wielding a staff or were actively casting a spell, while the last five remained a mystery as they stood around to watch. Sulika made a mental note to pay extra attention to these five.

  Once she had a mental map of the cultists' locations, she burst into action. “Evoon: Mana Missile!” Five spheres of crackling purple energy burst forth from the tip of the wand, each sphere zooming after a different cultist.

  The five unknown cultists were the first to be targeted. A male Lunaran Elf, a male and a female human, and two female Gnomes simultaneously took spheres to their chests.

  Both gnomes died instantly, the spheres ripping through their bodies like they were made of tissue paper.

  The male human and the male elf attempted to dodge out of the way - but that tactic failed immediately. (Mana Missile) was a tracking spell. Unless it hit something else first, it wouldn’t stop until it hit its target.

  So, the human took the sphere to the back of the head, killing him instantly. While the elf sacrificed his left arm to block the sphere - The sphere subsequently removed his arm at the elbow, but hey, he’d live… probably.

  Meanwhile, the female human reacted in a way Sulika didn’t expect. The older pulled a previously unseen dagger from her waistband and pressed the blade against her own arm - A line of crimson spilled from the woman’s flesh, and she raised her bleeding right arm at the incoming sphere.

  “Vornak ka'Rak!” She screamed in an unknown, visceral language that sounded more like the shriek of the damned than a spoken language.

  The blood pouring from the woman’s open wound ceased obeying the laws of gravity, stopping just before it would fall to the floor. Then it started to move - the blood coiled around the woman’s arm like a snake before launching to intercept the sphere.

  The mana sphere collided with the blood serpent in midair - *Boom!* the explosion canceled out both spells and sent debris flying in every direction.

  The human sent Sulika a cold grin before launching another spell. “Vornak ka’Zar!” She cried. Sulika saw blood beginning to fall from the woman’s red lips, but she couldn’t observe for long before she had to move.

  The spell once again manipulated the older woman’s blood. However, instead of creating a simple projectile, it used already fallen drops of blood to create blood spikes beneath Sulika’s feet that almost ended her in a single shot.

  As ten blood lances pierced through the stone floor, three of them pierced the air where Sulika’s head had been not even a moment ago. It was only luck and a little instinct that prompted her to take a step back. If she’d attempted to sidestep the spell, or jump over it, she would’ve been caught like a fish on the tip of a spear.

  Sulika ignored the pounding of her heart and brought her wand to bear - “Enmet: Daze!” She chanted; The level 0 spell took the form of a ball of black smoke that launched from the tip of her wand.

  The human grinned at the pitiful attempt. Didn’t the welp realize? She’d already stopped one of her spells, why couldn’t she do it again?

  “Vornak ka'Rak!” Said the woman. A second blood projectile launched from her outstretched arm to intercept Sulika’s spell - Which was exactly what Sulika had been hoping for.

  The blood spell smashed through (Daze) without effort, triggering the spell’s effect: (Daze) wasn’t an attack spell, it couldn’t do damage even if Sulika wanted it to. However, that didn’t make it useless.

  The moment the ball of smoke was destroyed, black mist filled the space between Sulika and the cultist. Realizing her error the cultist attempted to get out of the way of the oncoming wave, but she was too slow.

  The mist washed over her and began infiltrating her body anyway it could; her nose, ears, mouth, not even the pores of her skin were safe.

  Only once it was inside her body, did the spell truly activate - The cultists felt a brief pain inside her skull before her consciousness was cut off like flipping a light switch.

  The cultist collapsed, her body falling to the ground like a stringless puppet. Sulika saw none of this, as she’d already moved on to her next target.

  While Sulika was dealing with the human, Derrik had encountered a problem all his own.

  He jumped back, barely avoiding the thin blade slashing at his neck.

  Two cultists; a male human and a male Lunaran elf, lay dead at his feet. Both met with the unfortunate fate of getting between his Rosa and the floor. But the last cultist wasn’t so easily dealt with.

  The male Solaran elf was clearly used to combat. His silver rapier pierced the air with the speed of the wind and could strike like the rain - Hitting Derrik anywhere, and from any angle he wanted.

  This fact brought a mad smile to the dwarf’s face. He loved being a hunter, truly, he did… But fighting monsters wasn’t what he’d been trained to do.

  He tightened his grip on Rosa and dashed into the elf’s face. The elf countered by side-stepping and thrusting his sword at Derrik’s exposed neck - the Dwarf somehow stopped and changed directions in an instant. The tip of the rapier sliced through the thin skin of his ear but failed to hit anything vital.

  Derrik was on the elf before he could withdraw his sword. The dwarf twisted his body with the might of a hurricane and attempted to smash Rosa into the elf’s midsection.

  The elf swayed out of the way and quickly reoriented his sword - But Derrick's onslaught had only just begun.

  [Warrior exclusive skill ‘Whirlwind’ has been used.]

  With each rotation of the dwarf’s body, his hammer moved faster, and faster. Until his entire being became a blur of twisting steel and rending wind.

  The elf backpedaled, gaining some much-needed distance between him and the whirlwind of pain - But Derrik simply shifted his footing and gave chase with surprising speed.

  So began a wicked dance between the elf and the warrior.

  Every step the elf took, the whirlwind intercepted. Every path the elf attempted to follow, the whirlwind broke. Until, finally, the elf found his way out!

  The dwarf was slow to follow when he dashed left, but quick to follow right. So, the cultists feigned a dash to the right - and smirked as he noticed the whirlwind start to follow.

  At the last second, just before the dwarf’s hammer could claim his life too, the elf corrected himself and dove to the left.

  Once he was behind the whirlwind, it was a simple matter of dealing with the dwarf. He would just need to stab - The world shifted as the cultist’s feet left the ground. He saw the floor below him, then above him, then below, then above, then… But wait, if his feet had left the ground - what was he looking at?

  [The Warrior exclusive skill ‘Momentum Reversal’ has been used.]

  Derrik winced and bent to rest his aching thighs. “Nar brumak kahrr nok gruth… (I’m too old for this shit.)” He moaned before standing up and moving to find his next target.

  Sulika and Derrik finished their respective battles seconds before Zarud, Ralocan, and Oladi downed the last of the seventeen cultists attacking them.

  “Is that all of them?” Sulika asked once the five had regrouped.

  “All I’ve seen.” Zarud replied while cleaning the blood from his axe.

  “Hah…” Oladi sighed after ending her transformation. Her muscles ached, and her head pounded from the shift in senses.

  “I’ll make sure the survivors are all bound. Wouldn’t want them to get away after going through all of that.” Ralocan muttered, his morningstar leaving a trail of blood as he walked away.

  “I’ll sweep the area. Might find a few wee rats scurrying around in the darkness.” Derrik said before heading off to do just that.

  Which left Sulika standing beside the ticking time bomb that was the dungeon portal.

  She sighed deeply and shook her head. First, she’d send an emergency message to the guild with proof of the portal's existence. With that, hopefully they could send over reinforcements before the thing popped and unleashed hell on Auris - *Crack!* Sulika, and everyone else who heard it, winced at the sound of glass breaking.

  “You’re too late.” The old woman laughed. “I don’t know how you learned about us, but it doesn’t matter anymore. You’re too late to stop it.” She sighed and collapsed onto her back. “It’ll all be over soon.”

  “Derrik.” Sulika muttered, drawing the Dwarf’s attention to her. She motioned to the old woman and made a show of smacking her fist into her open palm.

  Derrik nodded and walked over to the older human. “G’night.” He said before raising his fist into the air and sending the woman into blissful unconsciousness.

  “What’re we gonna do, captain?” Zarud asked as he, Oladi, and Ralocan returned to Sulika’s side.

  “What else can we do?” Sulika replied while scratching the back of her head. “One of us is going to need to head back to the guild to sound the alarm. The rest of us are going inside and we’ll attempt to delay the break as long as possible.”

  “... Who’s getting sent to the guild?” Derrik asked, looking somber at the prospect.

  “Oladi. She’s in the worst shape after transforming -” Her response was met with twin sighs of relief and one begrudging look from the druid.

  “Thank the ancestors.” Derrik laughed. “For a second there, I thought you were gonna ask me to go.”

  “I can see why.” Zarud said, grinning. “I’ve known rocks younger than you.”

  “Still having trouble making real friends?” Derrik replied without bothering to look Zarud’s way.

  “You wanna go, old man?”

  “Time and place, Grodh'varrak. (Shameful man.)”

  “You wouldn’t dare say that in a language I understand!” Zarud said, his voice angry and his body tensing in rage.

  “Are you sure you want to be trapped in there with them?” Oladi whispered into Sulika’s ear.

  “Absolutely not… Which is why you’d better hurry up and go. The sooner you get there, the faster you save me from that fate.” Sulika said before sending a sly wink Oladi’s way.

  Sulika ignored the bickering of her male teammates and retrieved a strange mask from a pocket inside her jacket.

  Sulika’s rebreather was black with white trim around the outer edges; a small, rectangular tank was attached on the left side of the mask and connected to a circular vent on the right side of the mask through tiny tubes that ran beneath the surface of the mask.

  Her mask was on the smaller side, only large enough to cover her mouth and nose. Though many hunters chose rebreathers that covered their entire faces, Sulika hated the ones that forced her to look through the lenses.

  They were always getting dirty or broken, and you had enough issues seeing through the miasma without adding even more crap on top of it.

  The mask wrapped around her head and fastened at the nape with a quiet *snap* of the buckle.

  With her mask in place, Sulika turned to inspect her team.

  Derrick’s mask was one of the larger ones and just barely fit over his huge beard and mustache. It was black with a red accent line around the top. A large circular vent was positioned exactly where his mouth was and used subdermal tubes to connect it to a pair of cylindrical tanks at the back of his neck - just above where the buckles fastened it into place.

  Zarud’s was similar to Derrick’s in appearance, but instead of a red accent line, Zarud’s had two yellow lines - One at the top of the mask and one at the bottom.

  Ralocan’s mask was small, like Sulika’s, but his mask was white with orange accents. Four vertical vents were positioned over his mouth and nose and connected to a pair of circular tanks on either side of his neck.

  Sulika nodded at her team before turning to fully face the portal.

  She hadn’t paid much attention to it until now. So, she hadn’t realized how unusual its color was. She’d only ever seen blue or green portals before. But this portal was so dark it was almost black, making it almost impossible to determine what ‘kind’ of dungeon it was.

  “Guess we’re going in blind… Terrific.” She sighed.

  “If anyone out there is actually listening... We’re going to need a miracle to make it through this alive. Please, even if I don’t make it back, let my team return. They don’t deserve to die just because they followed me.” Sulika muttered a prayer to any god who would listen.

  She took one final breath of fresh air before stepping past the threshold and entering the dungeon portal.

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