Amina barely had time to process what had happened in the dungeon before she felt the weight of reality pressing in on her. The Delvers Association wasn’t going to ignore an unauthorized dungeon collapse—especially not one that resulted in the emergence of a new, unregistered Hybrid.

  She had become a problem. And the Association didn’t tolerate problems.

  The air was thick with tension as she and the others stood at the dungeon’s exit, breathing hard, still reeling from their escape. Scarface was the first to speak.

  “We need to split up.” His voice was flat, practical. “If we stay together, we’re a target.”

  Kojo, still shaken from nearly dying, nodded reluctantly. “Yeah. The Enforcers are gonna be looking for us.”

  Amina stayed silent, her mind racing. She could feel something shifting inside her—the lingering effects of the dungeon bond. Her War Summoner class was evolving, adapting to her combat style. But with every passing second, she could also feel eyes on her.

  She turned, scanning the tree line.

  They were coming.

  The first sign of their presence was the silence.

  The wind died. The birds stopped chirping. The usual ambient noise of the forest around the dungeon entrance was swallowed by an unnatural stillness. Then came the footsteps—measured, deliberate.

  From the darkness, they emerged.

  Enforcers.

  Five of them, clad in dark combat armor, their presence suffocating. At their center stood Dorian Kane, an A-Rank Enforcer with a reputation for handling rogue delvers. His piercing gaze locked onto Amina instantly.

  “State your name.” His voice was devoid of emotion, a formality more than a question.

  Scarface stepped forward; his expression carefully neutral. “We were caught in the dungeon collapse. Just trying to get out alive.”

  Dorian’s gaze didn’t waver. “That wasn’t what I asked.”

  His eyes stayed on Amina. He knew.

  Amina forced herself to remain still, to keep her expression unreadable. “Amina Okoro.”

  Dorian exhaled slowly, as if considering something. “The reports said an anomaly appeared inside the dungeon before its collapse.” His gaze sharpened. “What did you find in there?”

  Amina hesitated for half a second too long. That was all he needed.

  Dorian moved. Fast.

  One moment he was standing still; the next, he was in front of her. His hand shot out—

  But Amina had already reacted. Pathfinder’s Instinct flared to life, mapping out her escape before he had even finished his motion. She twisted away, her feet shifting into a combat stance as Nyoka materialized at her side with a low, guttural growl.

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  Dorian stopped, his lips curving into the barest hint of a smirk. “Interesting.”

  The other Enforcers moved, surrounding them. Scarface tensed, one hand inching toward his weapon, but Dorian lifted a hand. The signal was clear: not yet.

  “You have a system,” Dorian stated, his eyes locked onto Amina. “And you weren’t Chosen.”

  Amina said nothing.

  Dorian studied her for a long moment before finally stepping back. “We’ll be watching you.” He turned to the others. “You’re all free to go. But don’t leave the city.”

  And just like that, the Enforcers vanished into the night.

  Amina exhaled; her entire body taut with tension. They hadn’t attacked. Not yet. But she had felt it in Dorian’s gaze—the quiet promise of something far worse than death.

  She wasn’t just a rogue. She was an anomaly.

  And anomalies didn’t get to live freely.

  Amina knew she couldn’t go home. The Delvers Association would have eyes on every known location she had ever visited. She needed to disappear—at least for now.

  Scarface had contacts. He led her through the maze-like backstreets of the city, moving with the ease of someone who had lived in the shadows for years. Eventually, they arrived at a hidden entrance beneath an abandoned factory.

  Inside, the air was thick with the scent of oil and metal. Dozens of rogue delvers moved through the underground network, their eyes flicking toward Amina with a mix of curiosity and caution.

  “These people operate outside the Association’s reach,” Scarface explained. “Some of them are failed Chosen. Others are just like you—Hybrids who don’t want to be controlled.”

  A burly woman with mechanical gauntlets approached. “Who’s the new girl?”

  “A fighter,” Scarface answered. “One who just pissed off the Enforcers.”

  That got their attention.

  Amina felt the shift immediately. A mixture of respect, wariness, and something else; opportunity.

  The underground delver network thrived on power. If she wanted to survive, she had to prove she belonged.

  She had to become stronger.

  Amina spent the next week pushing herself to the limit. The underground network had no shortage of skilled fighters, and she challenged as many as she could. With every battle, she fine-tuned her War Summoner abilities, blending her martial arts and summoning skills into something completely unique.

  Her class evolved. Nyoka grew stronger, faster. Her Wraithbound Spearman gained a new ability—Phantom Strike, allowing it to phase through defenses.

  And she wasn’t just fighting other rogues. She was fighting herself—learning to control the chaotic energy that came with being bonded to a dungeon core.

  One night, Scarface pulled her aside. “You’re making enemies,” he said bluntly. “People are talking.”

  Amina wiped the sweat from her brow. “Good.”

  Scarface exhaled. “The Howler’s Guild is watching.”

  That stopped her.

  The Howler’s Guild—one of the strongest frontline guilds in the country. If they were interested in her, it meant one of two things: they saw her as a threat… or as an asset.

  And either one could be dangerous.

  Two nights later, the invitation arrived.

  It wasn’t a formal request. The Howler’s Guild didn’t do formalities. Instead, a sealed letter was left in her training quarters. The message was simple.

  “Prove yourself. One dungeon. One raid. Survive, and you’re one of us.”

  Coordinates were listed below.

  Amina exhaled slowly. This was it. The moment she had been preparing for.

  She had no illusions—if she took this challenge, there was no turning back. The Howler’s Guild wasn’t just a guild. It was a battlefield.

  But she had already made her choice the moment she bonded with the dungeon core. She wasn’t going to live in the shadows.

  She was going to rewrite the system itself.

  The next morning, Amina stood at the edge of the designated dungeon entrance. It pulsed with energy, the mana thick and unstable.

  She wasn’t alone. A team of elite delvers—each one stronger than her—stood nearby, assessing her with cold eyes. They weren’t here to help her.

  They were here to see if she survived.

  Amina smirked, rolling her shoulders.

  “Let’s get this over with.”

  And then she stepped into the abyss.