The mutated rat stirred atop its macabre perch, its grotesque form shifting with a sickening creak of bone and bloated flesh. Pustules along its flanks ruptured as it moved, dripping thick gore down the mound of bones beneath it. The sword it wielded—a rust-rusted slab of iron nearly as long as Nathan was tall—dragged across the stone floor, leaving a jagged trail in its wake.

Rachel kept her stance tight, buckler up, sabre held steady at her side. The creature's wheezing breath echoed through the chamber, each exhale a foul wind of decay and rot. Across the formation, her team mirrored her readiness—shoulders squared, weapons raised, boots planted.

"Hold formation," she called out. Her voice was calm, but the tension in her grip told another story.

Paul advanced with her, shield raised to cover their forward line. Nathan rolled his neck and surged forward, axe low and eyes locked on the beast's exposed midsection. Diana vanished into the shadows, her silhouette flickering as she flanked wide. Behind them, George and Felicity fanned out to establish a firing line along the edges of the room.

The rat let out a guttural screech and lunged forward.

The charge was slow—unexpectedly so—and sloppy. Paul met it with his shield, the impact booming through the chamber like a struck bell. Nathan roared as he followed up, axe biting deep into the creature's ribs, black ichor spraying across the floor. It responded sluggishly, limbs flailing with far less precision than any of them had anticipated.

Diana struck next, her twin knives slipping beneath the jointed bone plates at its haunch. The rat recoiled slightly, trying to pivot, but was immediately struck by a volley of arrows from George and Felicity. One bolt found its way into the creature's eye, causing it to shriek again, more in frustration than pain.

Rachel darted in, slamming her buckler into its chest. It stumbled. Felicity's arrow followed, driving clean through the beast's remaining eye. The mutated rat collapsed, twitching once before going still.

Then—silence.

No tremors. No second form. No resurrection. Just the dripping of pus and black blood pooling beneath the corpse.

Rachel kept her blade drawn, scanning the room with narrowed eyes. No shifting walls. No new threats emerging from the gloom. No change.

"That... was it?" George asked cautiously, voice echoing off the stone.

"Not even a scratch," Diana muttered. She sheathed her knives with a frown. "That's... not right."

Nathan approached the corpse and gave it a cautious nudge with the toe of his boot. "Killed harder things two rooms ago."

"I don't like this," Rachel said quietly. She glanced back toward the heavy doors. Still sealed shut. "That thing was grotesque, but it fought like it was half-dead already."

A soft hum filled the air. Pale light gathered in the center of the room, drawing their eyes as a chest shimmered into existence, low to the ground, rune-etched, and glowing faintly with internal energy.

Rachel approached cautiously, sabre still ready in her hand. She paused at the chest, waited another breath, then knelt and lifted the lid.

The instant it opened, the room dimmed.

A system prompt flared into view before them, glowing with unmistakable authority.

Cursed Dungeon Update: Heart of Grävenmarsh

Objective: Climb the Tower of Draumheim to reach the Heart of Grävenmarsh. Only there will you be able to make your way home.

Progress: Level 1/100 Completed

They stared, stunned into silence.

The light from the system prompt cast an eerie glow across their faces, bathing them in pale silver as it hovered midair, impossibly solid, undeniably real. Dust motes floated lazily through the beam, undisturbed by their motionless forms.

"One hundred floors?" Evelyn whispered, her voice barely audible. Her bow arm lowered unconsciously, the string slackening as the weight of the message sank in. "You've got to be kidding me..."

Paul stood motionless beside her, the tension draining from his shoulders as he let out a long, measured exhale. "That was just the first floor?" His voice echoed faintly in the chamber, disbelief threaded beneath the weariness.

No one answered. There was nothing to say.

Rachel didn't move at first. Her gaze remained fixed on the floating text, jaw clenched tight enough to creak. She read the words again—every glowing line burned into her mind. The blood pumping through her ears drowned out the ambient hum of the crystal behind them. Her fingers curled around the hilt of her sabre, the leather wrapping creaking softly as her grip tightened.

She didn't blink.

A hundred floors. No timeline. No way home but up. And if this shambling corpse of a rat was the warm-up…

"Well," she said at last, voice low and flat. "Looks like the real dungeon starts now."

The glow of the quest prompt flickered once and vanished.

As the last echoes of the quest prompt faded into silence, a low grinding sound began to rise from the far side of the chamber. Stone scraped against stone, followed by the dull clang of a locking mechanism disengaging. A wall section shifted, revealing a narrow archway and a flight of steps carved directly into the stone beyond.

Rachel approached first, sabre still drawn, and peered into the passage. The stairwell was steep and vanished quickly into darkness.

"This is new," she muttered, stepping inside.

The others followed, weapons in hand, tension high. The climb was slow and unrelenting. The deeper they went, the more time seemed to stretch. The darkness was absolute—no torches, glowing crystals, or runes to guide them—just the rhythmic sound of their footsteps and the soft clinking of armor as they ascended.

It began to feel endless, as though the stairs wrapped upward into forever. Just as Rachel opened her mouth to speak, they reached a landing. A soft breeze stirred her hair, carrying with it a scent that was... foreign. Not decay. Not dust. Something living.

She stepped through the final arch.

And stopped.

The world beyond wasn't the dungeon anymore.

It looked like outside, but the sky above was no familiar shade. Gone was the blue of Earth. Gone too was the blood-red overcast they had seen outside the ruined city. Instead, the sky here was a luminous green, like jade had been melted and poured across the heavens. Pale clouds hung motionless, stretched thin like pulled cotton.

Massively alien flora swayed gently around them in a breeze that didn't touch their skin. Trees with spined trunks and flat, broad leaves towered into the air. Coiling vines the thickness of a man's arm pulsed faintly with bioluminescence. Patches of ground glowed softly beneath their boots—moss or lichen, but alive with a dull inner light.

In the distance, small creatures darted through the underbrush in groups. Some moved like canines, others like oversized rodents, each one strange and vaguely insectile in form.

Rachel's voice broke the silence. "Are we... in another world? I'm not dreaming here, right?"

Paul stood beside her, mouth slightly open as he scanned the horizon. "I see the same thing, love. I don't know where we are, but this... this isn't just another dungeon level."

Nathan stepped up beside them, shielding his eyes against the green haze. "Wherever we are—those are some big animals." He pointed off to the right.

They followed his gesture.

Far beyond a rise in the terrain, a group of massive creatures lumbered beneath the shadow of an enormous tree. At first glance, they resembled triceratops—thick bodies, plated hides, broad faces. But as one stood on its hind legs and pulled the entire tree down with a rumbling grunt, they realized the scale was far beyond anything natural. The beasts were easily three stories tall, their movements slow and deliberate. Thick fur grew in mottled patches along their backs, and long tusks jutted from under their plated snouts.

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

A shiver passed through them.

"I really hope we don't have to kill that," George said, voice hushed.

"Me too, buddy," Charles muttered, eyes still wide. "Me too."

Rachel exhaled and adjusted her grip on her sabre. "Alright. Let's figure out what the System wants from us this time."

She stepped forward, and as her boot hit the mossy earth, a new quest prompt shimmered into view in front of the team.

Tower of Draumheim Update: Level 2

Description: This realm reflects the fragmented echoes of worlds lost to the Heart of Grävenmarsh. Each floor re-creates a memory twisted by the curse. Adapt or perish as you navigate these alien landscapes. The climb has only just begun.

Objective: Collect 12 Gorgul Spine Fronds and 1 Alpha Gorgul Plate from native megafauna.

Reward: Access to Level 3

Rachel stared at the text. "Well," she said, tone dry, "looks like we're going hunting."

The hunt began cautiously.

At first, they stuck to the edges of the forest, avoiding the towering beasts that lumbered in the distance. The smaller creatures—lizardlike with chitin-plated backs and glowing spines—roamed in tight, skittish, and aggressive packs. George quickly identified them as the likely source of the "Gorgul Spine Fronds" listed in their quest.

The creatures moved fast, darting through dense underbrush and vanishing into cover. It took everything they had to coordinate strikes, pinning them between shield walls and ranged fire. Felicity's arrows claimed the first two. Diana and Nathan dispatched three more in a flurry of motion and blade. Evelyn discovered the hard way that their bites were laced with a numbing toxin, though thankfully mild. She went to stay behind Paul after that.

By the third engagement, the team had adjusted. They moved like a single, practiced unit. Rachel called the targets. Paul held the line. George and Felicity rained arrows from the edges while Charles and Evelyn rotated support. Diana ghosted through gaps. Nathan broke anything too large to ignore.

One by one, the spined hides fell. After hours of movement and skirmishes, they'd collected the twelve fronds required.

Then came the tremor.

It was distant at first—more felt than heard. A rhythmic pounding that rolled beneath their boots and set birds scattering from the treetops. Trees swayed. Branches snapped in the far distance.

They crouched, eyes scanning the forest edge.

The Alpha Gorgul emerged with a sound like a grinding stone.

It was nothing like the smaller kin. Towering over the trees, the Alpha moved with a deliberate, crushing weight. Its form was hulking—twenty feet at the shoulder and easily forty long. A ridge of jagged obsidian-colored bone jutted from its spine, each plate glistening with wet, iridescent armor. Its legs were like stone pillars, thick with corded muscle beneath armored hide. Four tusks curved from its lower jaw, and a set of three eyes blinked in slow, unblinking cadence—one set centered above its snout, the other two facing outward, scanning the forest.

Rachel raised a hand, halting the group. Her fingers glowed faintly as she activated her Analyze ability.

A pulse of energy swept out and returned immediately, bringing the creature's stats into view before her eyes.

New Monster: Alpha Gorgul

Description: The Alpha Gorgul is a dominant herbivore warped by the Grävenmarsh curse. While its diet remains passive, its territorial instincts have been magnified to lethal extremes. Covered in dense, obsidian-reinforced bone plates and guided by a secondary nervous cluster in its back, the Alpha can limit reactive autonomy even when its primary senses are impaired.

Rachel's lips pressed into a thin line.

"We're not going to kill this thing with a frontal assault," she said, voice clipped. "If we want that Plate, we'll need to break it down methodically. Evelyn, keep your mana focused on burst heals. George, Felicity—arrows to the eyes or weak points only. Paul, Nathan—you're our anchors. Diana, with me. We're getting behind it."

The Alpha Gorgul raised its head.

And roared.

The sound echoed across the green sky, shaking the canopy and sending flocks scattering like smoke.

Rachel adjusted her grip on her sabre.

"Let's move."

The Alpha Gorgul thundered forward, each step a quake beneath their feet. Trees splintered in its path, roots tearing from the ground like brittle cords. The group scattered, moving with practiced efficiency.

Nathan and Paul broke off left, drawing its focus with a chorus of shouted taunts and a flash of shieldwork. The beast responded with a lurching charge, tusks sweeping wide. Paul dug in, bracing for impact. The blow sent him skidding back, boots carving twin trenches in the mossy earth—but he held.

Diana and Rachel looped behind. With its bulk pivoting toward the threat ahead, the rear tendon cluster Rachel had marked was exposed. Diana struck first, twin blades flashing. The Gorgul bellowed in pain and staggered. Rachel followed up, sabre biting into the narrow seam beneath its armored spine plates.

Arrows thudded into soft targets—Felicity aiming high, George adjusting for the creature's wide turns. Evelyn stayed back, healing pulses ready, though none were yet needed. The Alpha retaliated once with a heavy Groundquake Stomp, but the wave of force barely rattled their formation.

Within moments, they had control of the fight. Diana crippled the rear leg. Paul and Nathan battered the flank with brute force. Rachel slid beneath a sweeping tail and drove her blade upward, puncturing the nerve cluster at the base of the skull.

The Alpha collapsed with a groan that rumbled through the ground.

Silence returned. A breeze moved through the strange trees, lifting the scent of ichor and torn plant matter.

Then came the hum.

A radiant chest shimmered into existence beside the creature's fallen form, much like before—but this time, it wasn't alone. A few feet beyond it, a swirling portal manifested, its edges flickering with soft green and violet light.

Rachel approached the chest slowly, scanning for traps. None appeared. She opened it, revealing a mass of polished bone and shimmering sinew—the Alpha Gorgul Plate. The System acknowledged the quest's completion with a quiet ding, the familiar glow of an interface fading just as quickly.

She glanced at the portal.

"Seems like we're being spoon-fed monsters," Rachel muttered, turning back to the group. "They look terrifying, but they're not that hard to kill."

Paul raised a brow. "Not that we're complaining."

Rachel nodded once, eyes narrowing slightly as she studied the shifting portal. "Still... I wonder how fast the difficulty ramps up after this?"

No one had an answer.

Only the swirling gateway and the promise of the next floor.

Floor 4 greeted them with a chill wind and the heavy scent of decay. Mist coiled low to the ground, curling around cracked headstones and crumbling mausoleums. A massive, overgrown cemetery sprawled outward, its iron gates creaking on rusted hinges. The moment their boots hit the dead earth, the ground stirred.

Skeletons rose from disturbed graves, empty eyes glowing with hateful light. Wights and ghouls lurched between the tombs, shrieking with hunger. The team formed up quickly, but this time, physical blows barely slowed the tide.

It was Evelyn who turned the tide.

Her healing magic, pulsing with divine resonance, lit the fog like starlight. Every wave of healing not only restored her allies, it burned the undead. Wights turned to ash under her radiance. Skeletons cracked and crumbled mid-lunge. Even the ghouls fell back, hissing in agony.

At the far end of the graveyard stood a robed figure atop a stone plinth—a Lich, its skull wreathed in violet flame. The creature cast death magic in waves, trying to drown them in corruption, but Evelyn's light reached farther and pierced deeper. Her final burst of magic shattered its protective barrier, and George's arrow ended it with a clean shot through the eye socket.

The undead collapsed in silence.

Floor 5 dropped them into chaos.

Screams echoed through a rocky pass as a caravan of battered wagons was under siege. Goblins poured from both sides of the cliffs, using crude slings, blades, and rusted spears. The travelers fought back desperately, forming a makeshift wall around the carts.

Rachel didn't hesitate. "Form on me. Break that flank!"

They charged into the fray, flanking the goblins who didn't expect resistance from behind. Diana tore through the ranks with precision strikes, while Paul and Nathan plowed a path through the center. Rachel directed from the edge, cutting down any goblin who slipped the line.

As they pushed the goblins back, a roar split the pass.

The Goblin Chieftain stepped from a ridge above, covered in scavenged armor and wielding a curved, jagged axe nearly as tall as he was. He leapt down, landing hard enough to stagger them, and immediately lashed into the fray.

This fight wasn't clean.

The Chieftain shrugged off glancing blows and nearly tore Paul's shield arm out of its socket with a sweeping blow. He knocked Nathan to the ground twice, only to be intercepted by Rachel and Charles while Evelyn flung emergency heals between allies. The tide finally turned when Diana hamstrung the creature from behind, and George landed a precise arrow to the throat.

The Chieftain collapsed in a heap of fury and blood.

The caravan cheered weakly as the last goblin scattered.

The portal didn't appear immediately—only once they'd stabilized the survivors and guided them to a nearby road did the familiar glow return.

Floor 6 opened into a chamber unlike any they'd seen so far.

Gone were the twisting forests, bone-strewn crypts, and chaotic battlegrounds. Instead, smooth stone stretched perfectly, the floor tiled in seamless hexagonal patterns. Every surface was clean, dry, and precisely angled, as though carved by something that measured the world in exact increments.

Pale blue light pulsed from crystalline veins running through the walls and ceiling, casting the room in a cool, calming glow. At the center floated a hovering crystal—larger than the one they'd encountered on the first floor, slowly rotating in place. It hummed softly, not with menace, but with quiet purpose. The sound was warm, low-pitched, almost like the purring of some vast, sleeping machine.

Rachel stepped through the threshold first and halted, eyes scanning every surface. She half-expected a hidden enemy, some trap disguised behind sterile symmetry.

Instead, the System chimed.

A wave of familiar energy washed over them, and their interfaces flickered to life. Notifications ticked through—armor integrity restored, status ailments cleansed, consumables replenished. Fresh clothing and basic supplies shimmered into inventories.

For just a second, no one moved. Then George let out a stunned laugh, and the tension broke like glass.

They had found a safe room.

The cheers weren't loud, but they were heartfelt. Diana exhaled like she'd been holding her breath for hours. Paul chuckled under his breath and unstrapped his shield, letting it clatter gently against the floor. Evelyn slumped down with her back to the wall and refilled her canteens with summoned water. Charles and Felicity silently leaned into one another near the edge of the room, bows finally lowered.

Rachel watched as each of them collapsed into a brief but much-needed routine—mending, drinking, even just breathing without immediate threat looming overhead. She felt it too, the way the grinding fatigue began to lift. Her armor, scorched and scratched from the last fight, reformed seamlessly around her. The heavy stiffness in her joints faded, replaced with a clean ache that reminded her she was still standing.

They had cleared five levels in under a day.

By the numbers, they were ahead of pace. If they kept this momentum, finishing before the tutorial period ended seemed possible—maybe even likely.

But Rachel wasn't celebrating just yet.

She sat near the crystal, one leg drawn up, resting her arm on her knee as she scanned her party. They looked better already. Stronger. Focused. But the rest of the floor only dulled the edge of what they'd been through. It didn't erase the growing uncertainty pressing in at the edges of her mind.

What if the tutorial ended... and they weren't finished here?

What if the System moved on without them?

That question lingered like a weight in her chest. Not fear—she didn't have the luxury for that—but concern measured out in possibilities. In quiet unknowns.

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