They stood in the eerie stillness, the aftermath of battle clinging to the air like smoke. All around them, the ruined street was littered with the remnants of their enemies—scattered bones and rusting fragments of armor marking where each skeleton had fallen. Evelyn moved between Nathan and Paul, her hands glowing faintly as she tended to their wounds. Both men bore fresh gashes along arms and legs, proof of the brutal fight that had just ended.

Rachel stepped away from the group, her boots crunching over bits of bone. She paused before a particularly large pile, wondering how the System would treat it. She nudged it with the toe of her boot, and a familiar prompt blinked to life in her vision.

Loot 46 x Skeleton Warriors? Yes/No?

"Hey, guys," she called over her shoulder. "I just got a message to loot all the skeletons at once. Everyone good with that?"

No one voiced any objections, so she selected Yes. The results popped up almost immediately.

46 x Skeleton Warriors Experience Gained: 5,152 Gold Acquired: 93

4 x Damaged Short Swords 1 x Cracked Bow

Reading off the results, Rachel raised an eyebrow. "Anyone want a sword or a busted bow? They're not exactly high quality."

Paul gave a faint chuckle, and the rest of the group shook their heads.

"Alright. Gold splits eleven a person, with some change left over. I'll divide it up when we're back at camp."

As she dismissed the screen, Diana stretched, a grin tugging at her lips. "Ooh, finally! A level up. That was a lot of work."

Rachel nodded, brushing a smear of dust from her gauntlet. "Looks like the experience got split eight ways. It'll slow us down a little, but I doubt this place is short on things to kill. Let's use it. Focus on skill growth as much as we can—this whole place might turn out to be an excellent training ground."

Near the edge of the group, Nathan stood watch with his axe resting over one shoulder, eyes scanning the road ahead. "Rachel," he called back, "I think we should stop trying to dodge patrols. If we leave any behind us, we risk getting boxed in later."

She turned toward him, thoughtful. "That's a good point, Nathan. But if we're going to clear the route ahead, we do it smartly. No unnecessary risks."

Diana stepped up beside them. "I'm still good with darting ahead. I'll just be more cautious about side buildings this time."

Nathan opened his mouth, clearly about to object, but the look in Diana's eyes gave him pause. That spark of stubborn confidence—he'd seen it too many times to argue with. Instead, he gave her a crooked smile and pulled her into a brief side hug.

Rachel let the moment settle before speaking. "If you're sure, let's rest here a bit before moving on. I wish we'd thought to pack supplies."

George raised his hand, then reached into his inventory with a small smile. "Already did. Grabbed a canteen with a water construct—refills itself—and picked up some cheap bread and cheese. Not gourmet, but we won't starve."

Diana laughed, plucking a hunk of bread from the bundle. "I could kiss you, my countryman," she teased. Turning to the others, she smirked and added, "See? We English aren't all bad," before taking a deep swig of water.

Rachel signaled to reform their lines as the sun began its slow descent from midday, casting long rust-red shadows across the ruined city. The group moved forward in practiced formation, fatigue showing in their faces but determination still in their eyes. Dust kicked up around their feet as they pushed deeper into the dead streets, Diana again taking point with her trademark collection of smooth stones clutched in her hand.

She moved like a shadow, swift and deliberate, skirting collapsed buildings and peering into alleys that yawned like hungry mouths. When she found another pack of skeletons—usually in groups of three or four she would hurl a stone with precise force, drawing their attention with a satisfying crack. The skeletons responded as expected: turning with eerie coordination and clacking jaws, shambling toward the source of the noise.

Rachel, Paul, and Charles would brace the front, shields raised, weapons ready. Arrows hissed over their shoulders—George and Felicity, perched atop broken foundations or chunks of wall, offered precision support. As long as they were accurate, an arrow could crush one of the skulls if it struck a socket. Evelyn lingered near the center, her mana carefully rationed, eyes constantly scanning for wounds. The tactic worked. Slowly, methodically, they thinned the numbers.

At one intersection, they paused to regroup. A faint wind stirred the ash and sand, bringing with it the smell of brittle rot and something faintly metallic. They rounded the corner and saw that the path stretched long and straight—so long, in fact, that the hazy red sky blurred its end into obscurity.

"We're not even close," Paul muttered, wiping a hand across his brow. "This city just keeps going."

Rachel checked her map. "Halfway, maybe. And the sun's dipping fast."

It was true. The light had taken on a deep crimson hue, lengthening shadows and darkening the skeletal remains that lined their path. They couldn't afford to be caught in the open when full night fell.

"Start looking for a place to bed down," she said. "Something with intact walls and one or two ways in—nothing more."

They kept moving, but their pace changed. No longer marching with the momentum of attack, they crept more cautiously now, searching the wreckage for shelter. The buildings on either side were in various states of collapse—roofs caved in, walls broken or leaning precariously, their interiors choked with debris.

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Nathan paused at a narrow alleyway and pointed. "There," he said. "That one's still mostly intact."

The structure he indicated was a squat stone building—possibly a barracks or a small hall once. It stood with three full walls and part of a fourth, and though the roof had partially caved in, there was enough shelter to offer some safety. Better still, a chunk of the fallen ceiling had landed in such a way that it could be dragged to block the narrow entrance.

"Looks like our best shot," Rachel agreed.

They approached carefully, scanning the interior for threats. A single skeleton sat slumped against the far wall, unmoving. Nathan stepped forward and smashed it with his axe, reducing it to dust and bone shards without ceremony.

"Clear," he said.

Everyone filtered inside. Paul and Charles worked together to drag the stone slab into place over the entrance. It would slow anything trying to get in, and give them time to react.

As the last rays of sunlight bled away over the jagged city skyline, the party settled in. They arranged their gear, checked their weapons, and laid out rations.

The group settled into the shelter as the last traces of red faded from the sky, leaving only the murky darkness of this lifeless world. What little warmth the day had offered vanished with the light, and the temperature plummeted with startling speed. A biting chill slipped through the cracks in the ruined walls and found every exposed bit of skin.

Evelyn curled in tighter against Charles, pulling her cloak more tightly around them both. "Is there any chance of a fire?"

Rachel studied the remains of the structure—the warped planks of what might have once been a door, some splintered beams resting against the wall. She shook her head. "Not enough dry wood. And even if we managed to start something, we don't have a roof to hide the light. A fire might broadcast our position to everything out there. Sorry, Evelyn. It's not worth the risk."

Evelyn nodded and said no more, nestling closer to Charles for warmth and reassurance.

Nathan shifted and glanced at Rachel. "How should we do watches?"

Rachel considered the group, the exhaustion on their faces. "Pairs, for sure. It's going to be a cold night—staying close helps with that. Anyone not too worn down want to take first?"

Nathan looked to Diana, who gave a quick nod. "We've got it," he said. "Still running on a bit of adrenaline anyway. Plus, I've been feeding points into Endurance, so I should be able to stay alert."

"Alright." Rachel gave a small nod. "We'll break it into three-hour shifts—if time flows the same here as it did on Earth. Hard to say, but we have to start somewhere."

Paul raised a hand slightly. "How are we keeping time, exactly?"

Felicity piped up before Rachel could answer, brushing a bit of dust from her shoulder. "There's a clock in your interface. You can toggle it in the preferences menu."

Everyone turned to look at her.

Rachel blinked. "The what menu?"

Felicity paused, her face coloring slightly. "Oh, uh... when we first met Virial, I asked her about changing some settings. She told me there's a hidden menu for adjusting base options—layout stuff, information display, and yeah, time."

Charles leaned forward, curiosity piqued. "How do you access it?"

"Just pull up your menu and focus on the word 'Settings.' It should pop into view."

One by one, the group followed her instructions. Mutters and exclamations of surprise echoed through the chamber as they discovered toggles for time, stat display formats, targeting visuals, and even color themes. It was a small thing, but after everything they'd endured, having a sense of control—even over something as trivial as their HUD—offered a strange kind of comfort.

Rachel sat back and watched them explore, a faint smile touching her lips. For all their fear and inexperience, they were adapting. Becoming something more. They had no idea what they would face next, but they were learning.

The sounds of laughter faded, and soon, the group began drifting into a cautious sleep. Cloaks pulled tight, weapons nearby, and eyes slowly closed one by one.

Outside, the wind whispered across stone and bone.

And somewhere, far deeper in the heart of the ruined city, something ancient stirred.

Its eyes opened to the pulse of life trespassing through its domain.

*****

For several grueling days, the group pressed forward, their march a slow, winding journey through the corpse of a long-dead city. The shattered ruins stretched farther than any of them had imagined, each new district revealing more decay, more twisted alleys, more relics of a forgotten civilization buried beneath ash and silence. Their path was rarely straight—what had begun as a determined push toward the center had devolved into a frustrating series of detours, dead ends, and sudden retreats.

Early on, they'd been forced to hide from several high-level monsters—hulking, grotesque things that stalked the main roads or emerged from crumbling buildings like nightmares with form. They quickly realized they were not ready to face such horrors, and slipping off the safer paths had left them disoriented and vulnerable. More than once, they'd wandered in circles, the landmarks too broken or too similar to distinguish. The city, it seemed, was alive in its own way—shifting subtly, purposefully, or perhaps just in mockery.

Still, they endured.

Everyone had gained another level, pushing them to seven. Their strength was growing, but so was their hunger and fatigue. Bread and cheese had long since lost appeal; they chewed each bite like dry ash. Rachel suspected they might all swear off the stuff for life—if they lived long enough to get home.

By the sixth day, their clothes were ragged, and their voices hoarse from whispered conversation and battle cries. Each skirmish, each ambush, left them a little more worn. But the thought of stopping—of giving up—never took hold.

Then, just past midday, the city opened as they turned a corner worn smooth by wind and time.

Before them stretched a vast circular plaza, a strange oasis of intentional design amid the chaos of the ruins. The cobblestones were still mostly intact, arranged in concentric rings leading toward a monolithic black stone cube in the center. Its surface was polished and unmarked, save for four wide doorways—one cut into each face—creating a cross-shaped passage through the structure.

A translucent barrier shimmered within each of those doorways, like silvered water trembling in place.

The group came to a halt at the edge of the plaza, panting, wary. A strange stillness settled over them.

Rachel stepped forward, eyes fixed on the cube. She felt something—an oppressive weight in the air, like the moment before a storm broke. As she neared the closest threshold, a soft chime echoed in her ears, and a glowing menu snapped into view.

Cursed Dungeon: Heart of Grävenmarsh

Status: Sealed in Malice

Description: The ancient rot of Grävenmarsh festers still. Cursed beyond the reach of time, this dungeon holds the source of the corruption that plagues the ruins.

Objective: Enter and cleanse the dungeon. Defeat the source of the curse to lift the blight on the city.

Reward: Unknown

Warning: This is a Cursed Dungeon. Escape is not guaranteed until completion.

Rachel read the message aloud, her voice carrying across the plaza. The words seemed to cling to the air like smoke.

"Grävenmarsh," Charles muttered, rolling the word in his mouth. "Sounds like the kind of place stories warn you about."

Nathan stepped beside Rachel, squinting at the shimmering doorway. "Looks like we found what we were sent to deal with."

Rachel didn't respond immediately. Her hand hovered just shy of the barrier, and she could feel its chill from inches away.

"Everyone, get some water. Rest if you need to," she said quietly. "This… this is going to be something else."

And behind her, in the unnatural hush of the plaza, the shadows of the city seemed to lean in, listening. Watching.

Waiting.

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