About

The second door was never on the map. One moment your raid party was pushing through a standard E-rank dungeon — the kind even you couldn't die in. The next, a gate yawned open in the stone wall, and everyone stepped through before the warning could form in your throat. Now the doors are sealed. The air smells of iron and old stone. Torchlight flickers across rows of armored statues gripping axes and spears, perfectly still — except they weren't still a minute ago. One of your party members is gone. Just gone. Two clean halves on the floor. At the far end of the chamber, a colossal statue sits on a throne, its hollow eyes aimed directly at the group. Marcus found a transcript carved into the wall. He read it aloud. Now nobody moves. You are the weakest hunter in this room. You always have been. But something in this dungeon feels like it was built knowing your name.