chapter 1

The gentle hum of the city drifted through the open window, the first light of dawn casting a soft glow over the quiet streets below. Issac Stross lay comfortably in bed, his body wrapped in the warmth of sleep and the quiet rhythm of his wife's breathing beside him. For a moment, everything was perfect—a fleeting slice of peace in a world often chaotic and unpredictable.

Suddenly, the door creaked open, and a pair of small feet padded into the room. Sophie, their five-year-old daughter, launched herself onto the bed with a giggle. "Daddy! Time to wake up!" she squealed, bouncing with energy, her curly hair a wild halo around her face.

Issac groaned, burying his face into the pillow. "Five more minutes, kiddo," he mumbled, though he knew it was futile.

Maya, his wife, was already awake, sitting up with a smile that could warm even the darkest day. "Come on, sleepyhead. Duty calls."

The life of a C-class Esper and dungeon trainer had its challenges, but here, in the heart of Valera City, Issac had found something that even his abilities couldn't replicate: happiness. The love of his family, the laughter that filled their home—it was enough to make him forget the weight of his past, and the battles that awaited him beyond the safety of these walls.

But life, as Issac had come to learn, rarely stayed this simple.

The darkness beneath the surface of their world was always growing, lurking. Dangerous dungeons, monstrous threats, and the ever-present need to stay strong for those who depended on him. What he didn't know was that a far greater challenge awaited—one that would change everything he thought he knew about himself, and about the world he lived in.

***

Issac stretched lazily, pretending to resist as Sophie grabbed his arm, trying to pull him from the bed with all her might. He laughed, finally giving in, sweeping her up into his arms, much to her delight.

"Alright, alright! I'm up!" he said, setting her back down before swinging his legs over the side of the bed. Maya, still smiling, watched the two of them with a playful roll of her eyes, already reaching for her phone.

"Better get dressed quick," she said, "You know how the Guild can be when trainers are late. Especially with the newbies."

Issac chuckled, rubbing his eyes. "I think I've earned being a few minutes late. Can't train Espers on an empty stomach, right?"

Sophie wriggled free from the bed, racing out of the room. "I'll help make breakfast!"

The peace in moments like these was something Issac had fought for his whole life. From the streets he grew up on, dodging his father's anger, to the dungeons that had shaped him into the man he was now. He'd built a world he wanted to protect—a world far removed from the chaos he once knew.

As he dressed, Maya rose from the bed, her presence calming as always. "You good?" she asked, her tone soft yet knowing. She always had a way of reading him without him saying a word.

Issac paused, the lightness of the morning fading ever so slightly. "Yeah, I'm good," he replied, pulling his shirt over his head. "Just... thinking about today's training run."

"You've done it a hundred times, Issac," she reminded him. "A D-rank dungeon is nothing for someone like you."

He nodded, but a familiar, creeping unease tugged at the back of his mind. Every dungeon had its risks, but Maya was right—he'd been through worse. And he wasn't going in alone. There was nothing to worry about.

Still, the subtle instinct, the one that had saved his life countless times, whispered otherwise.

"Yeah," Issac finally said, more to convince himself than anyone else. "Piece of cake."

But deep down, something told him today would be different.

*Into the Depths*

The entrance to the dungeon loomed before them, an unassuming crack in the earth nestled between thick trees. If it weren't for the swirling miasma that marked it, you could've mistaken it for a simple cave. Issac stood at the front, leading the group of recruits behind him. Two young Guides, their eyes wide with a mix of excitement and nerves, hovered near the back. Jaren, the S-class Esper who had been assigned to oversee this run, stood next to Issac, arms crossed as he surveyed the area with cool detachment.

"Doesn't look like much," one of the recruits said, trying to mask his nerves.

Issac smiled. "Dungeons never do. Don't let your guard down."

Jaren's voice was firm, cutting through the tension. "Stay close, follow Issac's lead, and do not wander off. This may be a D-rank dungeon, but it's still a dungeon. Get cocky, and it'll kill you."

The recruits fell silent, their earlier bravado melting away as they grasped the seriousness of the situation.

Issac looked over at Jaren. They didn't know each other well, but there was mutual respect between them. Jaren was calm, collected, always in control. The perfect foil to Issac's more lighthearted approach to things.

"Ready?" Issac asked, rolling his shoulders and shaking off the lingering unease from the morning.

Jaren nodded. "Let's go."

As they stepped into the darkness of the dungeon, the air changed. It was colder, thicker. The jungle-like environment within was dense with vines and towering trees, creating an eerie, claustrophobic atmosphere. The familiar hum of danger buzzed in Issac's ears. His senses sharpened, scanning for anything that seemed off.

The first wave of enemies hit them faster than expected—rabid flying squirrels, their claws laced with wind energy, swooping down from the canopy with deadly precision.

Issac reacted instantly, raising a hand as a gust of wind surged from his fingertips, blasting the squirrels back into the trees. His control over wind was precise and fluid, almost second nature. With a flick of his wrist, he formed a swirling vortex of air that cut through the creatures like invisible blades.

"Stay together!" Issac called out, his voice carrying on the wind. "They're fast, but we're faster!"

Jaren's ice powers crackled beside him as he froze the ground beneath the squirrels that were running on the ground, causing them to slip and fall into the sharp wind blades Issac had conjured. One by one, the creatures fell, their bodies disintegrating into miasma.

For a moment, the group paused to catch their breath. Issac looked around, noting how the recruits were starting to come into their own, confidence slowly returning.

But just as quickly, that creeping unease was back.

Issac's eyes darted to the far end of the clearing, where the jungle thickened. There was something watching them. He could feel it.

"Something's wrong," he muttered, stepping forward cautiously.

Jaren was already beside him. "You feel it too?"

Before Issac could respond, the ground beneath them shook, the trees quivering as a new presence made itself known.

Five large, monstrous dog-like creatures, each one a different color, burst through the trees. They were massive, the size of horses, their extra limbs reaching out like nightmarish appendages. Their eyes gleamed with malevolent intelligence.

Ambush.

"Retreat!" Jaren commanded, stepping forward as his water and ice powers surged around him. The recruits scrambled back, fear setting in.

Issac gritted his teeth, stepping in front of the trainees to hold off two of the creatures. His heart pounded in his chest as he fought to keep them safe, his wind powers whipping around him in a whirlwind. He summoned a small tornado, the winds laced with sharp blades, trying to fend off the creatures long enough for the recruits to escape.

But one by one, they fell.

* The Sealed Gate*

The jungle dungeon was a blur of chaos and death. The snarls of the monstrous dog-like creatures echoed through the thick canopy, growing closer with every passing second. Issac's heart pounded in his ears, the sting of miasma filling his lungs as he ran, half-dragging the last remaining guide by the arm. They stumbled, bloodied and battered, their breaths coming in ragged gasps.

Just ahead, the gate—their only way out—finally came into view, but something was wrong. Issac's eyes widened as the once-open entrance shimmered with a sickly green light and sealed itself shut.

"No!" Issac screamed, skidding to a halt, the guide nearly collapsing at his feet. His body was running on pure adrenaline, his mind racing as he took in the shimmering, impenetrable barrier in front of them.

The gate was sealed. They were trapped.

Issac slammed his fist against the stone wall beside the gate, his knuckles splitting open on impact. "Damn it!" he shouted, his voice hoarse. He hit the wall again, and again, his wind powers sparking uncontrollably around him, gusts of air swirling like a storm he couldn't control. "Open! OPEN!"

The guide, barely able to stand, watched helplessly, their face pale and streaked with blood and sweat. "Issac… it's no use… we're… we're trapped."

"No!" Issac's wind powers whipped into a frenzy, swirling dust and leaves into the air as he slammed both hands against the gate now, desperation seeping into every movement. He couldn't accept it. He wouldn't. They were so close. Just a few feet, and they would've been free.

But the gate remained shut, unmoving, mocking him with its silence.

Behind them, the low, guttural growls of the pursuing creatures grew louder. Issac turned to see the two remaining dog-like monsters standing still, their eyes gleaming with malice. They weren't attacking. They were… waiting.

Waiting for something worse.

Issac's blood ran cold as the jungle around them seemed to fall eerily silent. A shiver crawled up his spine as the leader of the pack emerged from the shadows, its massive form stepping into the clearing with terrifying grace. The beast was unlike anything Issac had ever seen—twice the size of the others, its black fur shimmering with unnatural energy. In its jaws, limp and barely alive, was Jaren.

"No… no…" Issac whispered, his heart clenching at the sight. Jaren, the S-class Esper who had fought to save them, was dangling in the monster's jaws, half-dead, blood dripping onto the jungle floor.

The leader dropped Jaren to the ground with a sickening thud, stepping over his broken body as it locked eyes with Issac and the guide. Its maw opened slowly, revealing rows of sharp, glistening teeth.

Issac stepped in front of the guide, his eyes blazing with defiance. His wind powers flickered and swirled around him, the small tornadoes forming again in his hands, but he knew—deep down—that it wouldn't be enough.

Not against this.

With a final, defiant roar, Issac charged at the creature, his blades of wind cutting through the air, but it was already too late. The leader moved faster than anything he'd ever faced before, dodging his attacks with terrifying precision.

As Issac lunged, the monster's massive claws caught him mid-air, and he was thrown into the stone wall with brutal force. Pain shot through his body as he hit the ground, the world spinning in a haze of agony.

But even as he lay there, broken and bleeding, Issac struggled to push himself up. He had to protect the guide. He had to fight.

The creature loomed over him, its glowing eyes narrowing in cold satisfaction. Issac gasped for breath, his vision fading. He could feel the miasma pouring from the monster's core, its dark, corrosive energy filling the air.

And then, as the leader stepped closer, the miasma began to drip from its body in liquid form … and into Issac's mouth.

The world around him blurred, the taste of the miasma bitter and cold, seeping into his veins. Issac's mind fractured, flashes of something—memories? visions?—flickering through his consciousness, too fast to understand.

Before everything went dark, Issac's final thought was of the sealed gate, just out of reach, mocking him in his failure.