Deeper into the Unknown

The tunnel stretched before them—silent, untouched, waiting.

Hesperia kept her pace steady, her fingers curled around the hilt of her sword. The walls here were different. Unlike the rest of the dungeon, which had been rough and eroded with time, these corridors were smooth, too perfect. The glow of the embedded runes flickered at steady intervals, as if the entire place was alive and breathing.

Her instincts whispered the same warning over and over.

Something is watching.

The others must have felt it too.

No one spoke as they walked, their footsteps barely making a sound.

Finally, Ren broke the silence.

"So… anyone else getting the feeling we're walking into something bad?"

Mara scoffed. "Ren, we've been walking into bad things since the moment we woke up in this damn dungeon."

Denzel adjusted his glasses, scanning the walls. "She's not wrong."

Hesperia exhaled. "Stay focused. Just because nothing's attacked us yet doesn't mean it won't."

Mara sighed. "You say that like you want something to attack us."

"I'd rather know what we're dealing with."

Silence again.

Because they all understood the real fear.

Not knowing was worse.

As they walked, Hesperia's mind kept circling back.

The First Chronos Fragment.

She hadn't spoken about it.

Not to Mara. Not to Denzel. Not to Ren.

She wouldn't.

Not yet.

She clenched her jaw. It wasn't the ability that unsettled her—it was the cost.

To control which memories she lost when she rewound, she had been forced to relive that day.

The accident.

The moment her parents died.

And Kai.

She squeezed her eyes shut for half a second before forcing herself to breathe.

She had seen him in the memory. But his face had been blurred, just like before.

Not because of any external force. Not because the System had erased him.

She had forgotten him herself.

And that was worse.

How much of him had she lost?

What else had she chosen to forget?

She forced the thoughts down. Now wasn't the time.

The tunnel widened into an open chamber.

The walls stretched upward, lined with shifting runes. The patterns moved slowly, pulsing with a rhythmic light.

It almost looked like…

Breathing.

A whisper of unease crawled up Hesperia's spine.

She wasn't the only one who felt it.

Mara rolled her shoulders. "Anyone else feel like we're being watched?"

Ren scoffed. "We're always being watched. It's called the System."

Denzel frowned, adjusting his glasses. "No. This is different."

Hesperia's grip tightened on her sword.

He was right.

She could feel it—a presence lingering at the edges of perception.

Not the System.

Not something programmed.

Something else.

A sound.

Faint. Distant.

A low scraping noise.

Not stone on stone. Not mechanical.

Something breathing.

The runes flickered.

The light dimmed.

Then—

[System Override Detected]

[Unknown Presence: Observing]

A cold chill slid down Hesperia's spine.

The words hovered in her vision, but they weren't stable.

The edges of the notification glitched, flickered— as if even the System wasn't sure how to process what was happening.

Ren let out a sharp breath. "Okay, yeah. I don't like that."

Mara was already gripping her daggers, eyes scanning the chamber. "Tell me this isn't another one of those Adaptive Killers."

Denzel shook his head. "No. This is… something else."

Hesperia's heartbeat slowed.

He was right.

The Adaptive Killers were sent by the System—relentless, efficient, designed to eliminate threats.

But this?

This wasn't System-controlled.

And worse—

It was still watching them.

The air in the chamber shifted.

Not wind. Not temperature.

A pressure.

Like something unseen had just moved.

Mara tensed. "It's still here."

Ren gritted his teeth. "Yeah, I noticed."

Denzel exhaled slowly, his voice measured. "It hasn't attacked."

Hesperia's fingers twitched.

It hadn't attacked yet.

She didn't like this.

Monsters. Traps. The System itself—they followed rules. Patterns that could be predicted.

But this?

This thing wasn't bound by the System.

It wasn't following a script.

And that made it more dangerous.

She turned to the others. "We don't engage unless we have to. We keep moving."

No one argued.

They moved forward, careful, steady.

The tunnel stretched onward—and whatever was watching them followed.