[The Silent Hunt 2] - Shifting the Veil

Raven stepped out into the chill of Duskmire Outpost, adjusting the hood of his tattered cloak as he blended into the dimly lit streets. The outpost was little more than a waypoint—a small outpost for players, free from monsters and PvP. One of the best places for levels 20 to 25 to trade and upgrade their gear, as Duskmire Outpost was near three dungeons. 

Here, duels broke out in alleys, merchants peddled stolen loot, streamers talk to their viewers, and guild recruiters whispered promises of power to the desperate. It was the closest settlement to Veilshade Catacombs, the dungeon that now bore his mark.

As a Dungeon Master, Raven had more options than a typical player when entering the dungeon. He could walk in like any other adventurer, or he could access the Dungeon Master's Room—his personal throne behind the veil. 

He didn't hesitate. Stealthily navigating through the back alleys of Duskmire, he slipped through a hidden access route—a crumbling mausoleum behind the settlement, which he had unlocked earlier in one of his deeper dives into the dungeon's mechanics. The main entrance was likely camped by Bloodfeast's sentries, but this passage allowed him to bypass them entirely.

A system prompt flickered in his vision.

[Enter Veilshade Catacombs?]

→ Dungeon Master's Room

The world shifted, reality bending around him as he transitioned into the heart of his domain. Darkness engulfed him for a moment before his vision cleared, revealing the Dungeon Control Room—an abyssal throne of shadow and stone, surrounded by glowing spectral interfaces that mapped every corridor, every entity within the dungeon. From here, he could oversee his minions, adjust dungeon mechanics, and monitor intruders.

His fingers traced the control panel, scanning for activity. This guild was still entrenched inside, farming kills and loot from unsuspecting adventurers. They had gotten comfortable—too comfortable.

Time to fix that.

Before launching a full-scale counterattack, Raven needed to analyze their threat level from positioning and reaction speed. He didn't need to reveal himself—at least not yet.

Raven activated the Eyes of the Dungeon, his connection to the catacombs flaring to life. His vision expanded, allowing him to see every corridor, every shadowed corner of his domain. Streams of spectral data flickered across his interface, mapping every movement within the dungeon. He focused on Bloodfeast's location.

They were in the corner of Silent Warden mini-boss chamber, an ancient burial hall where he and Duskrunner had fought the mini-boss, Silent Warden. But they weren't fighting or ganking. They were mining.

The guild members were carefully extracting Abyssium Ore, a rare mineral used in forging purple-to-red-tier weapons. Veilshade Catacombs was one of the richest known sources of Abyssium, and these PKers had decided to monopolize the supply. That meant they weren't just here to gank random players—they were running a guild operation.

Every 15 minutes, monsters respawned, and they lazily cleared them out for loot. Everything felt routine. Repetitive.

Raven smirked. So this is a full-scale Bloodfeast guild event. How dare they steal from MY dungeon?

His fingers danced across the interface, pulling up the ranking lists. He filtered by name and guild tag. Bloodfeast. There they were. Each member had a history of PvP dominance, their combat records flooded with victories against weaker players. Unlike PvE-focused guilds that prioritized team synergy, Bloodfeast's members were built for burst damage, maximizing short, high-output combat.

Raven's eyes narrowed. That meant one critical flaw—low HP.

If Bloodfeast specialized in overwhelming their enemies with sheer damage, then all he had to do was control their burst potential. Keep them from hitting hard, and they would crumble.

He tapped a command, releasing Spawn of Phantom Mobs into the chamber. The spectral entities materialized, slinking through the cracks in the walls and phasing into the mining operation. They weren't there to kill—just to observe.

The moment the phantoms materialized, Bloodfeast reacted instantly. Their formation snapped into place, honed through countless battles.

The tank stepped forward, shield raised, absorbing the first spectral assault with an unyielding stance. The rogues moved like shadows, weaving in and out, blades flashing as they cut through the illusions. Mages stood firm in the backline—one casting a protective mana shield over their frontline, the other unleashing Firestorm, sending waves of searing flames through the battlefield. The spectral entities flickered, some dispersing instantly under the raw power of their spells.

One of the rogue assassins vanished into stealth, reappearing behind a phantom with twin daggers. A precise, rapid stagger strike disrupted the spectral enemy before it could react. The formation was holding, but Raven noted their movements closely.

Efficient. Deadly. But not perfect.

Raven's gaze sharpened. Their rhythm was predictable—strike, reposition, burst, reset. He watched as one rogue vanished into stealth again, only to reappear behind a phantom, twin daggers flashing in a precise stagger strike. The formation held, but Raven saw the flaw.

They were too rigid. They depend on repetitive actions to bring damage in perfect combo loops. A formation designed to crush opponents with overwhelming force—but what happened when the enemy didn't play by their rules?

Their strategy was clear—

Tank in front to absorb the assault.

One rogue providing ranged support.

The second rogue moving in and out of stealth, picking off threats.

Mages maintaining control, buffing the front line while raining destruction.

It was effective. But it had a flaw. They have no healer.

All offense, no sustain. 

They were too compact. Their entire strategy relied on staying together, coordinating bursts of damage to eliminate threats before the enemy could reach them. If that formation broke, they would be forced into individual fights—where their fragile HP pools would betray them.

Raven's smirk widened. They think this is just another PvE encounter.

Time to change the game.

One rogue sighed, stretching his arms. "Man, this dungeon's a goldmine, but damn is it getting boring. Good thing there are mobs of these phantoms."

Their leader, Kryger, smirked. "That's how you make easy money. No surprises, no stress. Just free loot."

Raven leaned back in his throne, his smirk deepening. They were compact. Too compact.

Break the formation, and they fall apart.

"Tired, huh?" Raven muttered, fingers tapping the control panel. "Let's make things interesting."

He deactivated auto-scripting. The dungeon was no longer AI-controlled—it was now a real-time horror experience.

His fingers hovered over the control panel.

Let's begin.