[SYSTEM INITIATED]

"No. No, no, no—!"

Lucien dropped his supplies with a loud clatter against the charred stone and bolted toward the gate.

His boots slipped slightly on the blood-slick floor, his breath ragged, his lungs burning with each gasp.

His heart thrashed violently in his chest, slamming against his ribcage like a wild animal desperate to escape.

'Didn't he say there was still thirty minutes?!'

He pushed harder, sprinting as if sheer speed could will the portal to stay open.

But it was too late.

The gate flickered like a dying flame—its once-stable light spasming with distorted waves. The bluish shimmer warped and twisted at the edges like a reflection on cracked glass. It pulsed once, twice…

And then it blinked out.

Gone.

Just like that.

Lucien skidded to a stop, his feet nearly sliding out from under him. His arms hung at his sides, trembling.

The place where the portal had been was now empty—just a dull shimmer of dissipating energy and an eerie silence that pressed in from all sides.

"…No," he whispered, voice hoarse and tight. "No, no, no. This isn't happening—this can't be real."

Panic surged through him like a tidal wave crashing over his head.

He spun around, eyes wild, scanning the craggy walls and scorched ground as if expecting someone to leap out and yell "Gotcha!" Cameras. A prank. Something.

Anything.

'Maybe it's a prank. A twisted initiation ritual. Or—or a dream. Yeah… yeah, just a nightmare. I'll wake up in my bed. Or on the couch. Or on the floor if I fell asleep after lunch. Any second now…'

His breathing hitched as he raised a shaking hand and slapped himself hard across the cheek. The sharp sting bloomed immediately, a hot shock across his face.

But nothing changed.

The dungeon remained.

The smoke still curled upward in slow, serpentine ribbons. The blood still stained the floor. The air still smelled like burnt copper and rotting meat.

He was still trapped.

"No, no, come on—" He slapped himself again, harder this time. "Wake up!"

Nothing.

Just the crackle of heat in the distance… and the deafening absence of anyone else.

"FUCK!" His throat burned as he shouted, louder now, his voice echoing off stone. "Zestiel! Peter! Brian! George!"

He waited. Hope flickered for one second. Two.

No reply.

"HELLO?!" he screamed, voice cracking from the strain. "If this is a joke, it's not fucking funny! Come back!"

But the dungeon offered no answer. Only silence—and something deeper.

A low, distant rumble vibrated through the ground.

Lucien's blood turned to ice.

The tremor grew louder, deeper, a guttural grinding like stone shearing against stone. The floor beneath him gave a soft, warning twitch.

He stumbled backward instinctively, eyes wide.

The space where the portal once stood began to shake violently. Cracks split across the scorched stone in jagged, chaotic lines.

Dust exploded upward. Bits of debris fell from above. The air shimmered like it was warping.

It felt like the dungeon itself was taking a breath.

'What the hell is going on?!'

And then it hit him.

The rumbling didn't stop.

It grew louder—angrier.

Lucien barely had time to react before the ground beneath the former gate erupted. A deafening crack split through the thick air like the sky itself had been torn open.

Then—

BOOM.

A violent shockwave tore through the dungeon, the force so intense it felt like the entire world had been flipped on its head.

Heat slammed into him like a wall of flame. Shards of glowing stone shot through the air like razors, and the sound of tearing metal screamed through the chamber.

Everything was chaos and light and pain.

"Ack—!" Lucien was thrown—his body hurled across the bloodied ground like a ragdoll caught in a storm.

He hit the floor with a sickening crack, his ribs screaming in agony as something sharp tore into his side. The impact knocked the air from his lungs.

For one agonizing second, pain exploded in every nerve.

And then—

Numbness.

Cold, terrifying numbness.

He couldn't move. Couldn't breathe. Couldn't scream.

The world tilted sideways, spinning. His ears rang. Smoke and ash blurred the sky above him—a red sky, streaked with shadows and flame, like the mouth of hell had opened wide.

He lay there, twitching weakly, face pressed against scorched stone slick with blood—his own.

Everything felt... distant. As though his soul had already started floating above his body.

He was cold.

So, so cold.

Is this...what death felt like?

'No… no, no— not yet. I can't—'

But he knew.

He knew.

He was dying.

Images crashed through him in an unstoppable flood—memories he hadn't thought about in years rising like a final breath:

His mother, her tired but radiant smile as she smoothed back his hair. "You're our miracle, Lucien. You came back to us, even when we thought you were gone. That's when I knew... You're going to do something incredible."

His father, stoic but proud, teaching him how to patch torn fabric and clean floors without streaks.

"You want to be respected, son? Then take pride in every job, no matter how small."

"Brother Lucien!"

His younger brother, hair always a mess, laughter bright as sunlight, running barefoot through the house as Lucien chased after him with a towel.

'They all believed in me... like I was meant for something more. I haven't given them the life they deserved.'

His fingers twitched—barely—scraping against the rough stone.

'And I never even got to live.'

His eyes stung with tears.

'Never had a real relationship. Never kissed anyone. Never got to look someone in the eyes and feel loved.'

He remembered every time he smiled through exhaustion. Every time he told himself he was getting closer.

That one day, he'd rank up. That one day, people would finally see him.

And now—

He was going to die alone.

Bleeding out in a cursed, corpse-littered dungeon that reeked of rot and failure.

A place not meant for someone like him. A place where only the strongest came to fight, and even they died screaming.

'How fucking ironic… I said nobody dies in cleanup jobs.'

A bitter laugh—more breath than sound—escaped his cracked lips.

'Now look at me.'

His chest barely rose now, his breath reduced to short, rasping gasps. His heart stuttered, each beat growing slower, weaker, more distant.

'So this is it, huh...? My end. Not a hunter. Not a hero. Just some E-Class with nothing but regret.'

His vision blurred further. The red sky above him warped, cracking into pieces of light and shadow. His eyelids fluttered.

One beat.

Two.

And then—

Something appeared.

A light.

Small at first. Just a faint shimmer at the edge of his vision.

Then brighter. Closer.

Hovering.

Lucien blinked. His eyes were heavy, and it hurt to focus—but he saw it.

A screen.

Floating in midair.

Its glow cut through the darkness like a star in an endless void. Gentle, pulsing, waiting.

And on it, in clear, crisp letters:

[SYSTEM INITIATED]

> Do you want to live?

❏ YES❏ NO

He stared at it.

Tears welled in his eyes—not just from pain. From confusion. Fear. Hope.

'What…? Is this... real?'

Was it a hallucination?

A joke from the afterlife?

A cruel, final test?

He didn't know. And he didn't care.

Because the pain was still real.

The blood was still warm against his cheek.

The smoke still burned in his lungs.

He was dying.

But here, in front of him, was a choice.

A sliver of something impossible.

A chance.

'I don't want to die. Please... I don't want to die.'

His lips trembled. His body shook. But he used everything he had left—every broken, bleeding piece of him—and forced the word out.

"...Y...yes..."

The screen pulsed.

Light spilled from its center, enveloping him in gold.

Then—

Darkness.