The deeper they went, the colder it became.
But it wasn't the kind of cold that pricked the skin. This was something else—an ancient chill that clung to the soul, like unseen fingers brushing the back of your neck.
Ezra moved with Gloom at his right and Skulk at his left, each step echoing softly on the bone-laced cobblestone of Butcher's Gate. The twisted forest around them pulsed with quiet malice—trees that bled sap the color of ash, wind that whispered in fragmented voices, and shadows that moved when they shouldn't.
Every instinct screamed at him to turn back.
But there was no turning back now.
[System Update: Breach Synchronization at 23%]
Warning: Gates may evolve mid-dive.
Prepare for environmental shifts.
Ezra didn't know what that meant exactly, but it sure as hell didn't sound good.
They came across the first body twenty minutes later.
It was recent.
A young man, no older than Ezra himself, half his torso missing, what remained still twitching. Judging by the gear, he was part of a two-person scav team. His partner knelt beside the corpse, blood dripping from her arm as she cradled a cracked armband.
She didn't flinch when Ezra approached.
Her eyes were glassy, wide, fixed on the horizon but seeing nothing.
Ezra stopped a few feet away, cautious. "What happened?"
She didn't answer right away. Just sat there, rocking slowly.
Finally, she whispered, "It wasn't just one."
"What?"
"Monsters," she said, voice hollow. "We came for loot. Two F-ranks. Simple. But… they came in packs. Like they were waiting."
Ezra scanned the trees.
"They don't do that," he said, more to himself than her.
Her head snapped toward him. "They do now."
Gloom growled softly. Skulk twitched, blades flexing.
Then—movement. Too fast. Too close.
Ezra dropped, instinct overriding thought, as a beast lunged from the canopy above.
It wasn't like the Gorewretch. This one was sleeker—black muscle stretched over a semi-skeletal frame, jaw split unnaturally wide, eyes glowing faint blue. It crashed into the woman, burying her in a blur of teeth and claw.
Blood sprayed.
She didn't even scream.
[Enemy Identified: Carver – F+ Variant]
Combat Rating: 4.2x your current level
Advisory: High lethality
Avoid direct engagement.
Too late.
Ezra's machete was in his hand.
"Gloom—intercept! Skulk, flank!"
Gloom roared and charged, drawing the beast's attention. Skulk darted sideways, bladed limbs blurring through the brush.
The Carver leapt back with inhuman agility, avoiding Gloom's first swipe. It twisted in midair, landing low on all fours, growling.
Ezra used Grave Pulse.
The ripple of necrotic energy staggered the Carver just enough. Skulk struck from the flank, blades slashing through the creature's back.
It shrieked—high, sharp—and retaliated.
Its claw tore through Skulk's side, cleaving flesh and cracking bone. The undead staggered, hissing in pain but didn't fall.
Ezra rushed in, blade raised.
He knew he was no match for this thing physically, but he wasn't the one doing the heavy lifting. He just had to tip the scale.
He lunged. Slashed once across the beast's snout.
Blood hit the air—black, oily, acidic.
Some splattered on his vest, sizzled through the fabric.
"Shit—!"
The Carver turned on him, fast.
Its claw came down like a guillotine.
Ezra barely dodged. Pain bloomed across his side as the tip of its talon scraped flesh, tearing skin and spraying blood.
Gloom tackled the Carver mid-strike, slamming it into a tree. Bark cracked. The beast snarled.
Ezra gritted his teeth, shoved the pain down.
"Skulk—cut its legs!"
The undead moved like a wraith, darting in again. Blades slashed. One hit the joint behind the Carver's front limb—crippling it.
Gloom didn't wait.
A crushing blow came down with a wet crack.
The Carver twitched. Spasmed.
Then stopped.
[Enemy Defeated: Carver]
EXP Gained: 56
Level Up: Hollowborn Lvl 2 → Lvl 3
New Skill Available: "Corpse Bind"
Temporarily fuses two undead into a single, enhanced abomination. Duration: 2 minutes. Cooldown: 30 minutes.
New Talent: Strength I – Increases physical output by 5%
Ezra collapsed back onto the ground, panting.
His side burned. Blood dripped freely from the wound. He tore a piece of his scarf, tied it tight around the gash.
Then looked toward the girl.
What remained of her.
There wasn't much.
Ezra felt bile rise in his throat. He looked away.
She hadn't deserved that.
No one did.
He moved over to what was left of her pack, hand shaking slightly. Inside: a bottle of low-grade healing gel, two energy bars, and a half-charged flare marker.
He took them.
He had to.
"Thank you," he muttered, voice hoarse.
It felt wrong. Like stealing from the dead.
But this was the blood price.
One Hour Later
The forest gave way to a clearing.
In the center stood something massive.
A ruined cathedral—twisted, gothic, stitched from bone and obsidian. Its spires stabbed toward the sky like accusing fingers. Around it, silence. No birds. No wind. Just stillness.
Ezra's breath caught.
He wasn't religious. No one was anymore. Not after The Surge. Not after gods failed to answer.
But there was something… sacred about this place.
Wrongly sacred.
Gloom tensed. Skulk crouched low.
Then the system chimed.
[Breach Core Detected: "Butcher's Cathedral"]
Recommended Party Level: 5+
Objective: Defeat the Warden
Reward: Core Shard, Reputation, Randomized Loot
Ezra blinked.
A dungeon core? At this level?
He wasn't ready.
But it was also opportunity.
If he could pull it off—somehow—this would make him.
Or end him.
He looked to his two undead. Loyal. Silent.
Their broken forms reflected his own: stitched, bent, but standing.
"Alright," Ezra whispered. "Let's go say hello."
Inside Butcher's Cathedral
It was darker than night.
The halls were jagged, the architecture alien—half decayed, half crystalline. Torches burned with violet flame, casting sickly shadows.
The deeper they moved, the thicker the air became. It wasn't just pressure. It was presence. As if the walls watched. Waited.
Ezra's grip on his blade tightened.
They came upon a vast chamber.
And in it stood the Warden.
Ten feet tall. Cloaked in tattered robes. Its face was a porcelain mask, cracked down the middle, revealing a mouth of serrated teeth. It carried a cleaver the size of a coffin, stained dark with dried ichor.
[Warden of Butcher's Cathedral – Boss-Class Entity]
Rank: E+
Combat Rating: 7x your current level
Success Rate: 4%
WARNING: FLEEING ONCE ENGAGED WILL NOT BE POSSIBLE
First Time Bonus Active: Increased Loot Potential
Ezra's heart slammed against his ribs.
He should turn back.
But he didn't.
He walked forward.
The Warden tilted its head.
Then raised its cleaver.
Ezra whispered: "Corpse Bind."
Gloom and Skulk moved—flesh twisting, bones cracking as their bodies melted into one.
The new creature stood nearly nine feet tall. Four arms. Skull-faced. Blades for hands and jagged armor across its chest.
Abomination Created: Gloomskulk
Duration: 2:00 minutes
Ezra sprinted to the side as Gloomskulk charged.
The Warden met it head-on. Blades clashed. Sparks flew. Gloomskulk landed the first blow—severing part of the Warden's arm—but the cleaver retaliated with a punishing backhand that sent the abomination flying into a pillar.
Ezra moved behind the Warden.
Grave Pulse. It shuddered, but didn't stagger.
He slashed at its legs—only to be grabbed and flung across the room like a ragdoll.
CRACK.
His shoulder dislocated.
He screamed.
Pain flared like fire down his arm.
Gloomskulk rose again. Limbs twisted back into place.
It leapt.
The Warden swung upward.
Too late.
Gloomskulk's blade plunged through its mask—cracking it wide.
A second strike followed—tearing into the chest.
The Warden shrieked.
Ezra crawled toward it, one arm limp.
He reached the corpse.
Lifted his blade with both hands.
And drove it home.
[BOSS DEFEATED: WARDEN OF BUTCHER'S CATHEDRAL]
EXP GAINED: 112
Level Up: Lvl 3 → Lvl 4 → Lvl 5
Loot Acquired:
E-Rank Necrotic Core (Fragment)
Warden's Shard (Bound)
Obsidian Mask (Corrupted)
Reputation Unlocked: The Hollowborn
You have completed your first dungeon without assistance. You are now known. Eyes are watching.
Ezra slumped against the cold stone, heart thudding.
He'd done it.
Against all odds—he had survived.
But something told him this wasn't a victory.
It was an introduction.
And the world was finally paying attention.