Ragnar and the others were directed out of the special inn for young Dwarves who had just reached adulthood. They were taken to the square where the Black Tower loomed tall in the distance, towering over the city with intimidating arrogance. The previous building had provided a warm and comfortable impression, a temporary resting place before being led towards the Black Tower.

During the journey, Ragnar saw various different races, reflecting the diversity that existed in this world. However, when they arrived in front of the Black Tower, all eyes were focused on the large black gate that stood strong. The gate door opened, revealing black mist floating inside, hiding unknown mysteries.

One by one, the young Dwarves entered the terrifying black mist at the large gate. As time passed, their numbers entering increased, and only a few remained outside. Ragnar knew that if he didn't enter soon, he wouldn't receive the much-needed money to survive. Although he felt unprepared, he felt compelled to step forward.

As Ragnar hesitated, he saw a chubby man with messy black hair, the man who had spoken to him before. Seeing the man, who also seemed unsure, bravely step inside, gave Ragnar the courage to follow in his footsteps. With a pounding heart, Ragnar entered the black gate.

.....

Inside the pitch-dark cave, faint light from torches on the walls entered the room, creating a mysterious dim atmosphere. Ragnar's footsteps produced a faint rustling sound in the damp air. Water droplets dripped from the high cave ceiling, creating a strange natural melody.

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The cave walls appeared like natural carvings, covered in glowing green moss illuminated by the dim light. The warm and humid air touched Ragnar's skin as he explored the winding corridors, unaware of what awaited at the next turn.

Ragnar Ulf, his face looked more like a ten-year-old child than a warrior. His black hair fell over his shoulders, giving him a somewhat disheveled appearance.

With a sword and a round shield in his hands, Ragnar cautiously stepped through the dark cave. His attire consisted of plain black clothes and ordinary black shorts, without any adornments or special equipment. Nevertheless, his eyes radiated unwavering determination as he ventured through the gloomy corridors.

The reason why only Ragnar was there might be because Ragnar was the last one to enter the Black Tower, which might have led him to a different place than where his companions were.

As Ragnar focused on the path ahead, he heard a strange sound behind him. He quickly turned around only to be faced with a terrifying threat: a small Goblin, standing with a weapon poised in its hand. Before Ragnar could react, the attack had already happened, and the Goblin's knife cruelly slashed his right hand.

Ragnar suppressed a scream of pain, but his eyes burned with anger. Without hesitation, he leaped backward, evading the Goblin's next attack. With fiery eyes and a pounding pulse, Ragnar prepared to fight, although his small body trembled. He knew that this was his first test, and he was determined not to give up easily in the face of danger in this dark cave.

Injured Ragnar felt the dizziness worsening as the poison began to seep into his body. With great effort, he tried to maintain his focus as he observed the Goblin's knife, which had a faint green liquid on it. "Damn! The knife is poisoned, I have to finish this quickly," he muttered with a desperate tone.