Flora and her team stumbled through the forest, every step a reminder of their growing disorientation.

The thick canopy of trees blurred their sense of direction, and the deeper they went, the more the forest seemed to warp around them.

Shadows flickered where they shouldn’t have been, and every path looked the same as the last.

"Are we going in circles?" the assassin muttered under his breath.

Flora’s grip on her bow tightened.

Confusion was beginning to set in, gnawing at her confidence, but she forced herself to press on.

"We’ll find a way out. Keep moving."

After what felt like hours of wandering, they suddenly broke free of the dense foliage.

A collective sigh of relief escaped their lips—until they looked ahead.

The sight before them defied all logic.

"What the hell is this?" the mage gasped, her eyes wide with disbelief.

The once-familiar forest floor had given way to an expanse of golden sand, stretching out before them like a mirage in the middle of the woods.

"This can’t be real..." the tank muttered, glancing back at the dense forest behind them.

"How can there be a desert in the middle of a forest?"

Flora’s heart raced as she took in the scene.

It wasn’t a true desert, not like the vast, barren wastelands they’d encountered in other dungeons.

Small plants dotted the sandy landscape, their roots somehow clinging to life in the shifting terrain.

But the contrast between the forest and this strange new environment was enough to unsettle her.

"This dungeon is far from normal," Flora said quietly, her voice heavy with unease.

The others nodded in silent agreement.

"Stay sharp. Move slowly," she commanded.

They fell into formation, their senses heightened.

Every step they took was met with the unsettling sensation of loose sand beneath their feet.

It shifted treacherously, making it harder to maintain balance and slowing their progress.

The oppressive silence hung over them like a veil, amplifying every crunch of sand, every labored breath.

As they pressed forward, the mage’s sharp eyes flicked to the ground. "Wait... something’s not right."

Before anyone could react, the sand beneath them rippled, as if the earth itself was alive.

In an instant, the ground exploded upward, the grains swirling into a cyclone.

Out of the chaos, hulking figures began to rise—sand golems, their forms coalescing from the very earth beneath them.

"Ambush!" Flora shouted, but it was too late.

The hunters barely had time to ready their weapons before the golems struck.

Their massive arms, formed of compressed sand, swung with crushing force.

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Flora fired an arrow at one, but the sand absorbed the impact, reforming almost instantly.

"Dammit!" the tank roared, raising his shield to block a blow, but the loose sand made his footing unsteady.

He stumbled, nearly losing his balance as the golem advanced.

The mage hurled a blast of fire, the heat scorching the air, but the flames had little effect on the golems’ shifting forms.

"It’s not working!"

The sand was their enemy.

It slowed their movements, made dodging difficult, and turned every step into a struggle.

The hunters found themselves unable to fight at their full strength, their attacks too slow and too weak to cause real damage.

"Retreat! We need solid ground!" Flora ordered, but as they tried to pull back, more golems rose from the sand, surrounding them.

They were trapped.

The tank grunted as a sand golem’s fist slammed into his shield, the impact reverberating through his body. He could feel the strain, his legs trembling under the weight. "I can’t hold them off much longer!"

The priest hurried to his side, chanting a healing spell, but even her magic felt weaker here, as if the dungeon itself was sapping their strength.

Flora’s mind raced, desperately searching for a way out.

But with each passing second, the golems closed in, their movements relentless, their forms impossible to destroy.

The loose sand shifted beneath their feet, making it impossible to mount a proper defense.

The hunters were being suffocated by the very ground they stood on.

"We need to split up!" Flora shouted, her voice hoarse with desperation. "If we stay together, we’ll all be crushed!"

The others hesitated, but they knew she was right.

With no other option, the group scattered, each of them trying to break through the circle of golems in a desperate bid for survival.

But the sand, ever shifting, swallowed their steps. No matter how hard they fought, they couldn’t escape the dungeon’s cruel grasp.

It was as if the land itself was alive, working against them, drawing them deeper into its trap.

Flora’s breath came in ragged gasps as she fired arrow after arrow, her hands shaking from exhaustion.

She could see the fear in her comrades’ eyes as they were pushed further apart, each of them facing down the relentless golems.

In that moment, as the sand swirled and the golems advanced, Flora felt it—a sinking realization.

They were no longer in control.

The dungeon had them in its clutches, and it wasn’t going to let go.

As the battle dragged on, fatigue crept into the hunters’ bones like a relentless weight.

Their movements became slower, breaths more labored.

Every attack they launched was met with the unyielding resistance of the sand golems, whose bodies shifted and reformed with every blow.

The sand beneath their feet clung to them, dragging them down, like the dungeon itself was trying to swallow them whole.

Flora wiped the sweat from her brow, her arms trembling from the strain of pulling back her bowstring over and over.

Her arrows seemed to barely graze the surface of the golems, who showed no signs of weakening.

But then, as one of the sand golems twisted and reformed in the midst of the battle, she caught sight of something—a faint, green glow beneath its shifting form.

Her eyes narrowed.

That sphere—it looked just like the one she’d seen in the wood golem earlier.

A spark of hope ignited in her chest.

The core. She couldn’t afford to miss this chance.

With a deep breath, Flora nocked an arrow, steadying her aim.

She loosed it, her heart racing as the arrow sailed through the air and struck true.

It pierced the glowing core, shattering it with a satisfying crack.

The effect was immediate.

The sand golem began to crumble, its form collapsing in on itself like a tower of dust.

Within moments, it disintegrated, the sand returning to the ground as if it had never been alive.

Flora’s breath caught in her throat. It worked.

"Everyone!" she shouted, her voice raw with urgency.

"That green sphere—the golem’s core! Target it! That’s their weakness!"

The others snapped to attention, exhaustion momentarily forgotten.

The mage began scanning the golems, her hands weaving intricate spells to expose the cores.

The assassin, ever quick on his feet, darted between the golems, his keen eyes searching for any sign of the green glow.

The tank, battered and bruised, stood tall and shielded the others, enduring every hit as they hunted for the cores.

The swordsman moved with renewed purpose, slashing at the golems while Flora launched a relentless barrage of arrows.

The priest, despite her own fatigue, continued to cast healing spells, her hands trembling as she poured what little energy she had left into keeping her teammates alive.

But it wasn’t easy.

The cores were hidden deep within the golems’ shifting bodies, constantly moving and nearly impossible to predict.

For every core they destroyed, another golem surged forward, its hulking form threatening to crush them.

The hunters were fighting on borrowed time, each of them running on sheer willpower alone.

Flora felt the weight of her decision pressing down on her with every breath. We shouldn’t have come here.

She hadn’t realized how dangerous this dungeon would be, and now her team was paying the price.

Every time one of them stumbled or faltered, her heart clenched with guilt.

"Leader, I can’t hold on much longer!" the tank shouted, his voice strained as he blocked yet another blow.

"We’re almost there, just keep going!" Flora yelled back, though doubt gnawed at her.

She fired another arrow, and another, watching as each one chipped away at the golems but never felt like enough.

Eventually, after what felt like an eternity, they managed to bring down the last sand golem.

It collapsed in a heap of dust, its core shattered like the others.

The silence that followed was deafening, broken only by the hunters’ ragged breathing.

Flora looked around at her team, her heart sinking.

They were all exhausted, their faces pale and drawn.

The mage, usually so confident, was slumped against a tree, her staff resting limply in her hands.

The tank was barely standing, leaning heavily on his shield, his chest heaving with every breath.

The swordsman was also getting tired.

Even the assassin, quick and agile, looked worn down, his shoulders sagging from the effort of the fight.

The priest, her hands still trembling, lowered her head. "Leader... I don’t know how much longer I can keep this up."

Flora’s chest tightened.

She could see the fear in their eyes—the fear of not knowing what lay ahead, of not knowing if they would survive this dungeon.

They were lost, tired, and running out of options.

The realization hit her like a punch to the gut: I led them here. I did this.

A lump formed in her throat.

She thought back to her brother, to his warnings, his gentle encouragement for her to take it easy.

Rest Flora, he had said.

This path is dangerous.

You don’t have to prove anything.

But she hadn’t listened.

She wanted to show him—show everyone—that she was strong, that she could handle herself.

And now, because of her pride, her team was trapped in a dungeon that seemed determined to kill them.

"I’m sorry," she whispered, though no one heard her over the sound of the wind stirring the sand.

Her mind raced, searching for a way out, for any solution that might save them.

But all she could think about was how much she missed her brother—how much she wished he were here, strong and capable, leading the way like he always did.

He wouldn’t have let this happen. He would have known what to do.

Tears stung the corners of her eyes, but she blinked them back.

Now wasn’t the time for weakness.

She was the leader, and her team was depending on her.

Even if she felt lost, even if she was terrified, she couldn’t let them see it.

"We’ll find a way out," she said, her voice hoarse but steady. "We have to."

But deep down, Flora wasn’t sure if she believed her own words.