The sudden disappearance of a dungeon and the appearance of an orange-ranked gate rippled far beyond the Lionheart Guild’s intelligence department.

News spread quickly, amplified by whispers and speculative headlines in the media.

While the public knew little about the intricacies of dungeons, they were all too aware of their dangers.

Orange gates weren’t unheard of, but their reputation for spawning powerful monsters was enough to ignite fear among citizens.

The uncertainty stirred the masses.

Crowds gathered in public squares, watching news broadcasts or refreshing their feeds for updates, their conversations charged with anxiety.

Was this the beginning of another catastrophic event?

Would the guilds act swiftly to protect them?

The questions hung in the air like a stormcloud.

The unease wasn’t confined to the public.

The Black Serpent Guild, one of the Four Great Guilds, was also abuzz with activity.

Inside its headquarters—a sprawling fortress-like building laced with dark marble and glowing sigils—a meeting was underway.

In a dimly lit office, Vice Guildmaster, Cain sat at his polished obsidian desk, poring over reports from various departments.

Known for his calm and calculating demeanor, Cain rarely let anything faze him.

Yet even he had heard the murmurs about the orange gate.

One of the department heads, a wiry man with sharp features and a perpetually tense expression, entered the room, clutching a thick file.

"Vice Guildmaster," the department head began, bowing slightly. "Have you heard the rumors about the new orange gate?"

Cain barely glanced up, his voice measured.

"I have. And what about it? Orange gates, while rare, aren’t worth our immediate attention. We have red gates to deal with. Leave it to the smaller guilds."

It was a logical response.

The Four Great Guilds focused their resources on the most dangerous threats—red and black gates.

While black gates were nearly mythic, with only three ever recorded in history and none currently active, red gates remained a priority.

Nine of them loomed across the world, each requiring the constant vigilance of the guilds.

Orange gates, in comparison, were seen as manageable, often delegated to mid-tier guilds or left for independent teams.

The department head, however, didn’t seem satisfied.

"That’s true, sir. But this one is… different."

He placed the file on Cain's desk, his fingers tapping nervously on the edge.

Cain arched an eyebrow but reached for the file, flipping it open with practiced ease.

Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.

His sharp eyes scanned the pages, initially indifferent.

Then his expression shifted—his brows knit together, his lips curling into a faint frown.

"According to our investigation," the department head continued, his voice gaining momentum, "this dungeon didn’t just turn orange. It evolved. And it did so at an unprecedented speed—from green to orange in a matter of months."

Cain’s eyes stopped on a specific section of the report, his frown deepening.

Months?

Dungeons didn’t evolve that fast.

Not naturally, anyway.

He leaned back in his chair, his sharp features lit by the faint glow of the sigils etched into his desk.

"Interesting," he muttered, a hint of intrigue coloring his voice.

The department head nodded, encouraged by the reaction.

"It’s not just the rapid evolution, sir. There’s also the matter of the disappearing dungeon. That gate vanished on the same day this one turned orange. It can’t be a coincidence."

Cain tapped a finger against the armrest of his chair, his mind racing.

A dungeon growing this quickly could mean several things, none of them comforting.

Was it the result of tampering?

A new type of threat?

Or perhaps—though unlikely—something beyond human understanding?

His lips curled into a faint, predatory smirk.

"Prepare a reconnaissance team. I want eyes on this dungeon immediately. No interference yet—just observation. And send me everything we have on the hunters or guilds who’ve operated near it recently."

"Yes, Vice Guildmaster," the department head said, bowing again before leaving the room.

As the door clicked shut, Cain leaned forward, steepling his fingers.

The faint glow from his desk reflected in his cold, calculating eyes.

A dungeon evolving at this speed was unheard of—and dangerous.

If it was an anomaly, it would be worth investigating.

If it was a threat… then Black Serpent would decide whether to destroy it—or claim it for themselves.

For the first time in a while, Cain felt a flicker of excitement.

The ordinary had grown dull.

But this?

This was a mystery worth solving.

----

The Demonic Guild, notorious for its ruthlessness, was in an uproar.

The air inside their grim, fortress-like headquarters was heavy with tension, the dim lighting casting sharp shadows that seemed to mirror their mood.

"Those Lionheart bastards!" a team leader shouted as he stormed into the hall, his voice echoing against the cold stone walls.

His face was smeared with dirt and exhaustion, his armor dented and scuffed from battle.

The department head, a broad-shouldered man with a perpetual scowl, glanced up from his seat.

His sharp eyes immediately locked onto the team leader.

"What happened?" he asked, his voice low and steady but with an edge of impatience.

"The Lionheart Guild members!" the team leader spat, slamming his fist on the table.

"They’ve been relentlessly targeting our squads. They’re hunting us down like dogs, especially that damned Derek!"

His voice rose, raw with anger.

The department head frowned deeply, his fingers drumming on the armrest of his chair.

"Derek, huh? That arrogant fool has been looking for trouble for a while now. It seems Lionheart really wants to provoke a war."

"It’s not just provocation!" the team leader snapped. "They’ve already killed several of our members. If we don’t respond, our reputation will be in shreds!" His voice cracked with frustration, his hands trembling with restrained fury.

The department head leaned back, his eyes narrowing.

"War with Lionheart?" he muttered, more to himself than to anyone else.

He shook his head.

"No, we can’t afford it. Not now. Those Black Serpent vultures are already circling us, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. A war would leave us wide open."

The team leader clenched his fists, his knuckles turning white.

"So what do we do? Just let them walk all over us?"

"Of course not," the department head snapped, his voice sharp.

"We’ll bide our time. Avoid direct confrontations with Lionheart for now, but stay vigilant. If they push too far, they’ll regret it."

His tone was icy, filled with veiled menace.

The team leader hesitated but eventually nodded.

"Fine. We’ll be careful," he said, though his voice was thick with reluctance.

The department head’s gaze softened slightly.

"Good. Now, there’s something else I need your attention on."

He leaned forward, lowering his voice.

"Have you heard about the new orange dungeon?"

The team leader frowned. "Yes, I’ve heard whispers. What about it?"

"There’s something strange about this one," the department head said, his tone cautious but intrigued.

"The dungeon rose from green to orange in record time. That kind of growth doesn’t happen naturally. We need to investigate it. There might be something… useful there."

The team leader’s brows furrowed, his curiosity piqued. "If you think it’s worth looking into, I’ll take care of it."

"Good. Be discreet," the department head warned. "We’re not the only ones interested in it."

---

Meanwhile, in the enigmatic halls of the Mystic Tower, the atmosphere was eerily calm yet tinged with anticipation.

Unlike the boisterous Demonic Guild or the bustling Lionheart, the Mystic Tower operated in calculated silence.

Its members moved with precision, their actions guided by secrets known only to the highest-ranking individuals.

The Vice Guildmaster, a tall figure draped in flowing robes adorned with glowing runes, stood in his private study, scanning a report handed to him by one of the department heads.

"Are you certain about this,sir?" the department head asked cautiously, his voice barely above a whisper.

The Vice Guildmaster didn’t respond immediately.

He stared at the report, his sharp features betraying a mix of uncertainty and determination.

"No," he admitted finally, his voice smooth but laced with tension.

"But I believe it’s worth informing the Guildmaster. This… anomaly aligns too closely with his directives."

The department head hesitated, glancing toward the massive, rune-inscribed doors leading to the Guildmaster’s chambers.

"Do you really think this could be what he’s been searching for?"

The Vice Guildmaster’s gaze hardened.

"I do. The Guildmaster has been clear in his orders—find something or someone that defies the ordinary, that grows beyond natural limits. This dungeon… its rapid evolution… it feels like what he’s been waiting for."

The department head swallowed nervously.

The Guildmaster of the Mystic Tower was a figure shrouded in mystery, even to his own guild.

Few had ever seen him, and those who had refused to speak of the experience.

His presence loomed over the guild like a shadow, his cryptic commands followed without question.

"Very well," the department head said.

"I’ll prepare the report. But… are you sure he’ll act on this?"

The Vice Guildmaster allowed a faint, knowing smile.

"The Guildmaster always acts. Whether we understand his methods or not is irrelevant. If this dungeon is what he’s been seeking, it will change everything."

As the department head left, the Vice Guildmaster turned his gaze toward the Guildmaster’s doors.

The runes pulsed faintly, as if alive.

"Anomaly or omen?" he murmured to himself. "Let’s see what the master decides."