I decided to test the little stone golem's capabilities, watching him carefully as he interacted with the other golems.

His intelligence surpassed my expectations.

He moved with purpose, a leader among the others, instructing them with precision.

I marveled at how easily he took control, his small frame darting between the larger golems, giving them silent commands through subtle gestures and movements.

He wasn’t just smart—he had powers of his own.

By simply touching the ground, he could sense the presence of anything within a certain radius, like a ripple spreading through the earth.

It was a remarkable ability, one that allowed him to locate hunters before they even knew what was happening.

His power wasn’t just an extension of mine; it was something unique.

He could manipulate matter, albeit to a lesser extent, but still—he was evolving.

Due to his size, he was nearly impossible to detect.

He could slip between rocks, hide beneath tree roots, and vanish into the shadows with ease.

I began to rely on him, sending him out as a scout, a silent observer who could alert the others and set ambushes in motion.

With his guidance, the golems became more efficient, their attacks more coordinated.

The hunters who entered the dungeon were unprepared, their confidence shattered as they faced ambush after ambush, with no idea how they were being tracked.

Yet, with every victory, there were losses. Some of the golems broke under the strain of battle.

Their cores—so fragile, so vital—shattered from the damage inflicted upon them.

I had considered creating golems with multiple cores, hoping it would make them stronger, more resilient.

But each time I attempted it, the energy flow destabilized.

The golem would collapse, unable to function properly.

For now, the only solution was to hide the cores better, protect them more carefully, so the hunters wouldn’t know where to strike.

---

Meanwhile, in a dimly lit inn, far from the dungeon, a group of hunters sat around a wooden table, their voices low but tense.

The air was thick with the smell of roasted meat and the sound of mugs clinking as the patrons reveled in the background.

But at this table, there was no celebration.

"So, do any of you have new news?" A woman with sharp eyes and an even sharper tone broke the silence.

Flora, a B-rank marksman and the undisputed leader of the group, leaned forward, her gaze sweeping over her companions.

The tank, a broad-shouldered man with a perpetual smirk, wiped grease from his mouth before answering.

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

"There’s been talk about a dungeon. Rumors, mostly."

Flora’s eyes narrowed. "What kind of rumors?"

The tank took a gulp of ale, glancing around the room before speaking.

"They say no one’s ever come out of it alive. Once you go in, that’s it. You’re done."

Flora’s brow furrowed. "The hell are you talking about? A death trap?"

"The hunters call it the 'newbie killer.' It's getting a reputation," the tank continued, lowering his voice as if speaking the name might summon its dangers.

"People go in, thinking it’s just another raid. But they don’t come back. Not a single one."

The mage, a woman with dark, calculating eyes, leaned back in her chair, her staff resting across her lap.

"You’re talking about that dungeon? The one no one wants to touch now?" She shot the tank a glare when he reached for her plate, her hand swatting his away.

Flora sat back, absorbing the information.

Her fingers drummed the table as she considered their options.

A dungeon that no one could leave?

The challenge was tempting, but also dangerous.

"Newbie killer, huh?" She muttered under her breath, the gears in her mind already turning.

"It’s not just the low-ranks that are disappearing either," the tank added. "Even some C-rank hunters haven’t made it out."

"Sounds like a trap," Flora said, her voice steely.

But beneath that, there was a glimmer of excitement.

A dungeon like that, one shrouded in fear and mystery, could hold great rewards.

"But traps can be broken. We’re not newbies, are we?"

The tank chuckled, shaking his head.

"Nope, but I wouldn’t take it lightly. Whatever’s in there, it’s not your average dungeon boss."

"Yeah, and it’d be smart not to underestimate it. That old hunter Bruce didn’t make it out either," a quiet voice broke the tension.

The swordsman, usually reserved, had finally spoken, his words heavy with the weight of past losses.

Flora’s eyes narrowed as she turned towards him.

"Bruce? You mean the Bruce who used to train our guild members?"

The swordsman nodded solemnly. "Yes. That Bruce."

A moment of silence passed over the table, the name stirring memories in all of them.

Bruce had been a seasoned hunter, a man respected for his skill and experience.

His death wasn’t something any of them took lightly.

"What color is the dungeon?" Flora asked, her voice low, more calculated now.

"It’s blue," the swordsman replied, "but when Bruce went in, it was still green."

Flora sat back, deep in thought, her fingers tapping rhythmically on the wooden table.

If even someone like Bruce had fallen, this dungeon was far more dangerous than they’d initially assumed.

The rumors weren’t just exaggerations.

"There’s something in that dungeon. Something... unexpected," she murmured to herself, her gaze distant as she considered their next move.

Across the table, the timid priest shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

His voice wavered when he finally spoke, "Umm… maybe we shouldn’t go in at all. I mean, if Bruce couldn’t—"

Before he could finish, the mage interrupted with a dismissive wave of her hand.

"Don’t worry about it. We’re not newbies, and this is just a blue dungeon. We’ve handled worse."

Flora’s lips curled into a confident smile as she leaned forward, her sharp eyes gleaming with determination.

"Yes, and this could be our chance. If Bruce couldn’t handle it, then maybe there’s something valuable inside. What do you all say? Are we going?"

The table fell silent for a moment as her words sank in.

The tank was the first to speak, his deep voice steady. "Okay, I’m in."

The swordsman glanced at Flora, his quiet demeanor betraying little, but he nodded. "Fine by me."

The priest hesitated, glancing nervously around the group.

Finally, with a shaky breath, he relented. "If you’re confident, then... okay."

The mage smirked, spinning her staff idly between her fingers. "Yes."

The assassin, who had been quietly observing from the shadows, raised a gloved hand and gave a simple thumbs-up, his eyes gleaming with the thrill of the unknown.

One by one, they all agreed.

Their resolve was set, and the decision was final.

They would enter the dungeon.

---

The following morning, the group gathered in the guild hall, preparing for what could be the most dangerous mission they’d ever taken on.

Each of them was equipped with the best gear they had, carefully selecting potions, sharpening blades, and reinforcing armor.

The air was thick with a mix of anticipation and tension.

Flora inspected her bow, her fingers lightly brushing against the string as she adjusted the quiver strapped to her back.

Her sharp eyes scanned the faces of her team, taking in the steady confidence of her seasoned comrades.

They were all C-rank hunters, each experienced in their own right, with Flora herself at the helm as their B-rank leader.

The assassin stood by the entrance, his face hidden beneath a hood, checking his daggers with precision.

The tank clanged his shield against his armor, a reassuring gesture for himself as much as for the others.

The mage twirled her staff, her eyes gleaming with excitement, while the swordsman quietly adjusted the sword at his waist, his expression unreadable.

The priest, though still nervous, muttered prayers under his breath, seeking strength in his faith.

As they set out towards the dungeon, the sun barely crested the horizon, casting long shadows over their path.

The forest surrounding the dungeon felt more oppressive as they neared, the air thick with an unnatural stillness.

Flora led the way, her senses heightened, every fiber of her being on alert.

Behind her, the rest of the team followed, their footsteps heavy with the weight of what they might face.

When they arrived at the dungeon entrance, the sight of the ominous, swirling blue gate sent a chill down their spines.

The air crackled with an energy that made the hair on the back of their necks stand up.

They all paused for a moment, staring into the swirling vortex of light and shadow.

"This is it," Flora said, her voice calm, but her eyes betraying a spark of anticipation.

"Whatever’s inside, we’ll face it together. Stick to the plan, and we’ll come out on top."

With a final nod, they stepped forward, crossing the threshold into the dungeon.

The air inside was colder, darker.

The moment they entered, they could feel it—a presence, something ancient and calculating.

The forest around them was dense, the trees towering overhead, their branches intertwining like the bars of a cage.

Flora tightened her grip on her bow. Whatever was in here, waiting for them, they would face it head-on.

The dungeon may have taken down hunters before them, but this time it would be different.

This time, they were ready.

Or so they thought.