Even for his eyes that had well adjusted to the absence of light that was normal in dungeons, it felt too dark even for him, making it difficult to see even a single step ahead of himself.

‘Nobody that’s come into this dungeon has come out–I don’t plan on keeping that status remaining, if I can help it,’ he thought.

Reaching into one of the pouches on his belt, he took out a stick made of ashen wood along with a crimson gemstone. He ground the two together, swiping the stone against one end of the stick in a swift motion.

Sparks flew before an orange flame manifested itself on the stick, instantly casting light into the previously lightless domain.

“Here’s hoping for the best,” he mumbled, stuffing the gemstone back in his belt.

He kept the torch held in front of him as he walked, still finding that the reach of the fire’s illumination wasn’t delving very far ahead. Upon looking back, it was clear he had gone distant enough within the ominous domain that he could no longer see the entrance he had come in through, only a veil of shadows behind.

“Guess there’s no road left but the one ahead, eh?” He muttered to himself before facing forward.

An unnerving cold occupied the dungeon; a chilling breeze that came down the corridor like the whispers of a malignant being. That chill that ran along his body encouraged him to turn around and call it quits on the job, though it was too late; after coming this far, he knew if he abandoned the contract, he’d be leaving his own worth in the eerie dungeon.

With a quiet breath from his lips, he brought the torch in front of his mouth, expelling the flame with a sharp exhale before tucking the unburnt stick back into his belt. The darkness once more took hold of the dungeon, though he welcomed it, tightening his gloves as he knelt for a moment.

Both of his calves felt as though they had tirelessly worked for days straight, weak and sore, though nothing that was going to stop him as he rubbed his legs for a moment before beginning to silently walk forward.

The torch wasn’t necessary for providing vision upon the adventurer’s eyes; it was used as bait to draw out any creatures near the dungeon’s entrance. At least, if anything reacted to the sudden light and came after him, he’d be able to run out and let the mercenary waiting outside handle it for him.

Fortunately, that plan didn’t have to be used, instead now welcoming himself to the environment he was most natural in–darkness, silence, and mystery; he was free to tackle the ominous dungeon to his liking.

He kept walking close to the right wall, taking slow, deliberate steps that were light enough to be able to react to a false tile, keeping a keen eye on everything around him. From what he could see, he found himself in a room that was littered with abandoned steel; discarded weapons, either dull and aged with rust, or coated in old blood.

‘It’s still hard to see just a few steps ahead, but it’s better than letting whatever is lurking in here see my light first–at least this way, we’re on equal ground in the shadows,’ he thought.

Investigating the odd assortment of weapons on the floor, he found his boots stepping on dried blood that stained the black steel. Further inspection led to a finding that made it clear what he was looking at: discarded bones, some with scraps of fabric still attached.

He scrunched his nose at the sight of bones and abandoned weapons, only solidifying what he knew about the dungeon before coming in: it was a graveyard for unprepared adventurers. The further he walked through the shadow-filled dungeon, the more he found: entire skeletons, decomposed, yet still dressed in armor, some still holding onto their weapons even in the afterlife.

Upon traversing the corridors and entering another room, he was hit by the distinct stench of death; a rotten fume that nearly made him gag, though he contained his instincts.

‘This is bad. I’m not the first he hired–nowhere near it, probably. How many people did that pompous asshole send here to die because he was ignorant of how dangerous the Tower is? All for nothing,’ he thought.

It wasn’t the first time he witnessed something like this, though it never was an easy sight; those that were unable to venture into the Towers themselves paid for the services of adventurers. Often not even dungeon specialists get hired first; all too often, desperate adventurers rush into unknown dungeons, only to be slain like cattle.

‘Whatever is lurking here, I don’t plan on confronting it,’ he thought.

Checking each path from the current room he was in, two out of the three led to dead ends, leaving him only one way to go.

The pitch-black steel that made up the dungeon was in itself peculiar; as he walked close to it, letting his hand brush against the material, small vibrations pressed against his fingers.

‘It’s cold—like ice. The deeper I go, the colder it’s getting,’ he realized.

He didn’t realize it until just then, but the breaths that left his lips came out in a visible frost; it became worryingly cold as he felt the hairs on his body rise and goosebumps to come.

‘...Why is it getting so cold? What’s ahead?’ He questioned.

There was no count of how many steps he took, finding him teeth chattering as he moved as quietly as he could. The corridor of black steel finally found itself with a semblance of light, coming from deeper down the path he went–a sublime, sapphire glow showed itself.

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‘That glow…the Chrono Crystal,’ he thought.

As he moved forward, he brought his boot down, though stopping just shy of pressing it against what was below. The ground that led into the next chamber was different from before; the metallic flooring was coated in a thin sheet of frost, with bones decorating the entrance.

‘Alright, time to get started,’ he thought with a quick inhale.

With a swift motion, he flipped his hood over his head, causing the cowl sewn into it to be worn, masking his visible presence. Even if he was concealed from being seen, it didn’t mean he couldn’t be heard; he kept his steps quiet, walking into the chamber embraced by frost.

A vast room, with steps and platforms that led to the center, which housed a beautiful crystal that sat atop a pillar of onyx marble. Looking upon it, even he could see why the nobleman sought it; it fluctuated between shades of blue, from the deepest depths of the sea to the welcoming shine of the azure sky.

He looked around before choosing to approach the treasured crystal, somehow finding that there was still nothing greeting his intrusion.

‘Odd. For a Prime Dungeon, it isn’t very intricate. It didn’t take me long to find this room–most of all, the lack of anything guarding this place is too weird,’ he thought.

Flipping his hood off, the removal of the cowl let him draw breath once more as he slowly approached the altar which housed the immaculate crystal. The jewel itself wasn’t entirely large, easy enough for him to fit in the palm of his hand as he reached to it, grasping it.

“Ah–” He let out, immediately releasing his hold of the crystal.

It took him by surprise just how cold it was, as though he was touching a block of ice. Even through the glove he wore, the sensation of bitter frost was felt as though it was directly against his skin. Only for a moment did his glove make contact with it, but it was enough to leave a layer of frost built on the leather.

‘That’s seriously cold,’ he thought, shivering just being near the peculiar object.

Of course, the ever-prepared dungeon crawler was prepared in case of extreme cold, retrieving a small vial of bright-red liquid from his belt. As he popped the cork from the bottle, steam poured out from its interior before he gulped it down in one sip.

It went down his throat with a crimson glow that pressed through his skin as it went down his system, flourishing within him as he exhaled steam. The frost that covered his glove melted away as his temperature soared.

‘Much better,’ he felt.

The concoction provided him with an internal warmth that felt similar to that of a high fever, though without the obvious demerits. He took a few breaths, inhaling frosted air and exhaling a light haze of steam before using both hands to grasp the ice-cold crystal.

Clasping the freezing gem with his extraordinary warm hands immediately caused a cloud of steam to sharply billow from the rapid collision of temperatures. The sensation was both of burning and freezing; unpleasant, but not painful.

“...Alright,” he mumbled, opening the small, dark-blue sack he carried with him and carefully setting the valuable crystal within it.

As he tightened the fabric container to completely seal off its opening, the frost of the gem was suppressed as well. For a moment, he stood there blankly holding the sack that contained the crystal.

It felt too easy, far too easy.

Just as he tied the straps of the compressed bag to his belt–everything shook. The floor which his boots rested upon, the walls that stood silently, and the frost-coated ceiling that stared down at him; it all rumbled as if disturbed by something grand.

“Of course it wouldn’t be that easy,” he mumbled to himself.

What felt like an earthquake was something even more unnerving; the thunderous shakes came from mighty stomps, belonging to something of frightening size.

There wasn’t any hesitation in placing the cowl back on as he retreated into darkness, witnessing what had been disturbed.

What arrived from the opposing end of the crystal-bearing chamber was a creature of titanic stature; with the body of a man and hooves that slammed into the ground, bearing horns large enough to skewer grown men easily. Its body was coated in dark-black fur, wearing black steel plated along various parts of its flesh with frost lightly laying across its form.

A minotaur, larger than any the adventurer had ever witnessed himself.

‘…Ah…’ he thought.

A grating sound filled the chamber, originating from the stomach-sinking weapon held in the giant beast’s right hand, being drug across the floor: a frostbitten warhammer, resembling a boulder of sable steel.

‘Hold on…A minotaur threefold the size of its kin, clad in steel as dark as night and wielding a hammer capable of crushing carriages in a single blow–“Kalterion.” Second only to the guardian of this floor, it’s said to be the most dangerous creature on this level. I read about it in the Yggdrasil Bestiary. Why is it in this dungeon though? I hear it stalks the eleventh floor, but from what I’ve heard, nobody has seen it in years–I guess nobody lived to tell the tale,’ he realized.

It was only then upon witnessing the emergence of the horned beast stomp into the chamber, searching for the intruder, did the adventurer come to notice something else that was present within the room.

From the ceiling, the skeleton of a colossal creature was draped from frost-held chains, once obscured by the shadows, but clear as day and ominous as the darkness. The frosted skeleton was humanoid, though clearly not by its skull that bore three eye sockets, possessing arms longer than its torso.

‘--A yeti?’ He realized.

It began to piece itself together in his mind; the skeleton of the yeti he saw draping from the deathly chamber’s ceiling was likely the original defender of that dungeon. The black steel-clad minotaur was an intruder itself, having claimed the abode as its own with terrifying might.

The realization of such a terrifying creature such as a yeti being overtaken by something even more daunting sent a shiver over his skin, forcing him to control his panicked mind as his heart raced within his chest.

Fortunately, the cowl kept him hidden from the monstrous creature’s sight as it stomped around the chilly chamber with its gargantuan hooves, searching for wherever the intruder was.

He kept himself tucked by the marble altar, keeping himself silent in combination with his unseen nature.

As the grand beast stalked the chamber, all while the sound of its oversized hammer was ground across the steel flooring with an ear-grating noise, his eyes lingered towards the corridor he came in from. It was ten meters away–a distance he could cross in a quick dash, if he was lucky.

The problem came in that moving that fast with panic infused in his body, the sound would surely attract the suspicious denizen of the dungeon.

Either way, he needed to act sooner rather than later as the enchanted cowl suppressed his ability to breath, causing his chest to throb in anticipation of drawing a breath.

‘I just need to take it slow. Easy does it,’ he thought.