At first, there was nothing. No sound and no light.

Then, slowly, the faint crackle of torches reached my ears, followed by the cool sensation of stone beneath my feet. I blinked, and suddenly, I was standing in a room I didn’t recognize.

Or did I?

The place felt strange yet oddly familiar. I couldn’t place where or when, but there was an undeniable pull, a sense that I’d seen this place before.

The room was massive, with stone walls stretching high into the ceiling. Pillars stood scattered across the space, each with a weak, flickering torch. The dim light barely cut through the darkness.

I turned slowly, taking in my surroundings. Behind me, a wide descending staircase. Ahead of me, at the farthest edge of the room, loomed an enormous door.

I took a step closer. The closer I got, the more I realized just how monumental it was. The door radiated importance, as if it was meant to seal away something.

The carvings on the door stopped me in my tracks.

On the right side, a demon stood tall, its horns curling as it glared upward. Its muscular body was carved with sharp details. In one hand, it held a severed head, while the other reached toward the center of the door—a massive circular hollow, empty, as if something meant to be there was missing

On the left, an angel stood opposite the demon. Its four wings spread wide, and its calm yet fierce expression radiated power. The angel swung its sword with divine purpose, seemingly aimed at the demon. But its gaze wasn’t on him, rather it was locked on the empty circle at the door’s center.

Around them, mortals scattered in panic, retreating into the background to escape the chaos of their clash.

my fingers just inches from the door’s surface, as the sound of footsteps echoed behind me. It wasn’t the faint, ominous kind you’d expect in a place like this. No, this was the distinct rhythm of boots hitting stone, accompanied by low voices.

People.

A group was coming up the stairs behind me.

Without thinking, I darted to one of the towering pillars, pressing myself against its cold surface. Peeking out from the edge of the pillar, I caught a glimpse of them as they ascended the stairs—five figures, their steps confident and purposeful.

The dim torchlight didn’t reveal much at first, their faces hidden in the flickering shadows. But as they moved closer, their voices started to take shape.

“I can’t believe we made it this far!” one of them blurted with excitement. “Aren’t we the first in history to reach the end of the dungeon?”

The end of the dungeon?

My breath hitched. That couldn’t be right. The end of the dungeon wasn’t some place people just casually stumbled into. Only one group in recorded history had ever made it that far. And they were—

“Arlo,” another voice cut in sharply, yanking me out of my spiraling thoughts. This one was calm but commanding, with that unmistakable no-nonsense edge. “We don’t even know if this is the end. Stop acting so carefree and focus. This might be the hardest challenge we’ve ever faced.”

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

I froze, my mind scrambling. Arlo?

“Yeah, yeah,” the first voice shot back, playful but a little annoyed. “Why do you always have to be such a killjoy, Elara? Always so sour.”

Elara?!

No way. It couldn’t be.

“Elara’s right,” another voice chimed in, this one softer, almost soothing. “Arlo, I hate having to heal you when you’re too reckless. It hurts to see you and everyone else get injured.”

“Jasmine,” Arlo said, his tone suddenly gentler. “You’ve always been so sweet. You’re right. Sorry. I’ll focus. Maybe I should take after Cyrus—always quiet and mysterious.”

The names hit me like a punch to the gut, one after another. Arlo. Elara. Jasmine. Cyrus. My heart was racing now, my chest tight with disbelief.

No way. It’s them.

These weren’t just any adventurers. These were—

“Leader! Look, a door! Whoa—check out how massive it is! And those designs—so intricate. What do you think it all means?”

Leader? My stomach sank as the realization hit me, piece by piece. No way… please, no…

And then he stepped into the light.

The torchlight caught him perfectly, illuminating a figure awe-inspiring and intimidating. His face was sharp and fierce, his expression unshakable.

His eyes burned with such intensity. They weren’t just looking; they were cutting through everything.

Thick, wild waves of hair tumbled over his shoulders like a lion’s mane, catching the torchlight just enough to give him an almost ethereal glow. It made him look larger than life.

In his hands was a massive greatsword, so absurdly huge it could make even Grizmar seem puny by comparison.

There was something primal about the way he stood, raw strength fused with this sort of calculated discipline.

I swallowed hard. There was no denying it.

It was him. Valerian, my Bloodzerker.

"Doesn’t matter what it means," Valerian said, his voice steady and filled with quiet authority. His blazing eyes remained fixed on the massive door. "Whatever awaits us behind this door, I will conquer it."

“Oh, I’m falling in love with you all over again, Leader!” Arlo exclaimed, his voice filled with dramatic admiration as he clasped his hands together like a lovesick fool.

A sharp smack echoed through the room. Elara’s palm collided with the back of Arlo’s head, hard enough to make him stumble.

“Ow! That hurt!” Arlo yelped, rubbing the spot and throwing her a pitiful look.

“Shut up, idiot!” Elara shot back, her tone biting but laced with fond annoyance. “We don’t have time for your nonsense.”

While they bickered, Valerian didn’t even flinch. His presence alone quieted the group as they gathered near the door.

Then, breaking the silence, he spoke again. “Cyrus. Thoughts?”

Cyrus, the quiet one of the bunch, stepped forward without a word. His movements were slow and deliberate as he placed a hand on the door, his fingers tracing its surface with careful precision, as if searching for something only he could sense.

The room went still, everyone watching him. After a moment, Cyrus pulled his hand back, his expression as calm as ever.

“The door needs a key,” he said simply, his voice steady.

A key? What the hell?

This wasn’t how it went down in the game. I played this part. This door was supposed to open on its own. No keys, no hidden requirements—just progression. And yet, The dialogue, the scene, all of it… none of this was in the game logs.

What’s going on?

“A key?” Valerien asked, his sharp eyes narrowing as he turned to Cyrus.

Cyrus nodded, his calm demeanor unchanged. “Yes. That circular groove in the middle of the door, it needs something specific. Whatever it is, it’ll act as the key to unlock it.”

Valerien moved his imposing figure closer over the door. His eyes fixed on the circular indentation. “I see,” he said, his tone steady. “Think we could just force it open?”

Cyrus tilted his head, studying the door again. “Probably not,” he said after a pause. “This thing’s built to keep people out unless they have the exact item. There’s a magical mechanism here. Brute force won’t cut it.”

“Any idea what this key might be?”

Cyrus stepped back, his eyes scanning the intricate carvings on the door. "The demon probably represents the monsters in the dungeon. The mortals must be us, the challengers. And the angel... well, I don’t trust the religious faction, but there’s one thing we know about them besides their holier-than-thou attitude. It’s..." He turned to Jasmine, his expression serious.

"... You’re not saying the key is that, are you?" Jasmine asked, her voice uneasy.

"What else could it be? Nothing else fits. The religious faction counts as mortals in this scenario, and the only thing that’s remotely divine is—"

Jasmine cut him off, finishing his thought. "God's Gift..."