Skkkkrshh.

Something moved.

I wasn’t imagining it. Something shifted in that pile of bones.

But I didn’t move.

Not out of courage—out of sheer, frozen disbelief. The air was thick, pressing down on me, the darkness stretching too far in every direction. My instincts screamed at me to look, to react, but my body wasn’t cooperating.

Instead, I muttered under my breath, barely above a whisper. "The hell did I just walk into?"

I reached down, fingers closing around a small rock. Without thinking, I hurled it straight at the pile. Hard enough to make an impact. Hard enough to get a reaction.

Because if that was an undead—if that was some dungeon boss waking up—I needed to be ready.

My hand hovered near my summoning mark, heart pounding. I could call Amaruq now. I should call Amaruq now.

But maybe—maybe—it was just a rat. Or some random scavenger.

That was the thought keeping me sane.

Except deep down, I already knew.

It wasn’t a rat.

I clenched my fists, forcing my legs to move. One step closer. Just enough to see.

KRRRRK!

FUCK.

My heart nearly exploded out of my chest. The sound—sharp, grating, unnatural—ripped through the silence, making every hair on my body stand on end.

I saw it.

A hand.

Not just bones anymore. A real, human hand pushing up from the pile like something straight out of a nightmare.

I didn't move closer. Not yet. Caution. Or hesitation. Maybe both.

The light from above barely touched it, but I saw enough.

The skin—or what was left of it—was shredded, raw. Wounds covered the wrist, deep and jagged, like it had been clawing at something for too long. The nails were shattered, fingers trembling violently.

And it wasn’t a monster’s hand.

It was human.

The bones around it shifted, tumbling away, revealing the figure buried beneath them. Slowly, painfully, it pulled itself free.

And then I saw him.

Not an undead. Not some mutated dungeon creature. Just... a man.

Barely breathing. Sunken eyes locked straight ahead, unfocused. Skin stretched too tight over his bones, maggots crawling through open wounds along his arms. Rotten. Dying.

The smell hit me all at once. My stomach twisted, a sharp, instinctive wave of nausea rising in my throat. I swallowed it down.

Then—

"You... one..."

A whisper.

Barely audible. His voice was wrecked, hoarse, breaking apart before the words even fully formed.

He was alive.

I stepped closer, drawn in despite myself. The man was slumped, barely holding himself up, his breath shallow. I leaned down, trying to catch his words, trying to see his face in the dim light.

"Hey... uhm." My voice came out rougher than I intended. My pulse hammered, but I held my ground.

His lips moved, cracked and dry. "You're one..."

"Sorry, what?" I caught only fragments, his voice raspy.

His throat worked, like it hurt to even form words. He tried again, forcing the sound out. "You're... one of them?"

I frowned. The words were clearer this time, but they didn’t make sense.

"One of who?"

His eyes lifted to mine, hollow, desperate. And then—barely more than a whisper—

"Awakeners."

He caught me off guard. Not just by speaking—but by forcing himself to look at me. His voice scraped out, raw and broken, and the way he moved... it hurt to watch. Whatever happened to him, it hadn’t been quick.

And judging by the state of him, he was probably an Awakener too.

"Why?" My voice came out steadier than I expected.

"How... did... you even... end up down here?"

Hell if I knew. One second, I was walking. The next—poof—I was falling. My back still throbbed from the impact.

I didn’t answer.

I just stared at him. At his wounds. His legs—half-rotted, flesh peeling, maggots writhing in open sores. His skin was turning to something that wasn’t skin anymore.

This was, hands down, the most horrifying thing I’d ever seen.

"Don’t be... surprised, kid." His voice rattled, barely holding together.

Yeah? And why the hell wouldn’t I be surprised? A half-dead man, breathing in a pile of skeletons, talking to me like this was just another Tuesday.

I swallowed. "No, seriously. How, mister? How the hell did you end up down here... with all these bones?"

I sent his question right back at him. Because I needed to know.

He didn’t answer. Didn’t need to. I could hear it in his breathing, see it in the way his body sagged, hollowed-out and brittle.

I grabbed the water bottle I’d swiped from the river outside this dungeon and shoved it toward him. “Here.”

He latched onto it like a drowning man, his hands shaky but desperate. Yeah. He’d been thirsty for a while.

"You need food?" I asked, already thinking about what I could hunt. The guy looked like he hadn’t eaten in weeks.

But then, as I started to stand, he lifted a hand—slow, weak, telling me to stop. “This is more than enough.” His voice was dry, brittle. He raised the bottle slightly, his fingers barely keeping hold of it.

I frowned. “You need something to eat, or else you’ll d—”

"I’m gonna die, kid. I know." His words were flat. Matter-of-fact. No fear, no denial—just the truth, bald and bare. He took a breath, like he had to force the next part out. "Besides... eating doesn’t help anymore. Every time I eat... I just puke it out. My stomach won’t take it."

I sat down beside him, knees bent, hands clenched. I forced myself to stay still. To not shove food down his throat even though he clearly needed it.

He exhaled, slow and shaky. Then, "What’s... your name?"

"Ethan." I watched him drain the last of the water. "What about you, mister?"

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"Reese."

We sat there for a beat, the silence settling between us. Then—“So, you raiding this dungeon?”

I let out a short breath, something close to a laugh. "Not intentionally, but yeah. You could say that. You're not wrong."

"Someone force you?" His voice had weight to it. Like he already knew the answer.

I thought about it for a second. "Yeah. That’s probably the best way to put it."

Another pause.

I glanced at him. He was staring right at me, his expression barely shifting, but something about his eyes—wide, surprised—made my stomach tighten.

Then, he spoke. "We suffered the same fate, Ethan." His voice was quiet. Heavy. "The only difference... is that you survived."

"Same fate?" I glanced at him, curiosity sharpening into something colder.

His words stuck with me. Suffered the same fate. My mind turned it over, dissecting it. The Awakener Guild—were they involved in this? Had they thrown him down here, just like me? Or was this place a graveyard for more than just him? The skeletons scattered around us weren’t just coincidence.

"I was thrown... here." His voice dragged, but the weight behind it hit hard.

And there it was. Confirmation. My jaw tightened. My fists clenched. If he was tossed down here—then who the hell did it? And more importantly… was it the same people who threw me?

His eyes flickered toward me. “And you... were forced.” A rough breath. “That means... we’re on the same page.”

Same page? I almost laughed. Mister, have you looked at yourself? You’re knocking on death’s door with one foot in the grave. But sure, let’s call it that.

I knew what he meant, though. And he wasn’t wrong.

"You a summoner?" I asked.

His eyes went wide. For a second, I thought he stopped breathing, and I almost checked to see if he’d finally keeled over.

Then—“Yes… how did you—”

"You said you were thrown. So maybe you were right. Maybe we really are on the same page."

His fingers twitched. “What… do you mean?”

"I was thrown down here too. Not by accident. Someone made sure of it."

His whole body went still. Then, finally—“So… you… you’re a summoner like me?” His voice came out strained, broken by a cough.

"I am.."

I hadn’t even noticed my hands had stopped shaking. Talking to him, putting the pieces together—it steadied me. For a moment.

But if he told me the same guild threw him down here, I might just lose it. Hell, I might blow this whole damn pile of skeletons apart.

No. Stupid thought. I wasn’t that reckless.

I just… I just wanted to believe he got dumped here for a reason. Maybe he was a criminal. Maybe he deserved it. Because if he didn’t—if he suffered the same fate as me—then that meant this whole thing was worse than I’d thought.

"Awakener… Guild?" His voice barely made it out.

And just like that, my hands started shaking again. Not from fear. From rage.

I could let Amaruq tear them all apart. Just give the order, let the blood spill. It would be easy.

No. Not yet. Acting on impulse now would be idiotic.

"Is that who threw you down here?" My voice was tight.

He nodded, slow. "You’re right… kid."

I clenched my fists so hard my knuckles popped. "Then, was it for the same reason?" My foot shifted, bones crunching under the weight.

He exhaled, long and shaky. Then—“Did they ever brand you weak? Useless?”

Did they?

Did they ever even see summoners as people?

The way they talked, the way they acted—like we were some mistake that needed fixing. Like we didn’t belong in their so-called new world.

Bastards.

"So that’s why, mister?" My voice was quieter now. But the anger—it didn’t go anywhere. It just sank deeper, settled in my bones.

I didn’t expect to find another summoner, especially this close. But I wasn’t surprised he got thrown down here for the same reason I did.

"How long have you been here?" I asked.

He let out a rough breath. "I don’t know… a week, probably."

Then, suddenly, he gagged—his whole body lurching forward. Blood hit the ground, dark and thick.

Shit.

A week. He’d been down here, like this, for a week? How the hell did he even last that long?

He wiped his mouth, breathing shallow.

"This might… surprise you, kid… but tell me something…" He swallowed hard, forcing the words out. "Do you hate this new world?"

That stopped me.

Damn.

I exhaled, steadying myself. "I do. I don’t want to be part of it. If I could reset everything—wipe it clean, even if it meant losing all my memories—" my jaw clenched, "I’d do it."

He let out a weak, dry chuckle. "Hmm—yeah. I hate it too. But it’s… it’s probably always gonna be this way. Kid, you need to kno—"

His words cut off. His body sagged.

"Hey." I leaned forward, shaking him slightly. No response.

I checked his breathing. Still going. His fingers twitched slightly, moving against the dirt.

He was unconscious.

image [https://static.vecteezy.com/system/resources/thumbnails/034/487/737/small_2x/gold-frame-page-divider-free-png.png]

Reese's Pov

I wanted to do more. Be more. A better husband. A better father. But I was drowning—jobless, scraping by with part-time scraps that barely kept food on the table.

I told myself I’d come to terms with it. That this country was a lost cause, rigged against people like me. The only thing keeping me upright was them—my wife, my daughter.

Until the day they weren’t.

She left when she got the chance. Took our little girl and walked out. I didn’t blame her. What kind of man lets his family starve? I was nothing. Less than nothing.

I thought about ending it. Even had the rope ready.

But then—

The light.

It came out of nowhere, hanging in the air like it had been watching. And then, before I could react, it moved. Straight for me.

I barely had time to gasp before it shoved itself down my throat.

My vision blurred. The world tilted.

I woke up in the same spot I’d blacked out. Nothing felt different. Just the same empty ache. I told myself it was a dream—a bad one.

And I let it go. For a week.

Spent most of it drunk. Didn’t sleep. Picked up smoking again, even though I’d quit for my wife and daughter. But they weren’t here anymore, so what did it matter?

The worst part wasn’t the drinking or the filth I let pile up. It was the quiet. No wife to hold. No daughter’s laughter. Just an empty apartment and the kind of loneliness that seeps into your bones. I thought about ending it. A lot.

Then someone knocked on my door.

A woman. Someone I’d never seen before.

She said I was an Awakener. I had no idea what that meant, but she explained—slow, patient. They wanted me for an experiment. Nothing invasive, just my presence, she said. And they’d pay.

I hesitated. But money—money meant a chance. Maybe if I had enough, my family would come back.

So I said yes.

For the first time in weeks, I felt something—hope, relief, the smallest flicker of joy.

Then the experiment began.

They led me to a white room, twenty others already waiting.

At first, it seemed harmless. Then the syringes came out. We were strapped down, needles piercing our skin. They called it a test. Said it was safe. Said we wouldn’t feel a thing.

They lied.

Days turned to weeks. Weeks to months. We were locked inside that room, our numbers shrinking. One by one, people died. Paranoia set in. I stopped trusting faces. Stopped trusting time.

Until there were five of us left.

"God, save me." Someone whispered it in the dark. Could’ve been me. Could’ve been anyone.

Then everything went black.

I woke up in a dungeon.

No walls, no exits. Just monsters waiting to tear me apart. And they did.

I ran. I fought. It didn’t matter. They caught me, ripped me open, left me bleeding.

I tumbled into a pit—deep, black, air so thin it felt like I was drowning. I landed in a pile of bones.

I was alive. Barely.

No food. No water. Days blurred together. My body wasted away, but my mind wouldn’t let go. I wanted to live. Needed to.

So I did what I had to.

I ate my own flesh.

Drank my own sweat.

Devoured maggots.

Just to survive.

I hadn’t seen sunlight in… I didn’t know how long. Days. Weeks. Maybe longer. The air was thick, stale—wrong. My lungs ached for something fresh, but there was nothing. Just darkness, the walls pressing in, the weight of slow death settling over me.

I was rotting.

Starving.

But my mind wouldn’t let go. Not yet.

My wife. My daughter.

I could see them—clear as day. My wife’s tired smile, the way she used to tuck her hair behind her ear. My little girl’s laugh, the way she used to squeeze my finger like she’d never let go.

I just wanted to see them. One last time.

Before I di—

image [https://static.vecteezy.com/system/resources/thumbnails/034/487/737/small_2x/gold-frame-page-divider-free-png.png]

Ethan's POV

Hah. This was either my dumbest idea yet or pure genius.

I had Amaruq carry Reese on his back, hauling him out of this damn dungeon. Figured if the guy was gonna die, might as well let him see the sun first. Felt like the least I could do.

"Who is this man, exactly?" Amaruq asked, clearly not thrilled about playing pack mule.

"A summoner. Like me."

"A summoner, hmm?" His ears flicked back. "Do you plan on actually healing him? Because those wounds are festering."

Oh. Right. Healing. Amaruq had that, didn’t he?

"Wait—" I turned to him, grinning. "You know healing, right?"

"I do. But it depends if you can actually command m—"

"Great! Then let’s heal him! What the hell are we waiting for?" I threw my arms up.

"It’s not that simple," he muttered.

Yeah, well. I’d try anyway.

I raised my hand toward Reese’s mangled body, focusing on the deep, infected slashes. This should be easy.

"What do I say?"

"Just command it."

"Alright." I cleared my throat. "HEAL!"

And then—

A notification popped up.

[Low Intelligence]

[Healing Command Requires Higher Intelligence Attribute]

I stared at it. Then nearly punted the closest rock straight into the abyss.

"You’ve gotta be kidding me."

Amaruq didn’t even try to hide his smugness. "Told you."

I exhaled sharply. "Okay. What if you just do it directly?"

He huffed. "That’s impossible. Only high-level summons can heal directly, huma—Ethan."

Great. So now I needed brains to keep someone from dying? What a joke.

"What a freaking attribute." I clapped my hands, frustration boiling over.

"Are we done here?" Amaruq huffed. "Or do you plan on dragging this out?"

If healing Reese wasn’t an option, I had to stick with Plan A—get him out of this damn dungeon, let him see the sun one last time. Not that it fixed anything. And screw this system. Apparently, I needed to grind for XP just to have basic intelligence. What a joke.

"Yeah, yeah. Let’s just go."

We headed for the exit, stepping into the open air. And for once, the world outside wasn’t trying to kill me. The sky was clear, the sun was rising, and the clouds looked like they were putting on some kind of show. Almost peaceful. Almost enough to take the edge off my irritation.

Amaruq dropped Reese under a large tree, a little ways from the dungeon entrance.

"That’s it, Ethan. I’m done. Let me sleep." His tail flicked in annoyance. "Not sure why you even needed me. You could’ve carried him yourself."

"Oh, so now you’re complaining?" I muttered. "What a personality, Ruk."

I froze. Ruk?

Huh. Guess I was sick of saying his full name every damn time. Whatever. It worked.

Amaruq’s ears twitched. "Weird human."

"What was that?"

"Nothing. Let me rest."

I clicked my tongue. "Tsk. Why don’t we talk, huh? Build some bond or whatever?"

"Next time." He was already settling in. "I just carried that half-dead man on my back. I am tired."

Aaaaaaaand there it was.

I sighed. "Fine. You win."

"REST."

And with that, he was out.

image [https://static.vecteezy.com/system/resources/thumbnails/034/487/737/small_2x/gold-frame-page-divider-free-png.png]

I’d been sitting here for hours, waiting for this guy to wake up. And he still hadn’t.

If Ruk was awake, at least I’d have someone to talk to. Instead, I was stuck alone, bored out of my mind, flicking small stones into the dirt. Worse, my brain decided now was a great time to dredge up thoughts about my ex.

What the fuck.

I resisted the urge to shake Reese awake. He needed the rest. Hell, I just hoped he was having a good dream.

Apparently, I hoped too soon.

"ARGHHHHH!"

The sudden scream made me jump, sending one of my rocks flying.

"Goddamn it!" I swore, heart still hammering.

Reese sat there, gasping, his breath ragged. Like he’d just clawed his way out of something awful.

Great. I’d literally wished for him to have a good dream, and the universe served up the exact opposite.

I moved toward him, kneeling. "You okay?"

His eyes cracked open, and his first instinct was to shield them. Probably hadn’t seen light in so long that it burned. But I could still see it—his face, his hands—frozen in shock.

Like he was looking at a miracle.

"Where am... I?" His voice was hoarse, barely holding together. His eyes, wide and unfocused, darted to me after he stopped shielding them.

"Outside."

He blinked, taking it in. The open air. The sky. The sunlight. Then, his gaze flicked back to me. "Did you... lift me out here?" He coughed, blood staining his lips.

"No. My summon did. Ruk."

I grabbed a fresh water pouch and held it out to him. He didn’t take it. Instead, he lifted a trembling hand—stopping me with just a flick of his fingers.

"Kid, I... I can’t... move my hands." His voice was barely there, choked between coughs. "And they’re... filthy... I..."

I said nothing. Just listened.

He exhaled sharply, then slowly, so slowly, raised his hands toward the sun. Light kissed his battered skin, and for a second, his fingers curled, like he was trying to hold it.

"I may never... be able to say how... thankful I am..." His breath rattled. "To see the sunlight again. To breathe fresh air."

He inhaled, or tried to, but it only made him choke—more blood spilling down his chin.

I shifted closer. "Hey... I could take you to a hospital. They might be able to help."

He shook his head, the movement sluggish. "No... there's no need, Ethan..." His lips twitched—something close to a smile, but not quite. "Just let me have this. That’s more than enough."

I let him be. He knew. Knew he wasn’t walking away from this. The infection was eating him alive.

If I’d gotten here sooner… would I have been able to save him? Would I have even tried?

"You have a family?" His voice was weak, but the question came out of nowhere.

I nodded. "Yeah. But my parents are separated."

He coughed, body shaking with the effort. I felt my concern twist tighter in my gut.

"A... sibling?"

"No. Only child." I hesitated. "Maybe you should stop talking. Save your strength—"

"I'm okay, Ethan. Don't worry... It's just nice, once in a while, to have company."

I nodded. Slowly.

Silence stretched between us before he spoke again. "You said earlier... you hated this new world."

I didn’t answer. Just listened.

"But you don’t know. You think you do, but it’s worse than you imagine."

I raised a brow. Readied myself. Because when a dying man starts talking like that, it means whatever he’s about to say is going to stick.

"I figured." I exhaled. "Is this what you were trying to tell me before you passed out?"

"Yeah... and listen..."

My fists clenched at my sides. Slowly. Almost on instinct.

Why?

Not fear. Something else. My hands always started shaking when shit got tense.

"The Awakener Guild..." His voice cracked, but he forced himself through it. "They’re just... aghh... they’re just the root."

Root? What kind of root? No—wait. I got it. Someone’s pulling the strings.

I’d heard the theory before, but hearing it from someone who’d been left to rot down here? That made it real.

He swallowed hard, struggling to get the last part out.

"There’s someone more powerful behind them... and they’re experimenting. Planning to eliminate summoners."

His breath hitched. His body trembled.

"But I don’t have a reason... to tell you why."

I clenched my jaw. "Did they experiment on you?"

A slow, rattling exhale. "Yeah… and quite a few more. I think it didn’t work, so they just threw us away. Scattered us, kept us hidden from the public."

Damn.

So it really was bigger than I imagined. The guilds, the authorities—the people I thought ran this world—just puppets?

"I’m telling you this... for your sake." His voice was barely more than a whisper now. "You have to survive... because being a summoner? It’s not a blessing... it’s a goddamn curse."