Back in the C-Rank dungeon Nyx and Gideon were about to leave the room where they had fought with the mithril trolls. The air grew thick with anticipation as Nyx and Gideon approached the door back to the previous chamber. Suddenly, a faint tremor ran through the stone beneath their feet, and a soft, ethereal glow began to emanate from the ancient carvings etched into the rock face on the far wall. The light pulsed gently, like a heartbeat, growing stronger with each passing moment.

"By the gods," Gideon breathed, his gruff voice barely above a whisper. "It's the boss room."

On the far wall materialized a set of imposing double doors, their surfaces adorned with intricate bronze emblems that seemed to dance in the flickering torchlight. The cold steel of the doors gleamed ominously, ring pull handles beckoning like silent sentinels. Nyx's eyes traced the patterns carved into the surrounding stone, each line and image hinting at forgotten tales.

They exchanged wary glances, the weight of their hard-won treasures - white metal ingots and metal essences - suddenly feeling insignificant in the face of what lay beyond. Gideon's weathered face creased with concern as he turned to Nyx.

"We've got what we came for," he muttered, eyes darting between Nyx and the foreboding doors. "Daybreak's nearly upon us. We should make haste and retrace our steps through the dungeon."

Nyx stood rooted to the spot, conflicting emotions warring within him. The dungeon, despite its C-rank status, had proven disappointingly easy. The thrill of danger, the test of his limits he'd been seeking, had remained frustratingly just out of reach. Now, with the promise of a true challenge mere feet away, indecision gnawed at him.

His mind raced, recalling scraps of information about what lurked beyond. A mithril troll boss, a behemoth five times stronger than its ordinary kin, accompanied by four mage trolls. The normal mage trolls, he reasoned, shouldn't pose too great a threat. But the boss itself...

Nyx's hand twitched involuntarily as he walked towards the door handle, the call of adventure warring against caution and reason. The air around them seemed to crackle with tension the dungeon held its breath, awaiting to see if these adventurers would dare to challenge it.

Meanwhile the black carriage lurched to a halt, jolting Arthur from his uneasy trance. The doors flew open with a bone-chilling creak, flooding the cramped interior with harsh moonlight. Rough hands seized him, dragging him out onto cold, damp earth.

As his vision adjusted, a nightmarish scene unfolded before him. They stood before a massive barn, its weathered exterior belying the horrors within. The stench of fear and despair hung thick in the air, mingling with the metallic tang of the scent of blood.

"Move!" a gruff voice barked. Arthur stumbled forward, alongside the other captives. Ahead, the barn doors yawned open, revealing rows of iron cages stacked two levels high. Anguished cries and rattling metal echoed from within as those already imprisoned reached out with desperate, grasping hands.

"Please, let us out!"

"We've done nothing wrong!"

"I have children waiting for me!"

The guards, faceless in their dark hoods, ignored the pleas. They prodded the new arrivals forward with cruel efficiency.

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Suddenly, a young woman to Arthur's left collapsed, her body wracked with hysterical sobs. "No! I won't go in there! You can't make me!"

Time seemed to slow as Arthur watched a guard approach her. The flickering torchlight glinted off polished steel as the man drew a wicked-looking dagger. Without hesitation, without mercy, he plunged the blade downward.

The woman's screams cut off turning into a sickening gurgle.

In that moment of still shocked silence, another captive bolted. Wild-eyed with terror, he made a desperate dash for the still-open barn doors. He'd barely taken three steps before another guard's sword flashed through the air.

The man's head hit the ground with a dull thud, his body crumpling to the ground a heartbeat later.

"Anyone else feeling heroic?" the lead guard sneered, casually wiping his blade clean against his black cloak.

Arthur's legs trembled, bile rising in his throat. This was really happening. As rough hands shoved him towards an empty cage, one thought crystallized in his mind:

*I have to survive. I have to find a way out. *

The cage door slammed shut behind him with the finality of a coffin lid, and darkness swallowed Arthur whole.

Arthur's heart hammered against his ribs as the guards shoved the last of his fellow captives into cages. The iron bars felt cold and unyielding against his palms as he gripped them, eyes darting frantically around the cavernous barn. Some prisoners huddled together in shared cages, while others, like Arthur, stood alone in solitary confinement. The seemingly random arrangement only added to his growing sense of unease.

*Think, Think!* he urged himself, forcing his panic-addled mind to focus. *There has to be a way out of this nightmare.*

His gaze swept across the barn's interior, searching for any weakness, any opportunity. The cages themselves appeared mundane – no magical locks or enchantments that he could detect. But as his eyes traced the wooden support pillars, a chill ran down his spine. Faint, shimmering runes pulsed with an eerie light – magical wards of warning.

Arthur's breath caught in his throat. Whoever had engineered this prison knew what they were doing. His gaze dropped to the straw-covered floor, noting patches where the yellow stalks didn't quite conceal etched stone beneath. More wards, no doubt, though their purpose remained a mystery.

A bone-chilling growl cut through the air, snapping Arthur's attention to the far end of the barn. His blood ran cold as a monstrous shape emerged from an open cage. Even in the flickering torchlight, there was no mistaking the grotesque form of a beast from beyond the Fortress City's portal.

The creature slowly moved towards the bodies of the fallen prisoners, jaws gaping wide. Arthur squeezed his eyes shut, but there was no escaping the sickening sounds of tearing flesh and crunching bone.

*This can't be happening,* he thought, bile rising in his throat. *This has to be some sort of sick nightmare.*

But the copper stench of blood and the terrified whimpers of his fellow captives were all too real. Arthur's eyes flew open as one of the hooded figures produced what looked like a flute. An eerie melody drifted through the air, and to his amazement, the beast ceased its gruesome feast. With unnatural obedience, it padded back towards its cage at the far end of the barn.

Arthur's stomach finally rebelled. He retched violently, emptying the meager contents of his stomach onto the straw-covered floor. As he wiped his mouth with a shaking hand, a new determination settled over him. He had to escape. He had to warn someone about this hell on earth.

The cloaked figures began to retreat, taking their torches with them. Darkness crept in from the edges of Arthur's vision as the barn doors groaned shut. In those last moments of fading torchlight, his mind raced:

*The wards, the beast, the flute... there has to be a connection. If I can just figure it out, maybe I can find a way to–*

The doors slammed closed with finality, plunging the barn into pitch blackness. Arthur pressed himself against the bars of his cage, straining his ears. He could hear the ragged breathing of the other prisoners, the occasional clank of chains, and... something else. A soft scratching sound, barely audible.

*The beast,* he realized with a jolt. *It's still awake.*

In that moment, surrounded by darkness and terror, Arthur made a vow. He would survive this. He would escape. And he would make sure those responsible paid for their crimes.

Arthur's fingers curled around the cold iron bars of his cage, his knuckles white with tension. Despite the overwhelming odds, a spark of defiance burned in his chest. He steadied his breathing, calling upon every scrap of training and willpower he possessed. Whatever came through those barn doors next, he'd be ready.

"Come on, you beast," he muttered, his voice barely audible even to himself. "I won't go down without a fight." He reached his hand out beyond the bars of the iron cage.

* * *

Miles away, deep beneath the earth, Nyx stood before the boss room door of the fifth-floor. Ancient runes pulsed with an ominous light along its frame, hinting at the dangers that lay beyond. He glanced at Gideon, noting the grim determination etched on the older man's face.

"We've come this far, Gideon," Nyx said, his hand hovering over the iron door ring handle. "Let's see what this boss is all about."

Gideon nodded, adjusting his grip on his sword. "Aye, lad. Whatever's waiting for us in there, we face it together."

Nyx took a deep breath, steeling himself for the challenge ahead. With a sharp tug, he pulled the heavy door open, revealing a chamber shrouded in otherworldly mist.

As Arthur braced for a fight and Nyx stepped into the unknown, both men knew that the next few moments could change everything.