Within the very Crater, that like most things in the realm, was once not, and then one day was; we set up camp.

Choosing the most discreet possible location, we settled near the edge of the forest.

One would have to travel within the farthest reaches and past the hills that limited sight, in order to get a good view of our camp.

Most of the camp would be settled in scattered settlements around the edges of the entryway, surving as patrols and watchers.

Men were to be alert and prepared for any foe.

This meant creatures of the land.

But a sinister, terrifying instinct told the men that it was not creatures that we were anticipating...

There were three dungeons in total: Owens Hall, Robert's Hall, and Elliot's Hall.

Each dungeon only allowed a five man party to enter, anyone else who tried would be met with a wall of glowing red that nothing of this world could disrupt.

It's been tried.

A numerous time.

From solo adventures with nothing to lose and High Guilds with everything to gain.

No one could pierce the veil.

Nothing works against the powers of our realm.

There were no loopholes, no exploits, it was a perfect system…or so we thought.

Each dungeon was filled with creatures of the fire variety.

This meant: wyverns, scorched goblins, molten golems, etc.

Being closer to the newest raids meant that the monsters should be of almost the highest quality.

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Meaning that each of our five groups would be composed of our strongest fighters.

I would lead the first group down Owens Hall.

Shelly would lead another down Robert's Hall.

And Muller would lead the last through Elliot's Hall.

All of us agreed to take our time and not take any unnecessary risks.

This was a jab directed at our impetuous blade dancer.

She paid it no mind.

As expected...

Perfect…I grumbled.

Anyway, be safe.

With a nod, we all went to our prospective entrances.

Once inside we would loot everything, which meant we came supplied with extra large bags at the cost of better stats and pickaxes at the cost of an extra weapon slot.

Also, a new precaution I didn't want to impose, we were to hand over our bags for inspection after the dungeons' completion to Fredrick and Enrich…

This was met with audible gripes and moans within the party.

But the majority understood that sometimes trust is not enough.

Not matter the position or status this would be enforced ...I said as I motioned that I too would partake in the inspections.

This quelled the animosity that was brewing.

I still didn't like it.

But it's not my guild.

It's ours.

Glancing over at my men.

A pocket healer with a fiery personality that did not match her role named Curie.

A stout tank with a calm and placid nature named Frankenmuth.

A ranger with the quickest draw and pull this side of the Barren Sea by the name of Wilder.

And a bruiser with the capability of off-tanking if something were to ever go wrong, named Brutus.

All equipped with sub-optimal gear in order to pack on more inventory space and carring capacity, I said.

Ready?

With a nod and an acceptance of the whirling purple entrance that asked and never forced…

We entered the dungeon.