"Move! Move!"

Kaela’s voice cracked as she screamed the command, her legs burning as she forced herself through the narrow corridor.

Behind her, the sounds of pursuit echoed—wet, scraping noises that made her skin crawl, accompanied by chittering that seemed to come from everywhere at once.

"I’m trying!" Jaren gasped beside her, his face pale and slick with sweat.

The young Searcher clutched his side where blood seeped through his fingers, the wound from their earlier encounter still bleeding despite the healing salve they’d applied.

Behind them both, Marcus brought up the rear, his sword drawn despite the trembling in his hands. The veteran Searcher’s usual confidence had vanished, replaced by barely controlled terror.

They were the last three.

An hour ago, their team had numbered twelve—experienced Searchers exploring the Dungeon of Malice, one of the border dungeons that existed in the strange territories between Aether and Nether lands.

These dungeons had been explored for centuries, their dangers catalogued, their treasures mapped.

But something had gone wrong.

Terribly, catastrophically wrong.

The corrupt entities that emerged from the dungeon’s depths weren’t supposed to exist—not in these numbers, not with this level of coordination, and certainly not with capabilities that exceeded anything in the historical records.

"There!" Kaela pointed toward a side passage, hope flaring briefly. "The sanctified chamber! If we can reach it—"

A shriek cut through the air, and something impercievably fast dropped from the ceiling directly into their path.

The corrupt entity was nightmare made flesh—a vaguely humanoid shape constructed from what looked like melted wax and exposed muscle, its surface writhing with patterns that hurt to look at directly.

Eyes that shouldn’t exist opened across its body randomly, each one tracking the Searchers with malevolent intelligence.

"Spirit Art, Inferno Technique, Sequence #7: Flame Lance!" Marcus shouted, launching his strongest attack without hesitation.

Fire erupted toward the entity, the concentrated heat enough to reduce normal flesh to ash instantly.

The entity absorbed the flames, its body rippling as the fire disappeared into its corrupted mass. Then it smiled—a terrible expression splitting its face-like region into something that mocked human features.

"No," Marcus whispered. "That’s... that’s impossible. Flame Lance should—"

The entity lunged.

WHOOSH!

Marcus raised his sword defensively, but the blade shattered on contact with the creature’s limb.

Then claws—if the twisted appendages could be called that—tore through his chest with contemptuous ease.

Blood sprayed across the corridor.

"Marcus!" Jaren screamed, stumbling backward.

The veteran Searcher collapsed, his eyes wide with shock and pain. He tried to speak, but only blood emerged from his mouth.

Then the entity was on him, and Kaela forced herself to look away, grabbing Jaren’s arm and pulling.

"We have to go!" She screaned with desperation.

"Now!"

They ran, Marcus’s final screams echoing behind them until they suddenly, horribly, stopped.

More chittering filled the passages.

The entities were converging, drawn by the combat and the scent of fresh death.

Kaela’s mind raced desperately.

The sanctified chamber was too far—they’d never reach it before being overtaken. The exit was even further, blocked by who knew how many more entities.

Their Ether reserves were depleted from hours of continuous fighting.

They were going to die here.

"Kaela," Jaren gasped, his voice carrying resignation. "I can’t... I can’t run anymore."

She looked at him and saw the truth in his pallor, the way blood now flowed more freely from his wound. He was dying anyway—the entity’s earlier strike had been more serious than they’d realized.

"No," Kaela said firmly, though despair clawed at her chest. "We’re getting out of here. Both of us."

A lie.

They both knew it.

But sometimes lies were all that remained.

The corridor ahead opened into a larger chamber—probably once a ceremonial space based on the carved pillars and raised platform at its center.

Now it was just another part of the dungeon, its original purpose long since forgotten.

They stumbled inside, and Kaela immediately scanned for alternate exits.

One passage. The one they’d entered through.

A dead end.

"Oh no," she whispered.

Behind them, the chittering intensified.

Shapes began emerging from the corridor—multiple entities, their corrupt forms pressing together in their eagerness to reach the trapped Searchers.

Six. Seven. Ten.

Too many.

Far too many.

Kaela positioned herself in front of Jaren, her remaining Ether gathering for one final technique. It wouldn’t be enough—she knew that. But she’d die fighting rather than let these abominations take them without resistance.

"Kaela..." Jaren’s hand touched her shoulder weakly. "Thank you. For everything."

She wanted to respond, wanted to say something profound or meaningful.

But terror had stolen her words.

The entities advanced, their movements deliberate now that their prey was cornered.

No rush.

No urgency.

Just the confidence of predators who knew their meal was secured.

One entity at the front opened its mouth—or what served as a mouth—and released a sound that was part shriek, part laughter, entirely wrong.

Then it lunged.

"Eek!"

Kaela closed her eyes, her technique activating in what she knew would be futile final resistance—

"Spirit Art, Construction Technique, Sequence #5: Earthen Barrier!"

The voice came from behind them, male and young, carrying authority despite its youth.

Stone erupted from the chamber floor with impossible speed, forming a wall between the Searchers and the entities.

BAM!

The corrupt creatures slammed into it with force that shook the entire chamber, their claws scraping against rock that shouldn’t have been able to manifest so quickly.

Kaela spun around, her eyes wide.

A figure stood on the platform behind them, having apparently entered through some passage she hadn’t noticed. He was young—perhaps twenty—with distinctive black and white hair that marked him immediately as Nephilim.

His clothing was simple but well-made, and his posture carried confidence that seemed out of place in this nightmare.

But most striking was his mystical pressure.

It radiated controlled power that suggested capabilities far beyond what his apparent age would indicate.

"You guys..." the young man observed, his gray eyes analyzing them quickly. "... Seem to be in a bad spot. Hope you don’t mind my assistance."

"Please!" Kaela gasped. "Help us! Those things—they’re not normal dungeon entities! They killed our entire team!"

The entities were already working on the barrier, their corrupted forms somehow ’melting’ through solid stone despite its mystical reinforcement.

The young man studied the attacking creatures with interest rather than fear.

"Corrupted manifestations," he stated calmly. "Operating at approximately Tier 7 classification based on their mystical signatures. That’s certainly unusual for this region, but not unprecedented."

He raised one hand casually.

"Spirit Art, Tempest Technique, Sequence #5: Storm Aegis!"

’H-he’s using Mid Sequence Techniques so casually? He used two consecutively!’ Kaela couldn’t help but gasp at the sight.

Who was this mysterious Nephilim?!

Even among Aether Searchers, Low Sequence Techniques was usually the limit.

In fact, most couldn’t use Ancient MajiK

That required a lot of training, not to mention formal education or tutorship. The only way to awaken naturally was to receive the blessing of a deity.

Could it be—?!

VWUUUUSH!!!

Wind and lightning erupted throughout the chamber, the technique operating at scales that made Kaela’s earlier attempt at Flame Lance seem like a candle compared to a bonfire.

BOOOOM!!!

The barrier dissolved—but it no longer mattered because the entities were already being torn apart by elemental assault that operated at sequences they simply couldn’t resist.

It was simply a slaughter!