They’d arrived at Frank’s office that morning. Frank looked at Dominic, then at Theresa, and then at Florence,

sharing a glance.

His eyes revealed a shift- a quiet realisation about how much his branch had changed. You could see a mix of amusement and resigned acceptance in his expression, as if he had decided that the best way to handle what was happening was to manage it carefully instead of trying to turn things around.

"Another one," He said, almost sarcastically

"Florence Mark," Dominic introduced.

Frank took a good look at Florence. The assessment of an experienced A ranker was on fully. At the same time, Theresa was quiet, dense, and contained in her own way—like deep things are—it was clear that Florence was different: she was immediate and fully present. She had never thought of containment as something that could apply to herself, so she had never developed a relationship with that concept.

Frank’s read on Florence was quick. The intelligence behind her eyes was doing its usual work. She responded by adjusting herself slightly, but remained herself—just a version of Florence that knew when professional respect was important and could operate in that mode effortlessly.

Frank asked his questions, and Dominic kindly responded. Theresa added a single, clear sentence about Florence’s abilities that conveyed more trust than a lengthy test would have. When Theresa spoke, Frank looked at her, then at Florence, and called in an attendant to have the card made.

Shortly after it was done, it was a Silver grade, freshly stamped.

Florence accepted the card with a gentle ease, as if she were handling a library card—polite, aware, and quietly mindful of the connection between the card and the reality it represented.

Frank kindly saw them out, passing through the office and down the corridor to the main hall entrance. He paused for a moment, watching them head toward the street, then returned to his desk.

Sitting down, he pulled out his small personal notebook—where he logs observations not meant for official records—and opened it to a fresh page. He scribbled, "Do not let this become a pattern," then looked at it thoughtfully, crossed it out, and replaced it with, "Manage the pattern carefully." After closing the notebook, he returned to his work smoothly.

***

The courtyard had been there for two weeks, its stones bearing the gentle wear of many footsteps—each mark telling a quiet story.

One part of the eastern wall had endured more than its share of hits. The chalk line Florence had sketched during their first session was now mostly faded, but a few edges still caught the early evening light, softly revealing their original boundaries.

In the midst of everything, Dominic and Florence paused to take a moment for themselves, each quietly hesitant to admit just how tired they really were.

Florence looked at him with a gentle, evaluative gaze, as if she was reviewing a piece of work before it was sent off.

"Quite the improvement you’ve made," she said with a warm smile.

"Thank you very much," he replied, his voice filled with modest pride.

"You should be proud; I’m feeling quite warmed up now."

"...ha ha, I didn’t know you could tell jokes," he responded with a playful grin.

She paused for a moment, observing him with a gentle gaze.

"Well, that’s enough for the day then," she said softly.

Theresa relaxed on the bench beside her, her notes spread out in her hands. She had been updating them consistently over the past two weeks—a kind of ongoing diary of the bond access development and the amplification draw patterns.

Her observations were technically detailed, reflecting someone who deeply understood what was happening from the inside and was quietly recording it all for her own reasons.

She didn’t look up from what she was writing.

"His amplification draw has deepened significantly," she said, not directed specifically at Florence, just noting it for the record.

A brief pause. She turned a page.

"You’re as ready as you can be right now," she added softly.

Florence looked at Dominic with a mixture of anticipation and resolve.

"So we’ll go tomorrow," she announced.

He looked at the courtyard wall—the scuff marks, the worn chalk line, all proof of two weeks’ weathered history pressed into stone.

"Yeah, tomorrow," he nodded in agreement.

Wobbly made a gentle sound from its spot near the wall—low, steady, with a slightly different tone than usual. Dominic’s eyes flicked to it, exchanging a silent understanding that passed between them, unnoticed by anyone else in the courtyard. He held the look for a second.

Then he turned back to Florence.

"Tomorrow."

***

The apartment before sunrise carried a special quiet now. Three people and one entity, all preparing for something important. It felt purposeful, yet calm, not loud or hurried.

They checked their equipment in the familiar order they’d agreed upon. Weapons first, as always. The loot from the graveyard was evenly shared among the three, based on two weeks of observing how they actually fought—more than just what they planned. Florence had already decided on her weapon the night before, a halberd, choosing quietly without making a fuss. Now it sat comfortably on her back, as if it belonged there.

Dominic picked his weapon with the same careful thought, a sword. It suited the way Florence had trained him to move—practical, serious, and nothing for show.

Theresa was in Astrielle’s Promise, her hood down, the gold trim catching the early morning light from the courtyard window.

Wobbly sat on Dominic’s shoulder.

At the table, before they set out, Theresa poured a mind-clearing wine into three cups and placed one before each of them. They sipped in a familiar silence—people with somewhere to be, knowing it, saying everything that needed to be said in quiet anticipation, holding that last peaceful moment before departure.

Then they left, passing through the gate into Caldmore.

***

As the city slowly stirred to life around them, market stalls eagerly opened their doors, and the tempting aroma of baked goods wafted over from the east side. At the junction, two city watchmen shared a tin mug, their faces showing the weariness of a long shift, yet still enjoying a brief moment of camaraderie. Guild runners and adventurers already set out on their daily routines, heading toward the dungeon district where the city’s underground activities thrived—an active hub of explorers, suppliers, and various workers whose lives intertwined with the mysterious darkness below.

From the outside, the dungeon entrance appeared as ordinary as ever. Passersby on their morning errands barely gave it a second glance, used to seeing it every day since it had been there long before most of them were born. Over time, even the most extraordinary places can become familiar, blending effortlessly into the backdrop of everyday life.

Dominic approached the counter and paid the entry fee for three. The attendant looked at the group with a calm, professional attitude, observing without any unnecessary comment. Florence and Theresa were there too. Wobbly on Dominic’s shoulder, the little one looked at the attendant with an open, content, and softly glowing expression.

They stepped into the entry corridor.

As the temperature dropped, the air took on a different feel—just the kind of shift that comes with dungeon air. Even at this early stage, the dark allure of the Caldmore dungeon was unmistakable, showing what lay beneath the bustling city above.

***

The early floors saw some movement. Shadow hounds on the first floor encountered Florence for the first time, leading to a little misjudgment about what they were dealing with.

On the second floor, skeleton soldiers fell efficiently, as if made from floor mana and being returned to it. On the third floor, grave crawlers appeared, marking the moment when dark affinity first became something deliberate and sharp.

Florence was the vanguard, facing them all with a kind of joy that comes from finally engaging in real combat after two weeks of preparation. She wasn’t reckless, but entirely focused.

Dominic is supporting steadily, carefully managing the amplification in controlled bursts. He holds it through contact now, unlike two weeks ago—three hits before it slips, then he resets and tries again. The bond thread feels familiar now, almost like breathing rather than reaching for something outside himself.

Theresa is handling some of the larger targets and those approaching from tricky angles with calm focus. The hood of Astrielle’s Promise is now up, and the detection ward lining it smoothly maps the floor’s layout, quietly doing its job just as it should. She moves through each engagement with the same precise care she applies to everything else. The gold trim catches the ambient dungeon light, shimmering softly in the dark lower corridors.

Cores gathered into the spatial bags as they moved, their dark affinity colours deepening with each floor, from pale violet to mid violet, and then to the deeper purple of floors six through nine, where the miasma thickened into something heavy, weighted with purpose. Creatures moved through it with a presence that was felt long before they appeared.

Floor nine was behind them.

Ahead lay the portal to floor ten.

They stood before it, feeling a quiet, familiar certainty settle around them- a sense that something real was approaching, more anchored than nerves. It was a deeper, more focused sensation, the kind that survivors of true experiences carry with them into what comes next.

Dominic looked at the portal with a tense stare.

Florence was already rolling her shoulders, her expression eager and volatile, as if anticipation was coursing through her veins, fully ready for what was to come.

Theresa adjusted Astrielle’s Promise with a small, precise movement. The hood fully up, the gold trim steady in the portal’s ambient light.

Wobbly pressed slightly closer to Dominic’s neck.

"Ready?" Dominic asked, voice tight.

Florence’s mouth curled into a dangerous grin.

"I’ve been ready," she said, eyes glinting.

Theresa looked at the portal, then at both of them. Her expression was composed, almost detached, simply Theresa being entirely present in this moment.

Dominic shot a glance at Florence.

"Try not to enjoy this too much," he warned.

"Master," Florence replied calmly, the grin unwavering. "I make no promises."

A new notification came up.

[NEW QUEST: THE TENTH FLOOR]

[OBJECTIVE: CLEAR THE FLOOR TEN BOSS ROOM]

[RECOMMENDED RANK: A AND ABOVE]

[YOUR RANK: E]

[REWARD: TO BE DETERMINED ON COMPLETION]