The passage expanded into a solid, formidable structure.

The walls were meticulously carved with deliberate intent, featuring straight lines and sharp angles that suggested careful planning. Dominic knew better; the dungeon assumed these shapes naturally. Still, a coldness seeped into his collar like a warning sign.

The air was thick with the scent of aged dust and a metallic tang that lingered on his tongue. Lanterns mounted deep blue along the walls emitted a flickering glow, their flames subtly shifting to purple at the edges where a dark, mysterious affinity grew denser.

Dominic’s footsteps echoed loudly, resonating through the space. Florence’s footsteps, in contrast, were silent and measured. Theresa’s had soft, precise clicks.

At the end of the corridor stood the door.

It was tall, taller than necessary, and constructed from dark iron bands, some of which appeared to absorb the blue glow rather than reflect it. The bands seemed darker than the iron itself, casting an unsettling shadow that made his eyes want to slip away. There was no handle or visible mechanism, only a door that clearly conveyed its purpose and the expectation it held.

They stood silently in front of it. Theresa broke the silence first, her voice calm but unmistakably determined. Without theatrics, she explained everything clearly, as if guiding them through each step.

"We’re here to work on our teamwork and get in sync," she said. "Not to raid. Florence and I could clear this floor by ourselves, but that’s not what today is for."

Florence had her arms crossed tightly across her chest, her posture rigid, listening intently.

"Florence. Your job is to work within the unit is to create openings and cover when needed. If Dominic is in genuine danger, you step in. Otherwise you hold."

Florence nodded once. Clean and professional.

"Dominic." Theresa looked at him. "Everything available. The amplification, the sword, everything. No holding back out of concern for how it looks."

He looked at the door. The cold from the iron seemed to press against his skin.

"Understood," he said.

Florence’s mouth curved into a sly grin. "You sure? You wouldn’t want to make Mama Theresa mad."

Dominic chuckled. "I’m sure."

"I heard that," Theresa muttered, still facing the door.

They stood there silently for a brief moment, all three of them gazing intently at the unfamiliar space together.

Then Theresa took a step forward and pushed the door open with a firm push.

The chamber beyond was far different from what the corridor had implied.

It was unexpectedly spacious, defying the underground setting. The ceiling rose high above, disappearing into shadows that concealed its true height. The walls stretched into the darkness at a distance, barely perceptible. The floor beneath their feet was smooth, dark, and seemed to extend endlessly in every direction.

The space was completely empty.

For a couple of seconds, no movement or sound disturbed the silence.

Then, subtly but unmistakably, the atmosphere shifted. Not through violence or chaos, but through an inevitable internal change. First the door shut behind them, then the room seemed to determine where each of them belonged.

Dominic instinctively reached out to grasp Theresa’s arm, a gesture of reassurance.

His hand, however, found nothing.

The space around him shifted, feeling smaller and darker. The air grew heavy and thick, almost like it was pressing against his face. He instinctively felt that something was already waiting in the darkness with him.

A faint movement stirred ahead.

He paused before reaching for amplification, recalling Florence’s advice from two weeks ago: "Test your base against your enemy first. Know what you actually have before you add to it, you gain nothing from letting the opponent know how powerful you are from the start.."

Out of the shadows, the creature emerged. Its dark, smoky appearance made it seem almost intangible, drifting swiftly between patches of light rather than moving through space. It was incredibly fast, quicker than anything on floor nine. The dungeon, tuned to Dominic’s rank, summoned a creature two levels above his own.

Dominic moved with Florence’s practiced footwork. He had drilled so often that the steps had become second nature; his body knew what to do without thought.

His soles scraped against the stone, each sound echoing too loudly in the silence.

The creature lunged, a flash of cold in the air. Dominic sidestepped, sword raised, wind brushing past his cheek. It struck again lower; he ducked and twisted just in time. His blade did not connect; it seemed as though the creature dissolved only to reappear to his left. The air where it had been felt eerily empty.

On the third exchange, he read its move. He noticed the brief pause before each shift in direction, a moment of stillness like holding his breath. He seized that moment, slicing through it with his blade, passing through something like frozen smoke. The resistance was too quiet, wrong somehow, and then the creature recoiled, sensing the change.

Fourth exchange, and it had him. It read his pattern faster than before, the half-second reset after his left sidestep, and shot into the opening. The hit landed across his shoulder, sharp and real, a line of cold fire piercing muscle, numbing his arm. The shock elicited a muffled grunt.

He activated the amplification, triggering a controlled burst. Warmth spread through the thread guiding his efforts, and steadiness rooted itself in his limbs. Speed and strength momentarily surged, precise and practiced until executed instinctively.

In a single, fluid strike, the creature advanced toward the same gap. But he was already inside its recovery arc, sword tip piercing through its center with relentless precision. The core dropped softly, heavy with a deep purple hue, a palm-sized mass.

He bent down and grasped it firmly.

The walls around him shifted gently, as if opening up to a new understanding.

***

Theresa’s intense fight with the construct lasted exactly three minutes, a rapid clash of skill and power.

It was an SS rank construct, a formidable golem designed with advanced magic defenses specifically to counter magic users like Theresa. Its defenses were meticulously calibrated for this particular floor, knowing that those who reached it relied heavily on their specialties.

The construct responded by unleashing a wall of counter-spell lattice, an intricate matrix of null-magic threads shimmering and crackling in the air like shards of breaking glass and started it attack. Theresa, during the attack attuned to the subtle shifts in magic, spotted a gap in the lattice. Using her amplification magic, she stepped forward through the opening. With precise timing, she thrust a simple force needle into the seam between the construct’s defensive layers. The lattice hissed and unraveled with a wet tearing sound, exposing the core beneath.

As the construct scrambled to mend the damage, Theresa swiftly inserted a second needle into the golem before the lattice could fully reassert itself. Her actions were efficient and unflashy, merely functional. The core destabilized and dropped into the construct’s body, which crumpled to the ground before its body hit the floor.

Afterward, she carefully filed away the design of the construct for analysis and later use.

***

Florence’s fight lasted just two minutes.

The opponent was an SS rank physical type monster, built to overpower with raw strength and speed. The massive form lunged forward, stone cracking beneath its weight.

At only twenty percent of her maximum, Florence still operated well above what the dungeon had calibrated for. To her, it was simply a warmup. She spun her halberd, the blade whistling through the air. The creature charged, but she didn’t back down. Instead, she took a half-step to the side. The first strike sliced through the air where her head had just been. She tapped the haft against its wrist, redirecting its follow-up strike into the ground.

Dust rose and stung her eyes as the stone cracked.

The creature faltered. She let it recover, let it come again. With every swing and lunging move, her halberd moved through angles it couldn’t predict. Every attack missed her by inches that felt almost deliberate. She was never quite where it needed her to be. A small smile flickered on her lips as she observed this, then drove the spike of her halberd into its chest.

The core hit the ground with a heavy clink.

***

The space folded back into itself, merging into a single, endless void, open, dark, and infinite. There were no walls, no ceiling, just a dark sun suspended in a colorless sky. Its glow wasn’t bright but a deeper shade of black that made the space below feel exposed. The air pressed down on his shoulders, cold and heavy, like a breath held in tight anticipation. The dark presence was no longer just background; it was targeted. Dominic felt as if he were standing in someone’s line of sight.

They found each other without a single word. Proximity naturally reestablished itself, first Florence, then Theresa, and finally Dominic, already there.

Wobbly reappeared on Dominic’s shoulder.

Dominic glanced at the slime, noticing a distinct, core-shaped bulge in its body. Wobbly wobbled once, slow and content.

"Wobbly," Dominic said. "Where did you get a core?"

Wobbly blinked. Then it made a small, wet burbling sound that might have been pride.

Florence looked over. "That looks like a core from the previous challenge."

"Good job," Dominic said, excitedly. He poked the slime’s side. Wobbly wobbled faster.

Theresa didn’t turn. "Guys, let’s focus please."

A brief moment shared by the three of them in the vast, dark open space. Dominic felt the sweat slowly cooling on his neck, the humidity clinging to his skin. The faint hum of the bond still resonated, tingling at the base of his skull and reminding him of the lingering connection.

Suddenly, the boss materialized out of the shadows.

It didn’t announce itself with any sound or signal.

Two figures appeared, almost identical in stature and build, yet with distinct design differences. They were faceless, hulking forms that exuded menace. Twisted and dark in appearance, they floated with predatory grace, moving with calculated precision. Each one an SS+ rank monster. The dungeon’s defenses had recognized Theresa and Florence, and responded by conjuring the most formidable creatures the SS rank could produce.

Both figures brandished weapons: enormous hammers with spear blades protruding from their backs, crafted for raw power rather than finesse. The sheer weight and size of these weapons was enough to do the work, requiring no finesse or skill to deliver devastating blows.

The room went very still. Dominic’s heartbeat thudded once, hard.

Theresa said quietly: "Florence. Left. Dominic. Right. I’m behind you both."

Florence shifted one step to the left swiftly, her movements precise and deliberate.

She carefully surveyed the area, mapping the enemy’s position in her mind before taking action. The boss raised a heavy hammer, swinging it in a wide horizontal arc with immense force, the metallic clang echoing through the chamber. Florence didn’t attempt to block the blow; instead, she stepped into the swing with calculated timing, the shaft of her halberd sliding along the hammer’s haft. As the weapon’s momentum carried it past her, she redirected the force downward, driving the weapon’s head into the cracked stone floor with a resonant crash.

The impact violently shook the ground beneath her feet. A deep, jagged crack radiated outward from the point of contact, spiderwebbing across the surface. Dust and small fragments exploded into the air, swirling in the aftermath of the forceful strike.

The boss monster wrenched it free. She was already behind it, halberd scoring a line across its back. Dark sparks showered. It spun, spear point thrusting. She flowed around it, her body a half-step ahead of the point, again and again.

She was enjoying herself, albeit subtly, with a professional detachment that suggested a refined sense of pleasure.

At the time, Dominic had already gone to the right just as Theresa, behind him, added her layers of amplification. The bond hummed intensely. Heat flooded down his spine into his limbs. Bond level 2 activated, more immediate than training, more real. His heartbeat steadied, his vision sharpened, and his body surged to S rank functionality.

Suddenly, the boss unleashed a brutal strike. Dominic didn’t try to match it. Instead, he angled his sword, allowing the blow to skid off its flat. Sparks erupted across his forearm, vibrations rattling his teeth and echoing up into his shoulder. Instinct took over. Footwork drilled into him by Florence kept him moving, calf muscles burning, sidestepping, pivoting, slicing low. His blade pierced the boss’s leg, drawing a low grinding sound. The creature backhanded with the spear end; Dominic ducked under it, feeling the wind press his hair flat.

Theresa held her ground behind them.

The first wave of minions hit with lightning speed, more numerous and higher-ranked than anyone should have expected. Shadowy figures spilled from the shadows at the edges. Theresa’s hands whipped through the air. A wave of cold, precise force sliced through the front line, bodies crumpling with wet snaps.

Astrielle’s Promise sparkled. Its detection ward predicted attack angles before the minions even appeared. She cast layered low-grade spells with the confidence of someone who knew exactly where force was needed before it struck. A bolt of compressed lightning exploded against a creature lunging three feet behind Dominic, knocking it back mid-air. Another tried to flank Florence but disintegrated before it took more than two steps. Theresa’s spell was already in motion.

She kept a sharp eye on Dominic as tension simmered around them.

The three moved in a rough harmony, not flawless, but genuine, with a rhythm born of trust. Dominic lunged high, Florence swept low on her target, and the left boss staggered from the surprise. The right boss overextended, eager to exploit Dominic’s stumble, just as Theresa’s amplification boosted his speed. He was already inside its guard, sword tip driving into the opening between its ribs.

The boss staggered, a guttural cry ripping from its throat, something the dungeon hadn’t prepared for. It didn’t expect that from an E rank.

Dominic pressed the attack, ready for the follow-up.

But then, from an angle he hadn’t anticipated, a hammer swung fast and committed. It was already most of the way toward him before he even registered it. The air cracked with a cold wind, slamming into his side just a heartbeat ahead of the strike.

He didn’t see it coming until it was almost upon him.