Sylvie, as always, remained at the center, quietly reinforcing and healing whenever the faintest scratch appeared. She moved with calm precision, her magic flowing like water, a constant anchor in the chaos.

By the time they finally paused, the sixth floor behind them bore the evidence of their work: a cleared, looted path, monsters vanquished, treasures stacked, and the faint glow of mana cores illuminating the dark corners. Ethan and Lirael exchanged a brief nod, both having quietly increased their attributes once again in the quiet aftermath of the battles. Each felt stronger, more capable, ready for whatever deeper floors might throw at them.

They gathered briefly in a safe corner, arranging the treasures and taking stock. There was no need for words beyond the essentials; the routine of the hunt, the flow of battle, and the rhythm of collecting spoils had become second nature. Even the dungeon, with its strange fungi and scattered ruins, seemed to recognize their efficiency, presenting challenges just enough to keep them sharp but never overwhelming.

Sylvie finally exhaled, breaking the silence. "We've got enough materials here to last a long while," she said, her tone light, almost cheerful.

Ethan simply nodded, eyes scanning the hall for any lurking threats. Lirael stretched briefly, adjusting her bow. Both knew that the sixth floor was only a milestone, a marker of progress, not an end. There were deeper floors waiting, and with each step, they grew stronger, more capable, and better prepared for whatever lay ahead.

For now, though, they allowed themselves a brief moment to admire their haul, to feel the quiet satisfaction of a hunt done well, and to relish the rhythm of teamwork perfected over six grueling floors.

The descent grew longer with each staircase. From the eighth floor onward, the dungeon seemed to shift its tone. The air grew heavier, damp with a faint copper tang. The faint torchlight embedded in the walls dimmed, leaving more space for shadows to pool.

Ethan tightened his grip on his blade as they walked. His summons fanned out as always — the ten silver-armored soldiers in formation, Nyxfang and Seloria prowling ahead with silent grace, their feline eyes gleaming in the gloom. Behind him, Lirael's bow never left her hand, the string faintly taut, while Sylvie kept her staff close.

The monsters here weren't like the ones above. They carried themselves differently — less like beasts to be hunted, more like predators defending their territory.

The first skirmishes made that clear. A pair of hulking lizardmen nearly broke through the soldiers' line before Ethan cut them down. A pack of armored boars slammed into Seloria's flank and forced Nyxfang to intercept with a low, thunderous growl. Even with coordination, the fights left everyone sharper, sweat gathering beneath armor and hands aching from tension.

But it was nothing compared to what waited at the end of the eighth floor.

The chamber widened into a cavernous hall, stalagmites jutting like jagged teeth. A heavy snort echoed through the shadows. Then it stepped forward — a Minotaur, nearly three times a man's height, its corded muscles slick with sweat and its massive axe dragging sparks across the stone.

Lirael drew in a sharp breath. "That's no ordinary brute."

Ethan didn't answer. He simply raised his blade and advanced, his soldiers marching in lockstep. The Minotaur bellowed, shaking the chamber, and charged.

The clash was thunderous. The soldiers braced their shields, but the sheer weight of the beast's charge scattered them like chess pieces toppled from a board. Ethan moved fast, sidestepping the swing of the axe and slashing across the Minotaur's side, leaving a shallow cut.

Nyxfang darted low, snapping at its legs, while Seloria sprang onto its back, claws raking deep into its shoulder. The Minotaur howled, thrashing wildly, nearly smashing her against a wall.

"Hold it steady!" Ethan barked.

Lirael loosed an arrow, the shaft glowing faintly with mana. It whistled true, burying itself in the Minotaur's eye. The beast staggered, blinded on one side, but still swung its axe in wide, crushing arcs.

Sylvie raised her staff, chanting a quick healing spell that mended a soldier's broken arm before the man — silent as always — rejoined the fray.

The fight raged for minutes that stretched like hours. In the end, it was Ethan who ended it — sliding past a desperate swing, driving his long blade deep beneath the Minotaur's ribs. The beast let out one last bellow before crashing to the stone, the ground trembling beneath its bulk.

The cavern was quiet again. Only their ragged breaths filled it.

"Harder than before," Lirael murmured, wiping sweat from her brow.

Ethan nodded once. "And it won't get easier."

They collected what they could — the Minotaur's horn, scraps of its armor, thick hide that would fetch a good price. Each floor gave them more treasures, but also tested them harder. Ethan and Lirael each felt that subtle pulse as they invested more into their own strength, the quiet growth that came with survival.

The ninth floor proved no gentler.

The atmosphere here was colder, damp mist crawling across the stone as if the floor itself exhaled frost. Their footsteps echoed strangely, as if the dungeon wanted to remind them how small they were.

It wasn't long before they found the next boss chamber. The stench hit first — a foul, rotting odor of blood and fur. Then the roar.

The Death Bear lumbered into view, its matted black fur glistening with clots of gore. Its eyes burned a dull red, and its body seemed to knit itself even as it moved, shallow cuts closing almost instantly.

"Regeneration," Ethan muttered. "We'll have to push through fast."

The bear lunged before he finished, slamming into the shield wall of his soldiers. The impact toppled two outright, sending them crashing into the ground. Nyxfang barreled in, colliding with the beast in a flurry of claws and fangs, Seloria snapping at its hind leg to draw its attention.

Ethan dashed in, blade flashing, carving a deep line across its chest. But even as he pulled back, the wound began to close.

"Eyes and throat!" he shouted.

Lirael had already taken aim. She loosed arrow after arrow, each aimed for the bear's face. One buried into its eye, another into its maw as it roared, spraying blood down its chin. The beast swiped blindly, catching a soldier and crushing his armor flat before it dissipated into silver light.

Sylvie's voice rose in hurried chants, keeping Ethan's cuts mended and Nyxfang's bruises sealed. Her face was pale with strain, sweat dripping as she fought to keep pace with the monster's brutality.

The battle dragged. Every second mattered. Ethan forced the bear back with relentless strikes, carving deep wounds faster than its body could seal them. Seloria leapt onto its back, her claws raking down its spine, while Nyxfang clamped his jaws around its neck.

"Now!" Ethan roared.

Lirael's final arrow, charged until it glowed like a streak of starlight, whistled across the chamber and pierced straight through the bear's skull. It convulsed, staggering, just long enough for Ethan to drive his blade down through its throat, twisting hard until the beast collapsed for good.

The chamber fell silent except for the ringing in their ears.

Ethan let out a long breath and pulled his blade free. "That one… would've torn us apart if we faltered."

Lirael lowered her bow slowly. "And the tenth floor is worse."

Sylvie leaned on her staff, exhausted but smiling faintly. "We're still standing."

They gathered what they could from the carcass — thick fur, claws like curved blades, blood that shimmered faintly with mana. The soldiers reformed, unbroken in number despite those lost, silent sentinels awaiting Ethan's command.

At last, the party regrouped, their eyes fixed on the far side of the cavern.

There, half-shrouded in mist, the staircase leading to the tenth floor descended into darkness. Each step was carved deeper, wider, as if inviting them — or daring them — to come further.

The air around it felt heavier, filled with an unspoken promise of what lay below.

Ethan tightened his grip on his blade once more. "This is where the real hunt begins."

Together, they stepped forward, ready to descend.

The tenth floor opened into silence.

Their boots pressed into dust that hadn't been disturbed in what felt like years. The chamber stretched wider than the floors above, its stone polished smooth, almost unnaturally so. No packs of beasts darted from the shadows, no patrols of monsters lurking behind rocks. Only the faint echo of their own movements followed them as they advanced.

Ethan moved at the front, blade drawn, every sense on edge. His soldiers fanned out in rigid formation, silver armor gleaming faintly in the gloom. Nyxfang's ears twitched, Seloria's tail flicked restlessly, but neither growled — there was nothing immediate to react to.

"This feels wrong," Lirael whispered, her voice barely above a breath. She kept her bow ready, eyes scanning the high arches above.

Sylvie gripped her staff tighter. "Too quiet… dungeons don't go empty like this."

They pressed on, weaving through wide halls that seemed to stretch endlessly, as if the dungeon itself wanted them lost. Treasure chests stood untouched in side chambers, unguarded, but none of them felt at ease opening them.

Then it came.

A piercing screech, so loud it rattled their bones, tore through the silence. The sound carried from deeper within the floor, echoing off the walls like a predator's call. Nyxfang's fur bristled, Seloria crouched low, and the soldiers lifted shields in unison.

Ethan's gaze hardened. "That's our welcome."

Without hesitation, they moved toward the sound.

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