We teleport to a secluded valley, quite far away from any civilization. The whole area is covered in short trees and thick shrubbery, giving the space an uncomfortable, cramped feel.

Sini lets out a deep breath and flops down on a stone bench that rose from the ground in tandem with her movement. "Just a minute." She turns to me and smiles, placing a hand on some free space next to her. I sit down.

Miv creates another bench for himself and Pemik. Pemik completely ignores the makeshift furniture and starts doing some ineffective stretches, still pouting. Poor guy. Now, how do I mess with him some more...

Miv pulls me out of my plotting, "My commendations, Luci. In no time, you have almost caught up to us." Once all legal, in quotes, proceedings wrapped up, the Rangers quickly promoted to C-rank. A lot more in line with their actual capabilities.

"Thanks..."

Pemik chimes in while twisting his upper body left and right, "Yeah, my commendations." The sarcasm drips a little on his shirt.

Miv's calm expression nearly cracks. "Please ignore my brother. He is still processing some complicated emotions."

Sini assists, "Pemik, shut the fuck up." He freezes mid-bend and just nods his head. She turns to me again. "Hall Master Ren... assured us that you would be able to handle the C-grade dungeon. You will be okay, right?" That was an interesting pause. I need to tell Ren to take it easier on them.

"I'll be fine."

"Try not to catch another spike. I ain't falling for it this time." Really pushing it, my guy. I don't want to defend you from Sini. She's scary.

Mercifully, she just sighs, addressing me again, "That's good."

There is an awkward silence for a long while. My terse responses not really helping the situation. This is hard. What am I even supposed to do? I mean, I am not actually mad at them or anything. I never was. My character, on the other hand... I groan internally. My character has started to blend a bit too much with my true feelings, the dangers of toeing the line.

Miv attempts a salvage, "Not a lot is known about this den of monsters. We shall be the first to explore it, after all. Be on high alert, everyone." He then winces and turns to me. "Maybe you would like to lead the party, Luci?"

This is getting sad. "I'm fine. Thanks."

Sini once again comes in with a desperate assist, "You've picked up metal magic, huh? From what I've heard, your duel was quite impressive."

"What else are you hiding?" An icy surface forms under Pemik's feet, and he is swept to the ground. "...That was uncalled for, Sini."

"I am from another universe." Sini snorts and covers her mouth with slight embarrassment. Miv exhales from his nose in a subdued chuckle. Pemik blinks at me a few times, and when I smirk, the corners of his mouth threaten to pull up.

He avoids the change in emotion, content with pouty still. "Let's go in already. I am getting cold out here." Another one... What's with this great aversion to mild chilliness. I am terrified of what the winter will bring. Will everyone transform into rotund layers of clothing?

Miv replies, "It seems brother is feeling antsy today, more than usual even. Let us go in then, Brother. Into the unknown." He addresses the whole party, "Be careful. Full alert."

We step toward the dungeon gate, a crackling mass of nothingness. Deep greens swirling into oblivion. Small, white puffs mar the verdant surface of the portal with temporary discoloration. My mana senses detect some vague feeling of wrongness emanating out.

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The Rangers enter first, teleporting the moment each one makes contact with the entrance. I follow just after, and the light of the day disappears.

Our party is in a relatively small room, no windows, no doors, no exits. The floor, ceiling, and walls are made out of glossy, black bricks, perfect in their construction. A missing light source illuminates the sparse surroundings in a dim, purple light. Outside of our little spawning point is the void. The dungeon's dimension is compartmentalized. This day might actually be fun.

The three veterans are unconcerned with our situation, simply observing and waiting for something to happen.

A deep, gravelly sound originates from all around us, and at the same time, from nowhere, "What pests have found their way to my domain?" The room rumbles from a resigned sigh, but a sigh filled with another emotion deep down—hunger. "Let us see if you will have the privilege to join my fold, or will you be left to rot like so many before you."

Space shifts before anyone can react. I am alone in a large arena made out of the same bricks. A quick sensor check reveals another compartment, completely separate from any others.

"Hello. Can you understand me?" I ask.

The voice whispers out this time, "The pest speaks. Begging for mercy is futile. Your fate has already been decided." The harsh sound grinds against my ears.

"You are a construct created by an entity known as a 'Dungeon'. Are you aware of that?" The voice simply sighs out again. I project a 3D reconstruction of the dungeon gate we just entered, including some of the surroundings. "This is a view from the outside. Outside this pocket dimension of space created by the dungeon entity."

"Save your pleas, pest. You will need all the strength you have. Now, prove yourself worthy." With the last statement said, the voice appears to be gone.

On the other side of the arena, a crackling, purple energy swirls on the floor. After a high-pitched sound, the energy disperses. In its wake is my opponent.

How curious. Flawless control of Common. Correct sentence structure and intent is clearly presented. Is self-awareness missing or suppressed. I highly doubt it matters. It is nearly impossible to verify one hypothesis or the other. But when has that ever stopped me. I am a walking, talking, thinking—debatable—impossibility myself. I will pull out your secrets. And if not from you, maybe from your more academically proficient compatriots. What fun we'll have.

I force myself to stop musing, examining my, well, examiner. A two-meter-tall figure, dark armor shimmering with purple energy, darkness and shadows oozing out of every seam and joint, red eyes piercing the black haze from within two slots of a full helmet, a giant sword held with ease, a sturdy shield held tight, a clacking step forward. Death Knight.

The undead moves with purpose and precision, no wasted movements, no openings.

I shoot a full-power needle at its chest. The supersonic projectile is intercepted by an already slightly repositioned shield. My spell impacts the black surface with a purple flash and is reduced to worthless spalling. No damage detected.

The knight takes a step forward, appearing right in front of me, crossing the distance in an absence of movement. Its gleaming broadsword strikes my personal shield, leaving a visible crack. For a moment, purple energy clashes with my own but is quickly consumed. This is... concerning. Thankfully, I have already accounted for such a possibility. I mentally send my thanks to Elisa for unlocking my magical abilities, probably for the millionth time.

Tempering to full power. Straight jab. The monster intercepts my attack once again, but this time, my fist staggers it back, leaving an indent in its shield. Better.

It retaliates with a swipe at my left side. I draw my sword and parry. Locking its attack in place.

Particle beam, increasing output. The invisible attack hits it in the armored chest. Purple energy erupts from the metal, fighting against the onslaught. The Death Knight blocks once again, the beam eliciting another eruption from the shield. The purple energy subsides. The metal heats up and melts away. My attack continues through, hitting the armor and making another perfect hole, ineffectively brushing against a bone beneath. The knight lowers its shield and strikes at me again.

Dodge. Make some distance. I regard my opponent. The first C-grade monster I have encountered, personally or with the planetary defense network. Luckily, there have been no uncontrolled high-grade breaks since my arrival. It is a lot harder for these dungeons to break, after all. And they are taken very seriously. Not to mention, there are fewer of them too. I thank whatever deity might be listening.

I regard my opponent again. Unfeeling. Uncaring. A monster living up to its name, a bringer of death.

I clench my fists. My free hand closing so hard it starts to hurt. My sword hand straining even more around the hilt. My body tenses. I thought I've felt anger before. No. That wasn't anger. That was a silly, little tantrum.

The ground under my feet spiderwebs. I appear in front of an already raised shield and a devastating attack. My sword passes through its helmet. My left hand rends the armor apart, it grips its spine. I spread my arms. My opponent crumples to the floor.

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