The crystal-lit halls beyond the ice chamber were wider, more refined. Smooth stone underfoot. Ancient symbols etched into the pillars. This was no random formation of rock—it was built carefully, deliberately.
The dungeon was no longer just testing him.
It was watching.
Kian pressed forward, his body still sore from the last trial. The Echoblade hung diagonally across his back, its glow dimmed for now. He'd grown stronger, yes—but every step down into this place reminded him how far he had left to go.
At the far end of the hallway, a staircase spiraled upward, its entrance guarded by two dormant statues. They watched silently as he passed, their eyes glowing faintly, but they did not move.
Another test? he wondered. Or just a warning?
Halfway up the stairs, a voice echoed.
Not from the system.
A real voice.
Male. Confident. Too familiar.
"Still breathing, Kian? You always were hard to kill."
Kian froze.
That voice belonged to someone he hadn't heard in two years.
He turned slowly.
At the top of the stairs stood a tall figure clad in dark red armor, a jagged blade resting across his shoulders. His black hair was tied back, and his expression wore that same smug grin Kian remembered far too well.
Dain Vore.
They'd trained together. Fought together. Survived the border raids of the Northern Wastes. But while Kian chose to walk away from the war, Dain had embraced it.
And something had changed in him since then.
Kian's eyes narrowed. "Didn't expect to see you here."
Dain chuckled. "Didn't expect to see you again. Thought the dungeon would've chewed you up by now."
Kian stepped off the stairs, closing the distance. "So why are you here? Looking for another title to add to your name?"
Dain's grin sharpened. "I'm here for the core. Same as everyone else. But unlike you, I have a plan. I'm not chasing ghosts."
Kian's fist clenched.
"You always wanted power. But this place... it doesn't just hand it out. It costs something."
"And I've already paid," Dain replied coldly.
He held up his hand—and Kian saw it. A mark like his own, but blackened around the edges, pulsing faintly red.
Corrupted Soulbound.
"You bonded with a dark core," Kian said.
Dain's gaze flickered, but he didn't deny it. "It's stronger than whatever you picked up. That's why I'm ahead. That's why I'll reach the Heart before you."
"You're losing yourself, Dain."
"No," he said, voice flat. "I'm becoming what this world needs. We both know the outside is broken. They need a king who can't be killed."
Kian shook his head. "That's not strength. That's desperation."
Dain stepped back, turning toward the chamber beyond. "We'll see. The path splits here. West leads deeper. East leads out. Make your choice, Kian. But if we meet again, I won't hold back."
He disappeared into the shadows, leaving only silence.
Kian sat for a moment at the stair's landing, the tension slow to leave his chest.
He should've known Dain would show up. That kind of ambition was drawn to power like a moth to flame. But the corruption on Dain's mark… that was something else.
A soulbound connection twisted by something unnatural.
Was it the dungeon itself? Or something darker hiding within?
He didn't know. Not yet.
But he knew one thing for certain.
Dain couldn't be allowed to reach the core first.
Hours passed as Kian moved deeper into the western route. The dungeon changed again—stone giving way to roots and overgrown moss. Vines crept along the walls. The air was warmer, damp, filled with the scent of rain and decay.
A new biome.
A jungle, deep beneath the earth.
Here, light filtered through cracks in the ceiling, though no sun existed above. Strange glowing insects fluttered past, and the cries of unseen beasts echoed through the thickets.
He pressed onward—alert, spear ready.
But what he found wasn't a monster.
It was a girl.
Collapsed near a small stream, her cloak soaked, a large bloodstain spreading across her side. She was young—no older than seventeen, maybe eighteen—with ash-blonde hair and a soft glow around her hands that flickered like dying candlelight.
A healer.
Kian rushed over and checked her pulse.
Alive. Barely.
Her satchel was half-open, revealing herbs and salves—a field medic kit. Whoever she was, she hadn't come here looking for power.
He gently tapped her cheek. "Hey. Stay with me."
Her eyes fluttered open—green and glassy. She flinched, then reached for her pouch.
"I'm not your enemy," he said quickly. "You're bleeding. Let me help."
She studied him, then nodded weakly.
Using what little healing ointment she had left, Kian cleaned the wound and wrapped it. It wasn't perfect—but it would hold.
After a few moments, she sat up.
"I'm… Arlen," she said quietly. "Apprentice of the Verdant Order."
"The healing guild?" Kian asked. "What are you doing in here?"
"I was sent to study the dungeon's effects on soul resonance," she said. "But my escort was killed. A beast. Large. Fast. I… ran."
She looked down, ashamed.
Kian placed a hand on her shoulder. "You survived. That matters."
Arlen blinked. "You're Soulbound."
"So are you," he replied, nodding toward the faint mark on her collarbone. "But yours hasn't awakened fully yet."
She looked surprised. "I didn't think it had."
"It will. When it needs to."
Kian helped her to her feet. "Come on. We're safer moving than waiting. And I think we both have a lot to learn down here."
To Be Continued…