Ron had always known Aron was reckless.
But maybe that's why he followed him.
They'd been doing quests for a year now—simple ones. Missing livestock. Clearing small goblin nests. Escorting old merchants too stubborn to retire. It wasn't glamorous, but it paid.
And Aron always found a way to make it feel like an adventure.
"Aron," he said one morning, "I heard there's a dungeon just a few miles east. Not on the Guild board. Hidden. Untouched!"
Ron stared at him. "And why would we go into a dungeon the Guild doesn't list?"
Aron grinned, slapping his iron sword—now reinforced with a low tier durability spell. "Because if no one knows about it, all the loot's ours."
He grinned.
Ron groaned. "You just want a magic sword."
"No," Aron said. Then he paused. "Okay—yes. But also—don't you feel it? Like… this is our moment. We can't just keep taking baby jobs forever."
There was a fire in his eyes. That same wild, foolish fire from the first time they met. And as always… Ron sighed and followed.
The dungeon entrance was half-buried under vines, carved into the hillside like a secret waiting to be uncovered.
They lit their torches and stepped inside.
The air was thick with dust. The walls were ancient, covered in strange glyphs. At first, everything was quiet—too quiet. No monsters. No traps. Just empty halls and long shadows.
"This is kinda cool," Aron whispered. "Feels like a real adventurer's story."
Ron stayed silent, sword drawn. Every step deeper felt heavier.
And then it happened.
A click.
From the shadows, spears shot from the walls. One grazed Ron's arm. Another barely missed Aron's head.
And then they came—creatures that didn't belong in a beginner dungeon. Hulking beasts made of stone and bone. Their eyes glowed red.
Aron's grin vanished.
"Run?"
"Run."
They fought their way through, side by side. Aron swung wide and wild, shouting, "For glory!" and missing half his strikes. Ron was precise, focused, protecting Aron's blind spots, gritting his teeth.
But they were outnumbered.
Exhausted.
Cornered.
They made it to the exit tunnel—barely.
Then a javelin came soaring from the dark.
Ron didn't see it. Not until Aron shoved him aside.
A sickening sound—thwack.
"Aron!"
He staggered, eyes wide, breath shallow.
"I'll hold them off," Aron said, voice shaking. "You go ahead."
"No—what are you saying?!"
"If I let you kick the bucket, how would I ever face Ariel again?" Aron chuckled, blood dripping from the corner of his mouth. "Now go, Ron. Please you...have to live."
Ron hesitated—then turned and ran.
He didn't look back.
He couldn't.