The dungeon doors groaned as they opened.
Dust spilt into the sunlight, and with it, Ryuu stepped into the world once more.
The guards stationed outside gasped, weapons half-raised, faces pale. The sunlight caught on his bloodstained clothes and on the jagged bone sword clenched in his hand. His eyes glowed faintly—amber fire rimmed in crimson, like embers in a dying hearth.
But it was the silence that frightened them most.
Not the wounds. Not the magic.
It was the absence of anyone else.
Only one came back.
Just one.
"Send word to the Guild!" A captain barked, his voice shaking. "He's alive! We've got a survivor!"
Scribes scattered. Runners took off. Horns blew in the distance.
But none dared approach him.
Because the man who emerged from the dungeon… was not the same man who entered.
Guild Hall—Interrogation Chamber—One Hour Later
Ryu sat shackled to a stone chair.
Not because they needed to—he didn't resist.
But they did it anyway. For their comfort.
The room was cold. Bare. Lit only by the crackling blue runes embedded in the walls.
A single table sat between Ryu and the guild officers.
Five of them.
Draped in golden robes. Eyes sharp. Faces drawn and hollow.
The head officer, Commander Serika Vale—an A-Rank Paladin and tactical leader—stood at the centre.
Behind her: Vice-Commander Marren, Intelligence Officer Kiri, Warden Roth, and Senior Examiner Tessa.
All wore expressions that screamed one thing:
Doubt.
"You've been silent since we brought you in," Serika said at last, folding her arms. Her voice was calm, but ice lined every word. "Now speak, Ryu. Tell us. What happened in there?"
Ryu didn't answer immediately. His fingers twitched—bone fragments still protruded slightly from beneath the skin. Regeneration was already patching him up, but the process was slow outside dungeon influence.
"They're dead," he said finally, voice hollow. "Miyuki. Cole. Lina. Dain. All of them."
Tessa flinched.
Marren leaned forward, eyes narrowing. "And you're the only one who survived?"
"I didn't ask to live."
"But you did, didn't you?" Marren's voice was sharp, accusing. "You were the weakest among them, ranked E-class with S-class regeneration power. You barely had any other skills six months ago. And yet, miraculously, you walk out alive—when four veteran adventurers do not?"
Silence.
The hum of runes deepened.
"We've examined the dungeon," Kiri cut in, dropping a dossier on the table. "Or what's left of it. The core is gone. The executioner boss disintegrated. Divine fire residue in the stone. Do you expect us to believe you did that?"
"I didn't ask for power," Ryu said, finally meeting her eyes. His voice remained calm, but a growl brewed beneath it. "It was given. The dungeon chose me."
Serika's jaw tensed. "The dungeon chose you?"
"It spoke to me."
"Do you realise how that sounds?" Tessa whispered.
"I don't care how it sounds."
Marren slammed his palm on the table. "Enough riddles. We're not here for your fantasy epilogue! You came out alive—alone. That makes you a suspect, not a hero."
"Suspect?" Ryu's tone dropped, his voice gravelly and venomous. us. "I carried Cole's body until my legs gave out. I watched Lina choke on her own blood. I held Dain's hand while he begged me to save Miyuki. And you dare—"
"YES," Serika snapped, stepping forward. "We dare. Because your story doesn't add up. Because no one survives an S-class dungeon and kills a corrupted Judgement-class boss alone. Because you came back with a forbidden mutation skill and a divine-class ultimate that doesn't even exist in the records."
"We scanned your soul core," Roth growled. "You're bonded to that dungeon. What does that make you, Ryu? Its master? Or its pawn?"
A long pause.
Ryu stared at them.
And for a moment… something behind his eyes burnt brighter.
"You think I betrayed them," he whispered.
No one answered.
"You think I killed them."
"We think it's possible," Kiri said coldly.
"You think I sacrificed my friends—for this?" He raised his arm, the veins glowing faintly, skin cracking where regeneration hadn't finished its work. "You think I wanted this curse?!"
"You seem powerful enough now to make a good trade," Marren sneered. "They die, you get promoted from weakling to god. Seems like a fair deal."
The chair shattered as Ryu stood.
Chains snapped. Runes sparked. Blood flared along his arms as bone blades unsheathed from beneath his wrists—his body screaming with agony, but his stance unwavering.
They all stepped back—instinctively.
"I would've died for them," Ryu snarled. "I begged the dungeon to take me instead. I failed them. I lost them. But I did not betray them."
"You're a danger now," Serika said, her voice low, deliberate. "You walked out with powers we don't understand. A skill that mutilates your own body. You've bonded with a sentient dungeon. You're not the same."
"I never was the same. That's why no one listened to me in the first place."
"You think grief makes you innocent?"
"No," Ryu said softly. "But it does make me angry."
He raised his hands—blood dripping from his fingers, bone spears retracting with sickening crunches as his regeneration reactivated.
"I could kill you," he said. Not as a threat. Just a fact. "But I won't."
"Because you'd prove us right," Marren mocked.
"No," Ryu said. "Because Miyuki wouldn't want me to."
At that name, something flickered in Serika's expression.
Softness. Just for a heartbeat.
But it vanished.
"We are placing you under magical observation," she said flatly. "You'll be detained in the Guild's custody for two weeks minimum. During that time, any mental instability, corruption spikes, or unauthorised skill activation will result in containment—or extermination."
Ryu scoffed. "Contain me? After what I survived?"
"We'll try," Roth muttered.
"Let them," Ryu said, turning away. "I've already survived worse than any of you."
Detainment Wing—Later That Night
The cell wasn't a cell.
It was a gilded chamber, reinforced with sigil-etched stone and magic-dampening fields. Still, Ryu sat on the cold floor, cross-legged, eyes closed.
The room pulsed faintly.
It wasn't the Guild's magic.
It was the dungeon.
Even now—miles from its collapsed entrance—he could still feel it. Like a heartbeat echoing beneath the earth. Still connected. I'm still watching.
Still grieving.
A knock sounded.
Ryu opened his eyes.
A figure entered—unauthorised.
Not a guild officer. Not a warden.
It was Amara, a B-rank cleric, one of the healers who had known Miyuki since they were children.
Her eyes were rimmed red, her hands trembling.
"I had to see it with my own eyes," she whispered.
Ryu said nothing.
"I prayed you'd all come back," she said, stepping forward. "But when they told me it was just you… I didn't know whether to cry or scream."
He looked up.
"I'm sorry," he said.
She slapped him.
The sound echoed louder than any roar.
Tears streamed down her face.
"She trusted you! She believed in you! And now she's gone, and you sit here with your eyes glowing and bones as weapons and tell me it wasn't your fault?!"
"It was my fault," he said quietly. "I was too weak. I couldn't protect her. Or any of them."
"Then why are you alive?!"
"Because the dungeon didn't want me to die."
She froze.
"What?"
"I think it needed someone like me. Someone who suffered enough to understand it. Someone could use it."
"That doesn't make you innocent," she whispered.
"No. It makes me dangerous."
Amara backed away slowly.
"I don't know if you're a monster now, Ryu," she said. "But if you are… I hope whatever's left of you remembers her face."
Ryu didn't answer.
Because that was all he saw now.
Every time he closed his eyes.
Miyuki's face. Blood on her lips. Peace in her eyes.
Two Days Later—Guild Assembly
The council chamber was packed.
Dozens of adventurers gathered, murmuring, staring.
All eyes turned as Ryu entered, flanked by two wardens.
Unshackled. Unbound. But not free.
Serika stepped forward.
"We present Ryu, survivor of the Black Grave Dungeon," she announced. "He has been examined and monitored. His soul core shows no signs of corruption. His abilities are unstable but containable. However…"
Marren cut in. "He remains a liability."
A voice from the crowd shouted, "He KILLED them!"
Another: "He sold them out!"
"Traitor!"
"Murderer!"
Ryu didn't flinch.
He stepped forward.
"They died fighting. Protecting me. Each one of them gave their life so I could finish what they started."
"Prove it!" someone shouted.
Ryu raised his hand.
Bone tore from his wrist—forming into a crooked, curved blade.
He slammed it into the stone floor.
And from the impact, magic shimmered.
An image formed in the air.
A memory shard.
A dungeon-bonded echo.
Their final moments.
Cole is swinging his axe in fury.
Lina shielded Ryu from a falling cleaver.
Dain is holding the line, bleeding, and screaming for them to run.
Miyuki—whispering her final words, barely audible:
"You have to live, Ryu. Promise me. No matter what they say… keep going."
The image shattered.
Silence reigned.
Tears fell. Even from the doubters.
Even Marren looked away.
Serika spoke at last.
"You are no longer under suspicion," she said quietly. "You are free to go."
But Ryu didn't move.
"I'm not here for absolution," he said. "I'm here to make sure their sacrifice means something."
He turned, cloak trailing behind him.
"I'm going back to the dungeon ruins. There's more beneath it. More corruption. More judgement."
"And what are you now?" someone asked softly.
"A survivor?" Another, whispered another. "A saviour?"
"No," Ryu said.
"I'm the sword they left behind.