Sometimes, just a few seconds of a cutscene can make a story feel instantly grand and epic.
The brief animation that played after extinguishing the signal fire was simple—only showing the fortress gate loosening and the fire basin shifting slightly. It wasn't long or elaborate like the scenes that appeared after kindling a bonfire.
And yet, it carried a weight that stirred the heart—a sense of destiny, of something momentous waiting just beyond that gate.
In short—they were immersed.
Using subtle visual cues to build anticipation was a technique Wade had recently mastered. Once that anticipation took hold, it demanded an equally powerful payoff.
Surely, the Farron Undead Legion wouldn't disappoint.
But then again… was there anyone in Bedford City who could actually defeat the Legion? Even if the fortress contained only a single Abyss Watcher, that alone was a genuine B-rank threat.
Perhaps Wade's newly unlocked permission—Balance of Power—could help.
Simply put, this feature dynamically adjusted the dungeon's difficulty. The strength of its monsters would scale to the strongest adventurer currently inside—making it a fight where one might lose an arm or two, but still have a slim chance of victory with enough grit and teamwork.
But that led to a question—why would Wade want so many people to clear it?
If too many succeeded, the final boss would lose its mystique. The dungeon's lifespan would shorten, and he'd be forced to rework it constantly.
So that feature was off-limits—for now.
Maybe once the dungeon had been thoroughly explored and mined of its secrets, he could consider letting a few players win.
For now, though, Maru and her party were experiencing the dungeon's pure, unfiltered version.
(***)
"Splsh… splsh…"
The adventurers trudged through the swamp, every step a battle to stay upright. Even maintaining balance here was a challenge.
The monsters made full use of the terrain.
From the banks, Ghru hurled crude spears, switching to shield thrusts the moment anyone drew close. Only by disrupting their formation with magic could the party safely push forward.
Poison-spewing slugs erupted from the muck without warning, showering the unprepared in noxious slime.
And everyone's "old friend," the Basilisk, occasionally hopped in for attention—its petrifying mist spreading through the air. Dodging that in a slowing swamp was, needless to say, hellishly difficult.
Those wolf-like corpses nailed to wooden racks? Some weren't as dead as they looked. When roused, their frenzy put rabid dogs to shame.
Before long, another adventurer fell.
If not for the elite Raid Team, more would have followed. The random adventurers who'd tagged along weren't helping much; only the swordsman named Darrick managed to keep pace.
Though cold and distant in demeanor, Darrick fought like a wild beast—his ferocity evoking memories of Terl in his green-skinned form.
His only flaw? When he got excited, he had a habit of howling like a wolf. He claimed it was "to honor the beast within." Unfortunately, to everyone else, it sounded more like… a dog wagging its tail.
"The trial of the Undead Legion… I must pass it. Extinguish three flames…"
As they approached the second signal fire, a raspy voice reached them. Behind a nearby hill, they found a kneeling phantom—gaunt and trembling, muttering endlessly:
"Farron's Undead Legion… please, let me join you… destroy the Abyss…"
Other dungeons didn't spawn phantoms like this. No one could explain why.
They tried talking to it, but the spirit only repeated those same lines—begging to join the Legion, to destroy the Abyss.
"Extinguishing the fires is part of the initiation?" Drew asked Roger. "We're not… accidentally performing some dark ritual, are we?"
He imagined the initiation rites of some secret cult—one that dealt with powers no sane person would dare touch.
Roger thought for a moment, then shook his head. "No… I don't sense any outside gaze upon us."
"I hope you're right…"
A strange unease crept through the group. If this was the Legion's trial, did that mean they were now unofficial members of a long-lost, ancient order?
That… actually sounded kind of awesome.
"What is the Abyss, anyway?" Maru asked.
Everyone shook their heads.
All they knew was that the Abyss was a corrupting force destined to consume the world once the First Flame went out—and that the Undead Legion existed to fight it.
For now, they treated it as the equivalent of "the Demon Race."
After extinguishing the second signal fire, an unexpected message appeared—
[You are being invaded by the Dark Spirit "Hunter"(Bloodborne)!!!]
"Invasion!?"
The adventurers froze, exchanging horrified looks.
What even was an invasion?
They only knew about the Warriors of Sunlight—the co-op system—but not this.
The Raid Team, however, had encountered something similar before. They'd been "invaded" by avatars like Left Bow's, though they never understood the mechanics. They just assumed it was another dungeon feature—special enemy types.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
Footsteps echoed from below the hill. Everyone tensed. Drew began chanting a spell.
The Invader was coming.
A dark-purple phantom emerged, wearing a wide-brimmed tricorn hat with its sides curled upward. A long coat fluttered behind him as he ran. His attire was foreign—far too sleek, too refined, too… Victorian for this world.
In his left hand, he held a short, hollow metal stick. Too small and fragile to be a proper weapon.
Of course, Maru and the others didn't know what it was. That strange contraption was a pistol.
In his right hand, however, was something they did recognize—a Saw Cleaver.
Leon had once obtained one after clearing a dungeon, though it didn't suit his fighting style, so he'd shelved it.
"Sir! Halt and state your purpose!" one adventurer demanded.
The Hunter's answer was to attack.
"Evil invader!" someone shouted. "Seven against one—advantage, ours!"
Spells and techniques rained down from all directions.
Drew narrowed his gaze, analyzing the invader's movements.
He'd fought four different invaders before—enough to recognize a pattern.
They always evaded with a roll.
Not a normal roll, either—it seemed to cancel damage entirely, even when the hit should have landed. More like a special ability than a simple dodge.
If that was true, then Drew's plan was clear: trap him mid-roll with binding magic.
And sure enough—the Hunter prepared to evade.
"[Earthborn Tendrils]!" Drew chanted.
Vines burst from the ground beneath the Hunter's feet. If he rolled, they'd catch him instantly—
However—
The Hunter merely shifted his weight, gliding aside with ghostlike elegance.
"…Huh?"
Drew blinked, then groaned inwardly. Foolish. He'd tried to predict a new enemy using old experience.
Still, his spell wasn't wasted—the movement opened a window for Terl.
"WAAAGH!"
The hulking warrior charged, arms wide, slamming the Hunter against the cliff wall. No escape. A perfect, killing blow!
But the Hunter remained calm. Too calm.
He raised his left hand.
Bang!
A thunderous crack echoed. Those nearby flinched, covering their ears. That strange "metal stick" had made the sound—was that its purpose?
No. Definitely not.
Because Terl's chest exploded in a spray of blood, forcing him to his knees, paralyzed.
That was Gun Parry—a Bloodborne skill.
Shoot the enemy mid-attack to stun them into a visceral state.
Schlk!
The Hunter drove the Saw Cleaver into Terl's chest. Blood gushed out in torrents—far too much to be shown to children.
Critical Visceral Hit!
Before anyone could react, Terl's body crumbled into ash.
Instant kill.
The suddenness of it froze everyone in place. But the Hunter didn't stop—he pressed forward, cleaver swinging in a brutal dance of carnage.
Every blow sought to harvest life.
Anyone who crossed blades with him felt like prey before a butcher. He truly lived up to the name—Hunter.
His fighting style was raw, primal—a symphony of blood and steel that made the previous invaders look like amateurs.
Slash!
Darrick took a glancing hit, his chest splitting open. He staggered back, gulping down a healing potion.
"This guy's strong… but he's tiring. Victory isn't impossible. Still—"
He quickly surveyed the battlefield. They could win, yes—but at a steep cost. The Hunter's alien combat style kept throwing them off balance.
"If only we had… one more ally…"
Then—
"Huh?"
Darrick looked down. At his feet, a golden summoning sign shimmered into view.
[Summon "Patches"]