I woke to warmth.
Soft, rhythmic, and very much alive.
For one blissfully stupid moment, I lay there—half-asleep, half-floating, brain still on loading screen—until it remembered that something was pressed firmly against my side… and trembling.
Trembling was never a good sign.
I cracked an eye open.
Arial.
Same position as always—curled into me like I was the last safe patch of land in a drowning world. Her head rested beneath my chin, red hair spread across my arm in molten gold. Her breathing was fast, shallow, uneven. Sweat dotted her neck.
Not peaceful sleep. Not comfort.
A nightmare's echo.
She shifted slightly, her hand brushing my chest.
My treacherous heart reacted before my brain did.
And—for a few seconds—I just stared.
The scent of her: rain on seawater. The faint glow of mermaid markings near her collarbone. Her heartbeat tapping gently against mine.
I was very awake now.
And extremely guilty about it.
She didn't look noble-beautiful. She looked… unguarded. Real. Like something that didn't belong in a world this cruel.
I forced my gaze away, rebooting whatever moral backbone I had left.
Alright, Augustus. You're a gentleman.
A tired, hormonal gentleman with the usual cursed morning problems, but still.
Before I could finish negotiating with my conscience, she twitched. Her brows tightened. Lips parted.
"…no… not again…"
Her whole body trembled—violent, not timid.
"...golden teeth… wet chains… screaming hatchlings… pirates…"
My blood turned to ice.
"Pirates?" I whispered.
Her fingers clawed into the blanket. "They took them… hatchlings… screaming—"
That wasn't fear.
That was trauma sharp enough to bleed.
I shook her gently. "Arial. Hey—wake up."
Her eyes snapped open, wild and unfocused, aura flaring like she was drowning all over again.
"Hey, hey. It's just me." I caught her shoulders before she bolted upright. "You're safe. You're here."
Recognition flickered through her—confusion, then relief so strong it almost hurt to see. She collapsed against me, shaking.
"I… I'm sorry, Master," she breathed. "I didn't mean to—I just—"
"Stop." I tightened my hold. "It was a dream. That's all."
Her breathing slowed. She blinked up at me, fragile but steadying.
"…Master."
"Yeah. Safe place. Reality. No pirates."
She swallowed and looked down, embarrassed. "Forgive me, Master. I didn't want to—"
"Hey. Don't apologize for being human."
I paused. "Or… mermaid."
That earned a small laugh. Barely there, but real.
"Go wash up," I said. "Dungeon day. We can panic later."
She bowed slightly—still pink—and slipped into the washroom.
…
When she was gone, I stared at the empty space and let out a long, tired exhale.
Pirates.
Hatchlings.
Kidnapping.
Her past wasn't tragic.
It was brutal.
And sure, I was still a young man waking up with a beautiful girl clinging to me. Biological reactions happen. Fine. Whatever.
But guilt hit harder.
Because she wasn't holding me out of affection.
She was holding me because terror didn't let her sleep alone.
"Damn it, Mom," I muttered. "A dog would've been simpler."
We got dressed in silence. When we stepped out, Victoria was waiting.
Except—
Not in her usual maid uniform.
Today she wore reinforced black combat cloth, dagger belts strapped to her thighs, rune gloves glowing faintly. Even her expression had changed.
This was "I kill for a living" Victoria.
"...You look like you're about to fight the final boss," I said.
"Thank you," she replied, as if I'd complimented her shoes.
"Why the outfit?"
She stepped aside. "I'll be guarding the dungeon perimeter. Your father insisted on a personal sentinel."
"You're coming with us?"
"Not inside. Dungeons are ideal assassination sites. I'm preventing… interruptions."
"So you're our babysitter."
"Bodyguard," she corrected. "And occasional narrator of your poor decisions."
Arial bowed. "It's reassuring to have you close, Lady Victoria."
"Likewise, Arial. Just don't die."
Tone: polite.
Meaning: absolutely threatening.
…
The Ironcreed Transportation Hub felt like a cathedral carved from mana.
Concentric formations pulsed across the marble floor. The air crackled with ozone. Guards ringed the walls with rune rifles and spears humming like barely leashed storms.
Colder than the estate corridors.
Sharper.
Alive.
Our assigned chamber was wide, lined with artifacts feeding power into a central formation. My skin prickled just looking at it.
And there—like a smug lighthouse—stood Elder Jack.
"Morning, team. Good to see all limbs accounted for. Let's try to keep it that way."
We bowed. Lenna didn't bother—she simply existed at a higher authority setting.
"Elder Jack," I started, "hypothetically, could we not enter a mysterious death vortex today—"
"Denied."
"I didn't finish—"
"You didn't need to. Your face finished for you."
He pointed at the rotating crystal pillars orbiting a pulsing core.
"Step in. Teleportation will drop you near the Hound's Playground entrance. Beware the wind. It bites."
Vague. Threatening. Classic Jack.
Lenna entered first. Alfred followed silently. Arial latched onto my arm like I was a reluctant escort.
We stepped onto the circle.
Jack raised his staff.
Runes ignited. Air boomed. Everything screamed with light.
"Remember!" he shouted. "You can't exit the dungeon unless you kill the boss or complete the System mission! If those aren't the same, well—good luck!"
"WAIT—WHAT DO YOU MEAN 'IF' THEY'RE—"
Too late.
Light swallowed us whole.
The world twisted, slammed sideways, punted my stomach into the astral realm.
We hit ground—hard.
Wind howled like a furious beast. Mana choked the air, thick and electric.
I staggered upright, regretting all my choices. "Gods—I hate teleportation—"
Arial caught me before I faceplanted. "Careful, Master."
The wind tugged at me hard enough to lift me off the ground, but her grip anchored me. A little blue glow steadied the air.
"Thanks," I muttered. "Being clingy has its perks."
She smiled. "Always, Master."
Lenna stood ahead like the wind was posing for her. Alfred's blade hummed beside her, flames dancing wild.
And then—
The gate.
Massive.
Ten meters tall.
Blackstone fused with scarred steel.
Hound statues snarling along the sides, gold fangs gleaming.
The ground was cracked like something had dragged the gate here.
Runes burned at the top:
[Anomaly Dungeon: The Hound's Playground – F Rank]
A low growl echoed from behind it—so deep it vibrated in my bones.
Lenna looked back. "Formation. Alfred left. Arial rear. Augustus—front left. Shield up."
I swallowed. "So… this is it."
Lenna nodded once. "Don't worry."
"That's easy for you to—"
She actually met my eyes. A flicker of amusement.
"No," she said softly. "It isn't."
She turned back to the gate.
"Activate the team key."
A shimmer of light. A pulse through the ground. The gate trembled.
Wind changed—like something behind the door just noticed us.
Deep.
Hungry.
Laughing.
The gate cracked open.
---
WELCOME TO: THE HOUND'S PLAYGROUND (F RANK)
---
Training prepares you for everything—
except the part where reality bites.