The next few days blurred into one long, windy fever dream.
Not metaphorically.
The wind in this dungeon genuinely felt like it carried brain damage.
Every gust slapped me. Every leaf tried to stab me. Every time Arial pointed at a bush, my soul attempted a tactical retreat.
But we kept moving.
Step by step.
Kill by kill.
Because apparently the System thought "1,000 monsters" was a fun little icebreaker.
...
Day 1
The forest didn't even pretend to be friendly.
Ten minutes in, Arial whispered, "Life signatures—nine… no, eleven!"
Alfred raised his sword.
Lenna didn't speak.
Lenna never says "be careful."
She just lets her aura glare at the world for her.
The first pack burst out of the brush like someone fired them through a wind cannon.
Early-stage hounds with a mid-stage leader. Fast. Sharp. Mean.
They targeted the weakest link.
Me.
Of course.
"Iron Guard!"
Aura snapped tight around me just in time. A hound slammed into my chest hard enough to remodel the landscape. Its breath smelled like rotten air and bad decisions.
Lenna flashed past.
One arc of white aura—
One clean kill.
"Don't get pushed back," she said.
"Oh, my apologies," I grunted. "I'll ask the monsters to push gently next time."
...
Day 2
More packs.
Stronger ones.
The dungeon felt like it was watching us and thinking:
Let's make this fun.
A mid-stage leader tried to flank us.
It lasted about… two seconds.
Alfred's blade launched like a missile, pinning it mid-leap. Arial trapped it in swirling water. I stabbed it with Ironhowl and yelled something incredibly heroic like:
"STOP MOVING!"
Arial healed me afterward.
"You're shaking, Master…"
"I'm always shaking."
"That's… not comforting."
"It shouldn't be."
...
Day 3
Our second solo Late-Stage Air Hound appeared.
So they're rare… except when my luck stat exists.
Then they spawn like appatizers.
It wasn't hunting.
It wasn't hiding.
It was waiting.
Breathing like a storm with claws.
It locked onto us—
—and vanished.
My soul tried to evacuate my body.
"IRON GUARD!"
Something hit my back so hard my brain rotated independently.
Lenna stepped forward like she'd been waiting her whole life for this moment.
Wind claws shredded the air.
She parried all three.
The beast reappeared above her—
She flicked her blade upward.
One clean split.
One Late-Stage corpse that evaporated soon after.
She wiped a speck of blood from her cheek.
"Don't fall behind."
She'd only hit level 20 in three days.
And already she was killing mid-stages solo and Late-Stages with some help.
Terrifying.
A little inspiring.
Mostly terrifying.
...
Day 4
The packs didn't get bigger.
They got smarter.
Six Early-stages charged front while two mid-stages circled wide.
The ground detonated with wind mines that almost launched me into orbit.
Arial's voice trembled.
"They're coordinating… like soldiers…"
Great.
Just what I needed.
Wind canines with military tactics.
I blocked a hound. Alfred carved through two mids like fruit. Arial's barriers saved me from becoming meat confetti several times.
And Lenna?
Lenna was dueling the Late-Stage alpha like she'd been bored for days and finally found something with flavor.
Every cut she made didn't just fight the wind—
It outran it.
...
5 Days Deep
The wind changed.
Not howling.
Not cutting.
Waiting.
Like the air itself paused to listen.
Lenna stopped.
"Everyone. Alert."
We didn't question her.
We didn't breathe wrong.
Alfred scanned the trees.
"…The wind pattern is wrong."
Arial swallowed.
"Life signatures ahead. Deep. But I can't read them. The wind is… distorting everything."
I checked with Higher Appraisal.
Nothing unnatural.
Even with Authority reaching to 6 and at Level 17—
Still nothing.
Great. Environmental anti-cheat.
"What's happening?" I whispered.
Lenna didn't look back.
"We reached it."
"Reached what?"
She lifted her sword. Aura rippled pale and cold.
"The boss zone."
Arial shivered. "The boss zone…"
Alfred nodded grimly.
"Where the boss monsters are locked."
Something cracked in the distance.
A dragging sound—
like claws raking stone.
Then—
A howl.
Deep enough to shake the leaves loose.
Cold enough to freeze breath.
Powerful enough to silence the wind entirely.
A howl that said:
You're close.
Lenna exhaled once.
"Formation," she murmured. "This is where the battle with the Gale Hound begins."
My stomach dropped.
"Oh good," I muttered. "Perfect timing. I was getting bored of surviving."
We advanced.
The jungle behind us twisted—closing like a throat.
And every branch ahead pointed the same direction—
bent by something massive moving through.
We didn't need a map.
The dungeon had already carved a path.
A path only idiots—
or heroes—
would follow.