The moment they reached the exit tunnel, the dungeon reacted.
Not with hostility…
But with sorrow.
A low rumble vibrated through the stone, softer than any tremors before.
The braziers dimmed as if exhaling their last breath.
Dust drifted like falling ash.
The old runes lining the walls flickered weakly, as though watching Friezzar go.
The puppet paused, sensing something shifting behind him.
He turned once—
hollow glowing eyes scanning the depths—
and the dungeon seemed to whisper.
Not a voice.
Not a word.
A feeling.
Don't go.
The bond between dungeon and vessel pulsed faintly—warm yet fading.
Friezzar traced a line along the tunnel wall, fingers brushing the stone as if memorizing its texture.
Dust drifted onto his hand.
He did not understand loss.
But he recognized the ache of something ending.
Lyra watched him quietly.
"He… feels it," she whispered. "The dungeon. It's tied to him."
Arden adjusted his grip on his sword.
"Let's hope that bond doesn't drag the dungeon up with us."
Lyra shot him a look, but said nothing.
Friezzar turned back toward them, the fainted carved glow on his limbs softening.
He followed.
The First Wind
The tunnel sloped upward for a long stretch, cold air rushing through cracks in the stone. Friezzar stumbled once when the breeze hit him—
light but startling.
He froze.
Lyra stopped too. "What's wrong?"
Friezzar lifted a hand, touching the air.
The cold wind tickled across his wooden fingers, slipping through the gaps in his carved joints.
He stared at the invisible movement.
"…li…gh…t…?" he asked quietly.
Lyra smiled softly.
"No. This is wind."
Friezzar blinked.
He held out both hands, letting the cold breeze wash over him. His fingers trembled in fascination. The gentle push, the strange dancing pressure—it was unlike anything in the dungeon.
His carved chest glowed faintly.
He liked it.
Arden glanced back. "If he stops to examine every natural phenomenon, we're going to be here until next winter."
Lyra giggled despite the tension.
"Let him learn. Everything is new to him."
Friezzar lowered his hands slowly…
but looked back at the flowing air one last time, as if memorizing its sensation.
The Light Beyond Darkness
They reached the final stretch of the tunnel—a jagged stone archway cracked open long ago, letting in a faint but unmistakable glow.
Sunlight.
Friezzar felt it before he saw it.
Warm.
Pulling.
Alive.
Like Lyra's lantern—
but infinitely larger.
He stepped forward—
hesitated—
then stepped again.
The puppet emerged into the world.
And sunlight struck him.
He froze. His hands lifted slowly to the rays streaming across his wooden frame. Golden warmth washed over his chest, his carved face, his joints, his limbs. His runes glowed brighter in response, shimmering faintly like a soft heartbeat.
He stared at the sky—
vast, endless, blue.
A sky so large he could not comprehend it.
No ceiling.
No stone.
No walls holding him in.
The world above stretched in all directions.
Mountains beyond the ridge.
Forests rippling with wind.
Birds streaking across the sky like living brushstrokes.
Friezzar staggered backward.
Lyra caught his arm gently.
"It's okay," she murmured. "This is the sky. You're safe."
Friezzar pointed upward with a trembling finger.
"…Li…ght…"
Lyra nodded.
"Yes. Sunlight."
Friezzar stared at the sun until Arden grabbed his shoulder.
"Don't stare directly at it—you'll damage your eyes."
Friezzar blinked, looking at Arden… then back at the sun. His glowing pupils focused and unfocused as if adjusting.
Arden muttered, "Right. He might not even have eyes to damage."
Friezzar touched his own face—tracing the faint carved ridges that hinted at cheekbones—and lowered his hand slowly.
The sky was too big.
Too open.
Too bright.
He didn't know what to do with all of it.
For the first time in his existence…
He felt small.
The Path to Arnvale
Arden led the way, hand on the hilt of his sword. The forest path beneath the Forson Ridge was familiar; he'd traveled it many times.
It had never felt this surreal.
A puppet—half humanoid, half monster—walked silently behind him.
Lyra stayed beside Friezzar, allowing her lantern to dim. The puppet kept glancing at it, as if expecting it to guide him.
Every sound made him pause.
Birdsong.
Rustling leaves.
Distant running water.
Squirrels darting across branches.
He turned toward each noise, studying them.
Lyra explained each one patiently.
"That's a bird."
"That's wind in the trees."
"That's a river."
"That's a squirrel. No, don't devour it!"
Friezzar froze mid-step at her last one.
She laughed gently.
"No. Not prey."
Friezzar tilted his head.
"…not… feed?"
"Correct."
Arden growled, "For the love of—Lyra, you're teaching a dungeon anomaly moral rules?"
But every time Friezzar hesitated, every time his instincts flinched, he looked back at Lyra's lantern.
And remembered:
Light.
Safe.
He obeyed.
Not out of training.
Not out of fear.
But out of trust—
a concept he did not yet understand, but felt nonetheless.
The River
They crossed a narrow wooden bridge over a clear mountain stream. The water sparkled under the sunlight, rippling like liquid light.
Friezzar stopped mid-bridge.
He leaned over the railing, staring at his reflection.
A wooden face, carved with elegant lines. Hollow glowing eyes staring back. No mouth. No breath. No humanity.
Friezzar reached toward the water.
Touch.
Ripples.
Reflections dancing.
He pressed harder.
His fingers slipped into the river.
A sharp hiss sounded—
steam curling from his wooden skin.
Lyra gasped. "Oh! Friezzar—water is dangerous for you!"
Arden grabbed his shoulder and yanked him back.
"Are you trying to drown yourself?!" he barked.
Friezzar stared at his slightly steaming fingers.
He did not understand the concept of danger—
only that touching the water hurt.
He raised his hand to his chest, tracing a line as if soothing a wound he could not feel physically.
Lyra knelt in front of him, touching his wrist gently.
"It's okay. We'll teach you."
Friezzar blinked.
Watched the river.
Then moved on.
The Edge of the Human World
As the forest cleared, the small town of Arnvale came into view—cozy wooden houses, smoke curling from chimneys, villagers milling around the marketplace.
Friezzar froze.
Humans.
Many humans.
Voices.
Footsteps.
Emotion.
Life.
All of it washing over him like a tidal wave.
The warmth he felt from Lyra multiplied—
scattered—
blurred.
Too many.
He staggered.
Lyra caught him.
"Easy. It's okay. It's just people."
Arden looked back.
"Keep him close. People will panic if they see something unnatural walking around."
Lyra nodded, gripping Friezzar's hand.
"Stay close to me."
Friezzar looked at her hand.
Then at the town.
Then back at her.
He gripped her hand tighter.
Arden took a deep breath and stepped forward.
"We'll head to the guild. If we're lucky, they'll listen before they attack."
Lyra kept Friezzar close as they walked toward Arnvale.
Every villager they passed stopped and stared.
Whispers spread.
"What is that?"
"Is that a… doll?"
"No—look at its eyes—"
"Is it dangerous?"
"Should we call the guards?"
Friezzar stiffened, hollow eyes dimming in unease.
Lyra squeezed his hand gently.
"It's okay. I'm here."
He relaxed slightly.
But his gaze never left the humans watching him.
Their fear was unfamiliar.
Uncomfortable.
It made his chest ache—
the same ache he felt leaving the dungeon.
He didn't know the word.
But he felt it:
Loneliness.
Again.
The Guild Doors
The Adventurer's Guild was a wooden building with two tall banners flanking the entrance. The moment Arden stepped inside—
The room went silent.
Hunters, medics, mages—all stared as Friezzar ducked through the doorway, glowing eyes scanning the room.
Weapons were drawn instantly.
Arden raised his hands.
"Stand down! It's with us!"
Lyra raised the lantern.
"He's not hostile!"
Friezzar flinched at the sudden hostility.
Dozens of "lights"—warm, human souls—flickered around him, but mixed with sharp spikes of fear.
Something inside him tightened.
He didn't know why…
but everyone's fear made him feel—
Wrong.
Unwelcome.
Unwanted.
He took a step back.
Lyra touched his arm.
"It's okay," she whispered again.
But the guildmaster stepped forward, eyes narrowed.
"What have you brought into my guild?" he demanded.
Arden exhaled sharply.
"A living construct. A sentient one. And possibly… the only thing keeping the Forson Dungeon from collapsing."
A gasp rippled through the room.
Friezzar stood still, hollow eyes shifting between every face in the hall.
He could not speak well.
He could not explain himself.
He could not assure them he meant no harm.
He only knew one thing—
and he said it softly:
"…Li…ght…"
Lyra smiled gently, squeezing his hand.
The guildmaster stared at them for several long seconds.
Then:
"Explain everything.
Now."
And so, under the watchful eyes of an entire guild,
Friezzar's fate in the human world began.