The emergency bell's echo had barely faded when the guild hall erupted into motion.
Hunters grabbed weapons.
Healers gathered supplies.
Mages began chanting detection spells.
But all of them kept glancing uneasily at the puppet with glowing blue eyes.
Friezzar stood perfectly still in the center of the training hall, runes flickering in quiet shock. His wooden fingers curled slowly at his sides.
He did not understand what "reactivated" meant.
He did not understand what "connected" meant.
But he felt something.
A pulse.
Like a heartbeat.
Not his own.
The dungeon's.
Faint.
Weak.
Calling.
Oren strode toward him, expression hard as iron.
"Puppet. Listen carefully."
Friezzar's head turned toward him.
"…listen…"
Arden moved to stand between them instinctively, hand on the hilt of his sword.
"Guildmaster. Don't bark at him like he's a bomb—"
"He is a bomb," Oren snapped. "We just don't know how big."
Lyra rushed to Friezzar's side, placing a gentle hand on his arm.
"Friezzar, look at me."
He did.
Her presence softened the tension instantly.
Oren exhaled sharply and forced his tone calmer.
"At dawn, hunters patrolling the ridge saw something.
A faint glow.
Something pulsing beneath the ground."
Lyra's grip tightened.
"No… no, that can't be. We watched the dungeon collapse—"
Oren cut her off.
"Every dungeon survives by its core. If the core wasn't destroyed… the dungeon can reboot."
Arden froze.
"…Wait. You think the core wasn't inside the guardian room because—"
Oren nodded with grim certainty.
"Because it was inside him."
All eyes turned to Friezzar.
His glowing eyes widened faintly, confusion and fear rippling through his runes.
"…core…?
Inside… Friezzar?"
Lyra knelt in front of him.
"It's not confirmed," she whispered gently. "We don't know that."
But Arden's face said he believed it.
And Oren's face said he knew it.
Friezzar touched his chest.
The runes there pulsed softly.
Warm.
Familiar.
Alive.
The same way the dungeon's stone felt beneath his palm when he had first awakened.
He whispered:
"…mine…?"
No one answered immediately.
The Pulse
Suddenly—
BOOM.
The ground shook beneath their feet.
Dust rained from the rafters.
Weapons clattered.
Lanterns swung violently.
Friezzar stumbled, grabbing the wall to steady himself—
—but the tremor didn't feel destructive.
It felt like…
Recognition.
A voice without sound.
Come.
Friezzar's chest pulsed in response.
His runes brightened, a glow spiraling from his chest to his arms.
The guild hall reacted instantly.
Several adventurers drew weapons.
One mage nearly cast a containment spell.
Friezzar's lights dimmed in distress.
Lyra raised both hands.
"STOP! He's not attacking—he's reacting!"
Arden stood in front of Friezzar, shielding him.
"Back off! He's not doing this!"
Oren barked orders to calm the hall.
But Friezzar wasn't focused on them.
He was staring downward.
Toward the earth.
Toward the dungeon.
Something inside him whispered again—
A plea.
A question.
A call.
"…go…" he whispered softly.
"…dun…geon… calling…"
Lyra paled.
"Why? Why is it calling for you?"
Friezzar pressed a trembling wooden hand to his chest.
He didn't know.
But the ache…
the pull…
It hurt.
Not physically—
but in a way no human wound ever could.
"Friezzar," Lyra whispered, "look at me. Do you want to go?"
Friezzar looked at her.
His glow softened.
"…Lyra safe…?"
Lyra nodded slowly.
"I'll go with you."
Arden nearly choked.
"ABSOLUTELY NOT—"
But then the ground pulsed again.
BOOM.
Stronger this time.
The lights flickered.
The floor cracked slightly.
The guild hall vibrated as if the dungeon were directly beneath them.
And Friezzar staggered—
—not from fear—
—but because the dungeon's heartbeat matched his own.
He whispered in a shaking voice:
"…hurt…
Dungeon… hurt…"
Lyra's heart clenched.
"Then we have to go."
Guild Debate
Oren slammed a hand onto the table.
"No. Absolutely not. We cannot march into an awakening dungeon with a sentient anomaly tied to its core!"
Arden argued right back.
"And if we don't go? The dungeon spreads! The village gets swallowed! People die!"
"It could be a trap. Whoever visited your house last night could be doing this deliberately to lure him in."
Lyra stood suddenly, gripping Friezzar's hand.
"We can't ignore it. Friezzar is in pain. The dungeon is calling him. If this gets worse, Arnvale will fall."
Oren glared.
"And what do you plan to do? Walk him into the dungeon like a leash? If he goes berserk—"
"He won't," Lyra said fiercely.
Friezzar blinked.
"…won't…?"
Arden added quietly:
"He protected us last night. He protected Lyra. He held back during training. He's learning."
Oren fixed his gaze on Friezzar.
The puppet straightened slightly, meeting the guildmaster's stare without fear.
"…protect… Lyra…" he said again.
"And Arden?" Arden asked dryly.
Friezzar turned.
"…protect… Arden."
Arden smirked.
Oren sighed.
"He's picking up sarcasm now. Great."
Several adventurers chuckled nervously. The tension lightened for a moment—but only a moment.
Lyra stepped forward, voice steady.
"Guildmaster. Let us go. Let Friezzar see what's calling him."
Arden crossed his arms.
"I'll go too."
Oren stared long and hard at the puppet.
At his glowing chest.
At the strange, ancient energy humming in his limbs.
At the way he watched Lyra—not possessively, not aggressively, but protectively.
Finally—
the guildmaster closed his eyes.
And nodded once.
"…Fine."
Lyra exhaled a shaky breath of relief.
"But," Oren added sharply, "you three are NOT going alone."
Adventurers murmured.
He raised a hand.
"A scouting team will accompany you. You will not enter the core chamber unless absolutely necessary. And the moment this goes wrong, we pull out."
Arden nodded.
Lyra nodded.
Friezzar…
blinked.
"…go… dungeon," he whispered softly.
Oren gripped his shoulder firmly.
"Puppet. Whatever you find down there—if it threatens us or the village—"
He looked directly into Friezzar's glowing eyes.
"You stop it.
Do you understand?"
Friezzar held his gaze for a long moment.
Then—
Slowly—
He nodded.
"…protect…
Lyra.
Arnvale."
For the first time, Oren's expression softened.
"Then prepare yourselves. We leave within the hour."
Outside the Guild
Lyra, Arden, and Friezzar stepped into the morning sunlight.
The air buzzed with tension.
Adventurers gathered supplies.
Healers prepared potions.
Hunters tightened armor buckles.
Friezzar paused on the steps.
The world felt different.
Brighter.
Sharper.
Louder.
Every sound tugged at his chest.
Every tremor beneath the ground pulled at his core.
He didn't want to go back into darkness.
Not after tasting sunlight.
Not after feeling warmth.
Not after hearing Lyra's voice.
Lyra approached him.
"Friezzar?"
He looked down.
Her hand reached up—
resting gently on his carved cheek.
"You're not going alone," she whispered. "Whatever waits for us… we'll face it together."
He didn't know why her words eased the pressure inside him.
But they did.
His runes glowed softly.
"…together…"
Arden tightened his sword belt.
"Let's go, puppet. We've got a dungeon to argue with."
Lyra rolled her eyes.
"Arden."
Friezzar repeated the word quietly.
"…dun…geon…"
They began walking.
The forest path leading to the collapsed dungeon felt strangely familiar.
And as they approached the ridge—
—a faint glow pulsed beneath the earth.
Calling.
Calling to him.
And something else…
Something watching from the black treeline…
…answered the call with a smile.