Stone cracked overhead with a sound like the sky tearing open.
Ethan Vale dove forward as a slab of black rock smashed into the ground where he had been standing a heartbeat earlier. Dust exploded upward, choking the air and burning his lungs.
For a moment, he couldn't hear anything except the violent ringing in his ears.
Then the dungeon groaned.
Not a simple tremor.
A death rattle.
"…Jared?" Ethan coughed, waving dust away from his face. "Lena?! Marcus?! This isn't funny!"
No answer.
Only the deep, grinding collapse of stone sealing the tunnel behind him.
Slowly — horribly — the truth settled into place.
They were gone.
They had triggered the collapse rune.
And left him inside.
Again.
A hollow laugh escaped his throat.
"Three years," he muttered. "Three years carrying your gear… dragging your injured bodies… and this is how you repay me?"
Porters were expendable. Everyone knew it. Hunters awakened supernatural abilities — fire manipulation, reinforced bodies, telekinesis — gifts that turned them into humanity's shield against the dungeons that had scarred the world decades ago.
Porters awakened nothing.
No power.
No status.
Just strong backs and short life expectancies.
But Ethan had believed his team was different.
He had been an idiot.
Another tremor rippled through the boss chamber, nearly knocking him off his feet.
He forced himself to breathe slowly.
Panic gets you killed faster than monsters.
"Think," he whispered. "Boss room means emergency exits sometimes… hidden runes… something…"
His voice faded as he finally took in his surroundings properly.
The chamber was enormous — cathedral-sized, with jagged pillars rising into shadow. Strange symbols pulsed faintly across the walls, older and more intricate than anything he had seen on upper floors.
And yet…
There was no roar.
No stalking footsteps.
No monstrous breathing.
Boss rooms were supposed to feel oppressive, saturated with killing intent.
This place felt…
Still.
Like a frozen lake before the ice cracks.
Then he heard it.
A faint metallic sound.
Clink.
Clink.
Ethan turned toward the center of the chamber — and forgot how to breathe.
A pillar of translucent ice rose from the floor like a sculpted monument. Light shimmered inside it, refracting into pale blues that danced across the dark stone.
Something was trapped within.
No.
Someone.
A woman hung suspended in the ice, her head slightly bowed, long white hair drifting around her as if underwater. Two elegant horns curved back from her temples, smooth as polished ivory.
Black chains wrapped around her body — arms, waist, throat — each etched with glowing runes that flickered angrily against the frozen surface.
Even imprisoned…
She radiated authority.
Not the chaotic violence of a monster.
The quiet, crushing weight of a ruler.
Ethan's survival instincts screamed at him to run.
He didn't.
There was nowhere to go anyway.
As if sensing his gaze, the woman's eyes opened.
The temperature dropped instantly.
Frost raced across the stone toward his boots.
Her eyes were silver-blue — ancient, cold, and terrifyingly aware.
When she spoke, her voice was soft.
Yet it filled every corner of the chamber.
"You are not the ones who chained me."
It wasn't a question.
Ethan swallowed.
"…No."
Her gaze sharpened, studying him with unsettling focus.
"A powerless human stands within a sovereign's prison," she said calmly. "Explain."
"Sovereign's— look, I didn't exactly choose to be here," he replied, forcing steadiness into his voice. "My team sealed the exit."
"Betrayal," she said.
Again, not a question.
"Yeah. Seems to be a popular hobby."
For several long seconds, she simply watched him.
Not like prey.
Not even like an enemy.
Like a scholar examining an unexpected result.
"…Curious," she murmured.
A tremor shook the chamber harder than before. Cracks zigzagged across the ceiling.
Ethan glanced up.
"Out of curiosity… when this place collapses, do I get crushed first, or does the boss kill me before that?"
Her lips moved — almost a smile.
"You assume I am the boss."
"You're chained inside a glowing ice pillar in a boss room," he said. "Feels like a safe guess."
The chains rattled softly as she shifted.
"I am Lyssara," she said. "Queen of the Ninth Frost. Sovereign of Winter's Dominion."
Queen.
Of course.
Because his luck had always been spectacularly terrible.
He rubbed his face.
"Great. So I got abandoned in a royal dungeon."
"You should already be unconscious," Lyssara continued, ignoring his comment. "Most humans collapse upon entering my domain."
"Guess I'm built different," he muttered.
Her eyes narrowed slightly.
Not offended.
Interested.
"Your mana is nonexistent," she observed. "Your lineage unremarkable. Your body unawakened."
"…You're really thorough."
"And yet," she continued softly, "you do not tremble."
Ethan hesitated.
Now that she mentioned it…
He wasn't frozen in terror.
Afraid, yes.
Anyone with functioning instincts would be.
But it wasn't the soul-crushing dread hunters always described when facing a boss.
It felt more like standing before a blizzard — dangerous, overwhelming…
But breathtaking.
Another thunderous crack split the air. A massive fracture tore across the ceiling.
Lyssara looked upward briefly.
"This prison weakens," she said. "The dungeon senses my stirring."
"Is that bad for me?"
"When it breaks," she replied calmly, "my mana will surge outward."
He waited.
"…And?"
"You will cease to exist."
"Right. Fantastic."
He dragged a hand through his dust-covered hair, forcing his racing thoughts into order.
"Any survival tips you'd like to share before I stop existing?"
Silence lingered.
Then Lyssara spoke again.
"There may be one path."
Hope flared so sharply it almost hurt.
"I'm listening."
Her chains chimed softly as she lifted her chin.
"Kneel."
The word struck the chamber like a commandment.
Not loud.
Not shouted.
Absolute.
Ethan blinked.
"…Excuse me?"
"Kneel," she repeated. "And I may allow you to live."
Something in her gaze made it clear — she was not bargaining.
She was offering mercy.
The kind a queen might grant an insect.
Every survival instinct screamed at him to obey.
Drop to your knees.
Bow your head.
Beg.
But another memory surfaced instead.
Jared shoving him forward.
"Stay behind, porter. Know your place."
Lena laughing when he asked for a weapon.
"You? Fight? Don't be stupid."
Three years of being looked through instead of at.
Of being tolerated.
Disposable.
Ethan let out a slow breath.
Then he straightened.
"I appreciate the offer," he said, voice rough but steady. "But if I'm going to die anyway… I'd rather do it standing."
For the first time, Lyssara went completely still.
The dungeon seemed to follow suit.
Even the falling debris paused, as if the world itself were holding its breath.
"You refuse," she said quietly.
"I refuse to kneel," Ethan corrected.
A long silence stretched between them.
Then—
The faintest curve touched her lips.
Not mockery.
Not anger.
Approval.
"…Remarkable," she murmured.
Before he could respond, the air shimmered.
Light gathered suddenly in front of his eyes.
Lines formed.
Symbols.
A translucent window snapped into existence.
[Compatibility Detected.]Evaluating Candidate…
Ethan jerked backward.
"…What the hell?"
More text poured across the screen.
Conditions Met:Host on brink of deathProximity to Dungeon SovereignPsychological threshold exceeded
Initializing Unique Authority…
Lyssara's gaze locked onto the glowing panel.
"You see it," she said.
"So it's not just me losing my mind. Good."
The dungeon shook violently.
Stone screamed as another section of ceiling gave way.
The window pulsed brighter.
Then new words burned themselves into his vision.
[Dungeon Brides System Initializing…]
The chamber trembled.
The chains around the Frost Queen began to glow.
And Ethan realized, with a certainty that stole the air from his lungs—
His life was about to change.