Behind him, the portal rippled again.
Zachary turned his head slightly as another figure stepped through. It was Ethan, followed closely by the rest of the team.
Their movements were more cautious now, their earlier confidence fading in the face of the dungeon's atmosphere. One by one, they entered fully, gathering behind him.
Zachary raised his hand slightly.
A small orange flame flickered into existence above his palm, weak but steady. It cast a faint glow across the stone floor, just enough to push back the darkness around them.
The shadows retreated slightly, revealing more of the decayed interior. It wasn't much—but it was enough.
Cole took the lead immediately.
Without hesitation, he began walking forward, his posture shifting into something more focused and alert.
The others followed behind him, their footsteps echoing softly through the empty halls. Every sound felt amplified, every movement too loud. The deeper they went, the heavier the atmosphere became.
Then—
"RAAAAH!!"
A deafening screech tore through the silence, slamming against the stone walls and echoing violently through the corridor.
It was raw, feral, and filled with hostility. The sound alone was enough to send chills down anyone's spine.
Cole reacted instantly.
His entire body tensed as he dropped into a fighting stance, instincts taking over without hesitation. His eyes locked onto the darkness ahead. Then, without waiting—
He charged forward, fist clenched tightly, ready to strike whatever emerged.
Zachary turned, his small orange flame flickering as it pushed back the darkness around them.
The dim light stretched just far enough to reveal what lurked nearby—and for the first time, his expression shifted. Five dire wolves stood in a perfect circle around the group.
Their bodies were covered in worn metal plating, joints creaking faintly as they moved. Their jaws hung slightly open, revealing rows of sharp, rusted teeth that gleamed under the weak light.
For a brief second, no one moved.
Then one of the wolves lunged.
It targeted Ethan, launching forward with terrifying speed, its claws extended and aimed straight for him. The sound of metal scraping against stone echoed as it closed the distance in an instant. Ethan's eyes widened, but he didn't freeze.
Instead, he stepped forward, planting his foot firmly as he clenched his fist.
"Tactical Punch!" he shouted.
His fist shot forward, striking the wolf's armored body with a heavy impact. The force sent the creature skidding backward across the stone floor, its claws screeching loudly as they dragged against the surface.
The sound echoed through the corridor as the wolf crashed into the wall, metal clanking harshly upon impact. For a moment, the creature lay still.
Ethan exhaled sharply, his arm trembling slightly from the recoil.
Tactical Punch—a skill unique to the Support Class. It allowed the user to channel their physical strength into a single, concentrated blow.
While it wasn't as flashy as magic or as precise as archery, its impact could be devastating if used correctly. The stronger the user's body, the more powerful the strike became.
But it came with a cost.
Overuse would temporarily drain the user's physical strength, leaving them weaker with each consecutive use.
It was a skill meant for timing, not recklessness. And in a situation like this, that limitation could mean the difference between survival and death.
The wolf Ethan struck slowly began to move again.
Its metal frame creaked as it pushed itself back up, shaking off the attack like it had only been mildly inconvenienced.
The others hadn't even flinched. Instead, they tightened their circle, their glowing eyes fixed on the group with predatory intent.
This wasn't over.
Not even a little bit close.