Aaron hesitated, his gaze locked onto the white light seeping from the fallen goblin leader. It pulsed gently, casting eerie shadows that flickered across the battlefield. A strange energy lingered in the air unnerving yet oddly compelling.
Steeling himself, he stepped forward. Beneath the corpse, a slip of parchment lay partially concealed. He reached down, fingers brushing against the worn paper, then lifted it free.
The moment he did, a blue portal spiraled into existence, its sudden emergence warping the air with an unnatural hum. Without hesitation, Aaron slipped the Berserker Potion Recipe into his inventory, instinctively recognizing its significance.
Outside the dungeon, the companions paused as one of them noticed an unexpected change.
"Look the dungeon's color has shifted. It's gone from green back to blue," one observed, a mix of wonder and concern in their tone.
Another replied thoughtfully, "Yes, but what does the color signify? When someone first entered, it was a deep, ominous red. In minutes, it softened to a lighter red, then breathed into a vibrant green, and now blue."
A contemplative silence fell before one added, "Perhaps we should consult someone who understands these shifts."
The others exchanged uncertain glances. "Maybe..." came the hesitant consensus, leaving more questions than answers lingering in the cool air outside.
Auriel's gaze remained fixed on the portal, unreadable beneath her veil. Yet, beneath her composed exterior, a rare flicker of interest stirred.
Aaron had defied expectations not merely surviving, but conquering the dungeon alone. His victory carried weight, marking him as someone extraordinary.
Beside her, David crossed his arms, his usual skepticism replaced by something close to admiration. "I'll admit," he murmured, eyes still locked onto the portal, "I wasn't certain he'd make it. But he did and that changes everything."
Auriel nodded slightly, though her thoughts ran deeper. People who cleared dungeons alone were never ordinary. They were either reckless beyond measure or something far rarer true warriors in the making.
"Aaron…" she thought silently, examining the name now branded in her mind. A man who had faced death and walked away stronger.
She turned to David, her voice cool but decisive.
"We must recruit him," she stated. "No matter what it takes."
David smirked, sensing the weight behind her words. This wasn't just an offer. This was an investment one that could shape the future.
And as the portal shimmered, signaling Aaron's imminent arrival, both of them knew one thing for certainly he would not leave here the same man who had entered.
As the portal shimmered and energy crackled through the air, Auriel straightened, her gaze locked onto the shifting gateway. He was coming.
David adjusted his stance, his arms still crossed, but his posture was no longer casual it carried anticipation.
Then, the silhouette emerged.
Aaron stepped forward, his figure battered yet unmistakably triumphant. His clothes were in tatters, clinging to him like forgotten remnants of the man who had entered the dungeon. His palms were bleeding, faint trails of red tracing down his fingers, mingling with the green goblin blood staining his arms. Every inch of him bore signs of battle a warrior forged through sheer survival.
David exhaled sharply, his smirk barely concealed. "Hell of a fight, wasn't it?"
Auriel said nothing at first, merely observing. There was no hesitation in Aaron's eyes. No fear. No uncertainty.
Aaron exhaled, his breath steady despite the exhaustion weighing down his limbs. His clothes were little more than ruined fabric, torn beyond repair, yet he stood tall, unwavering in the silence that had gripped the whole place.
Around him, adventurers watched in quiet astonishment not one dared to mock his battered appearance. Not when they saw the blood caked on his skin, the rawness of his wounds, the unmistakable weight of survival in his eyes.
Auriel stepped forward, her gaze piercing yet unreadable. Her voice was firm, deliberate.
"Tell me, Aaron… what did you learn there?"
Aaron met her gaze. He didn't answer immediately. Not out of uncertainty but calculation.
His fingers flexed slightly, the aching remnants of battle still fresh. His mind replayed the dungeon the endless waves of enemies, the suffocating weight of exhaustion, the cruel lesson that survival required more than just strength.
Then, finally, he spoke.
"That walking in was the easy part."
His voice was calm, steady, carrying a quiet intensity that made the words feel heavier than they were.
Auriel's lips curved slightly not a smile, but recognition behind her veil.
David smirked, crossing his arms. "He gets it."
The adventurers watching murmured among themselves, their interest no longer hidden. Aaron wasn't just another survivor. He was something different.
As Auriel's challenge lingered in the air, the tension in the gathering deepened. Aaron could feel the eyes of the assembled adventurers shifting not just watching, but evaluating him.
Then, from the far side of the encampment, movement.
Other teams were approaching. Some had been observing the scene from a distance, waiting for confirmation that Aaron had truly survived his solo dungeon run. Now, they moved with intent.
Aaron stood at the center of attention, his battered form radiating an unspoken promise of power and resilience. Even as his clothes lay in tatters and his palms continued to throb with fresh pain, his eyes sparkled with quiet determination. The recruitment scene unfolded before him like a battlefield of words as competing teams sought to claim him for their ranks.
From one side of the gathering, a gruff voice called out,
"Hey boy, join our Iron Fanged Team!"
A robust laugh rippled from the group. Before Aaron could react, another voice cut through the din, acid in its tone:
"F*ck you. Your Iron Fanged team is only an average team with four people and is composed of warriors and an archers."
The criticism hung in the air like a challenge. Not wanting to be outdone, a third voice chimed in with equal confidence:
"Boy, come to our team. We have a priest in our team."
And as if to pile on the pressure, another sneered:
"Is your team awesome, or what?"
Not to be outmatched by boasts, a final voice reached the fray, smooth yet persuasive:
"Boy, come to our team we not only have a healer but also a blacksmith who can refine your weapons."
The contrasting tones and competing claims created a chaotic symphony of ambition and rivalry. Each team laid out its credentials with vehement pride, their words meant not only to recruit but also to challenge the very notion of strength and survival.
The Iron Fanged Team, though proud and battle-hardened, found their numbers questioned by those who valued versatility over sheer might.
Meanwhile, teams boasting clerical aid and weapon refinement hinted at a synthesis of physical and spiritual strength a future where mere survival transformed into mastery.
As the competing voices echoed around him, Aaron remained silent, his gaze shifting over the faces of these would-be comrades and rivals. Each team presented a different facet of what it meant to conquer the darkness beyond the dungeon.