Deep within the dense and shadowed heart of the Forest of Anima, an unstable dungeon portal had appeared five days ago. The air around it shimmered with chaotic mana, distorting the surroundings and radiating a palpable sense of dread. Experts quickly assessed that a dungeon break was not just likely—it was imminent.
Due to the extreme volatility and the abnormal energy signature, the incident was kept hidden from the public. Whispers spread only through classified channels. The information surrounding this dungeon was too dangerous to risk widespread panic, especially after a chilling report came from the sole survivor of an early exploration team: twenty B-rank Hunters—seasoned and well-equipped—had been wiped out in a matter of minutes.
That one surviving Hunter returned, half-mad and blood-soaked, recounting horrors no one wanted to believe.
With the severity of the threat rising, a discreet joint operation was formed. Specialists from Atlas, known for their advanced technology and tactical precision, were deployed. Alongside them came members of the Bloodborn Guild—a secretive and deadly guild made up entirely of elite warriors from the Branwen Clan. United by urgency and bound by secrecy, they moved in silence to prepare for a raid on the unstable A-rank dungeon, each step taken in the shadows to avoid drawing attention.
At the base camp of the Atlas operatives and the Bloodborn Guild, a sudden ripple coursed through the air—a human-sized portal burst open in a flash of flickering light, warping space as its edges crackled with faint energy. Yet no one moved in panic. The soldiers and hunters stood their ground, eyes sharp but composed.
They all recognized the phenomenon. Only one person could open a portal like that with such precision and command.
From within the distortion stepped a woman whose very presence pulled attention like gravity. She wore a black, sleeveless, V-neck kimono-style top with crimson red trim, the fabric crossing tightly at the chest and fastened with a dark red sash belt. A tattered crimson cape flowed from her shoulders, worn by time and conflict, fluttering gently behind her.
Her left shoulder was protected by a piece of dark, lightweight armor plating—angular and imposing, adding an aggressive edge to her otherwise elegant form. The outfit continued with a short black skirt designed for mobility, paired with dark thigh-high stockings that sharply contrasted her pale skin. Her sturdy black combat boots, tightly laced and scarred by years of battle, hit the ground with quiet confidence.
It was Raven Branwen—Guild Leader of the Bloodborn Guild.
Beside Raven Branwen stepped another figure—one equally striking, equally familiar. It was Summer Rose. Calm and composed, she walked through the portal alongside Raven just as it sealed behind them with a quiet, flickering snap. Their synchronized presence sent a silent message—this was no ordinary operation.
Without needing to be told, the Atlas operatives and Bloodborn hunters began to gather inside the large command tent at the center of the camp. The atmosphere shifted immediately—serious, tense, focused. Whatever was about to happen, it demanded every ounce of their attention.
Not far from the perimeter of the camp, hidden beneath a thicket of bushes just beyond the torchlight, Amber and Lumi lay low, their bodies pressed close to the ground. The two girls watched every movement, keeping their auras suppressed to avoid detection.
"So… what now?" Amber whispered, glancing sideways at Lumi as they crouched in silence.
"We're going into that dungeon," Lumi replied, her voice calm as she look up to the strange system showing a timer "When the timer hits zero. That's when the mission starts… at least, that's what this thing says."
"Sounds like a plan," Amber muttered, her fingers curling into fists—ready, determined.
The flap of the command tent opened. Raven, Summer, and the assembled leadership emerged, followed by their units. The hunters began moving quickly, prepping weapons, checking equipment, and readying themselves for the raid ahead. The energy in the air shifted—tension, excitement, and dread all mixing as the countdown to the unknown ticked away.
Lumi glanced back down at the glowing screen hovering near her.
[ 15 minutes before mission start ]
She looked at Amber and gave a small, sharp nod. Amber returned it without hesitation. Together, the girls began to crawl through the underbrush, inching closer to the edge of the camp, timing their movements with precision—hearts steady, breaths slow.
The mission was about to begin.
Not long after, the strike force assembled in front of the unstable dungeon gate. Twenty A-rank hunters from the Bloodborn Guild stood at attention, their black-and-red armor bearing the mark of the Branwen clan. Alongside them were ten A-rank Atlas hunters, clad in reinforced combat suits lined with sigils-powered circuitry, their discipline sharp and their faces unreadable.
At the head of the formation stood two figures who commanded absolute respect—Raven Branwen and Summer Rose, both S-rank, both legends in their own right. Their presence alone radiated assurance, yet the silence among the ranks spoke of the unknown dangers that lay ahead.
Weapons drawn, systems calibrated, and formations set, the group moved without hesitation. The dungeon gate shimmered ominously, pulsing with unstable energy. And then, in perfect coordination, they stepped through.
What greeted them on the other side wasn't chaos or bloodshed—it was beauty.
A vast field of flowers stretched out endlessly before them, blanketing the landscape in soft waves of color. Lush greenery swayed gently in the wind under a pale, dreamlike sky. Every inch of the terrain was covered in vibrant plant life—no trees, no cliffs, no ruins. Just an ocean of petals and grass that stretched far beyond the visible horizon.
The hunters paused, momentarily disarmed by the surreal sight. Whispers passed through the formation—confusion, awe, and caution mingling in the air.
Despite the peaceful appearance, the tension remained. In a place this unnaturally perfect, everyone knew better than to let their guard down.
They advanced cautiously through the sea of flowers, the terrain soft beneath their boots, each step sending a ripple through the endless field of vibrant petals. Their objective was clear: locate the dungeon boss, eliminate it, and claim its core. Doing so would allow them to gain control over the dungeon, extract its valuable resources, and eventually exhaust its mana reserves—forcing the portal to collapse and sealing it shut.
As they continued their silent march, the front line came to a halt.
Just ahead, nestled in the flowers, was a peculiar creature. It was egg-shaped, its smooth, glossy body reflecting the ambient light. Atop its head bloomed a large, radiant flower that resembled a hat—vivid and elegant. Two hollow sockets adorned its face, resembling vacant eyes. It didn't move aggressively. Instead, it remained rooted to the ground, gently bouncing in place with a slow, rhythmic motion that was oddly hypnotic.
Then they looked around—and realized it wasn't alone.
All across the field, hundreds of similar creatures dotted the landscape, each one bouncing gently, all facing different directions but repeating the same strange, idle motion. The hunters tensed immediately, instincts taking over.
The formation shifted. Trained reflexes kicked in. Weapons were drawn. They fell into a defensive stance, eyes scanning the horizon for the slightest sign of hostility.
Summer reached for her weapon—**Sundered Rose**, her signature axe-rifle hybrid. With a smooth motion, she activated one of her Sigils, elemental Pyro, the glyph igniting along the side of the weapon as it pulsed with a glowing crimson light.
Raven, standing at her side, mirrored her movements. With fluid grace, she grasped her odachi—**Omen**, its sleek frame embedded with a rotary chamber. With a click and a pulse of aura, she rotated the chamber and activated a matching Sigil: elemental Pyro. Flames flickered faintly along the edge of her blade as she settled into her stance.
The air thickened.
The hunters held their breath.
No one made a move—but something about those bouncing creatures… didn't feel as harm less as they looked.
While the formation held its stance, eyes sharp and weapons at the ready, a sudden breeze swept across the field—unnaturally cold, unnervingly still. And then—
A burst of crimson.
Blood erupted like a fountain from the torso of an Atlas soldier standing near the front. His upper half was flung into the air, severed cleanly and violently. Shock froze everyone in place—Raven and Summer's eyes widened as the lower half of the soldier collapsed to the ground, twitching, blood soaking into the field of flowers beneath him.
Just meters away, the source revealed itself.
One of the egg-shaped creatures bounced gleefully, the once-beautiful flower atop its head now folded downward, revealing rows of razor-like petals curled into a grotesque, chomping maw. The mouth—disguised as a flower—clamped down and chewed with satisfaction, its pale body splattered with blood as it feasted on what was left of the soldier.
Then it happened again.
A scream—cut short—rang from the other side of the formation. A Bloodborn guild member vanished in a blink, his body devoured whole, dragged into the creature's hidden maw before anyone could react. Only a mist of blood and scattered gear remained.
"Run! Get out of these fields!" Raven's voice roared across the chaos, snapping the hunters out of their shock.
Panic surged. The entire group broke into a full retreat, running through the flower-covered ground as fast as they could. Raven and Summer stayed behind the group, blades drawn and burning with Pyro energy, slashing down any creature that lunged too close. Thankfully, the monsters—despite their deadly speed—were still bound by their roots. They could not chase beyond their patch of ground, only strike from where they stood.
The survivors sprinted toward the gate, hearts pounding, fear tearing through their discipline.
One soldier reached the portal first, hope flickering in his eyes as he stretched out a desperate hand to escape.
But as his fingers touched the surface, the gate pulsed red.
A blinding surge of electricity surged out, striking him with a violent crackle. His body convulsed in the air as 100,000 volts surged through him. A sickening smell of scorched flesh filled the air before he collapsed—lifeless, charred, eyes wide in death.
Everyone froze in horror.
The portal… was sealed.
A glowing, pulsing red lattice now wove across its surface—deadly, reactive, inescapable. A rare but terrifying phenomenon.
The dungeon had evolved—its instability reaching critical levels. What had once been an A-rank anomaly had now transformed into a fully awakened S-rank dungeon.
And now… they were trapped inside.