Kana woke up, startled.

  The world outside her wooden cocoon was no longer bathed in the silver hue of dawn—it was drenched in gold and crimson. The sun was already sinking beyond the horizon, painting the plains in fading light.

  She cursed under her breath. She’d overslept.

  Her body ached as she pushed the bark aside and crawled out of the hollow tree. Every muscle protested. Her mana reserves had recovered, but her stamina—her real endurance—was still.. she just felt sluggish. She dusted bark and dirt from her cloak and squinted toward the gate of the city.

  Kana sighed in relief. Fortunately, the gate was still open.

  A line of wagons stretched before it, each waiting for inspection under the dull gleam of enchanted lanterns. Stiffed guards in polished half-plate checked papers, peered under tarps, and tapped barrels with the butts of their spears. Their movements were sharp—efficient.

  Kana lingered in the shadows of a half-buried rock, studying them. She focused on her [High Awareness], mapping heartbeats, footsteps, and the rhythm of the guards’ rotations.

  Hiding in a wagon? she considered.

  Her eyes flicked to one of the middle carriages—just as the guards dragged a struggling man out from beneath it.

  The man wore rags. His face was half-frozen from fear or cold, maybe both. A guard struck him across the back with the flat of his blade, then hauled him toward a side gate. The crowd didn’t even look.

  Kana’s stomach tightened.

  So that’s what happens to anyone caught.

  She needed another way.

  Her gaze drifted to the last wagon in line. A lone coachman sat atop it, slouched and half-asleep. His wagon carried barrels—fifteen, by Kana’s quick count—each marked with the faint sigil of some local brewery. The strong smell of spirits wafted even from here.

  Perfect.

  Kana moved. Her steps were soundless, her cloak blending into the amber light. She walked behind the wagon as if she belonged there—head slightly bowed, pace casual. No sudden movements. Just another assistant finishing a long day.

  The wagon rolled forward. Stopped.

  A guard approached, eyes dull from routine. He checked the documents, then leaned past the coachman to peer toward the back. His gaze caught Kana.

  “Are you with him?” the guard asked.

  Kana nodded once, expression calm, and lifted the tarp, letting the guard see the barrels beneath. The smell of alcohol hit them both.

  The guard grunted, counting under his breath. “Fifteen barrels. It matches the record.” He tapped one of the lids with a long thin wooden wood, listening for the hollow thud of wood and liquid. Satisfied, he turned back to the coachman.

  “Fifteen barrels, one man—Loke, was it?”

  The driver nodded, rubbing his eyes. “That’s right.”

  The guard frowned. “One man? Then who’s the assistant girl at the back?”

  The driver blinked. “Assistant? I can’t afford one—it’s just me.”

  The guard’s hand went to his sword. He turned sharply, boots grinding on the stone. “Then who is sh—”

  He froze.

  The space behind the wagon was empty.

  Only wind and drifting dust.

  He blinked, frowning. “Was it… a ghost?” He scratched the back of his head, glancing up toward the watchtower. “I swear I saw someone. A girl with red-eyes.”

  But by then, Kana was already above him.

  She moved like a shadow on silk—silent, swift. She’d vaulted from the wagon’s rear to a low wall, then scaled the inner arch of the gate before the guard even turned. The movement had drained what little energy she’d regained, but she didn’t stop.

  It was all thanks to her [High Awareness], she could tell where they were going and took advantage of their blind spots.

  Now, crouched atop the gate’s arch, she watched the guards below continue their routine as if nothing had happened. From here, she could see the wide streets of the empire city stretching beyond—lanterns glowing pale blue, rooftops carved with swirling patterns, smoke from distant forges curling skyward.

  Kana took another deep breath.

  She had made it past the wall. But she wasn’t safe here either.

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  …

  When the last wagon passed through the gate, a sharp, echoing thud broke across the air. A guard struck a drum twice—a signal.

  “Close the gate!” someone shouted.

  Kana’s fingers clenched tighter around the cold metal of the descending portcullis. Chains rattled, the gate lowering with steady weight. She didn’t have much time.

  As it dropped past her knees, Kana released her grip and pushed off the wall. For a heartbeat, she hung in the fading sunlight, then landed in a crouch beyond the inner shadow of the gate.

  No alarm followed. The guards glanced outside once, saw nothing but empty road and fading snowlight, then returned to their duties.

  Kana exhaled softly. Easier than I thought.

  But her relief was thin. This was part of the Empire, after all—nothing here was ever as it seemed.

  The first thing she noticed was the light.

  Unlike the main capital of the kingdom, where night wrapped cities in silence and sleep, this place was beaming with life. Streets glowed beneath evenly spaced lightning poles, arcs of pale blue light humming faintly inside their glass orbs. Merchants shouted from still-open stalls, their voices mingling with laughter, music, and the scent of roasted meat.

  Light pole? It was supposedly her first time seeing this many across the streets yet she wasn’t impressed at all.

  I’ve seen bigger. Kana sighed. She’d seen yet she couldn’t remember?

  The air itself felt different—warmer, carrying hints of strong spice and metal.

  People wore clothing that shimmered faintly, woven with threads that caught the artificial light. Some had bands of crystal on their wrists or small glowing emblems hanging from their belts. Kana caught sight of a woman whose earrings sparked like captured stars.

  It was overwhelming. And beautiful.

  Kana pulled her hood lower. She wasn’t the only cloaked figure here—several moved through the crowd, faces hidden, their steps quiet. Not unusual, but not invisible either.

  At least she wouldn’t stand out.

  She slowed her pace, breathing evenly, slipping into the rhythm of the crowd.

  Then she closed her eyes halfway, focusing inward—toward her [High Awareness].

  The world stretched.

  Sound sharpened. Footsteps and laughter layered into distinct threads. Conversations floated past like whispers through silk.

  “Heard there’s a new batch of slaves from the south—”

  “I like this belt! Does it match—”

  “We should drink until morning!”

  “Is it five days from now? The black market auction?”

  “Shut your mouth.”

  Kana’s eyes snapped open. That voice—harsh, low, cutting through the noise.

  Her gaze flicked through the crowd, tracing vibrations, echoes. Two people. A man in his fifties, broad shoulders beneath fine robes, and a younger woman beside him. Cloaked, black hair, brown eyes. She was nearly Kana’s height. Her hood hung down, revealing her face to the lamplight.

  The man inclined his head. “Of course, Lady Mil.”

  Kana’s pulse quickened. Lady Mil. The name lingered like a thread tugging at her memory.

  Keeping her distance, she followed. Silently.

  They moved through the crowd, stopping at a bustling inn where laughter and the scent of grilled meat spilled out the doors. Kana slipped in after them, unnoticed in the chaos of servers and clinking mugs.

  “Finally,” Lady Mil said, sinking into a chair with a laugh. “It’s been a while.”

  Kana took a seat at a nearby table, back turned, hood up. The noise covered her movements as she ordered what they ordered—a roasted slab of meat, thick and glistening with fat.

  As she waited, her mind ran through calculations.

  Five days until the auction.

  Two or three days until the twins could catch up—if they followed her trail. If they ran like her. If not, then they might arrive in five days.

  She’d given them that trail on purpose, after all. Let them think she was fleeing blindly toward the empire. Hopefully they didn’t rush and let them follow her at their own pace.

  Kana cut a small piece of the meat when it arrived. The flavor was rich, unfamiliar. She ate slowly, pretending calm while her eyes flicked toward Lady Mil and her companion.

  She suddenly grabbed the water from the cup. The spiciness was unexpected… but it was good.

  Five days.

  That was how long she had to disappear—or to make her next move.

  …

  The wall shimmered faintly.

  Suri looked up.

  She’d seen the dungeon core before. Dead one—cracked, grey, their light long extinguished. But the thing before her was alive. And massive.

  The core floated above the carved dais, a perfect sphere of glass-like crystal. Colors rippled within it—iridescent blues, golds, and deep crimsons that churned like storm clouds trapped in amber. Veins of red light webbed across its surface, pulsing slowly, like a heartbeat.

  It was beautiful. But terrifying.

  “This…” Suri whispered. “This is the dungeon core?”

  Professor Wor-en stepped forward, his expression grim, awe and disbelief warring across his face. “Yes,” he said quietly. “And it’s not supposed to be possible.”

  He turned slightly toward the others. “I can’t believe they are capable of this madness.”

  Adam took a hesitant step closer, his reflection bending and twisting in the core’s glassy surface. “It looks… wrong,” he muttered. “Like it’s alive and angry at the same time.”

  Wor-en nodded slowly. “That’s because it is. Look carefully.”

  They all did. The light shifted, and what they’d thought were veins now pulsed like arteries—carrying energy from one point to another.

  “That dungeon core,” Wor-en said, his voice low, “is not from a single dungeon core.” He drew in a sharp breath. “It’s several cores—fused together. A chimera dungeon. Artificially merged to force a dungeon overflow.”

  The words hung in the air like a curse.

  Even Suri, weary and half-drained, felt the chill run through her spine. “You mean… someone built this?”

  “Someone powerful,” Wor-en said grimly. “No. Some reckless mad people.”

  “It looks ominous,” Leo muttered, reaching a hand toward the sphere. The air near it warped, humming like a thousand insects as if inviting him to touch it.

  “Don’t touch it!” Wor-en snapped, sharper than intended. “We don’t know how stable it is.”

  He exhaled slowly, trying to calm his trembling hands. “We wait for Lord Kavel’s instructions. No one moves until then.”

  Rin, crouched by the scorched ground, called out, “No footprints. No traces. Kana isn’t here.”

  Suri’s illusion shimmered faintly around the cavern, a ghostly haze of flickering light that had nearly consumed her mana reserves. She was pale, her breathing ragged. “I’ve checked every corridor,” she said, voice hoarse. “She’s not here.”

  Wor-en’s jaw tightened. “Then she’s either escaped… or—”

  “I’ll notify Lord Kavel first,” Suri interrupted, her exhaustion giving way to focus. She closed her eyes, hands trembling as she summoned the image-link. Threads of light coalesced, forming a faint mirage in the air.

  For a moment, it worked. She saw him—Lord Kavel—standing beneath a grey sky, wind whipping his cloak.

  Then her eyes snapped open, wide with horror. “He’s in danger!”

  The others turned.

  “What?”

  Suri’s voice cracked. “He’s moving toward the enemy’s camp—with only seven men with him.”

  The color drained from Wor-en’s face. “That’s suicide!”

  Suri shook her head, her voice trembling now. “No… that’s not all. The officials—those supposed to be with him—they’re not helping him.” She swallowed hard. “They’re just standing there. Watching him go.”

  For a moment, no one spoke. The only sound was the pulsing hum of the hideous dungeon core.