Zill shot out of bed with a jolt of excitement.

  Damn… I barely slept. Whatever. I’m not going to feel tired today.

  By the time he reached the gate, Violet and Dru were already waiting.

  Violet stood with her bow slung across her back, calm as always. Beside her, Dru’s shield rested on the ground like a portable wall—big enough that, from certain angles, it almost hid him completely.

  Zill’s Twin Reaper spun once around his arms as he adjusted the straps, then locked into place across his back. The chain hung down the front of his body, controlled—annoying, but ready.

  “Today is the day,” Zill said, unable to hide his wide smile.

  Violet giggled as she looked him up and down. “You look ridiculous.”

  Zill shrugged. “It’s the only practical way to draw it fast without tripping over the chain.”

  Dru reminded Zill. “Just remember—it’s a D-rank dungeon, Zill. Don’t get your hopes up.”

  “I know,” Zill said. “But we’ve all heard stories. Things can go wrong in any dungeon.”

  “Naturally,” Violet said with a smirk. “The fight-crazed maniac is hoping for trouble.”

  Zill grinned. “Hey, its fine as long as I can handle it. Right?”

  Violet tilted her head innocently. “Sure. Then, I’ll use you as my shield if things go sideways.”

  Zill laughed. “Dru’s technically the one with the shield, but sure—go ahead. Makes it more exciting.”

  Dru sighed. A second later, he was smiling despite himself. What a complete idiot. A fun one, though.

  The dungeon wasn’t meant to prove they were explorers yet. It was meant to see what happened to them when danger appeared—who stayed calm, who panicked, and who could still think while their heart was screaming.

  * * *

  They reached the meeting point just outside the farmlands, where twenty novices had gathered in a loose cluster—some stretching, some checking straps, some trying to look calm while failing.

  Two supervisors stood apart from the crowd.

  One carried himself with an easy confidence that made the others relax without realizing it. The other stood quieter, arms folded, scanning faces like he was already memorizing who would panic first.

  The confident one stepped forward.

  “My name is Sam, A-rank” he announced, smiling. “And this is Kross, B-rank.”

  Kross sighed immediately. “You always have to one-up me.”

  Sam put a hand to his chest, offended in an exaggerated way. “Whatever do you mean? They need to know the rank of the advice they’re getting when they ask questions.”

  Kross shook his head and stepped forward, voice even and steady. “Alright. Groups of five.” He scanned them once—quick, practiced—and the noise in the crowd dropped without him needing to raise his tone. “At least one medic per group. If you don’t know have a medic already, then switch around and figure it out.”

  Sam chimed in, as if he couldn’t help himself. “Kross is a medic too, just in case. But don’t worry—these test dives always go smoothly.”

  Kross muttered, “Way to jinx it.”

  Dru adjusted his glasses and leaned slightly toward Zill and Violet. “I’m a medic, so we only need two more.” He glanced around. “Most of the people here aren’t from our class.”

  They did a quick scan. A few trainees who recognized them from school looked over—then, oddly, looked away again. Not at Violet. Not at Dru.

  At Zill.

  Zill's reckless reputation preceded him.

  Before the awkwardness could stretch, Violet spotted a tall guy and a girl nearby and strode over like she owned the place.

  “Hey,” she said brightly. “Want to join our group? We already have medic!”

  The tall guy blinked, then smiled. “Sure. I’m Tikai.” He rested a hand on the haft of a great hammer strapped across his back. “This is Mel.”

  “Hey,” Mel said casually. She had the relaxed posture of someone who didn’t waste energy on nerves. “Daggers. Fast and light.”

  Violet pointed at herself. “Violet. Bow.”

  Then she gestured back. “That’s Dru—medic and shield user. And that’s Zill—umm”

  Zill lifted the weapon on his back a little too proudly, and the chain clinked. “Twin Reaper,” he said. “Unique and works great.”

  Tikai’s eyes lit up instantly, curiosity sharpened by instinct. “Who made that?”

  Zill hesitated. “I… actually don’t know his name.”

  Tikai hummed, genuinely interested. “A peculiar design.” His eyes traced the weapon from blade to chain to grip with almost embarrassing focus—like he’d forgotten the dungeon existed.

  Zill tilted his head. “Let me guess. You’re a smith?”

  Tikai nodded. “Aurenstahl family.” He said it without arrogance, like it was simply a fact. “But I’m here to be an explorer.”

  Mel leaned in, studying the scythes and the chain like she was measuring the angles in her head. “Who taught you to use that thing?”

  “Mostly myself,” Zill said. “Over the past three days.”

  “Huh.” Mel straightened with a shrug. “Self-trained.”

  Her tone made it sound like she was filing it away, not judging it.

  Then her gaze shifted to Dru. “What about you? Only a shield?”

  Dru scratched the back of his head. “Heh… yeah. I’m not great at fighting.” He looked up, voice firmer. “But I’m the best medic around. I promise that.”

  Zill slapped Dru’s shoulder. “Don’t worry. With just a shield, Dru’s going to be both a medic and a wall. You’ll be fine.”

  Mel rolled her eyes. “Whatever. It’s a D-tier dungeon. Not much to be scared of. Just cave wolves.”

  D-tier predators had always been treated as background noise—nasty, sure, but manageable. Even before the Explorers existed, people could put them down with ordinary steel and enough nerves. The real problem started at C-tier and above… where steel stopped being enough.

  Their chatter was cut short by Sam’s voice.

  “Alright! If your groups are ready, follow us.”

  * * *

  At the cave entrance, the temperature dropped. The mouth of the tunnel looked harmless—just a jagged opening in stone—but the air coming from it was cold and stale, like it had been trapped underground too long.

  Kross faced the novices. “This dungeon is used every year for the test. We won’t be clearing it.” His gaze sharpened. “We want the predators to repopulate for next year. Follow instructions.”

  Inside, the light died quickly. The cave swallowed the sun within a few turns, leaving only their lamps and the dull sound of boots on uneven ground. The tunnel was ordinary—stone, damp patches, low ridges—almost boring.

  Zill sighed. “So it really is just cave wolves. All D-grade.”

  Tikai nodded. “Short dive.”

  “Unless a dark-blue wolf sneaks in,” Zill muttered.

  Violet stared at him like he’d just offered to jump into a well. “A dark-blue wolf? An A-grade predator? Are you looking to die?”

  “Exactly,” Zill said, grinning. “An A-grade. Hunting one would rocket me to A-rank.”

  Mel laughed, dry and amused. “You make it sound easy. I wish I could be that carefree—and that idiotic.”

  “Who are you calling an idiot?”

  Mel sighed, like she couldn’t believe she had to explain it. “A dark-blue wolf doesn’t even live near the city, and you think one would show up here?”

  They reached a fork.

  Sam stepped forward and pointed down the right-hand tunnel. “The wolves are mostly to the right, where the den is. Three groups come with me.” He jerked his thumb behind them. “One group stays here with Kross—guard the rear in case anything slips past.”

  Kross narrowed his eyes, listening. “Hold on.” He tilted his head slightly, as if measuring the cave itself. “We should’ve seen some wolves by now. Stay sharp, Sam.”

  Sam waved him off like it was an overreaction. “It’s fine. Its a D-tier dungeon. Nothing dangerous will show up here.”

  Kross muttered, “I hope you’re right,” but his posture stayed relaxed—like if something went wrong, he'll figure out what to do.

  Then Sam pointed without looking.

  His finger landed on Zill.

  “Your group stays behind.”

  “No!” Zill snapped. “I want to hunt!”

  This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.

  Sam grinned. “Too bad. My finger landed on you.” He started walking, already done with the argument. “Defending the rear is part of dungeon diving too.”

  Zill glared at his back. “Damn it. My whole plan’s ruined.”

  Violet frowned. “What plan? This is still the exam.”

  Zill sighed. “It’s Lara. She thinks I can’t use the weapon yet.” He looked down at Twin Reaper. “I thought if I succeeded in a space like this—hunting wolves—it might change her mind.”

  Kross’s head turned sharply. “Lara? The solo explorer Lara?”

  Zill nodded, casual. “She gave me this weapon. She’s my master now.”

  Kross stared at him like he’d announced he was royalty. “Lara took on a pupil?” His eyes widened. “You’re her first. Lucky bastard.”

  Zill blinked. “So? She has zero experience teaching. How am I lucky?”

  Then he grinned. “The food is great, though.”

  Tikai and Mel both looked at the weapon again with new interest.

  Mel’s tone shifted. “So that’s how you got something like this?” She clicked her tongue. “I thought you were just some idiot.”

  Zill opened his mouth to respond—

  Footsteps.

  Fast. Scraping claws on stone.

  Two wolves burst from the darkness ahead—not hunting, not prowling, just running. Their ears were pinned back, breath ragged, paws scrambling for traction as they fled past the group like something behind them was worse than any human.

  Kross moved once.

  A single, precise motion. The nearest wolf dropped as if its strings had been cut.

  Zill turned into the second without thinking. Twin Reaper flashed in a tight arc—curved blades catching the wolf’s body at the right angle—and it went down with surprising ease.

  A grin spread across Zill’s face before he could stop it.

  Then Kross’s expression tightened.

  He didn’t look impressed. He looked worried.

  “Why are wolves running this way,” Kross said slowly, “from their own den?”

  Zill shrugged. “Maybe they let a few escape?”

  Kross shook his head. “That shouldn’t happen with how many were with Sam.”

  A moment later, a flood of novices came sprinting back through the tunnel, faces pale, breath ragged.

  “Wolfmongers!” someone shouted.

  “TWO Wolfmongers—Sam is fighting!”

  Kross stepped into their path like a wall and stopped them with one raised hand. His voice stayed calm, but it carried authority.

  “Details.”

  One novice swallowed hard, forcing the words out. “We saw wolves running and Sam told us to let them pass. Deeper in, a Wolfmonger stood in the middle of the wolf-den, so we backed away—then another attacked from the side.” His voice broke. “Sam blocked it, but one of us got hurt.”

  Kross’s jaw tightened.

  “Wolfmongers are A-grade,” he said. “Each one requires an A-rank explorer to handle properly.”

  He looked toward the tunnel Sam had taken, lamp-light trembling over his face.

  “Someone needs to send a message outside.”

  “I’ll go,” Mel said immediately.

  Before anyone could argue, she was already moving—fast, sure-footed, vanishing into the dark behind them like she’d been built for escape routes.

  Kross stared forward toward the den.

  Then he noticed something that made his eyes narrow even more.

  Zill, Violet, and Dru—

  gone.

  He ran, while looking back "Everyone who wants to leave they can. This is too much for you to handle."

  Tikai hesitated only a second, then swallowed and followed Kross.

  Behind them, the rest of the novices turned and fled the dungeon as fast as their legs could carry them.

  * * *

  Zill reached the den.

  The space opened into a wider chamber, rough stone forming a crooked bowl around a nest of torn bones and old fur. Lamplight trembled across the wall.

  Sam was there—on one knee, bleeding, one arm limp as he shielded a shaken novice behind him.

  One Wolfmonger lay dead near the entrance, its massive body slumped at an unnatural angle.

  The second loomed ahead.

  It was bigger up close than any drawing in a record—bear-shaped but wrong, built like a predator that had learned to hate. One claw hung useless at its side, damaged. The other was raised, ready to tear.

  Zill slid in between them before Sam could even warn him.

  Twin Reaper flashed up.

  The Wolfmonger struck—one heavy swipe meant to crush more than cut.

  Zill met it and immediately felt the difference.

  Too much weight—too much power.

  His arms shuddered. The impact drove him back a step.

  Then he twisted his wrists, turning the curve of the scythes into a guide instead of a wall—letting the claw slide off instead of stopping it.

  The strike scraped away to the side.

  Zill lost his footing from the force, but he bought a heartbeat.

  Two arrows hissed past his shoulder and slammed into the ground near the Wolfmonger’s feet—close enough to make it flinch back and reset.

  “This is your chance!” Sam groaned. “Grab him and run—I’ll distract it!”

  “Not a damn chance,” Zill snapped.

  Sam stared at him. Those eyes—no hesitation. The boy was planning to take on the Wolfmonger face-to-face, after having felt its strength.

  Dru dropped beside Sam immediately, hands moving fast. “Stay still. I’m treating your arm and leg.”

  Sam tried to push himself up anyway. “No—get out. This is my responsibility.”

  Violet stepped forward, bow already raised. “We’re not leaving you.” Her voice hardened. “Either lead us, or we’ll do it without you.”

  Sam hesitated—then exhaled, giving in. “Fine.”

  He pointed with his good hand as he spoke, voice tight with pain but clear.

  “First—don’t parry head-on. You’ll get overpowered. Slide its attacks off like you just did.”

  Zill nodded.

  “Violet—your arrows won’t pierce it. But they can force movement. Aim to miss on purpose. Hit the ground, hit the wall, hit its feet—make it dodge.”

  “Roger,” Violet said, sharp and focused.

  “And Zill…” Sam’s gaze locked onto him. “You saw what happened. It’ll expect your deflection again, so it’ll follow up with its jaw.” His voice dropped. “That bite is death. But it only has one good arm.”

  Zill nodded, wordless, focused.

  “Just stall long enough for Kross to arrive,” Sam finished. “He can finish it.”

  Dru blinked. “Wait—Kross is a medic.”

  Sam gave a strained, almost amused breath. “He is. But he’s also strong. He’s just walking his own path.”

  Dru’s fingers tightened around his shield strap.

  He’d accepted his place a long time ago.

  He wasn’t a fighter. He never would be. He was a medic—he wanted that—but it had also become an excuse. A way to accept a weakness an explorer couldn’t afford.

  So hearing it said out loud like this—medic, but strong—

  It hit like a crack in the wall he’d built around himself.

  The Wolfmonger lunged.

  It towered over Zill, nearly twice his size, fangs bared. The air shook when it roared. Zill’s body started shaking too—pure instinct screaming at him to back away.

  He didn’t.

  Two arrows whistled past the Wolfmonger’s right side as it closed in. It gave Zill a moment. Zill slid the first claw strike off his scythe’s curve and dodged the snapping jaws by inches. The creature growled, frustrated, and lunged again, jaws opening wide for a second bite.

  Zill twisted away—barely.

  For a half-second the Wolfmonger’s head was exposed.

  Violet took it.

  Her arrow shot clean and true—straight into the Wolfmonger’s eye.

  The beast recoiled with a violent snarl, staggering back.

  “Careful!” Zill yelled without thinking. “That brushed my hair!”

  Violet flashed him a grin, never lowering her bow. “Is that how you thank the person who just saved your ass?”

  Zill clicked his tongue, refocusing. Too slow… I need to bait it.

  “Violet,” he called, voice steadier than his shaking hands. “Focus on its left. I’ll bait the attacks.”

  Zill stepped forward, drawing the Wolfmonger’s attention back onto him. Violet’s arrows snapped into stone near its feet, forcing small adjustments—tiny flinches that kept it from committing fully.

  Then the Wolfmonger changed tactics.

  It launched toward Violet instead.

  Zill moved—too late.

  Dru jumped in, shield raised.

  Boom.

  The claw struck the shield like a battering ram. Dru’s knees bent under the impact, but he held. The shield didn’t move.

  The Wolfmonger struck again, to break the shield

  It failed.

  The Wolfmonger roared, furious, and snapped back toward Zill.

  Now Zill was alone in its focus again, and Violet had to reposition.

  The beast struck. Zill slid the blow off—then another came immediately, faster, meant to catch the slide.

  Zill blocked again, but the Wolfmonger’s claw caught the right scythe between its talons.

  Zill yanked, twisting hard—using the chain and the curve to fight the grip.

  The Wolfmonger lifted him anyway, swinging him like dead weight.

  Zill’s arms screamed.

  He braced and wrenched again.

  This time the sound that rang out wasn’t his weapon.

  It was the Wolfmonger’s claw—a sharp, ugly scrape, like stone grinding against steel.

  A thin fracture line spidered along the talon.

  The beast froze for a fraction of a second, confused—like it had never felt its own claw give before.

  Then it released him.

  Zill hit the ground hard, rolled, and stood again, breath sharp in his throat.

  Violet was back on her feet now. Dru positioned in front of her like a wall, and her arrows resumed—controlled and relentless.

  The Wolfmonger dropped to all fours, one limp bleeding and rushed Zill, dodging the arrows with animal speed.

  Zill jumped.

  The beast reacted, slashing upward.

  Zill caught it and redirected the force toward the injured arm, trying to make it commit where it was weakest.

  He went for the opening—

  —and the Wolfmonger answered with its jaw.

  Too fast.

  Teeth scraped Zill’s arms and, only scratching the surface, but it was enough- Blood poured down in hot lines.

  Sam’s voice cut through the chaos. “I said don’t attack—just stall, you—”

  Footsteps thundered in.

  Kross and Tikai arrived.

  “Help them. Fast,” Sam ordered through clenched teeth.

  Kross scanned the field once—one glance, measuring everything—then signaled Tikai with two sharp motions.

  The Wolfmonger lunged again to finish Zill—

  Dru slammed in between, shield up, saving him by a breath.

  The beast backed off as Kross approached, calm as if he’d walked into a sparring match instead of an A-tier crisis.

  “I’ll hold it in place,” Kross said. “Tikai—finish it from behind.” His eyes flicked to the novices. “You two—back.”

  “I can still fight,” Zill snapped, blood dripping from his arms. “Just tell me what to do!”

  Kross gave him a look. “I didn’t take you for someone who listens.” Then, not unkindly, “You’re injured. Back.”

  Violet stepped closer, voice gentler. “Zill. Take a step back. You did well.”

  Zill met Kross’s eyes, unblinking.

  Kross exhaled. “…Fine.” He nodded once. “Feint an attack at its other eye. It’ll be wary of it. Give Tikai an opening.”

  Violet’s voice sharpened. “I have one arrow left. I’ll make it count.”

  The Wolfmonger tried to retreat.

  Kross didn’t let it.

  He rushed forward, attacking relentlessly, forcing the beast to fight him on his terms. Claws and katana clashed. When the Wolfmonger slammed down, Kross ducked and jammed his katana into the ground to brace—using the earth as a second anchor instead of losing his footing.

  He struck its knee hard with the scabbard.

  The Wolfmonger staggered.

  Zill moved.

  He lifted a scythe toward the Wolfmonger’s remaining eye—fast enough to look real, controlled enough to pull back.

  The beast reacted instantly, jerking its head away and bringing its good arm up to guard. It wasn’t fooled completely—but it couldn’t ignore the memory of that arrow in its eye.

  “Now!” Kross barked, without looking back.

  Tikai surged in from behind, axe raised—

  —and hesitated.

  For a single heartbeat, his hands didn’t know where to land. Shoulder? Neck? Spine? The opening was there, but his body rejected the idea of committing to a killing blow.

  That heartbeat was enough, the beast reacted.

  Violet fired—not at its head, not at its chest—at its feet.

  The arrow struck stone exactly where the Wolfmonger stepped. The beast’s weight shifted wrong, claws scraping as it stumbled.

  Kross didn’t hesitate.

  He drove forward and buried his the katana into its chest before it could recover.

  The Wolfmonger shuddered, breath bursting out of it, then collapsed.

  Tikai stood frozen for a moment, axe still lifted, eyes wide—like he’d arrived to the end of a fight that should’ve been his.

  Everyone else exhaled at once—like the cave had released their lungs.

  Kross ran back to Sam. “You okay?”

  “I’m fine,” Sam said, though his face said otherwise. He nodded at Dru. “He did good work. Check the novice.”

  “I’m good,” the novice whispered, shaken but alive.

  “You’ll need rest,” Kross told Sam. “Your arm and leg are wrecked.”

  Sam let out a breath of relief. “Still better than losing someone.”

  Then—

  The Wolfmonger twitched.

  It lunged one last time, desperate, refusing to die with dignity.

  Dru saw it first.

  He dove in and took the hit with his shield, protecting Tikai—who stood frozen, still catching up to what almost happened.

  The Wolfmonger collapsed again.

  This time, it didn’t move.

  “Way to go, Dru!” Zill grinned, adrenaline still hot. “You delivered the finishing blow!”

  Dru looked flustered. “What blow? I just… tanked it.”

  “He died trying to break you,” Zill said. “That’s your kill.”

  Dru’s smile came slow, embarrassed—but real.

  Violet smirked. “Didn’t you want its head, Zill?”

  Zill leaned in like he was sharing a secret. “I’m sure Dru will give it to me.”

  Sam and Kross overheard and chuckled.

  “You can take the body,” Sam said. “You all showed real courage today.”

  Zill lifted his fist in celebration, while blood was dripping from his arms.

  Dru rushed to patch him up again, muttering about idiots who refuse to bleed quietly.

  Tikai stared at the dead Wolfmonger, swallowing hard. “I don’t deserve anything. I panicked.”

  “At least you didn’t run,” Violet said, blunt but fair. “You tried.”

  “Move,” Kross ordered. “Collect what you want.” His eyes scanned the tunnel. “Dru, Tikai—help carry Sam.”

  Kross lifted the injured novice.

  Zill’s weapons clattered from his hands to the stone.

  Sam chuckled weakly. “Tanking an A-tier predator will do that. I’m surprised your arms held.”

  Zill tried to lift the scythes again and failed.

  Violet scooped them up. “You can have them later. I’m confiscating them for now.” She smirked. “You need rest.”

  As they exited the den, two more supervisors arrived—Mel with them.

  “You took care of them?” one asked, staring. “Two A-tier predators? As expected of you, Sam.”

  “I only handled one,” Sam said. He nodded toward the group. “They got the other.”

  The supervisors stared in disbelief.

  “Kross did help at the end,” Sam added, dry.

  That helped them understand… a little.

  The group continued out of the cave, the fear finally fading into shaky relief.

  Outside, the novices scattered, heading home in stunned silence.

  Sam called after them. “Great work today. You’ll be recognized for this—I’ll make sure of it.”