Late morning sunlight spilled through arched windows of the Guild Hall as the Strongest Guild finished packing their light travel kits. An hour later they left Radiance’s western gate. Cobblestones became dusty merchant roads, then thinned to a wagon-rut track threading gold-green wheat fields. Spring wind carried the scent of tilled soil, and though spirits were high, the looming treeline at the valley’s rim reminded everyone that victory medals could not soften sharpened spears. Tetsuo ambled beside Shunjiro, punching air as if warming up invisible muscles. “First goblin I see is getting meteored.” He mimed slamming a boulder the size of a horse. “Easy pickings.” Itsuki paced behind them, staff resting cross-wise in both palms, soft eyes scanning the underbrush. “Goblins can be scary,” she offered, half to herself. “They’re clever when cornered.” Shunjiro turned mid-stride, flashing his lopsided grin. “Don’t worry. They’re just angry little green people, right?” Tetsuo tapped her elbow reassuringly. “We’re the Strongest. They won’t know what hit them.” Farther back, Aiko crossed her arms and strolled with measured steps. “Strongest only if we stay sharp,” she called over their heads. A thread of playful challenge wove through her words. Yoshinori strode a pace ahead of everyone, head slightly down, eyes everywhere. “Could the chatter wait until we’re not trekking into potential death?” he muttered, though the faintest smile betrayed how familiar their banter felt to him. Only Ryuji remained quiet, fists opening and closing as he adjusted to the subtle flex of hardened muscle beneath skin. He didn’t speak much on long marches. His attention fixed on how the track turned stony and began to descend. Two hours beyond the farms they reached a sunken ravine: Dungeon Valley. Broken pillars thrust from soft earth, relics of a frontier fortress that had collapsed centuries earlier. A cracked stairway of moss-slick stone spiraled beneath ground level. Blue mushrooms glowed in shaded crevices, an eerie invitation. Shunjiro breathed in the damp air swirling up from below. “Well,” he said, bouncing once on the balls of his feet, “time to clock in.” Without ceremony they filed down. Torches in old iron brackets flickered to life as their presence disturbed ancient suppression runes. Between each torch, darkness clung to the walls like damp velvet. The corridor widened just enough for two abreast. Shunjiro and Tetsuo took point; Aiko glided to the left flank, Ryuji to the right. Itsuki and Yoshinori followed at a watchful distance, staff ready in the healer’s hands, a faint crackle dancing over Yoshinori’s knuckles. Not twenty strides in, Tetsuo’s grin widened. “Goblins? I can smell ’em.” Indeed, a sour musk wafted on the stagnant air. Their footfalls hushed. Itsuki’s staff ring tapped stone in a steady, calming rhythm. Then the corridor bent sharply. Two goblin guards, spindly arms, mottled hides, emerged from the bend, blades raised. Red eyes widened as they spotted intruders. “Here we go,” Aiko announced. Her body shimmered and vanished; a pebble clattered across stone where she had stood. One goblin spun, too late. Aiko re-materialized behind it and delivered a precise palm strike to the base of its skull. It flopped. The second guard wheeled, only to receive Ryuji’s iron-hard fist in the sternum. Bone snapped like kindling and the creature rocketed against the far wall, leaving cracks in the mortar. Yoshinori flicked a hand; lightning arced, dancing across the goblin’s form and dropping it into a smoldering heap. “That’s one less problem,” Yoshinori murmured, dusting nonexistent lint from his knuckles. Excitement and apprehension wrestled behind his calm tone. After another hundred paces the hall forked. The left passage sloped into distant darkness; the right curved, carrying a faint tang of straw and animal sweat. “We split,” Yoshinori said, voice low. “Left reeks of deeper lair. Right likely holds supply pens or prisoners.” They debated quickly, then formed two trios: Aiko, Ryuji, and Tetsuo on the left. Shunjiro, Itsuki, and Yoshinori on the right. “Keep shout code if anything feels wrong,” Aiko reminded, already padding down her chosen route. Tetsuo’s laugh echoed. “Save me a boss to smash!” Shunjiro watched them vanish, then sensed Itsuki’s tension. He squeezed her shoulder. “I promised, no one gets hurt.” Her answering smile was small but genuine. “Let’s keep that promise.” Their path opened into a low-roofed chamber stacked with stolen crates: grain sacks, rusted pots, even a few battered toys, evidence of raided caravans. Glowing runes pulsed around the archway. Yoshinori brushed fingers over one sigil. “Sound-dampening glyphs. That’s why the valley scouts never heard screams. Whoever leads this tribe is cautious.” A guttural bark thundered in the gloom ahead. Half a dozen goblins charged, larger than the sentries, armored in mismatched kettle lids and chain scraps. Crude spears hummed with faint spiritual residue. These weren’t common raiders. “Ready, Itsuki?” Yoshinori asked. Sparks crawled over his fists. “I’m ready,” she answered, talismans already glowing. Shunjiro met the first wave. He ducked a spear thrust, slammed a short hook to a goblin’s ribs, spun into an elbow that sent the creature sprawling. Two more rushed; he weaved through their strikes, fists blurring. Yoshinori unleashed a jagged bolt that chained through three attackers, dropping them twitching. He pivoted, guarded Itsuki’s flank. When one goblin broke past, Shunjiro flashed between, forearm shimmering with raw energy he hadn’t consciously summoned. Steel scraped harmlessly off that unseen aura. He grinned, launching the goblin into a crate pile. Itsuki swept her staff in a crescent; light washed outward, knitting bruises on Shunjiro’s knuckles and easing the static ache in Yoshinori’s arms. Confidence returned to her features as her magic flowed steady. Moments later the final goblin fell. They stood surrounded by debris, hearts hammering. “That was a warm-up,” Yoshinori cautioned. The runes in the wall ahead pulsed faster, as if reacting to rising tension. “Leader chamber is close.” A distant rumble carried from Tetsuo’s corridor, stone grinding, goblin screeches, and somewhere a peal like iron striking bell rock. Shunjiro’s fist clenched. He hoped it meant their friends were still on the winning side. The trio pressed on. Another stair descended into a broad hallway lined with statues, warrior figures chipped and defaced. Torchlight flickered, bouncing shadows. The pungent stench of goblin dens grew heavier. Yoshinori’s voice dropped to a whisper. “We’re under the fort’s main keep now. Expect traps, maybe rituals. The glyphwork is more sophisticated than reported.” A metallic clang rang behind them, the supply-hall door had slammed shut. Heavy bars scraped into place from the opposite side. Then, an echoing laugh, inhuman, triumphant, drifted through the darkness ahead. Shunjiro set his stance. “Guess they know we’re here.” Itsuki tightened her grip on her staff, lips moving in a quiet draft of prayer turned battle mantra. Yoshinori drew a breath, feeling lightning coil inside ready palms. They advanced into the black. Aiko’s trio had descended a spiraling chute of broken masonry to emerge on a balcony overlooking a vast cavern. Hundreds of goblins toiled below, forging crude blades in glowing pits. At the far end, a throne of bones and bronze awaited its warlord, but that hulking figure was gone, perhaps alerted to intruders. Tetsuo crouched behind a shattered balustrade. “Jackpot.” His grin bordered feral. Ryuji rested fists on stone, hardening his forearms. Aiko scanned catwalks and support beams, mapping jump points for rapid swaps. “We create chaos, then link with Shunjiro,” she said. “No hero antics.” Tetsuo winked. “Chaos is my middle name.” They leapt into battle. Back in the statue corridor, Shunjiro, Itsuki, and Yoshinori halted as runes along the floor ignited scarlet. Walls groaned, sliding inward to cage them. From the ceiling dropped a plate-armored goblin berserker double Shunjiro’s height, wielding a jagged halberd roaring with violation energy. Yoshinori hissed through teeth. “They weren’t kidding about reinforcement.” Shunjiro’s pulse thundered, but he smiled all the same, fists coming up. “Big, ugly, and angry. Exactly my type of workout.” Itsuki planted her staff, aura flaring. “Don’t be reckless.” The halberd crashed down. Lightning met metal, stone shivered, healing runes sparked alive. The real dungeon challenge had only just begun.