Chapter 41: Hunting

  Marcus moved swiftly through the dimly lit camp, weaving between tents and makeshift fortifications. The orc clan was lively tonight—warriors feasting, storytellers weaving tales of battles past, and the scent of roasted meat thick in the air.

  But Marcus had no time for celebration.

  He needed to find Vira.

  Stem’s discovery had changed everything. A dormant dungeon, buried beneath time itself. The implications were massive—untouched power, lost knowledge, and, most importantly, something no one else knew existed.

  But before anything else, he had to convince Vira.

  He found her near the edge of the camp, alone, practicing her earth mana. Small ripples of dirt and stone undulated beneath her hands, shifting as she refined her control.

  "Vira," Marcus called softly.

  She turned, lowering her hands. "What is it?"

  "Come with me."

  She studied his face, sensing the seriousness in his voice. "Marcus…"

  He placed a hand on her shoulder. “Just trust me.”

  That was enough. Without another word, she followed.

  They slipped beyond the camp’s outskirts, where the forest thickened and the sounds of the orc village faded into the night. When they were certain no one could overhear, Marcus finally spoke.

  "I found something. Or rather, Stem did."

  Vira crossed her arms. "What kind of something?"

  "A dungeon. A hidden one."

  Her eyes widened. "You’re serious?"

  "Completely."

  Vira exhaled sharply, stepping back. "That’s—Marcus, you know the rules. Newly discovered dungeons are supposed to be handled by high-ranked adventurers first. There's no way to know what’s inside. It could be a death trap."

  Marcus ran a hand through his hair. "I know. That’s why I wanted to talk to you first. I think we should give it to the orcs."

  Vira frowned. "Then what’s the problem?"

  He hesitated. "...I want to explore it first."

  Her eyes narrowed. "Of course you do."

  This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  He raised a hand. "Hear me out! We’ll be careful. We go in, take a quick look, and then we turn it over. Simple."

  Vira shook her head. "No, it’s not simple! You don’t get it, Marcus. The guild sends Gold and Mythril-ranked adventurers into new dungeons because they’re unpredictable. We don’t even know what rank this dungeon is. Going in blind could be a death sentence."

  "I get that," Marcus said, keeping his tone calm. "But we have an advantage those high-rankers don’t."

  She gave him a doubtful look.

  He tapped his temple. "Stem."

  Vira hesitated, then sighed. "Marcus… I’m glad you and Stem trust me to keep his existence a secret. But you can’t expect me to run into the unknown every time you two want to do something crazy."

  Stem’s voice hummed in Marcus’ mind.

  Marcus, I can analyze the dungeon’s structure before you enter.

  Marcus relayed the message. "Stem says he can scan it first, so we won’t be completely blind."

  Vira folded her arms. "And how exactly does he plan to do that?"

  By analyzing the entrance runes.

  "Stem says he can read the entrance sigils and predict what’s inside."

  Vira frowned. "Wait—what do you mean read them? If that’s true, this could revolutionize dungeon exploration."

  "Apparently, every dungeon entrance is built with twenty rune stones, and each one contains five sigils," Marcus explained.

  "That sounds complicated."

  There are exactly 9.3 billion possible permutations, Stem began. When accounting for contextual sigil alignment, this number reduces to—

  "Okay, okay," Marcus interrupted. "Way too complicated. Dumb it down."

  Stem paused, then responded in a flat tone. I can predict the dungeon’s nature with 89 percent accuracy.

  Marcus raised an eyebrow. "Why not 100 percent?"

  Because you are an unknown variable. Your presence and abilities could influence dungeon behavior in ways I cannot fully predict.

  Marcus glanced at Vira. "Stem just dumped a bunch of crazy math on me, but the gist is—we won’t be walking in completely blind."

  Vira chewed her lip, clearly torn.

  "...Fine," she said at last. "But I’m coming with you."

  Marcus grinned. "I figured you’d say that."

  "You better not get us killed."

  "No promises."

  Before she could retort, a deep voice cut through the darkness.

  "So. Who the hell is Stem, and what is this I'm hearing about a dungeon?"

  Marcus and Vira whirled around, stunned.

  Ragn stepped forward from the shadows, arms crossed, his piercing gaze locked onto Marcus.

  His expression unreadable—but his fingers flexed slightly at his side, as if weighing his next move.

  "You’ve been talking to someone," he said slowly. "And it’s not her."

  Marcus froze.

  Crap.

  Thalron sat by the fire, sharpening his blade. His unit had been tracking Marcus’ group for days, following whispers and vague trails. The inn maids had been all too eager to spill details about Marcus’ direction of travel.

  "Finally, I'm on the right track. How much closer would we have been if that woman had been with us from the beginning?" Thalron thought to himself.

  Then—

  Arixa strode into the firelight, her presence commanding attention. Tall, muscular, and exuding pure confidence, the Ki-wielding warrior carried her massive Warhammer as if it weighed nothing.

  Thalron stood, eyes narrowing. "You’re late."

  Arixa smirked. "I'm right on time, I'd say."

  He exhaled sharply. "I was told you’d be part of my tracking team."

  "Yeah, well," she rolled her shoulders, "I got sidetracked."

  "By what?"

  "Personal business." She gave a vague shrug.

  Thalron frowned but didn’t press further. He had bigger concerns than whatever "mission" Arixa had been on.

  "Fine," he said. "We move out at dawn."

  She grinned. "Good. I was getting tired of waiting for some action."

  Thalron watched her carefully.

  He didn’t fully trust her. He had befriended her during the tournament, but she was still a wild card.

  He turned back to the fire, methodically sharpening his blade.

  "You should know," he said finally, "we’re one day from an orc checkpoint. After that, we’re in their domain. No mistakes."

  Arixa chuckled. "No mistakes," she repeated. "You sound nervous, elf."

  Why shouldn't I be? I have to arrest my friend without fully knowing the reason...

  But orders are orders.

  Tomorrow, we hunt.