THE GENERAL'S DISGRACED HEIR

The De Gors, in collaboration with Mage Marvel, devised a cunning test for the younger generation of their bloodline by creating an artificial dungeon. This man-made dungeon was designed to mimic the treacherous outer sections of the Deadlands, exposing the candidates to a controlled version of the dangers lurking beyond their sheltered world.

The goal was clear: to teach them that the outside world was an unforgiving place, teeming with creatures and challenges unlike anything they had ever faced.

Within the dungeon, the monsters behaved as they would in the Deadlands—displaying traits of individuality, with most hoards keeping to themselves. This setup allowed the candidates to hunt either alone or in groups without facing overwhelming odds, building up their strength and confidence before eventually confronting the dungeon boss.

The first trial of this coming-of-age ritual was simple: clear the dungeon and defeat the boss to prove one's worth. In the history of the trials, the highest score ever achieved was 30,000 points, collected by a single candidate over 72 hours of relentless farming before finally facing the boss.

But this time was different. This year's candidates were determined to shatter the existing record.

Instead of methodically farming the weaker monsters to build up points, Kyle Kar Gor and representatives of the noble factions hatched a daring plan: find and eliminate the dungeon boss first, then clean up whatever monsters remained, maximizing their points in a way that had never been done before. They formed a ten-man team, composed of four elite scouts from noble families and six promising commoners, to navigate the twisted paths of the BLIGHTED BOGS, a dark and foreboding forest within the dungeon, and track down the boss's lair.

Meanwhile, Brian and Ashley, two independent candidates who refused to join any formal party, sat at the edge of their camp. Brian, his legs crossed and his hand pressed to the earth, attempted to connect with the lifeforce of the surrounding nature to scout the BLIGHTED BOGS from a safe distance.

Despite his efforts, Brian's face twisted in frustration as he failed to sense anything substantial. Ashley, noticing his discomfort, placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "What's wrong, Brian? What do you see?"

Brian pulled his hand away from the ground, beads of sweat dripping down his brow. "Nothing feels alive here," he said, his voice edged with unease. "The few traces of lifeforce I can sense... it's all wrong, twisted... unnatural."

Ashley frowned, raising an eyebrow. "Brian, it's the BLIGHTED BOGS. Everything about this place is unnatural. That's the whole point."

Brian shook his head, his intuition screaming that something was amiss. "No, it's more than that. It's like the very essence of this place is corrupted—"

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His sentence was cut off as a sudden, blood-curdling scream echoed from deep within the forest. The camp erupted into chaos, the candidates immediately on high alert. Weapons were drawn, eyes darting toward the shadowy trees. Brian and Ashley exchanged a tense glance, their earlier unease now fully justified. Whatever was out there was far more dangerous than they had anticipated.

Kyle burst out of his tent, his hand instinctively gripping the hilt of his thin-blade sword. His eyes darted wildly around the camp, tension etched across his face. "What the hell was that?" he barked at a nearby noble, who stood trembling, his breath ragged and his knuckles white around his bow.

"I... I don't know," the noble stammered, his voice quaking as he stared into the encroaching darkness.

Kyle's gaze shifted to Susan, a seasoned magic user among their ranks. "Susan, you did put up a barrier around the camp, right?" His tone was more of a command than a question.

Susan nodded, recalling the precise moment she had rallied the few capable mages among them. "We did, right after we set up camp. The barrier should prevent anything from getting in. It should have been foolproof."

But even her reassurances felt hollow as the unease crept through the camp like a silent predator. Brian, sensing the ominous presence lurking in the forest, raised his voice, the urgency in his tone slicing through the night.

"Everyone, get ready!" he yelled, feeling the weight of an unseen force bearing down on them. It was as if an entire army was marching toward them, but he knew how ridiculous that sounded. Monsters in the BLIGHTED BOGS had never displayed such cunning or coordination before.

Yet Kyle and the others took Brian's warning seriously, partly because of his minor branch lineage within the De Gor family. In haste, they formed a defensive line, with nobles and commoners alike holding their weapons tight, their hearts pounding in their chests. They could hear it now: the faint rustling of leaves, the dry crunch of dead grass under heavy footsteps, growing closer and closer.

The tension reached a boiling point when a figure burst through the underbrush, stumbling into view. A commoner, poised to strike, raised his weapon, but a noble quickly grabbed his arm. "Wait!"

"Chris!" Kyle's voice wavered, his eyes widening in disbelief as he recognized the disheveled figure. Chris, one of their own scouts, staggered forward, collapsing against Kyle, who barely managed to catch him. His body was a mess—torn clothing, drenched in blood, and a horrific absence where his arm used to be. His face was drained of all color, etched with terror.

"What happened? Where's the rest of your team?" Kyle's voice was strained, fighting to maintain composure as he scanned Chris's injuries. But Chris could only whimper, his eyes glassy and distant.

"They're... they're gone..." Chris rasped, his voice choked with fear. "I... I just want to get out of here. Please, Kyle, get me out!"

Kyle's mind raced. The thought of questioning Chris's honor as a noble crossed his mind, but one look at his state silenced any judgment. It was clear whatever he had witnessed had broken him. Kyle quickly deduced that the scouting party was lost. Turning to the camp, he began to issue orders. "I need a healer! Get Chris inside the tent, now! The rest of you—"

Before he could finish, Chris's complexion rapidly shifted, turning a violent crimson. A symbol—a sinister eye encircled by flickering flames—seared itself onto his forehead. Chris's eyes bulged grotesquely before, in a horrifying instant, his body erupted in a violent surge of corrupt mana, triggering a deafening shockwave that sent the camp into chaos.

The explosion of corrupt mana from Chris's body was cataclysmic, snuffing out life in the camp in an instant. Kyle and everyone within range were torn apart, their forms disintegrating into a mist of blood that hung in the air like a dark, macabre fog.

The camp was thrown into chaos as the thick crimson haze obscured vision, and before anyone could grasp the horror unfolding, a swift, deadly arc cleaved through the mist. A scythe, wicked and sharp, sliced a commoner cleanly in half, his body collapsing lifelessly to the ground.

From the shadows of the foliage, a crowned Mycelial Monster emerged, its monstrous form towering over the camp. Covered in twisted vines and fungal growths, the creature's appearance was nightmarish, sending chills down the spine of anyone who dared look upon it.

Its eyes, glowing with a malevolent intelligence, scanned the camp hungrily. But this terror was not alone—seven more crowned Mycelial Monsters followed closely behind, their gruesome figures flanked by a horde of smaller Mycelial creatures, all eager for carnage.

The camp erupted into pandemonium as the commoners, gripped by primal fear, attempted to flee in every direction, only to discover that they were surrounded. The smaller Mycelial monsters moved swiftly, pouncing on those unprepared, their jagged maws snapping as they tore heads from bodies with vicious efficiency. The camp's screams echoed through the night, mingling with the monstrous roars that filled the air.

Just when it seemed that all hope was lost, a voice cut through the chaos, calm yet fierce, resonating with unyielding resolve. "Cry, my fire, let my wall burn—[Glor]!" Ashley's voice rang out as her spellbook floated before her, its pages flickering with an ethereal light. Her eyes flared with a vivid purple glow as she chanted, summoning her magic.

In an instant, an inferno erupted from Ashley's outstretched hands, a searing wave of fire that roared to life, engulfing the smaller Mycelial monsters. The intense heat incinerated them instantly, turning them to ash as the towering wall of flames surged forward, driving back even the crowned monsters. The monstrous creatures recoiled, unable to withstand the blazing barrier, their shrieks of fury muffled by the crackling fire that now separated them from their prey.

Ashley's spell, [Glor], was a powerful incantation, far beyond her current class level. Normally, such a spell would burn out in a matter of seconds, draining her reserves completely.

But Brian stood beside her, his hands pressed against the earth, his brow furrowed in concentration as he desperately gathered every trace of lifeforce from the decaying surroundings. With every ounce of his will, he converted the dwindling energy into mana and funneled it into Ashley, his own life essence wavering as he struggled to keep up.

But Brian's strength was waning. The sheer strain of sustaining such an immense transfer of power took its toll, his vision blurring as exhaustion set in. In a sudden, terrifying moment, a crowned Mycelial Monster slashed through the fiery barrier with a swipe of its scythe, the flames parting as the creature lunged forward. Its long, jagged claws stretched toward Ashley, aiming to pierce her skull and end her defiance in one brutal strike.

The monster's snarling maw twisted into a grotesque smile, its claws inches from Ashley's head.