Brief
"Move, move, MOVE!" Gareth's voice boomed through the stone corridor as the party sprinted through the ancient dungeon, their torches casting wild shadows on the crumbling walls.
It had been going so well. Too well.
They'd cleared three floors, collected decent loot, and Lyria had even successfully translated an ancient inscription that led them to a treasure room. For once, she'd felt... useful. Maybe even valued.
Then Marcus had stepped on the pressure plate.
The grinding of stone. The rumbling that shook dust from the ceiling. And then—the roar. Something massive. Something ancient. Something hungry.
"Lyria! Keep up!" Selene's sharp voice cut through the chaos, but there was no concern in it. Only annoyance.
"I-I'm trying!" Lyria gasped, her lungs burning with every desperate step. Her heavy mage robes tangled around her legs, and her stamina—far lower than the warriors ahead of her—was already failing. Her staff clattered against the stone walls as she struggled to keep pace.
Behind them, the sound of something enormous dragging itself through the corridor grew louder. Closer.
CRASH.
Lyria stumbled—her foot catching on a loose stone. She fell forward with a yelp, hitting the cold ground hard, the impact knocking the wind from her lungs.
"Ah—w-wait! Please—!"
She looked up just in time to see Gareth glance back. Their eyes met for a brief moment.
Then he looked away.
"She's too slow!" Marcus shouted, already disappearing around the corner. "Leave her!"
"W-what...?" Lyria's voice came out as barely a whisper, trembling with disbelief.
Selene stopped just long enough to look back, her pretty face twisted with something between pity and contempt. "Sorry, Lyria. You're only going to slow us down."
Then she smiled—cold and sharp.
"At least make yourself useful for once. Be a bait and buy us some time."
Lyria's mind went blank. Her hands trembled violently as she pushed herself up, her knees scraped and bleeding against the stone.
They're leaving me. They're actually leaving me to die.
The realization hit harder than any monster ever could.
"WAIT! PLEASE!" Her scream echoed through the empty corridor, but the sound of their footsteps was already fading. "DON'T LEAVE ME HERE!"
Silence.
Then—the scraping sound behind her resumed. Closer. Much closer.
Lyria scrambled to her feet, tears streaming down her face as she ran in the opposite direction—deeper into the dungeon, away from the exit, away from salvation. Her hat flew off, her robe tore on a jagged stone, but she didn't stop. She couldn't stop.
I don't want to die. I don't want to die. I don't want to die.
The corridor ended abruptly at a solid stone wall.
Dead end.
"No... no no no..." Lyria pressed her back against the cold stone, her violet eyes wide with terror as the massive shadow emerged from the darkness.
A Dungeon Devourer—a grotesque amalgamation of stone and rotting flesh, its multiple eyes glowing with hunger, its maw dripping with acidic saliva.
This is it. This is how I die. Alone. Abandoned. Useless until the very end.
Her legs gave out. She slid down the wall, sobbing, her staff clattering uselessly beside her.
I'm sorry, Mother. I'm sorry I couldn't become the mage you hoped I'd be. I'm sorry I was born so worthless.
The creature lunged.
Lyria screamed and threw her hands up instinctively—
CRACK.
The wall behind her gave way.
She fell backward into darkness, tumbling through a hidden passage that shouldn't exist. The Devourer's claws scraped the stone where she'd been moments before, but the opening was too small for its massive bulk.
Lyria rolled down a steep incline, her body slamming painfully against ancient steps, until finally—
THUD.
She landed hard on a smooth stone floor, the impact driving the air from her lungs. Pain radiated through her entire body, leaving her dizzy and disoriented.
...I'm alive?
Slowly, painfully, Lyria opened her eyes.
She was in a chamber. No—a sanctum. The walls were covered in intricate carvings that seemed to glow with faint blue light. Ancient script she'd only seen in the oldest texts spiraled across every surface. And in the center of the room—
A seal.
Massive. Elaborate. Pulsing with dormant power.
And something—someone—was inside it.
"W-what..." Lyria's voice was hoarse from screaming. She pushed herself up on trembling arms, her robe covered in dust and grime. Tears streaked her pale face.
The script on the seal... she could read it.
Her eyes widened.
"WARNING: Sealed within lies—"
The rest was too faded to read clearly. But the magical signature was unmistakable. This was Ancient-class sealing magic. The kind that hadn't been used in over a thousand years. The kind that was only used for—
—for sealing gods. Or demons. Or things that shouldn't exist.
Lyria's breath caught in her throat.
She should run. She should leave this place and never look back.
But...
Where would I even go?
Back to the surface? Back to the guild where everyone mocked her? Back to parties that used her as bait? Back to a world where she was nothing but a failure?
What's the point?
Her vision blurred with fresh tears.
I'm so tired. I'm so tired of being worthless. I'm so tired of trying and failing. I'm so tired of being alone.
She looked at the seal again. At the ancient warnings carved around it.
Maybe... maybe whatever's in there will just kill me quickly. That's better than starving in this dungeon. Better than being eaten slowly.
Better than living like this.
Lyria stood on shaking legs and walked toward the seal.
Her hand reached out—trembling, hesitant—and touched the glowing surface.
The ancient script flared brilliant blue.
"I-I'm sorry..." she whispered to whatever was inside. "I'm sorry for releasing you. I'm sorry I'm so selfish. I just... I just can't anymore. So please..."
Her voice broke.
"Please make it quick."
The seal shattered.
Light exploded through the chamber, so bright Lyria had to shield her eyes. The force of the magic threw her backward, and she landed hard on the stone floor once more.
When the light faded—
Someone stood where the seal had been.
Lyria's breath caught in her throat. Her violet eyes went wide.
Beautiful. Terrifying. Ancient. Powerful.
Everything about the figure before her screamed danger—but also something else. Something that made her heart race for an entirely different reason.
What... what have I done?
"I..." Lyria's voice came out as barely a whisper. She scrambled backward on her hands, overwhelmed by the presence before her. "I-I'm sorry! I didn't mean to—well, I did, but—"
Tears streamed down her face again, her body shaking like a leaf.
"P-please..."
This is it. This is how I die. At least... at least I won't die as monster food. At least I'll die having done something—even if it was releasing something terrible into the world.
I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.
But I'm also... so tired of being afraid.
