The road to the dungeon was lined with security barriers and glowing runes humming with low mana.
A soft wind stirred the dust as a high-end mana car, smooth and sleek like a blade, pulled up in complete silence.
It wasn't just expensive—it was custom-built. Black mana alloy, zero sound footprint, rune-inscribed wheels. Only five existed in the capital.
Everyone nearby stopped what they were doing.
Some whispered. Some raised their devices to record. Some just stared.
The passenger door opened with a faint hiss.
Out stepped a young man—no older than nineteen, maybe twenty.
Not tall, but he stood straight, back stiff, chin up. His dark coat shimmered with mana-thread embroidery, the crest of the Vale family stitched over his heart like a badge.
His eyes didn't wander.
He walked.
Through the crowd. Past the onlookers. Straight toward the dungeon gate.
People made space without being asked.
He heard the murmurs.
"That's him."
"Riven Vale. The youngest shareholder on the Exchange."
"Rich kid who buys dungeons like candy."
He ignored them all.
Let them talk.
He'd spent his whole life hearing their voices. Nothing new.
A man rushed to meet him near the outer fence—tall, flushed, out of breath. A Guild liaison, judging by the grey uniform and field tablet in his arms.
"B-Boss Vale! You didn't need to come in person, sir. The team's already arrived. I was just compiling the prep data to send—"
He stammered, trying to keep up with Riven's pace.
"Where are they?"
Riven said, voice calm but firm.
"Ah—by the staging zone. Just past the gate perimeter."
Riven gave a short nod. His steps didn't slow.
"I spent five million credits acquiring this site. Mana flux patterns are unstable. System markers don't match known templates. This gate should've collapsed."
He said.
He narrowed his eyes at the shimmer of violet hanging in the air where the dungeon breach pulsed.
"I bought it because my gut said to."
A pause.
"It better be worth it."
The subordinate laughed nervously.
"Y-yes, well. I reviewed the mana signature myself. Strange, yes, but promising. The team we brought in is solid, I assure you."
Ahead, the dungeon breach flickered.
The air folded in on itself, layered like ripples on glass. Just past it, in the prep zone, four adventurers sat near stacked crates, gear tossed about like they didn't care who saw it.
They were loud.
Too loud.
Riven slowed his steps.
The voices carried.
"…sucker actually bought this dump for full price?"
"Rich boys don't feel it when they lose money."
"Can't believe he's paying premium rates for this garbage-tier dungeon."
"I heard he's never fought in his life. All money, no guts. Just a spoiled loser."
Laughter. Sharp. Ugly.
The four of them sat in a loose circle. One leaned back against a boulder, tossing a dagger up and down. Another chewed mana gum and smirked. They hadn't noticed Riven yet.
Except for one.
A boy—not much older than Riven—stood off to the side. Silver hair. Dented chestplate. His gear looked used, worn at the edges, but cared for.
He glanced at the others. Then at the ground.
Quietly, he spoke.
"You shouldn't say that. It's not like he chose to be born without a system."
The others stopped laughing.
The dagger-wielder snorted.
"What?"
"I mean… not everyone awakens. Doesn't make them stupid."
"You calling me stupid?"
The bigger one said, stepping forward.
The silver-haired boy raised his hands, backing up.
"No, I just meant—"
"You meant nothing. You wanna defend some investor brat? Get a room with him."
The third snapped.
They shoved him lightly. Not hard, but with just enough force to embarrass.
He flinched. Said nothing.
Behind them, Riven stood silently.
Expression blank. Fingers twitching once at his side.
His subordinate noticed—and panicked.
"B-Boss, I swear I didn't know they were like this. They looked good on paper! Good clear rates, no violations, I even interviewed—"
"It's fine."
Riven said flatly.
He took a slow breath. Let it out through his nose.
This wasn't new.
People like him always got laughed at.
But they never laughed for long.
He stepped forward.
Boots crunching gravel.
The sound cut the air.
All four adventurers looked up, startled.
Riven's presence hit like a wall of cold water.
They froze.
The one with the dagger dropped it.
Keir—the silver-haired one—stiffened, eyes wide.
Silence spread like mist.
When Riven stepped into the clearing, the air shifted.
No one said a word.
Even the wind felt quieter.
The adventurers straightened. Fast. Too fast. As if standing tall might erase what they'd just said.
The team leader stepped forward first. Forced a smile.
"Boss Vale! What an honor. We didn't expect you to greet us personally. We were just discussing strategy."
Another chimed in.
"Yeah, reviewing dungeon formations. Gotta stay sharp, right?"
The others nodded, chuckling awkwardly.
Riven said nothing.
He didn't even look at them.
Just brushed invisible dust off his sleeve and stared past them at the swirling dungeon gate.
His silence made them squirm.
Eventually, they gave up. Went back to checking gear and whispering to each other.
One of them muttered.
"Maybe he didn't hear us…"
"Good. Let's not push our luck."
The dagger guy whispered back.
"Can't believe we almost got caught. We need to shut up around him from now on."
"Yeah, seriously."
Riven let them talk.
He watched. Listened. Every word stored, but none acknowledged.
Then he raised a hand.
Just one small gesture.
It was enough.
The leader stiffened.
"Team! Formation. We're heading in."
The group assembled with fake energy, trying to look professional.
Riven didn't move at first.
He stared into the gate.
Mana shimmered faintly at its edges. Weak. Inconsistent.
On paper, this was an F-Class dungeon. Low-level. No known system tags. Supposedly harmless.
But Riven's instincts told him otherwise.
He stepped through the gate without hesitation.
The air inside changed instantly.
Stale. Cold. Too cold.
No sounds. No wind. Not even the buzz of distant mana life.
The others followed.
Keir stayed close to the back, near Riven.
Ahead, the team leader laughed.
"Tch. I told you this was going to be easy."
He banged the pommel of his sword against a wall.
The echo bounced back oddly—dull, muffled.
"F-Class dungeons don't even get active mana pulses. We're basically getting paid to walk."
He continued.
"Don't jinx it."
Keir muttered.
Riven didn't say a word.
He kept scanning the corridor.
Stone walls twisted slightly, unnaturally, like they were shaped by something that didn't fully understand architecture.
No slime trails. No goblin noises. No hint of movement.
They kept walking.
Ten meters. Twenty.
Still nothing.
The air grew heavier.
Too heavy.
Finally, Riven stopped.
He turned.
"Is this normal?"
He asked.
No response.
He frowned.
The others had stopped too.
Frozen in place.
All four of them stood completely still. Like statues. Eyes wide. Mouths slightly open.
Keir's lips trembled. His face pale.
He was looking at something in the air—something Riven couldn't see.
"Keir?"
Keir didn't answer.
He was shaking.
"Keir, what's wrong?"
Then finally, a whisper. Fragile.
"…fear…"
"What?"
"I-I can't move…My legs… my body… It's like… something's inside my chest. Like I'm going to die if I take another step…"
Keir stuttered.
Riven looked around.
Still nothing.
No monsters.
No traps.
But the pressure in the air had changed. Again.
He reached forward, grabbed Keir's arm.
Cold. Too cold.
"Snap out of it. We're pulling back."
Riven said.
The moment he touched Keir, the boy gasped. His eyes focused—barely. He could move. Just a little.
But behind them—
A scream.
One of the others collapsed.
Another tried to run—only to get dragged into the shadows by something fast. Too fast to see.
Riven didn't wait.
He dragged Keir with him.
They ran.
The dungeon twisted around them. Paths that didn't exist before stretched open. Others collapsed behind them.
Screams echoed. Cut off.
Riven didn't look back.
He didn't need to.
He felt it.
This wasn't an F-Class dungeon.
This wasn't even close.
Just as they reached the edge of the dungeon, steps away from the exit, Riven froze.
A sharp, static buzz echoed in his head.
[…Seek the void… if you want the reward.]
The voice wasn't loud. It wasn't even a voice. Just broken whispers, like sound cracking through a dead signal.
But he heard it clearly.
Riven's eyes narrowed.
He didn't move.
Keir, still shaking, grabbed his sleeve.
"We—we made it. Let's go."
Riven didn't answer.
His gut twisted.
Not from fear.
From instinct.
That whisper… it meant something.
It felt like a door had opened—just slightly. And behind it was something valuable. Something waiting.
Riven turned slightly to Keir.
"Go."
He said.
Keir blinked.
"What?"
"Head out. I'll follow."
Keir shook his head.
"Are you crazy? We barely survived—"
"Go. Now."
Riven repeated, firmer this time.
Keir hesitated. Then, biting his lip, he stepped through the gate.
Riven watched the mana ripple behind him.
The dungeon pulsed again. Faintly. Like it was watching.
His hand trembled.
Then steadied.
"…The void, huh?"
And he turned back into the dungeon. Alone.