Hercules was a great figure in world history. It is said that King Eurystheus gave him twelve labors.

  Eight of these labors involved the legendary Hercules fighting eight monsters and sealing them into dungeons he formed all by hand. These dungeons were built intricately like labyrinths, meant to seal these monsters forever… in which they could.

  However, a few decades ago—centuries after they were built—one of the many guilds in the world located a dungeon for the first time.

  Then suddenly, they began popping up all over the world.

  Braywick, a small town in Elveria, was one of the eight places where a dungeon was located.

  ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

  Braywick, Year 1003

  “So… Lynda.”

  “Yes, Wyrn?” Lynda followed a few paces behind, her hands tucked into her cloak. Wyrn walked ahead, his boots crunching softly on the path.

  “Why did you tell the knight and his friend not to trust the Moringa tree?”

  ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

  A boy ran across the stone ground, panting with a torch in his hand as his heart beat out of his chest. His bushy tail was stiff. The light followed his shadow. His shadow held hands with the light.

  The torch gripped in his hand. Orange marks decorated his body.

  His breath was uneven, and his wolf-like ears brushed against a chain hanging from the roof. He tripped for a second, then picked himself back up. The floor was uneven and cold, and the chilling breeze caused the boy to slow.

  “N…No!...” he stammered, speeding up once again.

  Something was chasing him. Another set of steps echoed in the background. Moving. Gaining.

  His bare feet slammed into the cold floor—tired, labored, and out of breath. The torch barely pierced the darkness. As if the light itself wasn’t enough to penetrate the body of shadow.

  His amber eyes shone from the torch, and his white hair, tied in a small ponytail at his collarbone, appeared to be melting with sweat.

  In front of him, the torch revealed a wall.

  He skidded around the corner, his shoulder slamming into the rough stone—but he could care less as adrenaline surged through his body. The thing behind him sped up, cutting the corner right with him. The slam had slowed him more than expected.

  He bolted down the corridor, lungs burning. The walls closed in, scraping his shoulder as he maneuvered through the space. His feet stumbled, but he didn’t dare stop—not with claws raking the floor behind him, each step gaining.

  A gate was up ahead. Heavy iron gleamed slightly in the torchlight from below.

  His pulse spiked. The creature behind was closer now.

  “Damn it!”

  He forced himself to move faster. Cupping his hands to his mouth, he shouted:

  “Lucy! Drop the gate!”

  His voice reverberated—and on cue, the gate began to descend.

  He dove, sliding across the stone. The marks on his body turned yellow. A spark formed, a streak of lightning bursting around him as he flashed forward.

  The gate hit like thunder.

  A sound split the air—wet, final, cruel.

  The wolf boy stumbled, falling to the dry stone floor. The torch clattered beside him. He fought for breath, eyes wild, adrenaline still coursing.

  The author's tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

  Behind him, the iron gate was now painted in blood and the remains of the decapitated creature. Its final scream still echoed.

  He exhaled, wiping sweat from his face, hand searching for the extinguished torch—

  But another hand interlocked with his, helping him up.

  “Wolfe! Are you alright?” a voice said.

  The torchlight returned, and Wolfe looked up at the two people now beside him.

  Lucy—the girl he had called for earlier.

  And Mason, who held the re-lit torch. Presumably the one who reignited it.

  Lucy’s large rabbit ears twitched with concern. Her blue eyes scanned Wolfe’s body as the adrenaline wore off. Mason stood over them both, his face stern and unreadable.

  Lucy moved closer, long white hair trailing behind her. Wolfe chuckled weakly, forcing himself upright.

  “That was the third one today. This dungeon’s trying to kill us.”

  “Don’t be reckless,” Lucy said, voice firm, concern wrapped in the slightest tang of annoyance. She adjusted the golden jewelry on her neck and wrists. Her touch was light, contrasting the weight of the gold she wore. “We can’t keep rushing headlong into danger. We need to wait until the guild comes and saves us…”

  Mason grunted lowly, stepping forward. He towered over them. The torchlight glimmered on his frame as he leaned against the bloodstained gate.

  “Wait for the guild?” he began, his long braids swaying. “And what?—sit here like prey until the next creature shows up?” His voice rumbled with disdain, eyes fixed on Lucy. “We’ve been down here long enough to know no one’s coming.”

  Lucy’s ears twitched. Her expression hardened.

  “They will come. Guilds don’t leave their members behind.”

  Mason snorted. “You think we’re that important to them? Two hybrids and one orc lost in a dungeon isn’t worth the ink to write a report. If we want out, we have to fight for it ourselves—and kill the Chimera sealed in here by Hercules long ago...”

  Wolfe coughed, finally steadying himself. His amber eyes darted between the two.

  “Mason’s got a point, Lucy. This dungeon’s been trying to bury us from the moment we stepped inside. If we wait too long, there might not be anything left for them to save.”

  Lucy’s glare flicked to Wolfe. Her hands clenched.

  “I just don’t want to lose anyone else. Is that so hard to understand? We’ve already lost Muffin... Larissa... Yana... Ramia… They were so happy to be hired by the Guild… to make money for their families… If I lose hope in the guild, then those four kids and everyone else died for nothing…”

  Mason scoffed.

  “Hope in the guild won’t bring them back, Lucy.” His voice was bitter. “And it sure as hell won’t get us out of this death trap.”

  He pushed off the gate and straightened, casting a long shadow.

  “We’re not here to fight for their honor. We’re here to survive. And the only way we’re doing that is by keeping out of the Chimera’s path.”

  He adjusted the hilt of his weapon. His gaze passed over Lucy, then Wolfe.

  “Let’s head back to the main section. We need to regroup and find a route that doesn’t lead us straight into the beast’s lair. Fighting that thing is suicide.”

  Lucy hesitated. Her ears twitched again.

  She glanced at Wolfe. The wolf boy gave her a small nod.

  A bit of reassurance washed over her. But she still gave Mason a feisty gaze.

  “Fine,” she relented, voice barely above a whisper. “But if we run into it, we fight together. I won’t leave anyone behind. I’ll use my magic, and Wolfe can use his… Spark.”

  “Agreed.” Mason’s tone offered a flicker of understanding. “But let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.”

  The trio began to move, the silence of the dungeon broken only by the soft sound of their footsteps. Torchlight flickered, casting shadows across the ancient stone walls—walls built centuries ago.

  The air grew colder as they walked.

  Wolfe’s amber eyes scanned their surroundings. The marks on his body dimmed from their earlier glow. He glanced at Lucy, then Mason.

  “Let’s hope Hercules knew what he was doing when he locked that thing away,” Wolfe muttered.

  Mason didn’t look.

  “Hercules might’ve built these dungeons to hold monsters. But he didn’t build them for us to survive.”

  ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

  “Having to go back so you get basic clothing was annoying,” Kaiser stated, running at high speed toward the dungeon.

  Elara, on his back, looked down at him. The blanket that once covered her was gone. She now wore a simple green dress. Her brown skin radiated under the sun above.

  “I apologize…” she replied, but Kaiser only shook his head.

  “Don’t bother apologizing… After this, we’re going straight to Rindale. I don’t work well with others.”

  An incoming boulder rolled into view. Kaiser held onto Elara’s legs, braced, and leapt high into the air over it.

  “Wooo!” Elara elated.

  Kaiser smirked slightly.

  “Don’t get too used to that.”