Austin's throat went dry.

  For half a second, he forgot the rabbits with horns. Forgot the poison bites. Forgot that today's plan involved letting monsters chew on him for hours.

  His body's reaction was immediate and traitorous. Heat rushed to his face. His pulse jumped like it was trying to escape.

  Selene noticed—of course she did.

  She turned slowly, almost like she was showing off a new dress at a celebration instead of standing at the entrance of a death trap. The fabric shimmered again. She completed the twirl and looked at him with bright, amused eyes.

  "Do you like my outfit, Master?" she asked, voice lilting and sweet, like she was singing the words just to watch him squirm. "I picked it out just for you."

  Austin tried to inhale and ended up choking on his own breath.

  "Y–you… uh…" His brain coughed up syllables but refused to assemble them into a sentence. He forced his eyes upward—her face, focus on her face—like he was balancing on a rope over a pit. "You look great, Selene. Really. Also—why do you keep calling me Master? You know you don't have to do that, right?"

  Her smile brightened as if he'd given her a gift. Mischief danced in it, sharp and delighted.

  "Oh, but I like calling you master," she said, and the way she leaned into the word made it land heavier than it had any right to. "I like how it makes me feel inside."

  Austin's mind slammed into a wall.

  Nope. Not touching that.

  He cleared his throat so hard it almost hurt. "So—uh—how did it go speaking to your father?" he asked quickly, clinging to the topic like it was a life raft. His eyes stayed stubbornly above her shoulders, though his focus kept drifting like a compass near a magnet.

  Selene's expression shifted. The warmth didn't vanish, but something colder slid beneath it.

  She scoffed sharply and rolled her eyes so hard Austin almost heard it, like a physical sound—like her irritation had weight.

  "So… not great," Austin guessed.

  "Not great would have been a blessing," she replied, flicking at a fold in her sleeve as if she could brush off the memory the same way. "My father nearly burst into flames. He kept demanding how I could even consider leaving the family clan, and then got even angrier when he realized I had already done it."

  Austin winced. The image of some noble man raging like a bonfire was funny in theory—less funny when Selene's voice went tight around the edges.

  "Yeah," he said carefully. "That sounds… fun."

  "But it worries me not," Selene declared, lifting her chin with dramatic confidence. The way she flipped her hair was almost theatrical, as if she was daring the world to challenge her. "I have already learned so much from my master in less than a day. So I would say my choice has not been for nothing."

  Austin exhaled slowly. He didn't know whether to be flattered or deeply concerned.

  "If you say so," he said. "You did keep me up pretty late last night with all our messages. Let's see how long I can last during training today."

  Selene's eyes gleamed, and the corners of her mouth curled.

  "Oh, I'm sure you can last a loooooong time," she purred, stretching the word out until it felt like it brushed his ear. She waited just long enough for his brain to short-circuit, then added brightly, "Because you'll have me to heal you," finishing with a grin that looked innocent only if you ignored the way she was clearly enjoying herself.

  Austin barked a laugh, mostly because if he didn't, he might melt into the ground.

  She's probably right, he thought, and the thought brought an unexpected steadiness. Maybe I really will last longer today. My Toughness stat has been creeping up… and my Health's better too.

  He glanced toward the dungeon, toward the waiting dark. The chill that rolled out of it made his new clothes feel thinner, made his skin prickle.

  Alright. Let's do this.

  ***

  Hours later, the "let's do this" part felt like a cruel joke he'd played on himself.

  Austin's day became a cycle of teeth and pain—rabbicorns lunging in flashes of fur and horn, their tiny bodies deceptively strong. They didn't just bite; they latched. Their teeth pinched and sawed, digging through fabric, finding skin. Every time one caught him, he felt that hot, sharp sting, followed by the sick crawling sensation of poison spreading like a swarm of insects under his flesh.

  His boots slid on damp stone. Sweat soaked the back of his tunic until the rough fabric clung to him. His arms burned from constant movement—swatting, shoving, stabbing, yanking creatures off his legs when they tried to turn him into a living chew toy.

  At one point, two of them were hanging off him at the same time—one on his calf, one on his thigh—like the world's ugliest accessories. He ripped them free, breath coming out in ragged bursts, and watched his health tick down in his HUD like a countdown to collapse.

  Again and again, he came close to the edge.

  His vision would blur at the corners. The dungeon would tilt. The cold stone would feel suddenly very inviting, like it wanted him to lie down and never get back up.

  And every time—every single time—Selene was there.

  Her hands would glow faintly, warmth flooding his body like sunlight poured into his veins. The burning pain dulled. The poison's buzz softened. His muscles loosened just enough to keep moving.

  Austin didn't know how she stayed so calm. How she watched him get shredded in small, repeated ways and still smiled, still spoke softly, still acted like this was all part of a routine.

  He suspected she wasn't as untouched as she seemed. Her eyes stayed sharp, her attention locked on him, like she was holding herself together with focus.

  Finally—after what felt like being bitten by every rabbicorn in existence—Austin staggered back, panting, and opened his stats with a thought.

  Toughness: 15.

  The number sat there like a hard-earned medal.

  Austin's whole body trembled—not from fear, not anymore, but from exhaustion. Sweat clung to his neck and ran down his spine. Tiny half-moon marks dotted his skin where teeth had found him through gaps in armor or between layers. Some bites still stung, throbbing with a stubborn ache.

  Selene clapped her hands together the way she always did, bright and decisive.

  "With that," she announced, "I believe we should head to the second floor."

  "Finally," Austin rasped, smacking yet another rabbicorn off his shin. It hit the ground, squeaked in outrage, and immediately tried to charge again. "I am so done being the rabbicorns' chew toy."

  "I'm sure you are, Austin," Selene said, and for once her sympathy looked real enough to soften the teasing. Then her eyes glinted with that familiar spark. "By the way… have you noticed a difference in the pain from their bites compared to yesterday?"

  Austin blinked, caught off guard by the question. He lifted his brow. "Difference? Well… I guess I'm not collapsing and writhing in agony like I was yesterday." He grimaced as another lingering sting flared. "But it definitely still hurts."

  "But still…" Selene pressed, stepping closer as if she could physically nudge the realization out of him. "Less so, right?"

  Austin paused.

  He hated that she was right.

  The poison still buzzed under his skin like faint static, but it wasn't slamming him to the floor anymore. The pain was sharp and ugly, but it didn't swallow him whole. Yesterday, every bite had felt like being stabbed with fire and dragged under water at the same time. Today, it was… survivable.

  Even the dizziness isn't as bad, he realized. And with my higher Health, it takes way longer to get close to collapsing.

  He swallowed, staring into the dark corridor that led deeper. The second floor. The unknown. Stronger monsters. Worse pain.

  But also… better loot. More growth. More proof.

  And for the first time, the idea didn't feel like a death sentence.

  Even without Selene's healing, I might survive long enough to fight back before the poison gets me.

  That was a terrifying thought.

  It was also empowering.

  "You're right," Austin said, straightening his tunic with a shaky breath. "Let's head to the second floor."

  "That's the spirit," Selene chirped, instantly bright again—as if the dungeon's darkness couldn't touch her confidence.

  Before Austin could step forward on his own, she slipped her fingers around his hand and tugged him toward the corridor.

  Her grip was warm. Solid. Real.

  Austin's pulse stumbled, and not because of exhaustion.

  He let himself be pulled, his body following her momentum while his mind tried very hard not to focus on how natural it felt—how easy it was to fall into step beside her, like she'd already decided this was where she belonged.

  The corridor ahead swallowed the light.

  And together, they walked into it.

  ***

  Selene guided Austin away from the main chamber, toward one of the open pathways branching off the stone walls like dark wounds. The dungeon's central room was noisy compared to the corridors—footsteps, distant shouts, the occasional squeal of a rabbicorn somewhere farther back—but the moment they angled toward the side passage, the sound seemed to thin out, swallowed by stone.

  Austin had seen those entrances before. Plenty of times.

  They were just gaps in the rock—no doors, no markings, no warning signs—just openings that led to staircases spiraling down into deeper shadow. The air that drifted from them always felt colder, heavier, like it carried the memory of things that didn't come back up. He'd watched stronger adventurers disappear down there with grim faces and bloodstained gear, and every time, Austin's instincts had screamed one clear message:

  Not yet.

  So he'd avoided them. He'd stuck to the first floor where the pain was familiar—horned rabbits, poison bites, manageable suffering. The second floor had felt like a cliff edge you didn't approach unless you were ready to fall.

  But Selene didn't hesitate. She walked like the dungeon belonged to her, fingers still linked with his, her grip gentle but firm as if she'd decided they were going forward and the rest of the world could argue with the stone.

  Austin's palm was still warm from her touch, and that warmth felt almost wrong in this place—like carrying a candle into a cave full of damp darkness.

  As they neared the stair entrance, Austin slowed. The mouth of the passage yawned wide, a black slice cut into gray rock. A draft breathed out, cold enough to prickle the sweat drying on his neck.

  And then he saw them.

  Another group of adventurers was already gathered at the entrance—four guys, roughly his age. Their gear looked newer than it should've been, like they'd spent more time polishing it than earning the scratches. They stood too wide, too stiff, like they were trying to take up space and convince the dungeon itself to respect them.

  Their voices echoed just enough off the stone to sound louder than they were.

  "You really think we're ready for these Red Hawks?" one of them asked, nervousness leaking through his attempt at confidence. His eyes kept flicking to the stairs like they might bite him.

  "Of course we are!" another one snapped, puffing out his chest like a rooster about to fight his reflection. "This is what we've been training for. Don't be a chicken."

  Austin's brows rose. Red Hawks? He'd heard the name floating around the guild—something about the second floor being full of vicious, fast-moving birds that attacked in packs. The kind of monster that didn't politely wait its turn.

  Then the loud guy's gaze shifted.

  Straight to Selene.

  It happened in an instant. His entire posture changed. The nervous energy evaporated, replaced by swagger like someone had flipped a switch. His mouth curled into a grin that didn't reach his eyes.

  "Hey, you over there!" he called, already striding toward them like he owned the stairway. "It's dangerous for a pretty young girl like you to be heading down to the second floor."

  Austin's fingers tightened involuntarily.

  The guy stopped a few steps away, eyes traveling over Selene as if she were something on display. The look made Austin's stomach twist.

  "Those hawks might peck you in places a man like me should be pecking," the adventurer continued, smirking, clearly pleased with himself. "Why don't you stick with us? We'll keep you safe."

  His teammates snickered, and as if on cue, they shifted—casual, coordinated—stepping in front of the staircase that continued downward until the entrance was completely blocked. A human wall. A cheap little power play.

  Austin felt something snap into place in his chest.

  Heat rose fast, burning up from his gut into his shoulders. The dungeon's cold draft suddenly didn't matter. His muscles tightened. His hands flexed at his sides.

  Oh hell no.

  He'd been bitten, poisoned, bled on, and ground down for days in this dungeon. He'd crawled his way forward one stat point at a time. He was not about to let four wannabe heroes with shiny gear and rotten mouths stop them.

  His mind was already calculating angles—how hard, where to hit, which one would go down first.

  But Selene beat him to it.

  She smiled. Sweet as honey. Soft as silk.

  And absolutely lethal.

  "Out of our way, little boys," she said lightly, as if she were shooing pets off a couch. "The adults need to enter the second floor."

  The loud one blinked, like he couldn't process what he'd just heard.

  "Boys?" he repeated, insulted, voice climbing. "We've been training in this dungeon for months." He puffed his chest even more, as if his pride was inflatable. "We've proudly raised our Toughness stat collectively to nine."

  Austin almost choked.

  Collectively? What, did they share it like a group project?

  The guy spread his arms like he was announcing royalty. "We are the mighty Zondick Clan, and we are manly men. Give us about ten minutes each and we will gladly prove it to you."

  His teammates cheered like they'd just declared war and won in the same breath.

  Austin's jaw clenched so hard his teeth ached.

  Man, this scumbag reminds me of the other factions I tried to join… the ones who thought "strength" meant loud voices and big egos. He flicked his gaze over their smug faces and had to fight the urge to laugh in their faces. Also… who names their faction Zondick?

  Selene's smile didn't just fade.

  It froze.

  Slowly, she looked the loud adventurer up and down. Not with curiosity. Not with interest.

  With the clinical, cold assessment of someone deciding whether something was worth stepping over or burning down.

  Austin swore the temperature dropped. The draft from the stairs sharpened, as if the dungeon itself leaned in to listen.

  "Someone as stubborn as you could never be my type," Selene said calmly. Her voice was still soft, but it carried an edge that could cut stone. "In fact, I doubt I'd find even the slightest hint of 'manly' on you… even if I tried."

  The laughter from the other three died instantly.

  Selene took one small step forward. Just one.

  "And now," she continued, tone almost instructive, "please—be a good little boy, listen carefully, and kindly move out of our way."

  The loud adventurer's face twisted. Rage and humiliation boiled together until it turned him ugly. He stomped forward, shoulders squared, hands lifting like he was about to grab her.

  Austin moved without thinking, stepping in—

  But Selene's hand pressed against his chest, stopping him.

  Her touch wasn't forceful, but it was absolute. A silent command.

  Austin stiffened, caught between instinct and trust, and in that heartbeat he realized she wasn't worried about herself.

  She was stopping him from lowering himself to them.

  "No one disrespects the Zondick faction lea—" the guy started, spitting the words like they were supposed to summon thunder.

  He never finished.

  Selene's backhand snapped across his face.

  It wasn't dramatic. It wasn't a big wind-up swing.

  It was quick.

  A flick.

  A casual, almost bored motion—like swatting a mosquito that had flown too close.

  The sound cracked through the chamber like a thunderclap.

  The man's head whipped sideways, and his whole body followed. His feet left the ground. For a split second he was airborne—eyes wide, mouth open, the swagger finally replaced by pure shock.

  Then he slammed into the wall.

  Stone met flesh with a sickening crunch.

  His armor clanged. Dust puffed from the impact. He slid down the rock like a sack of grain, limbs limp, his eyes rolling back before he hit the ground.

  Silence swallowed the room.

  Austin blinked once. Twice.

  "…Well," he muttered, voice low, a strange mixture of awe and grim amusement bubbling up, "that's a familiar sight."

  He couldn't help remembering the moment he'd punched Logan into a wall—how unreal it had felt to watch someone fly like that. Only Selene had done it with a backhand. Like it cost her nothing.

  The remaining three Zondick members stood frozen, mouths hanging open. The dungeon's cold breath drifted between them, and for the first time they looked like what they were:

  Kids playing tough at the edge of a place that didn't care if they lived.

  "Damn…" one whispered. His voice cracked. "Did that girl just kill our faction leader?"

  Another dropped to his knees beside the crumpled man, fingers fumbling at his neck. His face went pale, then relieved. "He's breathing!" he yelped, voice shaking. "But—let's just get the boss and get out of here!"

  "Yeah—run!" the third shouted, panic finally breaking the spell. "Run, run, RUN!"

  They scrambled, tripping over each other as they grabbed their leader under the arms. One of them dropped his weapon with a clatter. The sound seemed to scare him even more; he squeaked, snatched it up, and bolted after the others.

  In seconds, they were gone—vanishing back toward the main chamber like frightened animals fleeing a predator.

  Selene looked down at her hand as if checking for dirt. Then she dusted it off, calm and unbothered, like she'd simply brushed away an inconvenience.