Adventurer Swordsman Eye (POV)


    The tavern smelled like sweat, roasted meat, and cheap ale—the standard adventurer’s mix. It wasn’t the best place in town, not by a long shot, but it was loud enough to keep your thoughts from wandering to tomorrow’s job. That made it good enough.


    I swirled my drink, watching the foam settle. It tasted awful, but I wasn’t here to enjoy it. This was about keeping the team grounded before we stepped into whatever fresh nightmare awaited us in that dungeon.


    Across from me, Gareth—our tank—was already on his third mug. The guy was built like a walking fortress, and he drank like one too. Not that I minded. He was laughing now, a deep, belly-shaking sound, while Erin—our mage—glared daggers at him.


    “Drinking that much before a mission? You’re a fool,” she muttered, tugging at the sleeves of her robe. She had let her hair down tonight, which was rare. Made her look a little softer. Not that anyone would dare mention it.


    Gareth grinned. “It’s a ritual. Drink before, fight after, then drink even more if you survive.”


    “Idiots drink before battle,” Erin shot back.


    “Then it’s a good thing I’m the one who gets hit, not the one doing the thinking.”


    I smirked but stayed out of it. Erin wasn’t wrong, but Gareth wasn’t either. Tomorrow wasn’t some run-of-the-mill dungeon dive. There were rumors—big ones—about something nasty down there.


    Which meant keeping our heads on straight.


    I glanced at Dion, the other swordsman in our party. He was sitting to my right, arms crossed, staring at the fire. Unlike Gareth, he wasn’t drinking. Not a surprise.


    “You’re quiet,” I said.


    Dion barely looked at me. “Thinking.”


    “About?”


    A pause. Then, in a low voice: “This job feels wrong.”


    I set my mug down. “You feel like sharing?”


    Dion finally met my eyes. “Just a bad gut feeling.”


    I nodded. That was enough for me. Dion wasn’t the kind to panic over nothing. If he felt something was off, it probably was.


    That said, turning back now wasn’t an option.


    I leaned back in my chair. “Then we’ll be careful.”


    He nodded but didn’t say more. Erin shot me a glance—one that told me she agreed with Dion but wasn’t going to argue about it. Gareth, meanwhile, stretched and let out a satisfied sigh, completely unbothered by the mood shift.


    “Bah, stop worrying,” he said. “If it’s big, we just hit it harder.”


    Erin groaned. “Brilliant strategy. Truly.”


    I chuckled and lifted my mug again. These three—they were the people I trusted to keep me alive tomorrow.


    We’d handled worse.


    At least, that’s what I told myself.


    For now, we drank, we rested, and we hoped Dion’s gut was wrong.


    It rarely was.Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit.


    The carriage wheels groaned under the weight of the rough road, bouncing us along as we neared the dungeon entrance. The place loomed ahead, like a gaping mouth ready to swallow us whole.


    No one talked much. That was normal. Even Gareth, usually the loudest among us, kept his grin to himself.


    Dion sat with his sword across his lap, fingers curled just a little too tight around the hilt. Erin adjusted her gloves, eyes on the horizon, lips pressed into a thin line. Gareth simply rolled his shoulders, staring at the dirt road.


    I exhaled, pushing the tension from my chest. Stay calm. Keep them steady.


    “Alright,” I said. “One last check. Supplies?”


    “Potions accounted for,” Erin answered without missing a beat.


    “Blades sharpened,” Dion murmured.


    Gareth cracked his knuckles. “Armor’s heavy as hell, but that just means it’s working.”


    I nodded. “Good. Stick to the plan. We go in, map the path, and deal with whatever’s inside. If it gets bad, we retreat. No heroics.”


    I should have known better than to say that.


    Because once we saw what was waiting inside, there was no retreat.


    The dungeon was quieter than expected. That wasn’t a good thing.


    No echoes of distant monsters. No damp wind rustling through old stone corridors. Just silence, broken only by our footsteps and the occasional scrape of Gareth’s armor against rock.


    We handled the first few threats easily. Small fry. Nothing worth remembering. But the whole time, there was this feeling crawling up my spine. Something was off.


    Then we entered the huge space in the dungeon.


    And everything went to hell.


    The ground rumbled. Stone cracked. A massive form shifted in the darkness.


    Then it stood.


    A giant. Bigger than anything I’d ever seen. Bigger than anything that should exist in a dungeon like this. It had no eyes, but somehow, I knew it saw us.


    And its belly… Gods, its belly. Bloated, distended—like something that had been feeding for far too long.


    I barely had time to shout before it swung.


    We scattered. Barely.


    “MOVE!” I roared.


    Dion reacted first. His sword flashed, striking at its leg—nothing. The blade barely scratched its stone-like skin.


    Then it moved.


    Faster than something that big should have been able to.


    And just like that—Dion was gone.


    No scream. No warning.


    One second, he was there. The next, his head was missing. His body crumpled, twitching for half a second before going still. Blood soaked into the stone.


    Erin let out a broken gasp. Gareth roared in fury.


    I gritted my teeth. No time to mourn. Not now.


    “FORMATION!” I bellowed.


    Gareth moved without hesitation, shield raised. Erin’s hands were already glowing, fire bursting to life in her palms. She let it loose. The flames slammed into the giant’s chest. Smoke rose.


    It barely noticed.


    But it noticed her.


    It turned. Stepped forward. And Gareth was there—shoving her aside, shield raised.


    CRACK.


    The sound of metal shattering.


    Then the giant’s foot came down.


    I didn’t hear Gareth scream. Didn’t even see him die—just saw his shield hit the ground, bent and ruined, and his body beneath the giant’s weight.


    Two down.


    Erin choked back a sob. I grabbed her wrist, forcing her toward the tunnel.


    “Go,” I ordered.


    Her head snapped toward me, eyes wide. “What? No—”


    “I’LL HOLD IT.”


    “You can’t—”


    “GO!” I shoved her toward the exit. “WARN THE OTHERS!”


    She hesitated—just for a second. Then she ran.


    Or at least, she tried.


    The giant’s arm swung, smashing into the ceiling, sending debris raining down. Erin dove forward, just barely making it through the collapsing stone. Blood stained her robes—her own or Gareth’s, I couldn’t tell.


    Then she....no....she must survive.


    And I turned back to the giant.


    My sword felt small. My breath came in sharp bursts. My arms ached.


    But I stood my ground.


    If this thing was going to take me, I’d make damn sure it remembered my name.


    I fought. Blade flashing. Dodging. Cutting. I lost track of time. The world shrank to just me and the giant, locked in a battle neither of us wanted to lose.


    Then—


    A voice.


    A child’s voice.


    The air shifted.


    Magic.


    And then—light.


    A barrier appeared between me and the giant, stopping its strike mid-swing. The impact sent cracks through the floor, shaking the entire dungeon.


    I blinked. What the hell?


    And then I saw him.


    A boy, standing at the top of the flat wide stone.


    Small. Calm. Eyes sharp like he was studying an insect. His hand was raised, fingers curled from casting his spell.


    He shouldn’t have been here.


    He shouldn’t have been able to do that.


    But right now, I didn’t care.


    Because, for the first time since the fight started…


    I thought... I might actually live.


    Vonn''s Eye.


    Hours passed, and by the time the sun had vanished beyond the horizon, we were still sitting here, waiting for some kind of assistance.


    Not that waiting meant doing nothing.


    Rhea and I had managed to hunt down some rabbits before it got too dark. Nothing fancy, but food was food. We even got a fire going, so at least dinner was covered.


    But while we were prepping the meal, Erin—the woman we saved—sat there, looking completely drained.


    She hadn''t told us exactly what happened in detail, but she did share a few details.


    They were adventurers. Someone had hired them to explore the dungeon, promising a massive loot haul.


    And clearly… that did not go as planned.


    She told the story with empty eyes, her gaze locked onto some distant, invisible point beyond the fire.


    She didn’t cry. Didn’t yell. Didn’t even react much.


    But her expression?


    It said everything. She was exhausted. Physically. Mentally. Maybe even spiritually.


    I didn’t push for more details. Because honestly? I wasn’t sure I wanted to hear them.


    The night was quiet. Peaceful, even. Until it wasn’t.


    A sudden gasp for air shattered the silence, followed by a shout.


    I flinched, turning toward the source—the swordsman.


    Still lying down, but thrashing, his face contorted in terror. A nightmare? No, more like a full-blown horror show.


    "Ronan!" Erin cried, scrambling to his side.


    The guy looked completely lost, his chest rising and falling in sharp, desperate breaths.


    Honestly? I couldn''t blame him.


    He had just watched his comrades die in battle against something we still didn’t fully understand. And now?


    Now he was experiencing the side effects.


    "Haah… haaaah…"


    He kept gasping, his body still trembling, until he finally managed to sit up, his back pressing against the hard wooden carriage.


    Then, through ragged breaths, he finally spoke—


    "You survived."


    His voice was hoarse, his eyes wide. Like he couldn’t quite believe it.