Chapter 157: Hollow Hill

The hills lay in a peculiar silence, not the soothing kind that calms the mind, but an unnatural stillness, as if even the wind hesitated to intrude.

Soft grass blanketed the rolling slopes like a green sea frozen mid-wave, interspersed with clusters of pale trees whose leaves barely stirred in the faint breeze drifting through the valley.

From afar, the landscape appeared ordinary and gentle, a place where one might envision shepherds guiding flocks or weary travelers resting beneath shady boughs.

But at its center rose a circular stone platform, emerging from the earth like the crown of a long-buried monument. Its surface was etched with intricate patterns that seemed less carved than grown.

Lines of mana-infused runes spiraled outward from the center, overlapping and intertwining like a living script. They glowed softly beneath daylight, veins of light pulsing rhythmically as if the stone itself possessed a dormant heartbeat.

At the heart of this platform hovered a portal, not just any rift or crude tear in space like those unstable dungeon entrances familiar to Warriors.

This gateway was framed by a translucent dome of condensed mana, woven so densely that it refracted light, bending reality behind it into warped silhouettes.

Within that dome churned a circular aperture, layers of misty blue and deep emerald swirling like submerged storms, hinting at unfathomable depths concealed behind an impenetrable surface.

Surrounding the portal stood dozens of Adventurers. Some were rigidly poised, hands resting unconsciously on sword hilts or spear shafts.

Others crossed their arms or clasped them behind their backs, forcing steadiness into bodies eager to lean forward and confirm with their own eyes what they were witnessing.

Low murmurs rippled through the crowd like nervous currents beneath calm water, disbelief intertwined with awe.

They had believed Sage. At least… they had trusted him enough to come. They had purchased his Guide Books. They had listened intently to his speeches. They had nodded, debated, speculated, feeling excitement laced with fear and hope mingled with suspicion.

Yet deep within them lingered an unshakable doubt.

Is this real? Is this another illusion? Another trick? Another exaggerated promise destined to crumble upon contact with reality?

Now, standing before this true mana formation inscribed with ancient runes radiating authority, those doubts were being crushed under something far weightier:

Truth.

Every Adventurer present recognized what lay before them. This was not mere illusion magic or decorative spellwork crafted by mages for show; this was a genuine mana formation, the kind only mentioned in dusty academy records and forgotten manuals.

It required an exceptionally skilled Runesmith weeks of uninterrupted engraving time and oceans of mana crystals, alongside financial investments large enough to cripple small households.

A mana formation wasn’t something any wandering warrior could simply “set up.” It represented infrastructure, the defining line between territory and wilderness.

And Sage had placed one here.

Somewhere in the crowd, a shaky breath escaped.

“…He really wasn’t lying.”

Another voice whispered, “…Three dungeons… he really…”

A few Adventurers edged closer, halting only when the pressure from the formation brushed against their senses, causing the skin on their arms to prickle as if they were near invisible heat.

Before the portal stood five figures who stood out from the murmuring mass.

Gregor was slightly ahead of the others, his broad back forming a natural barrier. The wind tugged gently at his green hair as he stared intently at the formation, his sharp eyes tracing rune after rune, measuring and cataloging each detail to imprint it into memory.

Behind him, Brutus crossed his massive arms tightly over his chest. His brow furrowed so deeply that it cast shadows over his eyes.

He had seen dungeons before; he had fought in them and lost comrades within their depths. But this… this felt different.

Calista stood to one side, her fingers hovering near her quill as if she longed to sketch the formation directly onto the air. Her eyes sparkled with restrained fascination as her mind raced through possibilities and implications.

Leona’s usual relaxed demeanor was nowhere to be found. She stood straight and poised, golden eyes reflecting the mana glow as she studied the portal with meticulous attention, committing every flicker to memory.

Caelis lingered slightly apart from them, calm yet intent; his gaze deep and searching as though he were not merely looking at a dungeon entrance but trying to feel its living logic rather than decipher it.

For a long moment, silence enveloped them.

Brutus finally broke it with a voice lower than usual, stripped of its usual boisterousness.

“…I didn’t expect it to be real.”

Gregor didn’t turn back. “Neither did I. Not like this.”

Calista let out a slow breath. “I thought we’d find something… symbolic, a sealed cave or a restricted ruin. Maybe even a gate under construction.”

Her eyes tracked over the runes again. “But this… this is fully operational.”

Leona nodded faintly beside her. “And the Mana Formation seemed to be stabilized as well.”

Brutus snorted softly in disbelief. “The Guildmaster really didn’t lie; he did conquer a dungeon.”

They all recalled the pale man lounging behind a desk, selling books for two gold coins while humming cheerfully to himself.

Gregor’s jaw tightened slightly at that thought. According to the Guide Book, this dungeon had an official name, the first dungeon claimed under Guild authority: Hollow Hill.

The Dungeon Sage had listed it meticulously, mapped, categorized, and standardized for all Adventurers.

Gregor reached into his satchel and pulled out the pale booklet, flipping it open to where a thin red thread marked an important section.

“F-Rank Dungeon,” he read quietly before lifting his gaze back toward the portal once more. “Guild designation: Hollow Hill.”

Calista’s lips curved slightly. “A fitting name.”

“The Guide states,” Caelis interjected calmly, having already memorized the relevant section, “that entry clearance is restricted to Warriors between 1-Star Beginner and 3-Star Expert. Anyone above these ranks will face penalties if found entering.”

Brutus clicked his tongue. “This is actually good.”

Leona’s gaze sharpened. “There’s also a warning.”

Caelis nodded. “Yes. If we reach the core floor, under no circumstances are we to damage or attempt to destroy the Dungeon Core. The Guide explicitly states that unauthorized interference will invoke severe consequences.”

Brutus frowned. “Severe how?”

Caelis hesitated before responding quietly, “Unknown.”

That single word hung in the air, heavier than any detailed threat.

Gregor closed the book and straightened up slightly. His voice carried just enough weight to cut through the murmurs behind them. “We came here to see whether this is real. We’re not going to stand around and let fear dictate our actions.”

He turned his head slightly, meeting each of their gazes in turn.

“We enter. We verify. We observe. We don’t play heroes.”

Brutus grinned faintly. “Wasn’t planning to.”

Calista flexed her fingers eagerly. “I want to see if his classifications are accurate.”

Leona exhaled slowly. “And I want to know if Dungeons behave as he described.”

Caelis simply nodded in agreement.

Gregor reached into his coat and pulled out the Dungeon Pass, a thin scroll shimmering faintly between his fingers, its surface adorned with subtle golden runes that pulsed gently in response to the surrounding mana.

Behind him, others followed suit; dozens of Adventurers produced their own passes, light blooming in scattered patterns across the platform like fallen stars.

Stepping forward, Gregor felt the pressure from the mana formation intensify with each step, brushing against his senses like a rising tide.

As he approached, the runes along the dome brightened subtly, threads of light crawling across their interwoven paths.

When he reached the formation’s edge, he raised the pass high. The scroll responded instantly.

A soft golden radiance blossomed from its surface, warm and structured rather than blinding or violent, resonating gently with an inviting glow.

The runes etched along the mana dome reacted; segments of the formation unraveled with slow precision as though invisible hands were drawing curtains aside.

An opening formed before him as Gregor stepped forward. The moment his foot crossed the threshold, the Dungeon Pass dissolved into motes of golden light that drifted upward before vanishing completely. The opening sealed behind him seamlessly.

The world tilted; Gregor felt weight leave his body while direction lost meaning and sound stretched thin like pulled wire.

His boots hit the ground, and he gasped as air rushed back into his lungs, thick with moisture and a hint of mineral tang. Dim bioluminescent veins snaked along the walls of a long, descending tunnel, casting a pale green light over the jagged rock and uneven earth.

Gregor inhaled sharply as he turned. “Alright,” he said, instinctively shifting into a commanding tone.

“Everyone, stay close and….”

But the words caught in his throat; the tunnel behind him was empty, just stone. Light and silence enveloped him.

Gregor narrowed his eyes. “…Where are the others?”

—

The lounge was serene. Sage lounged comfortably on the couch, one leg casually crossed over the other, a porcelain teacup held loosely in his fingers.

Steam curled upward in lazy spirals, carrying the faint aroma of herbs through the warm air.

Mina had finally been sent off to “read or die,” as he had so delicately put it, while Pax had already left to weave his plans through the city’s veins.

For the first time since the announcement, Sage found himself alone.

He took a slow sip of tea and exhaled deeply, then suddenly his eyes widened.

Tea sprayed from his lips as he choked, half-rising from the couch.

“What?!”

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