Chapter 168: [THEN WE HELP]

“Okay, hold on… hold on.” Mio’s voice cracked through the heavy silence, shaky but edged with disbelief.

His eyes darted between the two men standing at the center of the chaos—between Kairo and Caelen, the twin storms that had somehow collided in one place.

“Are we seriously not going to talk about why the fuck a gate just appeared out of nowhere—and why Lion’s Fang just walked out of it like it’s a damn red carpet entrance?!”

His tone was sharp, but under the sarcasm was real fear.

The kind that came from surviving too many near-death experiences to trust coincidences.

Caelen didn’t seem bothered.

In fact, he looked amused.

A smirk tugged at his lips, slow and deliberate, the kind that could either start a fight or end one.

He tilted his head slightly, the red light from the fractured gate reflecting off his eyes. “Let’s just say…” he drawled, “we’re a gift from the heavens.”

His voice dripped with mockery, confidence curling around each word like smoke.

Mel snorted behind Kairo. “More like a gift from hell,” he muttered, clearly displeased despite the fact that the Lion’s Fang guild just helped them.

Caelen’s smirk didn’t waver, but his eyes—those deep, cold amber eyes—flicked toward the still-crackling gate behind him.

The faint hum of energy lingered, like a dying heartbeat.

’That gate… it really did lead us straight to them.’

Though Caelen had no idea how or why it happened, he wasn’t about to admit that.

So, he did what he always did best—pretend he knew exactly what was going on.

A few moments earlier…

“Mhm. This is starting to get boring.” Caelen mumbled, his tone flat and almost disappointed as he leaned back in his chair.

The faint glow of the massive screen in front of him reflected off his eyes, highlighting the sharp irritation there.

The livestream flickered—static, muffled sound, and the faint, panicked shouts of hunters fighting for their lives inside the dungeon.

The camera shook violently as someone screamed something about an S-Class boss.

Caelen exhaled slowly through his nose. His arms uncrossed, fingers brushing against the cool metal of the armrest.

He’d been watching long enough.

At first, it was amusing. Watching Kairo’s team get pushed, watching him get pushed.

But now? The thrill had worn off.

Kairo wasn’t dying.

He was enduring.

And that, somehow, annoyed Caelen even more.

He stood abruptly, pushing the chair back with a faint scrape of metal.

“Where are you going, Caelen?” Punzo called out, not even glancing away from the screen.

His tone was lazy, but there was curiosity beneath it.

Caelen turned his head slightly, eyes half-lidded in disinterest. “I’m going to get something to eat.”

Arman and Jabby both looked up at him, their faces faintly lit by the glow of the screen.

Neither spoke, though Jabby tilted her head in quiet observation.

Punzo perked up immediately, grinning. “Oh, can you grab me something from the pantry while you’re at it—?”

Caelen raised an eyebrow, sharp and unimpressed. He didn’t have to say anything; his expression alone said it all.

Really?

Punzo froze mid-sentence, his grin faltering. “…Never mind.”

“Thought so,” Caelen muttered under his breath as he turned away. His tone wasn’t harsh—it was the casual cruelty of someone who didn’t need to raise his voice to remind you of your place.

He walked away from the desk, his boots tapping softly against the floor.

But his gaze flicked briefly toward the screen again. From the corner of his eye, he saw Jabby leaning forward slightly, concern tightening her jaw. Arman sat rigid, silent, his expression unreadable.

That made Caelen pause.

’Jabby, I understand,’ he thought, watching her for a brief moment. ’Her brother’s in there. She’s worried. It’s only natural.’

His gaze shifted to Arman.

’But Arman? He doesn’t like any of them. Never has. So why does he look so… invested?’

Arman’s eyes were fixed on the feed—focused, intense. The light from the screen painted his face blue, his fingers twitching faintly against his thigh as if he were itching to move.

That wasn’t boredom.

That was restraint.

Caelen’s brows furrowed slightly.

’Strange.’

Arman was usually the loudest of the bunch, now he was unusually quiet—leaning forward with his chin on his hand, watching the fight unfold.

The Twilight Guild had always been their rivals. It wasn’t new. The rivalry between the two brothers—between their guilds—was practically legend.

And yet… the air in the room felt heavier than usual.

Caelen’s jaw tensed. The subtle flicker in his eyes hardened into focus as he turned back to the screen.

The livestream was shaking violently—but something was off.

The distortion wasn’t from the feed.

It was them.

The floor beneath his boots trembled once, then again—harder.

The vibration crawled up his legs, rattling the coffee mug on his desk until it toppled over and shattered against the floor.

“What the—” Punzo straightened immediately, the lazy smirk from earlier gone.

Caelen’s voice dropped to command tone in an instant. “Team.”

That single word was enough.

In seconds, his hunters were on their feet, moving behind him in formation—reflexes honed from countless battles.

Weapons weren’t drawn yet, but hands were ready, tension slicing through the air like static.

The rumbling grew louder.

A deep, guttural sound that wasn’t quite mechanical and definitely not natural.

Punzo glanced sideways. “What is this? An earthquake or… a monster attack?”

“Not sure,” Caelen replied, scanning the shaking room. His pupils dilated, instinct already gauging exits, lines of sight, and mana fluctuations. “But whatever it is—”

“We should get out,” Arman cut in, voice clipped but calm. “If the building collapses—”

He didn’t finish.

Because the light hit.

It was sudden, blinding—bursting from the center of the room like a newborn sun.

The glow flooded the space, swallowing the shadows whole. Everyone flinched instinctively, stepping back as a shockwave of heat and pressure rippled through the air.

“Shit—!” Punzo hissed, shielding his eyes.

Caelen’s reaction was instant. His hand slid into his pocket, fingers brushing against the cold edge of metal—then a soft click. The object expanded, unfolding in a gleam of silver and red: his sword.

The others followed suit. Jabby summoned the wind into her palms, threads of air swirling tight around her hands.

Punzo’s palms sparked with faint light, and Arman’s weapon hummed softly, faint blue energy running along its edge.

They waited.

The light intensified—then bent inward, condensing, pulling into a single, spinning point before it expanded again with a sharp crack of sound.

And then it appeared.

Right there—right in front of them.

It wasn’t just light anymore. It was form. Structure.

A gate.

“A—A gate?!” Jabby’s voice trembled, the disbelief clear even through her usual composure. Her eyes were wide, reflecting the golden-red glow that filled the room. “It looks exactly like…”

Caelen turned sharply, his gaze snapping toward the live feed—then back at the shimmering structure before him.

The same pattern. The same runes. The same impossible light.

A perfect match.

He could feel it now—the same pulse that had flickered through the dungeon’s broadcast moments earlier.

Like a heartbeat resonating between two worlds.

His grip tightened around his sword.

’That’s not coincidence.’

The hum of energy grew louder, swirling through the air until it made his teeth ache.

Static prickled against his skin. The faint smell of ozone filled the room.

Punzo took a half-step closer, squinting through the light spilling out of the gate. “Captain… that’s the same gate from the livestream, isn’t it?”

The hum of energy filled the room—low, steady, unnerving. Dust floated in the air like slow-moving sparks.

Caelen didn’t answer right away. His eyes narrowed, sharp and calculating, the crimson tint of the gate’s glow reflecting in his pupils.

The air in front of them shimmered—rippling, like something alive was pressing against a thin barrier, desperate to break through.

’How is this possible?’

He could feel the mana distortion crawling under his skin, thick and unstable.

This wasn’t like any spatial rift he’d ever seen. It didn’t feel man-made—or even naturally formed. It felt summoned.

A faint, humorless smile curved his lips. “Get ready, Jabby,” he said, his voice low but firm.

“Me?” Jabby blinked, glancing between him and the gate. “Why, Captain?”

“I can sense it,” Caelen replied, his gaze fixed on the pulsing runes. “This isn’t just some anomaly. It’s a dungeon—an active one. You can all feel it too, can’t you?”

The air around them vibrated slightly, the mana pressure enough to make the floorboards creak.

Even Punzo’s smirk faltered.

“I have a feeling this dungeon appeared for a reason,” Caelen continued. “So we’ll do what we do best—adapt. Jabby, use your ability and peek inside. We’ll anchor you so you don’t cross the threshold.”

Jabby hesitated, eyes flicking to the glowing symbols etched into the gate’s surface. “But, Captain… are you sure that’s safe?”

Punzo frowned, concern lacing his voice. “Yeah, this feels off. What if it’s a trap?”

Caelen didn’t answer. His silence said enough.

“I can… I think I can do it,” Jabby finally said, taking a slow step forward.

Her hand trembled slightly, but her eyes were steady.

“Jabs—” Punzo started, his tone sharp.

She cut him off with a small shake of her head. “No. If this is the same dungeon where Mel is… then I need to go. I have to see if he’s okay.”

Her voice softened, but the conviction in it didn’t waver. “We’re one of the best teams out there. I won’t let fear—or simple worries—get in the way of my job.”

Caelen’s lips curved faintly at Jabby’s resolve. “Good,” he said, voice low and steady. “That’s the kind of spine I expect from my scout.”

Jabby inhaled sharply through her nose, then exhaled.

Her eyes glowed faintly silver as the air around her shimmered—currents swirling, bending the dust and light until her outline blurred.

In seconds, she was gone, her body dissolving into translucent wind.

“Ten seconds,” Caelen said. “No more.”

“Got it, Captain,” she whispered, her voice echoing faintly as if carried through a breeze.

Punzo and Arman stepped forward, each gripping one of her arms.

They could feel her shape even if they couldn’t see her—soft resistance under the air current that marked her position. The moment she stepped closer to the gate, the energy around it shifted, runes pulsing in rhythm with her heartbeat.

Jabby swallowed hard, her voice barely above a whisper. “I’m going in.”

The wind tightened around her, forming a soft spiral cocoon as she leaned forward—only her head phasing through the glowing surface.

The moment she crossed the threshold, the sound in the room changed. The hum of mana deepened, sharper now, pulsing like static through their bones.

Caelen started counting under his breath, every number firm, clipped, steady.

“One.”“Two.”“Three.”

The gate rippled violently for a heartbeat, gold light darkening into crimson. Arman’s grip tightened, his pulse hammering. Punzo’s jaw clenched.

“Four.”“Five.”“Six.”

Nothing.

The wind still moved faintly between their hands. She was still there.

“Seven.”“Eight.”

Punzo muttered through his teeth, “Captain—”

“Nine.”

The glow began to destabilize.

“—Ten.”

The second Caelen spoke the last number, both Arman and Punzo yanked backward, pulling Jabby out of the gate with all their strength.

The air burst apart with a whoosh as her form solidified again—color and shape returning, her eyes wide, chest heaving, face pale.

“What did you see?” Caelen demanded immediately.

Jabby gasped, clutching her chest. “It’s—It’s Kairo,” she managed between breaths.

“Kairo and his team—they’re inside. The dungeon—no, the space—it’s collapsing. There’s this… serpent—huge, bigger than anything I’ve ever seen. And they—” Her voice broke. “They need help.”

Punzo’s eyes widened. “A serpent—” He turned to Caelen, disbelief flickering into urgency. “…are there any serpent monsters?”

Arman’s expression hardened, all restraint gone. “What are we going to do, Captain? Jabby said they need help.”

Caelen looked at Jabby for a long second, her trembling hands, the faint scent of ozone clinging to her hair.

Then his gaze shifted to the gate—its light pulsing erratically now, like it was waiting for something.

A slow, dangerous smile curved his lips.

“Then we help.”

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