Chapter 55: [PREPARATION]

“Whatever’s beyond this door is strong,” Caelen said from behind him, voice low and deliberate. “I can tell it’s the boss that’s inside.”

Eli didn’t move, didn’t blink—eyes still locked on the gargoyles to keep them frozen in place. “What do we do now?” he asked, tilting his head just slightly.

“If we want to get out of here,” Caelen said, “we have to clear the dungeon by killing the boss.”

“I understand that,” Eli replied, “but you said… whatever’s inside shouldn’t be in an A-Class dungeon. Doesn’t that mean this isn’t an A-Class boss?”

For a moment, there was no answer. Just silence—and the oppressive weight of it made Eli’s skin prickle.

“You’re sensing… an S-Class boss?”

Again, Caelen didn’t speak.

Eli could guess why. If Caelen wasn’t confirming it outright, it probably meant he wasn’t fully sure yet. And who would be? Gates didn’t change classification after they opened—that was unheard of.

“The gargoyles alone…” Eli’s voice was quieter now, “…don’t feel like an A-Class threat.”

Caelen’s tone sharpened slightly. “Is it possible?”

“Huh?”

“That this dungeon isn’t an A-Class?”

Eli felt a small wave of relief. Even if it defied common logic, Caelen wasn’t dismissing the possibility—he was already considering it.

That was the difference between someone who survived raids and someone who commanded them.

“I’m not sure,” Eli said honestly. “I’ve been thinking about it, but… I haven’t gone on many raids.”

“You’ve been to at least eight.”

Eli froze. “…Yes, but B-Class or lower gates.”

“Most of those were A-Class.”

’Oh, great.’

Eli winced internally. He really needed to study more about Elione before running his mouth. “Either way, I’m not as experienced as you. But—” His gaze flicked toward the stone beasts on either side. “That quake earlier wasn’t normal. Everything just collapsed and dumped us into a crypt full of gargoyles, and now a sealed chamber. And we haven’t seen anything—no mana crystals, no mana stones, no resources at all.”

That last part had been nagging at him since they fell.

“I didn’t even notice that,” Caelen muttered.

Eli felt an almost smug sense of pride at catching something an S-Class missed. Even if it was small, it counted.

The silence stretched again, heavy and tense. Eli’s eyes ached from staring at the gargoyles so long. “So… are we just going to stand here forever?”

Caelen shifted slightly behind him. “Can you feel danger from inside? Anywhere?”

Eli closed his eyes for a moment, testing his ability. “…No. Nothing.”

Caelen let out a sharp exhale. “Fuck. I don’t like barging in blind… but it seems we don’t have a choice.” His grip on Eli’s hand tightened, steady and unyielding. “Listen, Elione—when I open this door, I’m going in first then pulling you in while you still keep your eyes on those ugly things. The second we’re through, shut it. We can’t let the gargoyles follow.”

Eli nodded, pulse picking up. “Got it.”

“On the count of three,” Caelen said.

’Wait, already?’

The air between them felt charged, like the second before a lightning strike.

“One…” Caelen’s stance shifted, weight bracing toward the door.

“…Two…” Eli’s flashlight trembled in his other hand.

He could feel it now—not danger, but pressure. Something vast. Waiting.

“…Three.”

Caelen moved.

His boot slammed into the door behind Eli, the boom ricocheting through the crypt like a cannonshot.

The heavy slab didn’t just open—it tore free with a bone-deep crack, swinging wide on screaming hinges.

A rush of air slammed into Eli’s face—warmer than the stagnant corridor, but thick with the scent of dust and something faintly metallic.

“Go,” Caelen ordered, his voice a command that left no room for hesitation.

Eli’s gaze clung to the unmoving gargoyles, pulse thundering. Then Caelen’s grip tightened, dragging him through the threshold and into the chamber beyond.

The shift was immediate. Light—pale, muted—spilled from no visible source, painting the walls in a sickly gold that seemed to seep into the very stone.

The space felt wider, but the air was heavier, as if the room itself was holding its breath.

As soon as both feet crossed over, Eli tore his hand free and spun toward the entrance. The door loomed behind them—thick stone etched with faint, curling runes that pulsed with the subtlest of light.

“Close it,” Caelen said, already advancing deeper into the room, sword sliding into a ready grip. “Don’t let them through.”

“On it.”

Eli slammed his hands against the door and pushed. The surface was cold and rough under his palms, grit grinding against his skin. It didn’t move.

“…What the—”

“Close it!” Caelen’s tone snapped sharp without looking back.

“I’m trying!” Eli barked, voice rising with panic. “It won’t—move—!”

It wasn’t stuck—it was anchored. Like the stone had fused seamlessly into the floor the moment they’d entered.

’No, no, no, this isn’t good—’

Keeping his peripheral locked on the gargoyles beyond the doorway, Eli braced his shoulder against the slab, legs straining as he shoved with everything he had.

A sudden shadow fell over him—Caelen, stepping up, jaw clenched, golden eyes hard. He slammed his shoulder into the door alongside Eli, the muscles in his arm flexing under the strain.

The slab shuddered under their combined force—just a fraction—but still refused to close.

“Fuck,” Caelen muttered under his breath, low and sharp.

That’s when Eli’s Danger Detection spiked. Not from the hallway. Not from the gargoyles.

From behind them.

The air grew thicker, oppressive. Eli’s lungs felt like they were working twice as hard just to pull in a breath.

Slowly—because something deep in his instincts screamed that fast movement would be worse—he turned.

And froze.

’…What the fuck…’

At the far end of the chamber, between towering pillars, loomed a colossal statue. A priest—its stone robes spilling in intricate folds to the base, hands pressed together in perfect prayer. The face was carved with almost divine serenity, lips curved in a faint, eternal smile.

But the eyes—those eyes—were glowing. Faint, sickly gold, just enough to catch in the dim light.

Too alive for stone.

Eli’s pulse pounded in his ears. His throat was dry. Every survival instinct he had screamed the same thing—that thing is not just a statue.

“C-Caelen… Caelen—watch out—!”

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