Chapter 60: 60. The Eckstein Dungeon

The mountains outside Nexus Prime stretched toward the sky. Most hunters knew these peaks only from a distance as the area was remote, treacherous, and supposedly devoid of anything valuable enough to justify the difficult trek.

Most hunters didn’t know about the dungeon gate hidden in a canyon three miles from the nearest road.

The gate itself was unmarked, unlisted in the Hunter Association’s official registry, and claimed by a guild that operated in the shadows of legitimacy.

The Dark Reapers maintained their hold on this particular portal not through official channels, but through the more traditional methods of bribes, threats, and carefully cultivated relationships with people who preferred certain activities to remain off the record.

Rogers Trump and Vonn approached the Dungeon’s gate portal on foot, having parked their vehicle at a carefully camouflaged spot a half-mile back.

The gate pulsed with the familiar blue-white vortex of a stable dungeon entrance,

“It’s a Field dungeon,” Rogers said unnecessarily, checking his watch. “F-rank difficulty according to the initial survey, we’ve sustained it this long by Traping the dungeon boss and periodically clearing the mobs.”

Vonn nodded, his hand resting on the sheath of his sword. He had been in a foul mood since their last failed attempt to acquire Yuki’s dragon, and the subsequent loss of contact with the assassin team they had sent to ambush her a month ago.

The mood hadn’t improved when Rogers had suddenly summoned him for this particular job.

They stepped through the portal together.

The transition was instantaneous and disorienting. One moment, cold mountain air and rocky terrain. The next, a completely different environment that made Vonn’s jaw drop despite years of dungeon experience.

“Holy shit,” he breathed, slowly rotating to take in the view.

The dungeon was indeed a field-type, a vast expanse of rolling grasslands stretching to a distant horizon, with scattered copses of trees and a small river cutting through the landscape.

But that wasn’t what made Vonn stare.

Stretching across the pristine dungeon landscape, completely at odds with the natural environment, was a compound that looked like it had been ripped from an architectural digest for billionaires.

The main building was a modernist masterpiece: three stories of glass, steel, and white stone arranged in geometric precision. Floor-to-ceiling windows reflected the dungeon sky. Pools stretched along one side, Manicured gardens surrounded the structure, the plants clearly imported from outside and maintained despite the hostile dungeon environment.

And encircling the entire compound, rising twenty feet high and topped with what looked like electrified wire, was a wall of reinforced magical steel. The kind of barrier designed to keep out monsters.

“Rich people do insane shit,” Vonn muttered, shaking his head in disbelief. “I can’t believe that Eckstein dude actually built a villa inside a dungeon. Why the hell would anyone—”

“Privacy,” Rogers interrupted, already walking toward the compound’s main gate. “Can’t get more private than a location literally in another dimension that is only accessible through a single controlled portal. No neighbors. No zoning laws. No authorities. Hidden from all.”

They approached the gate, where two guards in tactical gear stood watch. The guards recognized Rogers immediately and opened the gate without requiring identification.

“This isn’t even the most insane part,” Rogers said quietly as they entered the compound.

A third guard appeared, this one wearing a suit despite the dungeon environment, he gestured for them to follow. Then he led them through the villa’s opulent ground floor and toward a door that appeared to be solid steel.

The guard produced a keycard, swiped it, placed his palm on a biometric scanner, and the door hissed open, revealing a descending staircase.

They went down it.

At the bottom of the stairs, the corridor opened into what could only be described as a dungeon in the traditional, medieval sense of the word.

Cells. Dozens of them, stretching along both sides of a stone corridor that extended into darkness. Each cell was perhaps ten feet by ten feet, fronted with bars that glowed with magical runes designed to suppress abilities.

And in those cells, chained to walls or huddled in corners or lying motionless on cold stone floors, were people.

Not humans. But Non-humans.

Vonn’s steps slowed as his mind tried to process what he was seeing.

A dwarf in one cell, his beard matted and filthy, his eyes hollow with despair.

An elf in another, her ethereal beauty marred by bruises and malnutrition.

A cat-girl curled in a ball, her ears cut and flat against her skull.

A siren whose scales had lost their luster, her gills working sluggishly in the too-dry air.

And in one cell that Vonn passed, visible for just a moment before the corridor turned, was the body of a bunny-girl sprawled on the floor.

Dead.

Her body was covered in bruises, old and new. Her clothes were torn. And across her skin was a sticky, oily substance that made Vonn’s stomach turn when his brain reluctantly supplied what it probably was.

“What the fuck?” The words came out strangled.

Rogers grabbed his wrist, the grip iron-strong despite the casual appearance. “Let’s just focus on why we’re here, Vonn.” His voice was flat, emotionless. “I’d rather you not develop a conscience now of all times. We both know what Eckstein is. We both knew what we’d find here. Don’t act surprised.”

“But—… Fuck!” Vonn’s protest died when he met Rogers’ eyes. There was no sympathy there. No outrage. Just cold pragmatism and perhaps a hint of warning.

It was obvious Rogers had been here before. Had seen this before. And had made peace with it, or at least made the decision that whatever Eckstein paid was worth tolerating his ’hobbies’.

Vonn swallowed his objection and let Rogers pull him forward. They continued down the corridor, past more cells, more prisoners, more evidence of cruelty.

The a sudden screaming started before they reached the final door.

“BASTARD!!!”

A female voice Laced with killing intent so pure it made the word sound less like a curse and more like a promise of violence. Not a scream of pain but a roar of defiance.

The guard leading them didn’t react, just pushed open the door at the corridor’s end.

Then within was a room larger than the cells—perhaps twenty feet square, with better lighting and actual furniture. A table held various implements that made Vonn’s skin crawl when he recognized their purpose.

Chains hung from the walls, anchored into the stone with industrial-strength bolts.

And shackled to one of those walls, straining against magical restraints that glowed with suppression runes, was a lion-girl.

She was magnificent even in captivity. Perhaps mid-twenties in human terms, though age was difficult to judge with beast-folk. Thick golden hair flowed from her head down her back like a mane, and nestled in that mane were tawny lion ears that swiveled constantly, tracking every sound. Her face carried subtle feline features—high cheekbones, a slightly flattened nose, and her pointed fangs that were visible when she snarled.

Which she was doing now. Constantly.

Her amber eyes burned with predator’s fury, tracking the room’s occupants with the gaze of an apex predator who’d been temporarily contained but not defeated. A long, muscular tail lashed behind her, the movement restricted by the limited chain length but never stopping. Her fingers and toes ended in retracted claws that occasionally extended when her anger spiked.

She was lean and athletic, with the sleek, powerful build of a lioness given human form. Every muscle was defined, suggesting strength and speed that the magical shackles were currently suppressing but hadn’t eliminated.

And she looked ready to murder everyone in the room the instant she got free.

“Welcome, boys!” The voice came from the room’s corner, jovial and completely at odds with the setting.

Geo Eckstein looked like someone’s grandfather. Late forties, maybe early fifties, with white hair and a neatly trimmed white beard. He wore a gray hoodie and sweatpants. Casual, comfortable, the outfit of someone relaxing at home rather than someone operating an illegal trafficking operation in a dungeon.

But his eyes ruined the grandfatherly image. They were cold, calculating, and carried the kind of cruelty that came from viewing other sentient beings as objects for his amusement.

By his sides were two men who radiated a deadly aur. Aaron and Paul—Eckstein’s personal bodyguards and enforcers. Both were built like professional fighters. Rumor placed them at A-rank, though neither had ever submitted to official Hunter Association evaluation.

They didn’t need to. Their job was protecting Eckstein and managing his merchandise, not clearing dungeons for public glory.

“I’ve been waiting for you guys forever,” Eckstein said cheerfully. He picked up a whip from the table—leather, with metal barbs woven into the strands—and casually lashed it across the lion-girl’s exposed back.

The crack echoed in the enclosed space.

“Aaghh!” She screamed, more of fury than pain, straining against the chains hard enough that the wall bolts creaked.

“Ah, music to my ears,” Eckstein sighed contentedly. “This stupid bitch cost me so much money. Bit off the ear of the client I sold her to! Rich bastard from District One who paid premium for an ’exotic experience,’ and she goes and mauls him.”

He shook his head in mock disappointment. “Still has enough strength to resist even with the mana-restriction shackles. Impressive, really.”

The lion-girl’s amber eyes fixed on Eckstein with an intensity that promised his death if she was ever freed. If the chains broke, if the magic failed for even a second, she would tear his throat out with her teeth. Everyone in the room knew it.

Eckstein seemed to find it amusing.

“Spicy little one,” he commented, setting the whip back on the table and turning his full attention to Rogers and Vonn. “Now then, Rogers. Where’s my dragon?”

Rogers straightened slightly, his expression carefully neutral. “Sir, if you could just give me one more chance to—”

“Enough with the chances!” Eckstein’s jovial tone evaporated instantly, replaced by a cold irritation. “She’s back from that Story Dungeon, right? The clear was all over the news. So go get me that damn dragon already! I’ve given you enough money to make this happen multiple times over. What happened to the last team you sent?”

“We haven’t heard from them since the ambush attempt,” Rogers admitted. “It’s safe to assume they’re dead or captured.”

Eckstein began pacing, his casual outfit somehow making his anger more unsettling than if he had been in a suit. “Why is it so damn hard to get me a dragon from one old divorced bitch?” He stopped and turned to Vonn, his eyes narrowing.

“You’re her ex-husband, right? You can’t deal with your own damn whore of a wife? She’s what, C-rank? And you’re B-rank with guild support and external help. How is this difficult?”

Vonn’s jaw clenched, his hand moving toward his sword hilt. The insult to Yuki was an insult to himself that his ego couldn’t take. But Rogers’ hand clamped on his shoulder with a warning pressure.

“We’ll get it done, sir,” Rogers said quickly, his voice carrying absolute certainty whether he felt it or not. “I promise. The dragon will be delivered.”

Eckstein stared at them both for a long moment, then he smiled, that grandfatherly smile that didn’t reach his cold eyes.

“You better. Because if you don’t…” He gestured casually toward the lion-girl chained to the wall. “Well, those shackles come in different sizes. And I’ve always wondered what it would be like to break an S-rank hunter instead of just beast-folk.”

The threat hung in the air, clear and unmistakable.

“Understood, sir,” Rogers said. “We’ll handle it.”

“Good. Now get out. You’re ruining my evening.”

Rogers and Vonn left quickly, climbing the stairs back up to the villa, then exiting the compound and returning through the dungeon gate to the cold mountain air of reality.

They walked in silence toward their vehicle until they were far enough from the portal that conversation was safe.

“Why?” Vonn finally asked, his voice tight with barely suppressed anger. “You’re strong, Rogers. An S-rank. Why are you taking orders from some ordinary human who isn’t even awakened as a hunter? How’s he even The Guild master? He’s got money, sure, but—”

“You think it’s just money?” Rogers interrupted, stopping and turning to face Vonn fully. His expression was tired, resigned. “You think Eckstein operates that compound with just wealth? Kid, there are invisible strings at play here. Connections. Powerful people who make use of his services. Politicians. Hidden hunters so high up the ladder that you and I are insects to them.”

He sighed, the sound carrying decades of compromises and moral flexibility.

“Eckstein isn’t the spider. He’s just one strand of the web. And people like us? We’re flies. Best we can do is not struggle too hard and hope we don’t attract the spider’s attention.”

Vonn wanted to argue, to protest, to claim that there had to be a better way, for them to take power themselves. But he thought about the lion-girl’s amber eyes burning with helpless fury, about the bodies in those cells, about how openly Eckstein operated despite what he was doing.

And he realized Rogers was probably right.

“Just go get that damn dragon from your ex-wife,” Rogers said, climbing into the driver’s seat. “And try not to get yourself killed in the process. Yuki Goldberg isn’t the helpless F-rank she was when you divorced her. That much is obvious from the dungeon clear. So be smart about it.”

Vonn got in the passenger seat, his mind already working through approaches, plans, contingencies.

One way or another, he was going to get that dragon.

Because the alternative was being chained to a wall in Eckstein’s dungeon.

And Vonn had seen what happened to people in those cells.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep