The tale of the betrayed one

The Fall of Blue Night The dungeon walls pressed in around them, damp and silent except for the crunch of bone beneath their boots. Liam, wielder of the great sword, led the way with steady confidence, his wife Rita—the party’s mage—walking just behind him. Behind them came Ryan, the potions master whose steady hands had pulled them from countless close calls. Nina, the assassin, moved like a shadow near the walls. The twins, Maya and Mark, their bows slung at the ready, whispered small jests to one another to ease the tension. And at the rear marched Robert, the unshakable shield of the group. Together, they were Blue Night—a B-rank party, respected, tested, and united. The first four floors had been laughable: skeleton warriors, brittle and slow, and skeleton mages whose magic cracked like dried branches. For such a dungeon, the rewards—golden chalices, rare gems, potions far beyond their rank—were too generous. Liam was the first to voice it. “It doesn’t match. Too easy.” Ryan nodded, adjusting the vials strapped to his belt. “A dungeon never pays more than it costs. Something’s wrong.” The others dismissed the worry at first. But when they gathered at the door to the final chamber—a massive slab adorned with skulls that seemed to grin at their hesitation—they all felt the unease tighten like a rope around their throats. The door creaked open on its own, a groan echoing down the empty hall. The chamber within was void-black, suffocating, until a pale glow bloomed at its center. It pulsed like a living heart. Mark, the more reckless of the twins, stepped closer. The glow shifted. Before anyone could react, a creature leapt from the light, missing him but crashing into Robert instead. The tank staggered with a roar, his armor pierced by claw and fang. And then, the true horror revealed itself. The glow expanded. Limbs burst forth, massive and grotesque, followed by a face without form, only brilliance. The light was alive. The dungeon’s guardian had awoken. Their battle was chaos—steel, spells, and blood. The monster was stronger than anything they had ever faced. Each blow against it only seemed to wound the dungeon itself. “Liam!” Rita’s voice cut through the clash. “Hold it off! Just a moment—we’ll finish this!” Her eyes burned with determination. He trusted her—his wife, his partner. So he charged. Pain exploded in his gut. He looked down in disbelief. A dagger jutted from his abdomen, blood pouring around it. His strength fled, knees buckling. He turned his head, searching for his assailant. It wasn’t the monster. It was her. Rita’s face was cold as she wrenched the blade free. He collapsed, vision blurring. His hand clawed at his sword, desperate for balance, but he could only watch through fading sight as the boss loomed over him. The others struck while it was distracted with him. Rita’s magic. Ryan’s concoctions. Nina’s blades. The twins’ arrows. Robert’s last shield bash. Together, they destroyed it—using him as bait. When the creature’s body dissolved into nothingness, Rita ran—not to him, but to Ryan. She wrapped her arms around the potions master, kissing him as if Liam had already ceased to exist. “We’re done here,” Ryan said, glancing at Liam’s crumpled body. “Leave him. The dungeon will bury the evidence.” One by one, they left. Not even Robert looked back. When the chamber grew silent, Liam’s hand twitched. He forced his broken body upright, leaning on his great sword. He could barely stand, each step a battle. The dungeon trembled. The ceiling cracked. The walls split. The tower collapsed around him, stone and fire falling into a swirling black portal that ripped open beneath his feet. He drove his sword into the ground, clinging to it as his last anchor—then everything fell. The dungeon, its treasures, and Liam himself were swallowed into the abyss. He awoke in another world. Demons surrounded him, their faces sharp, their eyes alien. He expected death. Instead, they carried him. His body was mangled, bones shattered, sword broken into countless shards. Yet the Demon King ordered him healed. Day by day, his wounds closed. His bones were reforged. Food was brought, medicine administered. Even the Demon King himself came to see him, speaking words Liam could not yet understand, but always with the same piercing gaze. Liam should have been dead. Betrayed. Forgotten. But he lived. And in that living, something new began to burn