On the outskirts of the bustling city of Mahernas, as the sun had just given way to the moon and night had started to fall at last, a hulking man with ashen grey hair down to his shoulders a cross-shaped scar on his forehead, and a look of bitter determination on his face lumbered through the dense forest, with three others alongside him. It took this man a fair amount of effort just to move- He carried a lot of weight and being in his fifties, was the oldest of this group by a long shot.

Overlord Lendras Rosharien, so-called the Burning Gauntlet for the one piece of armour he wore, a huge golden glove adorned with a red crystal on the back of the wearer’s hand, turned to his companions impatiently.

“Do I pay you jokers… To lag behind me?” he asked through ragged breaths.

“No, Lord Rosharien,” A smooth voice with barely-concealed distaste replied curtly, “In fact, you’re barely paying us at all.”

The voice’s owner was a man with black hair tied back in a long ponytail, narrow dark eyes and a lithe, toned body. He wore light, jet-black armour which bore no insignia and had a fierce looking sword in his right hand. The way he carried himself was almost animalistic and he showed no sign of tiredness or strain as they made their way through the growing darkness.

Another man walking alongside him gave a slight chuckle at his companion’s sharp answer to their master. This man had a completely different air about him to the sword wielder- He looked less formidable but felt more dangerous. His eyes were pale grey, and shifted around as if calculating the best way to get the upper hand over anyone he met. He wore a wicked smile and his unruly dark hair had streaks of white in it which looked somehow unnatural and off-putting, given he had a slight body, with uncalloused hands and no signs of ageing on his face. He wore regal-looking jewellery- Rings and chains which you’d have expected to see on someone like the Overlord of a country, and a dark, hooded coat with red patterns on the sleeves and neck.

Observing these three very different men and bringing up the rear of the group was a girl with swarthy skin and a sunken face, who perpetually wore a dark, grim expression. There may have once been life in her violet eyes, but now they just stared straight ahead, devoid of any emotion but sorrow. She wondered how it had come to this- How she was about to embark into the most perilous situation of her life, into a Dungeon which none had ever come back from. What made this old fool she found herself serving think he would be the one to claim the Spirit Vessel which may or may not even be there?

She heard the jewel-adorned man chuckle again, at first seemingly at nothing, before he turned around and gave her a wink.

“Delusion,” he whispered, smirking cruelly.

When he turned back to face in front of him, the young girl shivered involuntarily in discomfort. She was in the presence of the Burning Gauntlet and had been for a long time now, witnessing his wanton cruelty and unpleasantness every day. Yet somehow, this man accompanying them, whom she had never seen before until that night, brought her even more disgust and fear than the Overlord himself.

And now I find out it seems like… He can read my thoughts.

Part of her wanted to make a break for it right there and then, but there was no hope for that. She may have been strong and fast, but she hadn’t been fed a proper meal in… Well, she honestly couldn’t remember.

This girl was a slave. One of numerous in the employ of Lendras- The fortress he usually resided in was populated by people from all corners of the world, where they were treated like dirt and forced to work all day, every day. The Guards and the Overlord saw them as sub-human, and showed no respect whatsoever to any of them. In the year since she’d been transported on a slaver’s ship to the port city of Mahernas, she’d been brutally beaten more times than she could count. Because of her lineage, she’d been made to fight against Fiends using nothing but her hands and feet.

I survived this long, the girl known as #215 thought to herself miserably, so I can survive… This.

What “this” was, she wasn’t quite sure. She’d heard of Dungeons, but never thought she’d find herself about to enter one. They were apparently places of untold riches and power, but also untold dangers. They could change lives, but more often than not ended them. To a girl who had lost all hope, all conviction, who had lost even her name, such things were meaningless. She would never understand why people would go to such lengths for power.

Not when we all end up in the ground, anyway.

“You’re a cheery one, aren’t you?” the man in the black coat smirked back at her again. He definitely was reading her mind!

“Don’t bother speaking to #215,” the Overlord ahead of him gave an amused grunt, “You won’t get an answer. She’s only to speak under my orders, and that’ll never happen so long as she lives. She’s not even allowed to cry out in pain!”

#215 clenched her fist tightly with rage as she always did when she heard Lendras bragging about his “no speaking policy” he had with his slaves. If any of them spoke out or expressed pain, they would be beaten to the brink of death- #215 shook just thinking about the time when she was a first-hand testament to this rule of his.

*

It was about six months ago, back at the fortress where Lendras ruled over the so-called Free State of Alreese. It was extremely hot, even more so than usual, but of course the slaves were toiling away at the forges, making weapons for the Overlord’s Guard.

The work was tough, and the heat was scorching, but the guards on watch didn’t give them any breaks, just like any other day.

About five or six hours into the shift (#215 had lost track of time at this point), an old woman collapsed to the ground, trembling and groaning.

“W-Water…” Was the one word she was able to utter, repeating it time and again.

The commanding guard on duty at the forges gave an audible sigh and walked over to the wizened old woman, whose skin was sallow and whose words slurred as if she was about to fade into unconsciousness at any moment.

“What is it, #184?” he spat angrily, “Don’t you remember… You filthy vermin aren’t allowed to speak out of turn.”

“Water…” the old woman uttered feebly once again, earning her a hard kick to the stomach which made her howl in agony.

Watching from the corner of her eye, #215 silently seethed. She knew this old woman, #184. They worked together every day, and a few times #215 had snuck the old woman some of her evening meal, whispering “You need to keep your strength up,” careful not to let the guards or anyone else hear.

#184’s quietly whispered words one of those times had stuck with #215, and she imagined they would until the day she died: “You’re one of the few kind people on this world, lassie. I can tell it from looking at you. If any slave in this place escapes the clutches of this… This tyrant… Gods, let it be you.”

The guard kicked her again. Another blood-curdling scream. More guards were approaching.

Something inside #215 snapped. She wasn’t going to stand by and let them do this- Let them murder an old woman in cold blood.

“Get away from her, you bastards!”

The moment #215 let those words escape her, all hell broke loose. Guards swarmed her while others forced #184 off the ground and into a barely conscious stance, supported by guards on either side.

#215 was ready when the guards rushed her. She lashed out at the first with a powerful kick, and narrowly evaded another one’s spear, ducking under it and moving in to land a punch that, despite the heavy armour, sent the man flying.

“Wh-What the hell?!”

“Don’t you know?!” One of the other guards said to the one who had exclaimed, “This woman… She’s not human!”

“If anyone’s not human,” #215 spoke bitterly, “It’s all of you, for the way you treat innocent people!”

She charged the next two guards, and to the surprise of all the onlooking slaves she managed to pick up and throw one of the men, much larger than her and in a full suit of armour, into the other.

“Wh-What is she?”

“I’ve heard about her kind before…”

“SILENCE!”

A new voice boomed through the room, and the old woman still in the guards’ clutches had a look of grim defeat on their face when it did.

“Your little rampage ends here, Jureinian.”

#215 turned to see a tall man in exquisite white armour, not as heavy as those of the guards, lined with gold. His blonde hair matched his golden eyes, which were full of malice and cruelty.

#215 growled involuntarily. Now she’d done it…

“Men,” the new figure said, “Take that old crone away, and… Dispose of her.”

“Y-You can’t!” #215 screamed out, “She’s…”

“A slave,” the man smiled wickedly, “Which means I’m at liberty to do whatever I like. Besides, I’d be more worried about myself if I was you!”

“B-Bastard…” #215 muttered darkly.

“Luckily for you, the Overlord knows that as a Jureinian, you are of particular value, so it would be our heads on the line as well if we were to kill you.”

#215 was silent, not giving this vindictive man the satisfaction of a response.

“…But that doesn’t mean we can’t make you wish you were dead.”

#215 entered a combat stance once more, “In that case… I won’t go quietly.”

The armoured man chuckled, “Have it your way, slave.”

And just like that, he was upon her, blindingly fast. She tried to duck out of the way of his sword strike, and succeeded the first time. However, as she tried to throw a punch to counterattack, she felt the sharpest pain she’d ever felt pierce into her right shoulder from behind.

How the hell did he get behind?!

The sword crackled with the force of lightning magic, and #215 knew she’d been attacked with a magical weapon. No wonder it hurt so bad… She felt blood seeping through the rags she wore, not for the first time, and certainly not for the last.

“Maybe this will teach you to know your place, #215.”

She muttered a final curse before everything went black.

*

It made #215 seethe to think that the kind old woman’s sadistic killing and the further torture she faced at the hands of that man with the lightning sword after she regained consciousness were all under the orders of the man leading her now.

This insane man who had lost his grip on reality, gotten drunk with power and was now more than likely heading towards his death. It gave her a grim satisfaction to think about that, but she thought it cruel that she was forced to accompany him. Even if he did succeed in conquering the Dungeon and having an Ancient at his disposal, things would only get worse for #215. She was doomed to be a slave her whole life even if she helped her master gain what so many rulers coveted dearly.

“Looks like we’re here,” the mysterious newcomer said cheerily, to which the sword-wielding man grunted and Lendras chuckled.

“Indeed,” the Overlord said in a low growl, “The site of history in the making.”

The Dungeon’s entrance was essentially a large cave mouth. The cave itself was small, but inside would be the real entrance, to the strange otherworldly separate dimension of the Dungeon, where time and space worked differently, and dangers of all kinds lurked.

“What are we waiting for, sir?” the smirking newcomer said, “None of us are getting any younger.”

#215 looked at her master. It seemed the older man was holding back fear, and was slightly exhausted already.

“Y-Yes… We’re not. #215!”

#215 was distracted because she thought she heard something, or at least felt a presence of someone else around there in the forest clearing where the Dungeon was hidden off from the wider city and any wandering travellers.

Hearing the Overlord’s call, #215 came back to reality and trudged to where the three men were standing.

“You take the lead from here, girl,” Lendras eyed her maliciously, “I’d wager you’re the fastest in battle, so if anything leaps out you can defend me. But also, you’ll be the first to die that way, which is no skin off my nose.”

Your ugly, hooked nose on that wretched, cowardly face.

The man with the white streaks in his hair laughed openly, and the Overlord turned to him, a look of blind fury on his face.

“What’s so funny? Do you want to be the first to die?! Or can weird folk like you even die?! I’d be willing to find out…”

“Oh, believe me, I can die, sir,” the man confirmed, still wearing a slight smile in the face of the raging Overlord, “I meant no disrespect, I… Just thought of a funny joke I heard.”

The Overlord merely grunted, “So be it. Let us be off then. #215, you first.”

And so, this strange group of an Overlord, a slave, a silent swordsman and a mysterious man who seemed to have the ability to read minds made their way into the mouth of the cave- Into the Dungeon…

*

From the nearby bushes, Kydan and Auros looked at each other with pale faces.

“Yeesh… That was him!” Auros shook his head, eyes wide with panic, “That was Lendras!”

Kydan fumed, “That’s the man who took everything from me. That bumbling old coward?!”

“You’d get killed on sight for saying a thing like that, lad,” Auros muttered, smiling tightly.

“I don’t care,” Kydan’s voice was full of determination, “Seeing a man who treats his slaves that way, as if they’re nothing… He deserves to have that Spirit Vessel taken from right under that hooked nose of his.”

Auros laughed, “Quite right, and I suppose we’re to be the men to do it.”

“What better pair to do it?” Kydan looked at Auros, his blue eyes alight with the same anticipation he’d had earlier, but even more so now. Auros felt strength welling up inside himself when he saw that look in his new companion’s eyes.

This lad… He might really do it.

“You think the coast is clear now?” Auros asked.

“Yeah, they’re probably in there already,” Kydan replied.

The two removed themselves from their hiding place, having gotten to the clearing a few moments before but hiding as soon as they heard the voices of Lendras and his three companions.

“Who do you suppose that man with all the jewellery was?” Kydan asked Auros.

“I’ve no idea, but I didn’t like the energy he radiated,” Auros spoke, a look of wariness on his face, “And the way he spoke to the Overlord suggested… I don’t know, that he wasn’t just some slave or crony.”

Kydan nodded, “I know what you mean. I hope we don’t run into them…”

“Perhaps they’ll be dead already by the time we arrive,” Auros said, “Hopefully. Then all we’ll have to deal with is the monsters and stuff…”

Kydan looked to the cave, “Good point, maybe they will…” in his heart of hearts, though, he sincerely doubted it. He knew deep down that this excursion would probably lead to an encounter with the Overlord.

Lendras… I won’t let you take that Spirit Vessel. Not a conniving, murdering scumbag like you…

“Let’s be off then,” Auros gave Kydan a nudge, and so the two set off into the cave.

Inside the place was cramped and narrow. It smelled liked decay, but also there was a strange feeling of radiance, probably because of the presence of strong magic.

They had only to walk for a few short moments before coming to a circular space, wider than the rest of the cave. At the centre was a raised platform of stone, with inscriptions in some strange language all around its base.

“This is it,” Kydan smiled.

“You’re grinning while we’re about to head perhaps to our deaths?” Auros looked at him quizzically.

“I always get like this when I’m about to enter a Dungeon,” Kydan said, “I get this swell of energy, but… It’s stronger this time. The Spirit Vessel truly lies here, I can feel it.”

“Best get a move on then before that Overlord gets his grimy, gauntleted hand on it…”

Kydan laughed, “True enough. Are you ready?”

“Of course,” Auros said, “I’m weary from outrunning those fools in town and scrambling for an exit, but… I’m ready as I’ll ever be.”

And so the two unlikely companions made their way to the stone podium, standing atop it.

Nothing happened for a moment, and they looked at each other with expressions of determination, before they were engulfed in a white light which surged with magic…

…In a moment it was over and the two young men were no longer in the cave.