My gaze drifted past Elina, towards the distant hills visible beyond the city rooftops. The Treasure Map.

The hidden C-rank dungeon. Perhaps… perhaps the ingredients could be 'found' there? It was a long shot, based purely on game memory

association, but it was a plausible cover.

"Don't give up hope yet, Elina," I said, my voice softer now. I placed a hand gently on her shoulder, a gesture Michael would have made.

"Maybe… maybe there's an old remedy. Something the city healers overlooked. Let me… do some research. See if I can find anything in the old guild archives or ask around.".

It was a weak promise, but it was something.

Elina looked up, a flicker of fragile hope returning to her eyes.

"You'd do that?"

"Of course," I said, forcing another smile.

"We're friends, aren't we?"

She nodded, managing a watery smile back. "Thank you, Michael. Really."

We spoke for a few more minutes, the conversation drifting awkwardly back to safer topics – Academy life (my sanitized version), changes in the city, mutual acquaintances. But the underlying weight of her father's illness remained.

As we parted ways, Elina heading back towards her family's workshop with a slightly less heavy heart, I stood watching her go, my own heart a complex knot.

Unbeknownst to me, another pair of eyes had observed our interaction from a distance. Marcus, having finished his sparring session, had been taking a walk through the city himself.

He'd seen me talking with Elina, noted the sudden shift in her demeanor, the worried expression on my face, the comforting gesture I'd offered. He didn't approach, didn't interfere.

His newly integrated cultivator senses picked up the subtle fluctuations of distress and forced calm. He filed the observation away, his expression thoughtful.

Michael seemed different indeed, carrying burdens quietly. Interesting.

I turned away from the Weaver's District, my steps now carrying a new urgency. Research. Archives. Yes, that was the cover story. But my real destination was now clear.

The hidden dungeon marked on the Treasure Map wasn't just a potential source of wealth or power anymore. It might hold the key to saving a life.

My homecoming had just become a race against time.

The pre-dawn mist clung heavy to the slopes of the Grey Hills, swallowing the path behind me and muffling the sounds of the waking world.

The air was cool, damp, carrying the scent of wet earth, pine needles, and something ancient, like stones that had slept too long.

It was a stark contrast to the familiar, smoky air of Selorn City, now just a faint smudge of light against the eastern horizon.

My boots crunched softly on the gravel path as it wound upwards, leaving the last vestiges of farmland behind. Tall grasses, tipped with dew that glittered like tiny diamonds in the nascent light, brushed against my trousers.

The silence here wasn't empty; it was watchful. The rustle of unseen creatures in the undergrowth, the sigh of the wind through the gnarled branches of skeletal-looking trees, the distant cry of a hawk circling overhead – it all spoke of a world operating on older, wilder rules than those of the Academy or the Guild.

I kept my senses sharp, Quantum Analysis Mind running on a low, passive scan. While my alibi was aura training in a secluded clearing, my real destination demanded caution.

The Treasure Map had marked this dungeon as C-Rank, theoretically manageable for my E+ status, especially with Draken and my array of skills.

But hidden dungeons were notorious for defying expectations. Traps, unique monster variants, environmental hazards – the game lore was filled with tales of overconfident players meeting gruesome ends in supposedly 'easy' hidden zones.

My pack felt light on my back, containing only essentials.

The potential cure for Master Thorne resting on finding the right ingredients, the financial future of two guilds tied to my hidden investments, and the ever-present hum of Draken, a divine weapon bound to a soul it might yet devour.

Compared to all that, the physical journey felt almost trivial.

After nearly an hour of steady climbing, the terrain shifted.

The grassy slopes gave way to rockier ground, dotted with clusters of weathered grey stone that jutted from the earth like broken teeth.

The mist swirled thicker here, visibility dropping to barely ten meters ahead.

According to the map coordinates blinking softly on my watch and the landmarks etched into my memory from the Treasure Map, I was close.

[Coordinates: 67.3 : 781.1]

[Map Landmark: The Weeping Stones]

Local folklore called this area the Weeping Stones, though

Michael's memories offered no explanation why. Just vague tales whispered by grandmothers about spirits and bad luck, warnings to stay away, especially after dusk. Perfect place for a hidden entrance.

I slowed my pace, scanning the mist-shrouded landscape.

The standing stones were scattered randomly at first, small and unassuming. But as I moved further west, following the subtle dip in the terrain indicated on the map, they grew larger, taller, arranged in a rough, broken circle.

They stood like silent sentinels, covered in moss and faint, almost eroded carvings that might have been runes or just patterns left by wind and rain.

The air around them felt… different. Colder. Heavier. A low hum vibrated through the soles of my boots, a deep resonance coming from the earth itself.

Mana concentration was significantly higher here, pooling within the circle of stones.

This had to be the place.

I walked the perimeter of the circle, eyes scanning every stone, every patch of ground. No obvious cave entrance.

No glowing runes. No magical shimmer indicating an illusion. It looked like nothing more than an ancient, forgotten stone circle on a misty hill.

But the map had been specific.

"Where the tallest stone casts no shadow at dawn's first light, press the sigil of the forgotten sun."

Dawn's first light… It was just breaking now, the sun a pale disc trying to burn through the thick mist behind me.

I turned towards the east, finding the tallest stone – a massive monolith nearly five meters high, its surface smoother than the others, almost unnaturally so.

And just as the map promised, as the weak sunlight filtered through the swirling grey, the stone cast no shadow. Its eastern face seemed to absorb the light, leaving the ground before it untouched by the dawn.

My heart gave a slight thump. Okay, step one confirmed. Now, the sigil.

I approached the tall stone, running my gloved hand over its cold, smooth surface. The carvings here were clearer, less eroded. Not runes, but archaic symbols depicting celestial bodies – suns, moons, stars – arranged in unfamiliar patterns.

I searched for the "forgotten sun," a symbol described in the map's cryptic text as "a circle, broken by three falling tears."

There. Near the base, half-hidden by overgrown moss, was the symbol. A simple circle, but three wavy lines descended from its lower edge, like stylized tears or rays pointing downwards.

Taking a breath, I pressed my palm firmly against the sigil, channeling a small, steady stream of neutral mana into it, just as the map instructed.

For a moment, nothing happened. The stone remained cold, inert. Doubt flickered. Had I misinterpreted the map? Was this just an old wives' tale?

Then, a low rumble started deep within the earth. The ground beneath my feet vibrated, the hum I'd felt earlier intensifying into a resonant thrum.

The sigil on the stone began to glow – a soft, golden light that spread outwards, tracing the ancient carvings across the monolith's surface.

The stone itself didn't move.

But the air in front of it shimmered, distorting like heat haze. The image of the mossy ground wavered, then dissolved, revealing not earth, but darkness.

A perfectly circular opening, about two meters in diameter, had materialized in the empty space before the stone, leading down into blackness. It wasn't a physical door, but a spatial distortion, a tear in reality masked by a complex, ancient ward.

[Hidden Dungeon Detected: The Sunken Vault of Whispers]

[Rank: C (Estimated)]

[Entry Condition Met. Proceed?]

A faint, cool draft carrying the scent of deep earth and something metallic, like old blood, drifted out from the opening.

The darkness within seemed absolute, swallowing the morning light.

I stood at the threshold, the golden glow from the sigil illuminating my face.

My hand instinctively went to where Draken rested, the weapon pulsing faintly in acknowledgment.

Behind me, the mist-shrouded hills felt distant, the mundane world held at bay. Before me lay the unknown – a dungeon erased from maps, filled with potential treasures and certain dangers.

A place where I might find the cure for Master Thorne, resources for my family, and perhaps, answers about the strange world I now inhabited.

My lips curved into a determined smile. Research was done.

The alibi was set. The door was open.

Taking one last breath of the cool mountain air, I stepped forward, letting the shimmering darkness of the hidden entrance swallow me whole.

The hunt had truly begun.

(To be continued )

If you find any errors ( broken links, non-standard content, etc.. ), Please let us know < report chapter > so we can fix it as soon as possible.