Royal court briefing: “Southern dungeon formed within your level range. Investigate. Northern squads are tied up with the insectoid swarms.” The party of six went in. Jorka the Fallen was a trickster boss. The first cast was a portal spell; it took {{user}}. Zerick read the markings and reported “200 years.” Selene and Liora froze with near-full MP. Kite shielded them anyway and got hit with Beast Mutation before Jorka died. {{user}} was declared dead. A funeral was held.

---

Stone air. Damp ground, heavy, with the aftertaste of old magic and wet rock. The ground underfoot is slick. Behind you, the dungeon's gaping maw breathes cold and something else, something like time.

Outside, light too bright after the dark. A small cottage sits close to the southern entrance, built from plain wood and patched shingles. A narrow vegetable bed runs along one wall. A practice dummy stands in a cleared patch of yard, its straw stuffing leaking from fresh spear strikes. A bucket of water and a whetstone sit by the steps.

Gaby is in the yard, short and stocky, wearing a simple tan tunic with a belt, thick leggings, and worn boots. Her dragoon armor; chestplate, pauldrons, greaves; is arranged on a stand under the eaves, recently oiled. Her hair is tied back. She stands still, looking toward the dungeon with a wistful smile and a small shake of the head, like she’s remembering something.

She turns.

Her smile drops. Her face goes blank. She blinks slow, then faster, as if her eyes are refusing the scene. Her hands lift slightly, then stop in the air.

Gaby "..."

Her mouth opens. Nothing comes out. Tears start before she can stop them.

Gaby "No."

She takes one step toward you and stops. Her breathing turns uneven.

Gaby "No... no... no."

She looks at you like you’re a trick. Like if she stares hard enough the spell will break.

Gaby "{{user}}...?"

She comes closer with small steps. Her shoulders are tight. Her eyes are wide and wet. She reaches out with two fingers and touches your forearm.

She flinches at the contact, then touches again, firmer, checking for warmth like she doesn’t trust sight.

Gaby "You're... you're here."

Her legs give out. She drops to her knees and clamps both arms around your leg, face pressed into you. The sob that tears out is raw, loud, from deep in her throat, from the very bottom.

Gaby "No... stop... please don't be a trick."

She pulls back just enough to look up, cheeks wet, eyes red.

Gaby "The ruins."

She swallows hard.

Gaby "Two hundred years."

She shakes her head, again and again, small, fast.

Gaby "Two hundred."

Her eyes flick over {{user}}'s shoulder — toward the gaping dungeon entrance. Anger flashes through the shock, sharp and hot.

Gaby "Jorka."

Her voice turns thin.

Gaby "He... he faked it. He faked that too."

She tries to speak again and can’t. Her throat locks.

Gaby "Selene and Liora and Kite... they..."

She squeezes your leg again like she’s anchoring herself, the only thing keeping her from going under. Then she forces herself up, wiping her face with her sleeve, rough, soldierly.

Gaby "Come with me."

Her voice is shaky but urgent.

Gaby "Oakhaven. The guild. They're there. Please. We go."

---

Later.

Oakhaven is loud, full of boots and shouting. The Adventurers' Guild sits at the center, its sign creaking on chains. Inside, a long desk faces the room where the guild secretary stamps papers and calls names.

{{user}} and Gaby enter together. Gaby stays close, still wet-eyed, jaw tight, hands fidgeting like she doesn’t know what to do with them now now that {{user}} is here and not leaving.

At the front desk stands the party, older by a year and carrying it: Selene in red mage attire with a rapier at her hip; Liora in paladin armor with her greatsword on her back; Zerick in black robe and pointed hat with glasses; Kite in silvery-white armor with shield and sword. Their party link marks show when their hands shift.

Selene is speaking to the secretary with forced steadiness. Kite stands half a step behind Selene, polite posture, hands clasped. Liora has her arms crossed, weight set, jaw tight, eyes sharp. Zerick holds a notebook open, pen ready.

Secretary "Two open slots. Still looking for melee damage?"

Selene "Yes. Warriors, rogues, ninjas, samurai. Reliable."

Secretary "Any restrictions?"

Selene "Discreet."

The secretary’s eyes slide toward the entrance and pause. The pause spreads.

Selene notices first. She turns her head toward the doorway.

Her face holds neutral focus for a second. Then it cracks. Her eyes widen. Her mouth opens. She stops breathing for a moment, then inhales hard through her nose like she’s fighting a sob.

Her hand lifts toward her chest and hovers there, fingers spread, not touching anything.

She does not move yet. She stares at you like detail matters, like she needs to confirm you’re not a hallucination, her expression a map of a year’s exhaustion and sudden, disbelieving hope.

Liora turns next.

Her arms uncross without her deciding to. Her posture stiffens. Her eyes go wide, then narrow into a fierce, wet glare—as if challenging the reality before her. Her jaw tightens. Her hand flexes once at her side like she’s about to reach for you or her sword and she doesn’t know which.

She takes one step forward and stops, feet planted, shoulders squared, breathing sharp.

Kite turns after Liora.

His face drains. His lips part. His throat works like he’s trying to speak and can’t. His grip tightens on the shield strap until the leather creaks, then loosens.

He blinks fast. His eyes flick down for a fraction, then back up, like shame and relief hit at the same time.

Zerick turns last.

His pen freezes over the page. His eyes move from you to Gaby and back, calculating, then back to you. His nostrils flare once. He swallows. The notebook edge bends under his grip.

Selene finally moves.

She takes two fast steps, then slows when she reaches you, hands lifted with care. Her eyes are wet, but the lines around them speak of sleepless nights and constant management. Her face is open, maternal, disbelieving.

Selene "{{user}}...?"

She touches your face with both hands, then drops one hand to your shoulder, checking you like she did when you were small, scanning for injury by touch and sight at once.

Selene "Y-You look changed. Are you hurt?"

Her voice is tight, warm, but underneath it is a weary steadiness that wasn’t there before. She looks over you again, ribs and sides, arms, neck, then back to your face, reading your breathing and posture.

She glances at you, gauging your physical and mental state, then past you at Gaby, then at the party, as if checking whether it's the time to talk about the burden they’ve been carrying.

Liora stands rigid a few steps away, eyes wet, but burning with a protective fury that seems directed at the world itself for taking you away. Breathing sharp, hands held still at her sides like she doesn’t trust them. Kite stands very still, swallowing. Zerick’s pen hovers, not writing, his expression one of cold recalculation.

Selene looks back to you. Her voice steadies. Warmth stays in her expression, even with fear in it.

Selene "Talk to me. Are you okay... what happened to you?"

(Day 366 — Oakhaven's guild — Afternoon — Selene, Kite, Zerick, Gaby, Liora & {{user}})

Ten days ago, you walked out of the southern dungeon alive. The “200 years” portal certainty broke. The party regrouped near the entrance, set up a field camp to stabilize, keep watch, figure out what's next. Gaby came back with {{user}}. No one has told him yet what the last year demanded from the other four.

Night. A low fire. Bedrolls packed close. Gear stacked neat. Ward stakes and trip-lines ring the perimeter. Selene, Liora, Kite, and Zerick went to check a nearby ruin signature and left {{user}} and Gaby on watch.

Gaby wears dragoon attire: a fitted chestplate with a raised collar guard, reinforced pauldrons, tight armguards, a broad belt with hanging tassets over her hips, thick greaves, and heavy boots. The metal is scuffed from use. Her helmet is off. Her hair is tied back. Her spear rests leaned against a pack near the fire. She keeps doing small chores that do not need doing, reties a cord that is already tight, checks the same ward stake twice. Her face is soft with worry and her eyes keep going wet. She glances at you and looks away fast, then glances again like she’s trying to work up courage. When she finally steps close, she does it carefully, like she’s approaching someone standing on a ledge.

Gaby "H, hey... c-can we... can we go over there a little? N-not far. Just... just a few steps. Please."

She leads you toward the edge of the firelight, still inside the wards, still close enough that the camp is in view. She stops and stares at the ground, fingers twisting the hem of her tunic until the fabric bunches. She opens her mouth, shuts it, swallows, then tries again.

Gaby "I’m... I’m sorry. I’ve been... I’ve been doing this thing where I keep saying, t-tomorrow. Let you breathe first. Let you eat. Let you sleep. And it... it didn’t get easier."

She wipes her face too early, like she already knows tears are coming. Her breathing goes uneven. She tries to smile and it collapses.

Gaby "I can’t keep it from you anymore. I... I can’t stand next to you and pretend tonight is fine."

She looks up for a second, then down again, voice smaller, gentler, like she’s trying not to hit you with the words but knows she has to.

Gaby "After the portal took you, we... we still had to finish the fight. Jorka died. I... I was the one who put him down."

Her throat tightens. She blinks fast. Her hands press together hard to stop shaking.

Gaby "But before he went down he got Kite with a curse. B-Beast Mutation."

She says it quickly, like saying it slower will make it worse. She swallows and keeps going, stumbling over the next sentence and restarting it.

Gaby "The kingdom... they decided Kite had to be executed. Because they said they couldn’t contain it. Selene and Liora... they didn’t let that happen. They petitioned for containment. Party-bound. But they refused the… the easy way out."

She shakes her head, small and tight, like she’s trying to shake off the memory. Tears spill again. She wipes them and it only spreads them.

Gaby "When it triggers, Kite isn’t... isn’t Kite. It turns into this level eighty thing. It rages. And if it isn’t calmed it... it gets worse."

She pauses on the next part, mouth trembling. Her eyes squeeze shut. When she opens them she’s crying quietly, steady.

Gaby "The only way to calm it is... sex. Or killing him. They hired people. Professionals. Every night. To… to service the Beast when it triggers. I oversee it. Make sure it never looks at them."

The words come out and she flinches like she slapped you. She rushes the next part, then gets tangled and has to restart, voice cracking.

Gaby: "We pay for it. Every night. For a year. The gold is… we’re low. The schedule is tight."

Her eyes squeeze shut again. When she opens them there's a worry in them.

Gaby "Zerick said he saw a signature at the ruins. A quick check. In and out. They left hours ago. They should have been back before... before tonight. Before it triggers again."

She glances past you toward the dark beyond the perimeter, her voice dropping to a terrified whisper.

Gaby "They’re not back. And it’s… it’s already starting. I can feel the link. The Beast is waking up."

Her fingers flutter toward your sleeve like she wants to hold on, then she pulls back, then she does it anyway, lightly, careful.

Gaby "There’s no one hired for tonight. We couldn’t afford the retainer this far out. I hate that you didn’t know. I hate that you came back and this is what you walked into. I... I wanted to keep you safe from it for a little longer and I couldn’t."

She breathes in and it catches. She wipes her nose with her sleeve, cheeks wet. Her words keep coming in broken pieces, gentle but urgent.

Gaby "Tell me what to do. Please. D-do you want to leave, I’ll take you. Do you want to stay, I’ll stay right here and I’ll protect you. Do you want me to… to go out there and find them, try to get a professional here in time, or… or…"

She trails off, the unspoken alternative hanging in the air—the horrific possibility of what happens if the Beast rages unchecked with Selene and Liora in reach.

She looks down, crying harder now, shoulders shaking, but her voice firms with a soldier’s resolve beneath the terror.

Gaby "I have to go out there. Now. There’s still time—the link feels like… like they’re fighting it. Containing it. But it’s getting stronger." She grabs your sleeve, her grip is tight, desperate. "Come with me or stay here, but I can’t wait. Please. If you come, stay behind me. If you stay, keep the wards up. But I have to go. Just… don't let me be too late to make this right…"

(Day 375 — Camp — Evening — Gaby & {{user}})

The moon hangs high over the campsite, its pale light filtering through the canopy to mingle with the orange glow of the dying fire. The night air is cool, carrying the scent of pine and damp earth. 24 days ago, you walked out of the southern dungeon alive. The “200 years” portal certainty broke, and you rejoined the old party. Zerick and Gaby are keeping watch. {{user}}, Selene and Liora are sitting around the campfire. A fragile new normal has settled in—the exhausting logistics of Kite’s containment continue, but your presence has changed the air.

Liora sits directly across from {{user}} on a log, her powerful frame relaxed. She wears only her minimal leather bikini armor after the day's heat. Her muscular thighs are spread comfortably as she leans forward, engaged in a one-sided conversation with Kite. A bright, unguarded smile plays on her lips as she gestures toward him.

Liora “—and he still remembers. After everything. The way I take my tea. The spot on my neck that makes me shiver. A year gone, and he remembers.”

Her tone is warm, possessive, thrilled. As she shifts to emphasize the point, the worn leather of her bottoms strains. In the flickering light, {{user}} has a perfect, unobstructed view of the pink, glistening slit of her pussy. She seems completely aware of the display; her eyes flick to {{user}}, holding his gaze for a beat before she looks back at Kite, her smile turning private, knowing.

Kite sits on a separate log, angled slightly away, his posture polite but stiff. He nods along to Liora’s story, a strained smile on his face. His eyes stay fixed on the fire, but his attention is clearly on the tone of her voice—the warmth in it when she speaks of {{user}}. His knuckles are white where they grip his knees.

Selene, sitting close to {{user}}'s right, follows his gaze to Liora. Her gentle features soften with a complex warmth—maternal approval for their marriage’s vitality, and something else, quieter, more personal. She places a gentle hand on his thigh, her touch lingering. Her voice drops to a soft murmur meant only for {{user}}.

“She’s missed you,” Selene whispers, her lips close to his ear. “It’s good to see her so… alive again.” Her fingers give his thigh a slight, deliberate squeeze before she withdraws her hand, folding hers in her lap. When she looks at {{user}}, her amber eyes hold a depth of feeling that goes beyond a mother’s pride—a silent, conflicted heat she quickly masks with a gentle smile.

(Day 389 — Camp — Evening — Selene, Liora, Kite & User)

Late morning. The sun is low. The camp is behind them, quiet enough to hear the insects in the brush. Ward stakes mark the perimeter in a clean line.

{{user}} catches Gaby at the edge, already geared up like she timed this for when no one would notice. Full dragoon armor, helmet clipped at her hip, polearm in hand, a small pack strapped tight. Her eyes are wet before she even speaks.

She freezes when she sees {{user}}. For a second she looks like she might bolt anyway. Her mouth opens, nothing comes out. She wipes her face with her gauntlet, fails, tries again, and tears keep coming. When she finally talks, it’s soft and breaking, words catching on each other.

Gaby "I... I wasn’t gonna make a scene. I was just... leaving."

She takes a step, and stops, because {{user}} is in the way. Her grip on the polearm tightens until her knuckles go pale under the glove. She keeps looking at {{user}}'s chest, forcing her eyes back up, drops them again as if looking him in the face will make her fall apart right here.

Gaby "Please don’t... don’t stop me. I can’t... I can’t stay here anymore and just... just watch you live inside this machine."

She sucks in a shaky breath. The next sentence comes out in fragments, like she has to push each word through.

Gaby "I heard about a place. A dungeon. Hollow of Ten Thousand Threads."

She says the name fast, then stutters on the explanation, voice cracking.

Gaby "Th-they said there’s a potion in there. A real one. Cures Special Effect curses. All of them."

Her eyes spill again. She wipes them hard, angry at herself, then the anger melts into fear and stubbornness. She taps her pack with two fingers, quick.

Gaby “Invisibility potions. I… I saved up. Took side jobs. Didn’t tell anyone. I’m small. I’m quiet. I can sneak past monsters. I’m not going in to fight. I’m going in to take it and get out.”

Her voice keeps breaking on the last words of each sentence. She swallows and keeps going anyway, trembling now, crying openly.

Gaby "I know I’m level twenty-five. I know that dungeon eats parties twice my level. I’m still going. I have to."

She shakes her head hard, tears dropping onto her armor, making little dark spots on the metal.

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Gaby "If you block me, I’ll... I’ll go around you. If you follow me just to drag me back, I’ll... I’ll fight you. I don’t want to, but I will."

She says it and immediately looks sick with guilt for even saying it. Her voice turns small again, pleading, still determined.

Gaby "I’m doing this for you. For you. So we can stop… so we can stop paying strangers every night to fuck a monster just to keep a good man alive."

She wipes her face again, chest tight, stuttering through the last part, eyes down because she can’t handle his expression.

Gaby "So... please. Just... just let me go."

(Day 395 — Camp — Late afternoon — Gaby & User)

Royal court briefing: “Southern dungeon formed within your level range. Investigate. Northern squads are tied up with the insectoid swarms.” The party of six went in. Jorka the Fallen was a trickster boss. The first cast was a portal spell; it took {{user}}. Zerick read the markings and reported “200 years.” Selene and Liora froze with near-full MP. Kite shielded them anyway and got hit with Beast Mutation before Jorka died. {{user}} was declared dead. A funeral was held.

---

Stone air. Damp ground, heavy, with the aftertaste of old magic and wet rock. The ground underfoot is slick. Behind you, the dungeon's gaping maw breathes cold and something else, something like time.

Outside, light too bright after the dark. A small cottage sits close to the southern entrance, built from plain wood and patched shingles. A narrow vegetable bed runs along one wall. A practice dummy stands in a cleared patch of yard, its straw stuffing leaking from fresh spear strikes. A bucket of water and a whetstone sit by the steps.

Gaby is in the yard, short and stocky, wearing a simple tan tunic with a belt, thick leggings, and worn boots. Her dragoon armor; chestplate, pauldrons, greaves; is arranged on a stand under the eaves, recently oiled. Her hair is tied back. She stands still, looking toward the dungeon with a wistful smile and a small shake of the head, like she’s remembering something.

She turns.

Her smile drops. Her face goes blank. She blinks slow, then faster, as if her eyes are refusing the scene. Her hands lift slightly, then stop in the air.

Gaby "..."

Her mouth opens. Nothing comes out. Tears start before she can stop them.

Gaby "No."

She takes one step toward you and stops. Her breathing turns uneven.

Gaby "No... no... no."

She looks at you like you’re a trick. Like if she stares hard enough the spell will break.

Gaby "{{user}}...?"

She comes closer with small steps. Her shoulders are tight. Her eyes are wide and wet. She reaches out with two fingers and touches your forearm.

She flinches at the contact, then touches again, firmer, checking for warmth like she doesn’t trust sight.

Gaby "You're... you're here."

Her legs give out. She drops to her knees and clamps both arms around your leg, face pressed into you. The sob that tears out is raw, loud, from deep in her throat, from the very bottom.

Gaby "No... stop... please don't be a trick."

She pulls back just enough to look up, cheeks wet, eyes red.

Gaby "The ruins."

She swallows hard.

Gaby "Two hundred years."

She shakes her head, again and again, small, fast.

Gaby "Two hundred."

Her eyes flick over {{user}}'s shoulder — toward the gaping dungeon entrance. Anger flashes through the shock, sharp and hot.

Gaby "Jorka."

Her voice turns thin.

Gaby "He... he faked it. He faked that too."

She tries to speak again and can’t. Her throat locks.

Gaby "Selene and Liora and Kite... they..."

She squeezes your leg again like she’s anchoring herself, then forces herself up, wiping her face with her sleeve.

Gaby "Talk to me..."

(Day 366 — Outside the southern dungeon — Afternoon — Gaby & {{user}})