The first floor of the dungeon—known to the world as Driftpeaks, filled with mountains and misty biomes—had already become a battlefield of information and survival. Word had spread fast: this floor alone stretched like the size of a country, filled with eerie landscapes, bizarre creatures, and traps that preyed on the careless.
Near one of the jagged ridges where Whispering Peaks howled with their strange, ghostly voices, the hunters of guild Black Moondrop had set up camp.
It didn't look like any ordinary camp—no tents of canvas and bare bone structures. No, this was a modern hunter guild's camp: foldable steel-frame shelters, portable generators humming, LED lamps buzzing faintly. A gas stove burned in the middle of the circle, and it had electricity.
At the center of it all was a man, humming as he stirred a pot of soup, the savoury smell of meat and spices filling the air.
"Ugh, Jonas, you're wasted in this guild," one of the women said, plopping herself down next to him. She leaned close, her toned arm brushing against his. "If you weren't so loyal to guild, I'd kidnap you just because how good your cooking is."
Jonas smirked and tapped the ladle against the pot. "I'd rather stay alive, thanks. You Black Moondrop women are scarier than the dungeon itself."
That earned a laugh. Another woman stretched her legs out and leaned back. "You're lucky you're a relative of Lady Chiyo. Otherwise, I'd have dragged you off right there and eaten that pretty little dick of yours. Don't act like you don't enjoy the attention, Jonas—every guild man would kill for this kind of treatment."
"Yeah, yeah," Jonas muttered, cheeks reddening as more of the women circled in, teasing him and going as far to touch him which he hated but he knew it was part of his job, after all, his own family sold him to Lady Chiyo hoping she would use him personally, but right now this was his fate.
But the laughter didn't last long. The talk quickly shifted, as it often did these days, to the dungeon floor itself.
"Did you hear about those Whispering Peaks?" one hunter asked, pointing at the ridge beyond. The wind whistled eerily, like faint voices. "Some idiots from Crimson Choir stayed up there too long and jumped straight into a chasm. No monsters needed—just the wind whispering them to death."
"Not surprised," another replied, shivering. "I hate that sound. Gives me headaches. We need noise cancelling earplugs if we are to explore that area."
"And don't get me started on the moss," a third added. "Luminescent Moss—pretty at night, glowing silver-blue. But disturb it? Boom. Spores. Had a rookie squad pass out cold. If the Boulderbacks hadn't been grazing nearby, they'd be corpses now."
"Speaking of Boulderbacks…" one of the women nudged Jonas. "Guess who had to cook one of those hulking things? Poor Jonas here. The meat's tough as rock."
Jonas groaned. "I'm still chewing that bite from yesterday."
They laughed again, but another hunter leaned in, voice dropping.
"Forget Boulderbacks. The real nightmare? Sky-Needle Hornets. Stingers that petrify you in patches. Saw a guy's leg turn to stone while he was running. Snapped right off when he tripped."
The group shivered collectively.
"And that's not even mentioning the Mistral Wisps," another added. "You breathe that fog in, and suddenly you're walking on clouds that don't exist. Straight into cliffs. Like the dungeon itself wants us dead."
Jonas stirred the pot slowly, listening to all of it. "And yet… all of you keep pushing deeper."
"Of course we do." One woman grinned sharply, teeth flashing in the lamplight. "The rewards are worth it and we are talented enough to not die here. Shard-crystals from the Stonebeaks. Obsidian claws from Cliffstalkers. Energy-soaked feathers from Crystal Vultures that are called mini power plants. Even the corpses are treasure."
"But the real prize," another cut in, her eyes gleaming, "is hunting down those A-rank beasts. The strongest we've found so far. If Black Moondrop can take down the first S-rank when it appears… we'll dominate the guild ladder for years."
The mood turned ambitious, hungry.
And then—
A shadow passed their camp.
The chatter stopped.
All eyes turned.
A woman shuffled by, dressed in an oversized t-shirt and plain pants, no armor, no weapons. Her hair hung loose, covering part of her face. Her steps were uneven, like she was half-asleep.
One of the Black Moondrop hunters frowned and stood, blocking her path.
"Hey. Civilian? What the hell are you doing here? How did you even get past the gate? This floor isn't a playground."
The woman didn't respond. She just looked at him briefly, her eyes empty, then lowered her gaze again.
Another hunter sniffed the air and grimaced. "…She reeks of booze."
"What?"
"She's drunk." The hunter wrinkled her nose. "Completely wasted."
A ripple of surprise and confusion went through the group.
Jonas sighed. "We should send her back to the city. The police can deal with her. Civilians shouldn't even be able to step foot past the gate checkpoint."
But before anyone could grab her, the woman slowly pulled out an ID card and held it up.
The hunters froze.
The card was genuine. Not just genuine—it was rather special.
The name printed in bold was unmistakable: Luxy.
"…Luxy?" one of the women breathed.
"No way. That Luxy? The new hunter who's been all over the forums?"
"The one who took down two A-rank monsters by herself?"
"Yeah. People said she might even surpass Lan Xinyue."
A murmur of awe and disbelief spread among the guild members. To see her here—alone, drunk, dressed like a vagabond—it didn't match the stories.
The hunters quickly changed their approach.
"Hunter Luxy," one woman said, forcing a smile. "What an honor. Why don't you join us at our camp? We'd be delighted to have you."
"Yeah," another chimed in. "We could share information, resources. Black Moondrop always welcomes strong allies. It's not favourable to be an indie hunter these days. It doesn't really pay well."
Luxy blinked at them slowly, her lips parting. "You got beer?"
The camp went silent.
"…What?"
"Beer," Luxy repeated, voice dull. "Got any?"
The hunters exchanged awkward glances.
One finally shook her head. "We're not allowed to drink inside the dungeon. It's prohibited."
Luxy clicked her tongue. "Tch. Useless." She turned and began walking away.
That was when one of the women stepped forward and grabbed her shoulder.
"You'll regret walking away," the hunter said coldly. "Black Moondrop doesn't take kindly to disrespect. It would be wise of you to accept our offer… if you value your life."
The camp grew tense. Jonas froze by the stove, ladle shaking in his hand.
Luxy tilted her head slightly, her eyes narrowing. Annoyance flickered across her face.
"…Don't touch me."
She shoved the woman's hand off, the force unexpectedly strong.
The hunter sneered. "Or what? You think being the hunter-of-the-month gives you the right to—"
"I said…" Luxy's voice rose, sharp and furious, "I want money and beer!"
The air cracked like thunder.
Luxy's hoodie tore apart as a wing—black, ragged, yet divine—unfurled violently from her back.
The women of Black Moondrop staggered back in shock.
"W-what the hell…?"
"She has wings?!"
"Is she—an monster?"
But before fear could even settle in, Luxy moved.
Her body blurred, speed unnatural. In a blink, she pierced the chest of the woman who had grabbed her shoulder. Blood sprayed across the LED-lit camp as Luxy ripped her hand back, holding a still-beating heart. She tossed it aside like garbage.
Screams erupted.
"Attack her!"
The hunters drew weapons, energy flaring. But Luxy was already among them, her wing slicing through one woman's neck, her fist caving in another's ribs. She was merciless, brutal. Hearts torn out, bodies thrown into the cliffs.
"Mon—monster!"
"She's not human—!"
Some tried to flee, but Luxy's speed was impossible to counter. She vanished and reappeared in front of them, her hand piercing through torsos, hurling lifeless bodies aside.
Within minutes, the camp was a massacre. Blood pooled around the stove where Jonas had once stirred soup.
Only Jonas remained alive.
He crawled backward, hands shaking, face pale. "P-please… I didn't… I didn't do anything—"
Luxy stood over him, her wing twitching, her eyes glowing faintly with a cruel light. For a moment, it seemed she might finish him.
But instead, she crouched, pressing her hand lightly against his forehead.
"Sleep," she whispered.
His body went limp as his memories were erased.
Luxy stood, blood dripping from her torn clothes, and glanced at the corpses scattered around.
Her lips curled in disdain.
"…Garbage of heaven will always be garbage."
She turned away, muttering under her breath.
"I really wonder… why should humans even exist? I should make Ren quickly, or else I might end up killing him sooner or later… Ugh… I can't stand the smell of humans. Still, they do make good beer and entertainment. Maybe, when all of this is over, I should take humans as slaves to heaven and force them to brew me beer and make games."
With that, the Luxy disappeared into the mist of Driftpeaks, leaving nothing but silence and corpses behind.