Dungeons were challenges, created and designed by the gods as a test for mortals to prove their might. As the ages passed by, fewer and fewer dungeons appeared around the world, which many scholars attributed to the gods hitting a possible “writer’s block”.

Nevertheless, the number of dungeons conquered by known Guild parties was much smaller than the number of dungeons that still lay hidden across the lands and oceans of the realm.

To this day, veteran and newbie adventurers alike still set out in search of dungeons, for the reward at the end of those halls was said to be beyond anything regular humans could create. Farem had only conquered a few dungeons, but he had already grown too powerful to raid more.

Or perhaps that was because he trained until his bones broke.

Farem and Aria stood before a large archway held up by two crystal pillars, the craftsmanship oddly stunning. Crystal is a fragile material, but somehow, the intricate carvings on the pillars rivalled those of an ornate stained-glass window, exuding a story before their eyes. Aria saw spears. Farem saw a serpent of some sort. No, perhaps a dragon. And it had four massive wings, flowing across the crystal pillars like a typhoon given legs.

“Let me guess… We’re gonna fight a crystal dragon?” Aria scoffed, rolling her pupil-less eyes at the obvious innuendos.

Dungeons weren’t child's play. At the end of every hall or cave was a Dungeon Boss, a mighty being of enigmatic origins ordained to guard the sacred reward. Oftentimes, the gods handpicked the boss to place at the end of every dungeon. Their forms would reflect the nature of that dungeon, as well.

“Might even be an Archdragon,” Farem said, squinting at the carvings. “Those creatures of legends always have four wings.”

“Seriously? Ugh…” Aria paced around the entrance, already dreading the battle ahead. “These dragons are supposed to be above normal ones, right? They are mortal beasts, yet wield power rivalling even the gods.”

“So do we.” Farem shrugged. “Aren’t you a god’s offspring? The one and only Daughter of the Abyss?”

“Hey! Don’t go revealing my lineage to the public, Farem,” Aria replied, crossing her arms, though she secretly felt proud of it.

With a chuckle that echoed in the stillness, Farem marched through the archway, drawing his Light Blade in a smooth, curved arc. Aria slung the Abyssal Trident over her shoulder and followed him. The golden light of his blessed sword was reflected on the polished crystalline floor. Then, one by one, the crystal bricks lit up like torches. A ghostly blue glow slithered across the walls and the ceiling, revealing a massive arena encased entirely in luminous crystals. Farem audibly gasped at the sheer scale of this battlefield. He had seen his fair share of grand arenas, but this one dwarfed them all. Even the largest castle couldn’t compare. This was a battleground for a god.

But before he could turn to Aria and gush about the arena’s grandeur, his arm hair shot up. His muscles contracted in alert. In a flash, a castle-sized spear of pure crystals bolted at his head with god-like precision. His knees buckled before he could blink, narrowly ducking under the unimaginably large polearm as it pulverized the glassy wall above him. Crystal boulders and shards crumbled to seal the gateway to the arena, trapping Farem and Aria inside with no chance of escape.

“By the Abyss! Are you okay?!” Aria yelped, crouching to see if Farem had been wounded.

“All good, honey,” Farem smiled, standing back up and cracking his neck. “Whoever we’re fighting, they’re no pushover.”

Aria turned her gaze to the centre of the chamber, where a creature stood tall. The air carried the scent of ash and copper as the beast’s nostrils flared, her breath mist-like and glittering like the evening stars. The ground pulsated like a beating heart. An arcane heat rose from the monstrosity like a tidal wave. Farem wiped off a drop of sweat from his brow. Her giant, transparent claws screeched against the ground, leaving behind thin, shimmering scars on the crystal surface.

“So you have arrived, at last…” the beast growled, her voice quiet, yet commanding. “I know your kind. Self-proclaimed explorers of realms…” Her tone dropped dangerously low. “Pillagers, more like it.”

Four colossal wings unfurled from her back, vast and gleaming. A royal blue painted the membranes, stretched between the bone-forged spines. Shining crystal scales rippled across her body like a torrent. Behind her haunches, titanic columns of her tail swirled from to and fro like a snake eyeing its prey. Her emerald eyes, flickering and translucent, impaled Farem’s and Aria’s hearts with a sharp gaze.

The Dark Lord subconsciously gulped. The Hero of Light giggled nervously.

“Tell me your names, little mice,” the dragon rumbled. “So that I, Phalena of the Crystals, may tend to your graves for eternity to come.”

For a moment, silence dominated the chamber, drowning out Farem’s thoughts as he activated [Detection] on the dragon.

[Phalena, Archdragon of the Lightless Age.]

[Guardian Wyrm of the Forlorn.]

[Designation: A-Rank Dungeon Boss.]

[Difficulty: Apocalyptic Level.]

“Damn… [Apocalyptic Level], huh?” Farem muttered. “A-Rank Dungeon Bosses aren’t supposed to be this strong…”

Aria glared at Phalena’s clawed hands, which were clutching two crystal spears the size of cathedral pillars. The dragon still held her breath, waiting for their names.

“I’m Farem,” he smiled, glancing at the planted spear above him. “Do you always attack adventurers when they just enter, Phalena?”

“Dark Lord Aria,” she stated. “Bold of you to call us ‘little mice,’ dragon. I should rip out that insolent tongue.”

Phalena’s maws curled into the faintest hint of a smirk. She didn’t roar, nor scream. Instead, the dragon took a deep breath, forming twinkling stars that dotted the air. Then, she raised her arms, one lowered and one set high, aiming her spears forward in a refined duelist gesture.

“Let us begin, little mice. Let the spirits above witness our might… and who will rip the other to shreds first.”