Roughly thirty minutes passed.
In that time, Ezekiel didn't idle. While the unconscious victims lay curled up near the fire, he made the most of the quiet by training his body.
Pushups came first — slow, deliberate movements that helped him feel the strength pulsing in his limbs. Afterward, he focused on his ranged attacks, throwing the Dark Nebula at the naturally curved targets along the cavern wall. His precision sharpened with every throw.
Training inside the game world was no less effective than in real life. It was especially true for those with high sync rate. His body and the system were closely aligned. It was just like how his real life martial arts training carried on to his avatar in-game.
Except, the progress he made inside the game was far more efficient from being supported by the system interface.
He could even feel it happening in real-time: slow, subtle adjustments. His reactions refined, and his movements became more fluid. He was syncing. Adapting. Becoming stronger not just in stats, but in spirit.
As he caught his breath and stretched his shoulders, Ezekiel glanced at the fire. The warmth still held, but the flames were beginning to shrink. He considered fetching more branches when he heard a rustle—
Then, a groan.
He turned toward the cluster of motionless bodies.
One of the victims had begun to stir.
A young man, his face pale and features sunken, blinked slowly into the firelight. He didn't speak — only raised his hand slightly, as if testing whether he was still dreaming.
Then, as though his awakening set something off, others began to shift too. First a second, then a third... and soon, all sixteen began to wake, one by one.
Some sat up slowly, others shakily pushed themselves upright. A few remained on their sides, groaning softly as though their bodies were foreign to them.
The cavern filled with whispers, coughing, and stammered words. Confusion thickened in the air like fog.
Some clutched their heads.
Others glanced wildly around the cavern, their gazes flickering to the fire, then to one another.
One man simply stared at the flames, tears silently falling as he murmured incoherently.
They were dazed. Disoriented. Time alone wouldn't be enough to heal what had been done to them.
Ezekiel, standing just beyond the firelight, cleared his throat — not too loudly, but firmly enough to get their attention without startling them.
Sixteen pairs of eyes snapped toward him. Alarm registered in each face. A few flinched. One man scrambled backward a few feet before collapsing with a cry of pain.
Ezekiel lifted his hands gently. "It's okay," he said, voice calm and steady. "I'm not here to hurt you. I was sent to find and rescue you."
The silence that followed was fragile.
He took a step forward, careful to keep his posture relaxed and his arms up, his hands empty. "Do you remember anything about what happened to you?"
There was no immediate response. Instead, some of the young men began looking at their own hands, their torsos. Several touched their faces as if to confirm they were still themselves.
And then came the wave of recognition. Slow. Terrible.
One man began to cry — gut-wrenching sobs that echoed off the walls.
Another vomited beside the fire, barely turning in time. The raw heaving was loud and desperate.
A few broke down into panic, shaking their heads or curling up again in fetal positions.
Ezekiel had planned on filling them in onto their current circumstances, but he quickly discarded that thought.
Only one among them remained composed — platinum blonde hair, green eyes, a scruffy beard the same color as his hair...
He stood out not because of his looks or strength, but because of the strange serenity in his posture. His limbs were trembling faintly, but he didn't cry. He didn't scream. His eyes, dull and red-rimmed, scanned his companions. It looked like he was doing a headcount.
Only after making sure they were all awake, he turned to Ezekiel.
His voice, when he spoke, was hoarse and cracked from long disuse. But it carried stability... and a hint of elegance. "You… saved us?"
Ezekiel nodded. "I did what I could."
The young man bowed his head, exhaling sharply as though releasing a burden. "Thank you." Then, after a pause, he said, "I remember… a dream. A dream of her. My sister..."
Ezekiel remained silent, letting him speak.
"She was in a cave. The whole place… it was made of white stone. I could see her, hear her voice. I thought — maybe, maybe it was real. I reached for her, but the moment I did, something else was there."
His voice shook now, despite his earlier calm.
"Thedemon. I never saw its face. Just… eyes. Sixteen of them. All of them looking into me — like it could see everything. After that, I don't remember much. Just… a few pieces of here and there. My memories are mostly blank, but... but I do know I wasn't the only one caught in the trap."
Ezekiel nodded slowly, his expression tight.
In some rare cases, victims of an Incubus didn't retain the full trauma of their captivity. Their minds developed barriers — psychic self-defense mechanisms — to prevent collapse. The effects varied from person to person. But typically, only those that bore the worst of the torture would develop such a condition. And this man… was the unfortunate one.
Ezekiel didn't dare push him further.
He had wanted to ask if they remembered anything about Dhamra, but he forced that urge down as well. Pressing for more could tip these fragile minds over the edge. They needed help, not interrogation.
Dhamra's story was already over, theirs weren't.
Instead, Ezekiel changed the subject.
"Do you know anything about a dungeon core?"
The young man blinked, clearly puzzled. "A core?"
Ezekiel explained, "Once someone enters a dungeon, they can't truly leave unless they break the core or die inside it. The boundary may allow us to step outside, but we can't go too far. We're still trapped."
The young man tilted his head, brows furrowing. He seemed to search his fragmented memories, groping through mental haze. Then his eyes widened.
"I… I remember something."
He looked up — straight toward the unseen ceiling where the waterfall flowed down into the pool.
"There," he rasped. "The stone beneath the waterfall. I don't know why, but I remember feeling like… it mattered. Like it was the dungeon itself."
Ezekiel followed his gaze, studying the thick slab of stone partially veiled by the falling water.
"Got it."
If it hadn't been for the urgency of getting this group of people immediate medical help, he might have waited to break the core. To give them the time to mentally orient themselves. But Ezekiel didn't have that luxury.
Without hesitation, he pulled out his Iron Sword.
Dungeon cores were tricky to find, not hard to destroy. But only as long as the dungeon was cleared of all its monsters. The core would then become as fragile as glass.
He approached the pond, positioning himself as close to the edge as he dared without falling in. He narrowed his eyes, activating Focus.
The air around him shifted, everything slowing down. His grip tightened.
He hurled the Iron Sword.
It spun, gleaming silver in the firelight — and then struck the slab dead-center.
CRACK—
A jagged fissure spread across the stone's surface.
A second later, it shattered, fragments falling into the pool and vanishing beneath the water. Even the waterfall itself disintegrated into its surroundings in particles of silver light.
Then the flood of system messages came pouring in—
{Time-Limited Dungeon: 'Deception of the Imposter' Cleared!}
{You have gained 20,000 EXP!}
{Congratulations! You are the First Player to Complete a Time-Limited Dungeon!}
{Title Earned: Threader of Miracles}
{Threader of Miracles: +5 Soul Points.
+10% Attack and Defense against all enemies.
+100 Merits with The Divinity of Fate}
{Hidden Dungeon: White Stone Cave Cleared!}
{You have gained 5,000 EXP}
{Level Up! Level 15 Reached!}
{4 Free Stat Points Available}
{Congratulations! You are the First Player to Complete a Hidden Dungeon!}
{System Message: Register White Stone Cave within the Archives of Enia for dungeon clear and bonus rewards}
Ezekiel dismissed the glowing interface with a thought.
When he turned back, some of the victims had witnessed the sword throw. A few looked at him like he was some foreign entity — part savior, part stranger. That was fine. He didn't expect gratitude from trauma survivors. He only wanted them alive.
He approached the composed young man again. "I have a mass Teleportation Scroll," he said. "The dungeon core's gone, but that triggers the countdown. We have about an hour before the dungeon resets. If we're still here when that happens, it'll spawn hundreds of monsters."
The man nodded grimly. "Understood. I'll speak to the others. Some might still be too weak, but I'll get them ready."
Teleportation wasn't a spell without its own side-effects. In case of those with already weak constitutions, the spell could cause nausea, dizziness, and even hallucinations. Thus, he needed all their consents to activate the scroll.
"I appreciate it," Ezekiel said.
He left this task completely to the other person. He knew he wasn't the right guy to communicate with them familiarly enough to have them cooperate. His words might not even register amidst the fog of their memories.
With that, he turned and began walking down the opposite tunnel — the one that led to the blood pool, where the hatchling had remained, and the White Stone Ore mining was being carried out.
He was halfway there when another notification popped up:
{White Stone Ore mining successfully completed!}
{300 Mining Skill Points Awarded!}
{Warning! User does not have Miner Sub-Class. Skill Mining IV cannot be evolved!}
{300 Skill Points Deleted!}
Ezekiel let out a resigned sigh.
"Of course," he muttered. The system was merciless about sub-class restrictions. Without the Miner class, he couldn't benefit from any of the mining he carried out, beside the core themselves.
He opened his inventory.
Ten new stacks of White Stone Ore greeted him. Each held thirty gleaming, obsidian stones.
A grin tugged at his lips.
"Not bad," he murmured.
The dungeon was nearly behind him.
But the real work — was just beginning.
Ezekiel stepped into the second cavern, his boots echoing softly on the cold stone floor.
And he immediately froze in his steps.
The familiar gleam of White Stone Ore that once covered the cavern walls was gone, stripped away like a peeled skin, revealing the darkened stone behind them. These bore the same refined, smooth finish as the rest of the cave complex.
But that wasn't what stopped Ezekiel cold.
It was the absence.
The blood pool — once a vast, congealed lake of red — was gone. Not a smear, not a trace. The deep crater where the pool once sat was now dry and barren.
Ezekiel's eyes widened.
"What the hell…?" He muttered under his breath.
Panic surged up his spine.
Had the dungeon already reset?
Was there another irregularity within the dungeon's mechanism?
Were the victims safe?
He spun on his heel to sprint back toward the others — but then —
BUUURRRRP—
A deep, echoing belch rolled through the cavern, so loud and guttural that it rattled the very air.
Ezekiel's instincts kicked in. He drew the Dark Nebula in a flash, his stance shifting low and prepared for immediate combat.
Footsteps followed.
Heavy ones.
From the shadows across the crater, a silhouette began to form. The sound of claws tapping against stone echoed as the creature stepped into the scope of his vision.
It was big — pony-sized, at least — and walked with a peculiar gait, five elongated heads rising from where only one should've been.
Ezekiel's expression twitched.
No way.
And then it stepped fully into view.
The hatchling.
It was unmistakable — despite being nearly five times the size it was before, the creature had the same long sinuous body, reptilian frame, and most notably, its five distinct heads. Each of them turned eagerly toward him as soon as they saw his face.
"...You've got to be kidding me," Ezekiel whispered.
The hatchling bolted toward him.
In an instant, the creature launched itself at him like an excited puppy — and crashed into Ezekiel with surprising gentleness for its size, wrapping its serpent-like necks and heads around his torso and shoulders.
One head nuzzled his cheek. Another rubbed up against his neck. The rest twisted around his arms, purring, trilling, and rubbing affectionately. It cooed like it had just reunited with a long-lost parent.
Ezekiel was… dumbfounded.
Here he was, expecting a monster — possibly even a sudden boss spawn. What he got instead was a five-headed dragon-lizard the size of a horse, acting like a love-starved kitten.
He sighed and relaxed his stance, putting the dagger back. "You grew," he muttered, running a hand down one of the scaly necks.
The hatchling chirped in reply, vibrating softly under his palm.
"I guess you weren't lying about the blood pool helping you grow, huh?" He said with a half-smile. "But it's time to go, buddy."
The hatchling froze. Every head turned to him simultaneously, expressions suddenly filled with sadness. Two heads even began to tear up — actual glistening drops welling up in the corner of those huge, expressive eyes.
"Whoa — hey. Don't cry." Ezekiel immediately reached out, stroking the nearest snout. "You're coming with me, of course."
The mood flipped like a switch.
The hatchling's five heads perked up simultaneously, tails wagging — if one could call that rhythmic, serpentine wiggle a wag. It let out a series of chirps and resumed its cuddling with doubled enthusiasm, nuzzling into Ezekiel's chest.
Then, unexpectedly, a flash of silvery-white light surrounded the creature. Ezekiel instinctively squinted his eyes.
When the light faded, he looked down and blinked in disbelief.
The hatchling was now tiny — about the size of a house lizard — and curled up in his arm. Despite the size change, it retained all five heads, each of which blinked at him cheerfully, as if proud of its own cleverness.
"You… you can shrink yourself?" Ezekiel asked, incredulous.
One of the heads gave a little nod.
Another yawned.
A third licked his wrist.
The other two wrapped themselves around his bicep comfortably.
He let out a breathless laugh. "Smart and polite. Aren't you a charmer?"
With care, he slipped the creature inside his tunic where it would stay hidden. It nestled close to his chest, its body warm and its heads tucked just under his collar.
Subtle and adaptable, he thought.
The creature's new and unexpected ability saved him a whole lot of trouble. He could now carry it with himself without drawing attention.
He thanked his lucky stars for sending this creature to him. The hatchling — dragon or not — was the perfect companion he could have asked for.
With that thought warming his chest as much as the creature's body, Ezekiel made his way back to the main cavern.
When he returned, the atmosphere had shifted.
The sixteen victims now stood in a line, some leaning on each other for support. Most still looked pale and fragile, but there was an emerging order to the chaos. Someone had taken charge and done what little they could.
Ezekiel's eyes scanned the group until they landed on the one man who had remained lucid from the start.
Their eyes met.
The man nodded.
Ezekiel returned the gesture and walked forward.
He opened his inventory and pulled out the Mass Teleportation Scroll, its parchment lined with silver threading and gently humming with magic.
Without hesitation, he whispered the destination: Fwerah Village, North Gate.
The scroll pulsed.
Lines of glowing silver runes crawled out like spiderwebs across the air, spinning faster and faster until a column of radiant blue light enveloped them all. Ezekiel glanced briefly at the faces around him — some wide-eyed, some exhausted, some barely conscious. But all of them were his responsibility for now.
Until he'd ensured their safety, he didn't plan on leaving their side.
The light intensified until everything went white.
When the world reformed, Ezekiel stood on solid ground once again.
The wind hit his face first — clean, cool air. He smelled grass. Dust. Pine trees.
He looked up and there it was.
The familiar gates leading to the North side of the Fwerah Village.
Wooden spires framed the entrance, and unlit torches decorated its walls. Familiar. Safe.
The people around him wobbled but remained standing.
Ezekiel released a breath he didn't know he'd been holding.
They had finally made it back.