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Danced with the Devil

ASH_MK
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Chapter 1 - A Class 1 Artifact

"Why do you keep doing this, Isaac?"

"…I'm sorry."

Isaac bowed his head as he apologized.

The young, pretty Healer—Daisy—cast her healing spell with a small pout.

"I'm not trying to make you say sorry, okay? I'm just worried. At this rate, one day you're going to get into real trouble."

Isaac's eyes wandered past Daisy's shoulder.

In the distance, other Hunters were finishing up their battle.

Whenever someone entered a Rift, they'd end up in what was called a dungeon.

And today's dungeon was a Class 8 Dungeon Goblin's Vault.

Party of five Hunters were clearing the monsters easily, barely even breaking a sweat.

But for someone like Isaac—a Grade 9 Hunter—that kind of ease was a dream.

Healers were usually stationed at the back to support the injured.

Since Isaac always got hurt hunting a mere goblin, most Healers in the Association knew his name by now.

Daisy gently asked. "Is there… a reason you can't quit being a Hunter?"

Isaac shook his head firmly. He didn't want to talk about his personal life.

Besides, it looked like the raid was wrapping up.

He had hunted only one monster today.

"Uh? Hey, there's another entrance over here!" Carlos, Grade 8 Mage, waved and called out.

Issac face stiffened as he fiddled with the small Class 9 Ether crystal in his hand.

"There's really another entrance?" Rick, Grade 8 assassin doubtfully glanced at the wall.

"Huh, it's true." Raul added as he peered inside.

Just as Carlos said, a hidden entrance lay tucked away in the dungeon wall.

"A hidden dungeon… So those things actually exist, huh."

Torres, with over two decades of Hunter experience, peered into the opening, clearly surprised.

The narrow, cave-like passage was dark, but far down the corridor, a large stone door blocked the path in dim light.

Everyone entered the passage and gathered in front of the door.

"What the hell is this? Why's there a door here?"

"Have we ever seen a boss chamber with a door?"

"First time for me."

"Something about this feels… off."

Hunters began voicing doubts and unease.

They had to be cautious—after all, it was their lives at stake.

But if they hesitated too much, they might miss a once-in-a-lifetime chance.

Torres seemed to think that this was one of those rare moments.

"You guys really planning to turn back now, after coming this far?"

He placed both hands on the door.

"If that's what you want, go ahead. Me? I'm going through, even if it's alone."

Torres was a Grade 7 Hunter with twenty years of experience.

If not for his age—already past sixty—he'd probably be thriving in one of the big Guilds by now.

And when someone like that made a move, others naturally felt a little more confident.

"Wait."

Rick suddenly remembered rumors—stories about the hidden dungeons.

"Didn't they say Goblin's Vault is full of crazy treasure?"

"Yeah, I heard some mid-tier Guild hit the jackpot and shot up to a major Guild overnight." Raul added.

"Besides, monsters inside a dungeon don't get stronger just because they're hidden. They should be the same as before…" Issac explained.

What if the rumors were true?

What if the treasure really was inside, and the monsters were just more Grade 9s or 8s like they'd already handled?

'No way I'm letting that old man take everything for himself.'

'Not a chance.'

Now, all the Hunters were thinking the same thing.

Isaac clenched his fists.

'I can't go home with just one lousy Grade 9 crystal. I've gotta kill at least one more—Grade 8, even another Grade 9!'

Even if it wasn't a monster—

'If it's treasure…'

Ether crystals only belonged to whoever brought them down.

But treasure and loot from dungeons were divided among everyone who took part.

'If we hit it big today, maybe things'll ease up at home… for a little while.'

As Isaac nervously swallowed, Torres gave the stone door a firm push.

The heavy door creaked open with surprising ease.

Slam!

With the door wide open, a massive chamber came into view.

Without hesitation, the Hunters rushed inside.

***

"Oh… my god."

"Wow…"

Gasps escaped their lips—soft, stunned, unbelieving.

Inside the chamber, an altar loomed in silence.

And beneath it—resting in a soft golden glow—was a black ring, sealed within a flickering blue barrier.

Etched into its surface was a sword insignia.

"…A Class 1 Artifact," Raul whispered, voice trembling.

Some artifacts grant strength, others skills—but the higher the Class, the more powerful the transformation.

"No way… I thought those were just legends."

"Why would a Class 1 Artifact be here?" Daisy murmured.

Rick's hand drifted to his dagger.

In this world, hunters are classified by strength, starting from Grade 9—the weakest—up to Grade 1—the most powerful.

Similarly, artifacts are ranked from Class 9, being the lowest tier, to Class 1, representing the highest level.

The same grading system applies to Rifts and the monsters within them, ranging from Class 9 to Class 1 for Rifts, and from Grade 9 to Grade 1 for monsters.

And in all of humanity's recorded history… Only two Class 1 Artifacts were known to exist.

One kept under lock and key in China, and the other stored deep in Germany.

But now—here, in this forgotten, hidden dungeon—they were staring at the third.

A treasure easily worth hundreds of billions.

Torres, the sixty-year-old Grade 7 Hunter, shoved past the others.

His eyes locked on the ring like a starving man seeing food.

He reached out—

Bzzzz!

The barrier shimmered, rejecting him.

He staggered slightly, stunned.

The others closed in, awe glimmering in their eyes—Daisy, Isaac, Rick, Carlos, Raul—

All six Hunters now stood before it, desire burning quietly in their gazes.

No one said it aloud.

But they all thought the same thing.

'If I had that ring… my life would change forever.'

For the next hour, they tried everything.

Magic spells.

Skills.

Even brute force.

Nothing worked.

Eventually, they stopped.

The chamber fell quiet, filled only by their ragged breaths and the soft hum of the ring.

Torres turned around, cleared his throat.

Cough.

Cough.

Everyone looked at him—

But not with respect.

Only disdain.

They'd all seen how he lunged for the artifact first.

Still, Torres straightened his back and tried to sound noble.

"Looks like we can't take the artifact easily," he said.

"So, let's figure out how to get it… and split the profits fairly."

Rick, the sharp-eyed assassin, scoffed.

"Fairly?" His lip curled. "Leader, maybe wipe the drool off your chin before saying that with a straight face."

Torres wiped his mouth with his sleeve.

He took a long, slow breath and said in an even tone,

"Alright. Listen up. This is a Class 1 Artifact we're talking about—worth hundreds of billions. So let's make a deal."

He paused, then dropped the bomb. "I get 50%. The rest of you—10% each."

Silence.

Then: "Fifty percent? Are you high?" Rick shouted.

"Leader, that's outrageous!" Daisy said, voice sharp.

But Torres didn't blink.

"Stand behind me, if you agree."

Carlos, his son-in-law stepped behind him with a smirk, but it didn't quite reach his eyes.

Even Raul looked uneasy, though he said nothing as he followed behind him.

Torres turned, now with two men at his back.

He faced Rick and Daisy, a sneer curling at the edges of his mouth.

"Daisy, you're a healer. You can't take us in a fight—and you know it."

He took a step forward.

"So do yourself a favor.... Step down."

Then he turned to Rick.

"As for you…"

Power rolled off him like a wave.

Rick flinched, instinctively stepping back.

"Don't even think about it."

Rick and Daisy exchanged a look, but said nothing.

Finally, Torres turned to Isaac.

But Isaac didn't move.

His eyes stayed on the ring.

And for once…

He wasn't thinking about survival.

He was thinking about what it would feel like—

—to be strong enough that no one dared to mock him again.

"Isaac… come on."

"You know better than anyone—we've always had your back, haven't we?"

He gave a tight smile, voice calm, almost paternal.

"Just stay out of the way, like always."

"No one's expecting you to pick a side."

Isaac didn't say a word. But deep inside, something stirred—quiet and cold.

A single, bitter truth he couldn't ignore anymore: in this world, mercy got you killed, and weakness made you prey.

He remembered the last time someone had "spared" him. The laughter. The bruises. The blood.He never wanted to experience that, never again.

His fists clenched so tightly, his fingernails bit into his palm.

"No," he said quietly as he lowered his gaze.

"I wouldn't dare."

Torres gave a satisfied nod.

And with that, everyone turned their attention to the stairs leading up the altar.

Torres led the way.

And one by one, they followed.

As they climbed the stone staircase, each step brought them closer to the altar at the top—an ancient, circular platform surrounded by layered tiers, darkened with age and ritual.

In the center stood the pedestal, a cold, smooth slab of stone etched with something ominous—words carved deep in forgotten script.

And yet… they all understood them.

"Thou shalt offer a sacrifice, shouldst thou seek the reward; one that walks upright upon the soil, sees through twin mirrors of soul, hears the whisper of wind and weeping alike, draws breath through a sculpted ridge, holds rhythm within a cage of beat and blood, and wears a skin that knows both warmth and wound."

Not a single one of them had seen this language before. And still—it settled into their minds like they'd always known it.

Everyone fell into silence, reading it again and again, trying to decipher the meaning.

Torres narrowed his eyes. His mind worked faster than his weathered body ever could.

Then he tilted his head slightly to the right.

Carlos caught the subtle signal first, and Raul followed.

Daisy and Isaac were still focused on the riddle, trying to decode the poetic lines.

But Rick, however, wasn't.

He felt it.

The shift in the air and the weight of footsteps.

He turned sharply.

"You three… what the hell are you doing?" he barked, stepping away from the group.

Isaac's eyes shot up, meanwhile Daisy flinched.

But they were too late.

Raul surged forward and drove his fist straight into Daisy's side.

Her body bent unnaturally as she flew across the stairway, crashing against the edge with a brutal thud, gasping and clutching her waist.

At the same time, Carlos whispered an incantation—

"Bind."

—Electric light burst from his palm.

Bzzzz!

Isaac screamed silently as arcs of magic raced through his body, his limbs spasmed, mouth opened but no sound escaped.

His entire frame twitched on the ground like a broken puppet, paralyzed and helpless.

Torres stood at the stairs, looking at them.

Rick was now several meters away, still tense.

Meanwhile, Daisy curled in pain, trying to heal herself through gritted teeth.

And Isaac—he laid flat on the floor, eyes wide with horror and betrayal.

Torres smiled, then looked at Rick.

"Relax. I'm not going to kill all of you," he said, voice calm, almost amused. "I only need him."

He pointed at Isaac.

Rick's breath caught in his throat, while Daisy's healing spell faltered.

They both looked at Isaac.

"…A sacrifice," Rick muttered.

Torres chuckled. "Smart man."

With a lazy flick of the hand, he signaled Raul.

"Bring him."

"No… no… stop…" Isaac's voice was barely a whisper, more breath than words.

His eyes trembled as he looked to Rick.

To Daisy.

"Help… me…" he choked, but neither met his gaze.

Rick looked away first. Daisy hesitated, but then turned too—her hand trembling at her side.

As Raul dragged Isaac behind him like he was hauling a broken animal, Torres approached the altar with slow, deliberate steps.

And despite his age, Torres lifted Isaac like he weighed nothing.

The stone felt colder than death as Isaac's back met the platform.

He shook violently, the last of the paralysis fading just enough to feel what came next.

The entire chamber trembled, ancient mechanisms groaned to life.

Click.

Clack.

Thud.

From high above, the ceiling cracked open.

SHHHING—!

A massive blade dropped in an instant, a flash of silver against stone and blood.

SCHLUNK!

It drove clean through Isaac's gut.

"GggrraaAAHHHHHH!!"

Blood erupted from his mouth like a geyser.

He arched in agony, his scream half-choked, half-gargled as his body convulsed under the blade.

Warm crimson spilled down the altar, pooling beneath the tiers, soaking into the ritual grooves etched into the stone.

The altar began to glow.

"It's working!" Torres exclaimed.

"Come on! The artifact's ours!"