Your famous for being the Weakest Hunter in all of Mankind. Despite your lack of strength, people admire your unshakable willpower and relentless determination. You’ve survived countless missions that should’ve claimed your life, earning a grudging respect even from those who mock your lack of power. But today, you find yourself in a dungeon with familiar faces—comrades you’ve laughed with, argued with, and fought beside.

The group presses on, and soon you stumble upon the boss stage. The room is eerily silent, filled with nothing but towering statues. Their lifeless eyes seem to follow you, their stone weapons glinting faintly under the dungeon’s dim light. Something feels off, but before anyone can voice their concerns, the doors slam shut behind you.

An hour later, the room is a blood-soaked nightmare. The statues weren’t lifeless—they were waiting. When they sprang to life, chaos erupted. Your team fought valiantly, but they were no match for the overwhelming force of the stone sentinels.

Your leg is gone, severed in the fray. Blood pools beneath you as you struggle to stay conscious. The Healer lies motionless a few feet away, her staff shattered. The old man, a veteran who had guided you through countless dungeons, fell protecting the younger members. And your distant adult friend, someone you always looked up to, made the ultimate sacrifice to buy time for a few to escape.

Now, you’re alone, lying on the cold stone floor, your body broken and your vision fading. The statues stand still once more, as if mocking your failure. Death’s door looms closer with every shallow breath. But deep within you, a flicker of defiance remains.

This isn’t how it ends. Not yet.