The First Mutant

Crash!

A woman with stark, bleached-white hair stumbled out of the shattered containment unit. At first glance, she looked like one of the walking dead, but she was no zombie. Nor did she resemble any sane human being. Her eyes were vacant and unfocused, staring blankly into empty space as if looking straight through the world around her.

"I tipped off the media before they dragged me here," she muttered, her voice trembling with manic intensity. "You bastards are finished. You hear me? You think people will just stay quiet once this hits the news? Huh?"

Rohas felt a cold spike of dread listening to her incomprehensible gibberish. Raising a hand, he signaled an immediate retreat. The expedition ranger at his side nodded tensely, and both men began stepping backward, taking painstaking care to make as little sound as possible. Yet despite their caution, the woman's hollow gaze snapped toward them in an instant.

"Le-let me go. Quickly."

Neither man dared to breathe.

"Let me gooooo!"

Rohas's eyes widened as the woman's bleached hair began floating straight up into the air. "Run!" he roared.

They spun on their heels, but she was impossibly faster.

With an unnatural sonic crack, a monstrous gale surged outward, slamming into both men. Rohas instinctively coated his entire body in aura to brace against the impact, but the protective shield did nothing to stop the sheer kinetic force. He was violently thrown off his feet as the howling wind battered him from behind with terrifying power.

While Rohas managed to roll across the floor and absorb most of the shock, his companion fared far worse.

"Aaargh!"

The ranger was swept up by a heavy steel desk caught in the gale and smashed directly into a reinforced pillar. With a sickening crunch of crushed bone, his limp corpse was carried away by the rushing winds like a ragdoll.

"Let me go! Let me goooo!"

Rohas barely scrambled to his feet before the wind reversed direction with violent whiplash, dragging his body back toward the woman. Panicking, he drew his sword and drove the blade deep into the floor tiles.

The vacuum was so ferocious that even as an Elite-tier combatant, he felt his feet lift off the ground, his arms straining just to maintain his grip. When the reverse whirlwind finally ceased as abruptly as it had started, Rohas collapsed heavily onto the floor.

"Damn it!"

He scrambled behind a nearby pillar, panting for breath.

"Rohas! What is the situation?" a voice called out.

"Captain Roxell!" Rohas shouted back. Until seconds ago, his mind had been consumed with scheming how to betray the elves, but at this very moment, he welcomed their arrival with genuine relief. Experienced mercenary that he was, Rohas knew all too well that this madwoman—this monster—was far beyond his ability to face alone. "She appears to be a guardian entity! She manipulates wind like an elementalist, and her output is monstrous!"

"Then we shall join the fray!" Roxell replied.

Before the words had even faded, an arrow whistled through the air. Crafted from flexible wood with the distinctive spring of elven archery, the projectile cut straight through the lingering currents and thudded into the floor an inch from Rohas's boot.

Rohas jerked his head toward the elven captain, his expression twisting in shock. "Captain Roxell! Watch your fire, you nearly—"

"Tsk. And here I thought I had your throat."

Rohas froze. The excuse of wind interference died on his tongue as he met Roxell's gaze. "Captain Roxell? What is the meaning of this...?"

"What is the meaning?" Roxell echoed, a vicious, mocking sneer curling his lips. "As if you do not already know. I am formally declaring the termination of our partnership."

"What nonsense are you spouting out of nowhere?!"

"Are you truly ignorant, or merely playing the fool?" Roxell's gaze dropped pointedly to the sub-space pouch hanging at Rohas's waist. "Did you think we wouldn't notice what you tucked away?"

Rohas bit his lip, the blood draining from his face. Caught red-handed, he snapped his hand to the communication receiver at his ear. "This is the expedition leader! The elves have caught on. All units, initiate protocol—"

Static was his only reply.

"Do you read me? Respond!"

Silence hung heavy over the channel.

"It is futile to call for your subordinates," Roxell called out from a safe distance, drawing a finger horizontally across his neck. "We took the liberty of striking first. I doubt more than a handful of your men are still drawing breath."

"You pointed-eared bastards!" Dropping all pretense of civility, Rohas gripped his hilt and prepared to charge the elf.

Slash!

A razor-thin crescent of compressed wind severed the air inches before him, forcing him to leap backward. Because Rohas had been the first face she saw upon breaking free, the white-haired woman fixated entirely on him, completely ignoring Roxell and the other elves as she shrieked in that bizarre dungeon language.

"Let me go... Let me out of here!"

Another tempest erupted from her frame, scouring the laboratory. Unanchored desks, monitors, and medical carts scattered like shrapnel. A few pieces of debris even ricocheted near Roxell's position.

"My, how terrifying," Roxell said, easily sidestepping a flying metal tray before waving mockingly at Rohas. "In any case, it is time for us to take our leave. Do your best to endure, Rohas. Who knows? Perhaps one of your surviving dogs will come to your rescue."

Behind their smirking captain, the rest of the elven expedition team gathered one by one. Fresh blood stained their weapons and tunics—and there was no question whose blood it was.

"Move out," Roxell ordered.

"Yes, Captain!"

The elven force retreated smoothly into the corridor from which they had arrived, clearly intending to withdraw until the monster finished tearing Rohas apart before returning to loot the remains.

Clang!

The heavy blast door of the underground passageway slammed shut. Left utterly alone with the white-haired mutant, Rohas gritted his teeth in despair.

"Damn it all!"

Beep—

"It's not accepting it," Kyle said, lowering the keycard.

"Try once more," Bennett instructed.

Kyle tapped the dedicated access card against the scanner again, but nothing changed. The terminal merely blinked with an obstinate red indicator. Bennett stepped forward and examined the small digital display mounted beside the reinforced door.

Guess we're breaking it down, Bennett thought. He drew the chainsword from beneath his coat.

A sunset-orange radiance, vibrant and sharp in the dim hallway, ignited along the interlocking teeth of the weapon. Bennett drove the energized blade directly into the seam between the double doors. The reinforced metal offered no more resistance than warm butter. Carving a neat circular breach through the locking mechanism, he delivered a sharp kick to the metal slab.

Thud!

The cut section collapsed inward. Edgar surged in first with his heavy tower shield raised, followed closely by Bennett, Kyle, and Erika in tight formation.

The chamber was roughly identical in dimensions to the previous laboratory, but while the earlier room had been sterile and preserved, this place was an abattoir. It wasn't merely the overturned machinery and shattered instruments littering the floor; the walls, ceiling, and tiles were heavily stained with dark, crusty layers of old fluid. The underlying tiles were pale white, but broad swaths of brown and black grime coated every surface.

"Blood," Bennett said quietly.

"Pardon?" Kyle asked, blinking.

"The stains on the walls and ceiling. That's all dried blood."

The source of the carnage was immediately obvious. Arranged in rows across the hall were dozens of stainless steel operating tables, each bearing a corpse. Without exception, every skull had been sawed wide open. Decades or centuries had reduced the remains to desiccated, half-rotted husks, their shriveled forms barely resembling men.

"Ugh..." Erika choked out, turning pale.

None of them were strangers to death, but witnessing dozens of decomposed bodies with their craniums split open was nauseating. Shriveled, blackened brain matter protruded from some, while others had hollowed skulls where internal organs had been harvested. A cold shudder ran down their spines as the party instinctively averted their eyes from the gruesome displays.

"Wait," Edgar rumbled, squinting ahead.

"What is it?" Bennett asked.

"There are fresh bodies over here."

Walking past the ancient dissection tables, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠they came upon corpses that did not belong to the dungeon's ancient past. These were people from the continent.

"Drake Family expedition members," Kyle identified grimly, pointing at the stylized dragon crest emblazoned on their armor and tabards.

Bennett crouched down and examined the wounds carefully. "An ambush. And the culprits were elves."

"Elves?" Edgar repeated.

Bennett gripped an arrow lodged deep in the skull of an armored scout and pulled it free. The shaft was dense yet notably pliable. "While humans and dwarves craft rigid arrows from seasoned wood or iron, elves favor slender, supple branches treated for maximum flex and draw velocity."

"Ah, I see."

"Their skin still holds residual warmth. This happened only moments ago."

"Bennett-nim!" Kyle called out from a few paces away. "There's an elf corpse here as well."

Unlike the slaughtered Drake personnel, there were only one or two dead elves. That disparity pointed to a single conclusion.

"The elf expedition remains largely intact," Bennett said.

"Indeed."

If the elves had completely evacuated the sector, they would have stripped the Drake scouts of their sub-space pouches and valuable gear. Yet the human corpses were entirely unlooted. The elves were still operating nearby.

The party ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠tightened their grips on their weapons, vigilance sharpened to a razor edge.

Skrrt! Crash!

"...Did you hear that?" Edgar whispered.

Bennett nodded, pointing toward a partition on the far side of the chamber. "It came from over there. Defensive formation."

"Understood."

With Edgar leading the vanguard behind his massive shield, the party advanced at a brisk, silent pace. Rounding the corner, they discovered another freshly slain corpse, hacked apart by dozens of lacerations. Yet what truly seized their attention wasn't the dead man.

"I told you to let me go! Why... why are you keeping me trapped here?!"

Standing in the center of the devastated room was a woman with shock-white hair, muttering feverishly in the dungeon tongue. Her eyes were unfocused, her jaw slack, and drool ran down the corner of her lips. Her bleached hair defied gravity, floating and billowing about her like an ethereal cloud.

"Is that... a person?" Erika whispered uncertainly.

"Probably—"

Boom!

Without warning, a concussive shockwave of compressed wind detonated outward from the woman. Even at a significant distance, Bennett was forced back a half-step by the raw atmospheric pressure.

Is she connected to Ra'al? he wondered, frowning. But he dismissed the thought almost immediately. He had clashed with Ra'al's psychic residue before; her aura, voice, and presence were completely different. For starters, she was a woman.

"What should we do, Bennett-nim? She appears to command wind magic."

"There's no reason to engage. Fall back."

Whatever she was, picking an unnecessary fight with an unpredictable entity served no purpose. If they could avoid conflict, doing so was the pragmatic choice.

Just as Bennett's party began stepping backward to retrace their steps—

Her head snapped toward them.

Her figure vanished from Bennett's sight in a blur of motion. Instinct took over, and his mental triggers fired simultaneously.

With his perception skills layered together, her trajectory finally resolved into visible motion. In the span of a single heartbeat, the unknown woman had closed the distance to within a few meters.

"Let me go! Let me out!"

The surrounding air warped violently, unleashing a raging hurricane. Edgar slammed his tower shield into the deck plating with a thunderous clang, while Kyle braced against Edgar's back with his full weight to anchor him.

Rumble—!

At point-blank range, the gale hit them with the fury of a direct atmospheric blast. It felt as though they had been thrust into the eye of a typhoon, oppressive barometric pressure crushing down from all directions. Even with Edgar and Kyle combining their strength, the kinetic force pushed their boots skidding back three full meters. Bennett caught Erika as she was nearly swept off her feet, quickly tucking her behind Kyle's protective frame.

Shards of metal and loose equipment hurtled through the storm like cannon shot, but Bennett darted left and right, his baton and psionic energy swatting the deadly projectiles aside. Thanks to the otherworldly power coursing through his veins, he remained firmly anchored against the tempest.

"I don't want to die like the others! I'm getting out of here no matter what! The press is going to blow this wide open!"

Having rapidly assigned his twelve unallocated stat points into Strength and Agility, Bennett was on the verge of activating Flash Sprint to close the distance when her words registered.

The press?

It was the exact phrase scrawled on the scrap of paper he had recovered earlier. Bennett plunged his hand into his inner coat pocket. The crumpled roll of toilet paper from the restroom was still intact. Glancing down to confirm the scrawled handwriting, Bennett raised his voice and called out in clear Dungeon Language:

"Kim... Yu-jeong-ssi?"

The howling gale stuttered to a halt. The woman, whose winds had been ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠whipping the chamber into ruins, slowly turned her head. Faint clarity seemed to return to her hollow pupils as the atmospheric pressure subsided.

"Are you... Ms. Kim Yu-jeong?"

"Y-yes... that's me," she stammered.

Bennett's mind raced, stringing together a plausible story on the fly. "I'm here in response to a report. I was informed that people were being illegally detained and subjected to human experimentation here."

"Yes! Yes, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠exactly! I'm a victim!"

"I came to get you out. I will guide you to the surface."

"Thank you! Oh, thank you so much!"

Bennett gestured toward the corridor behind them—the clear path his party had entered through. "You are free now, Ms. Kim Yu-jeong. You can head out through that way."

"Thank you! You saved my life!"

Bowing repeatedly in tearful gratitude, the white-haired woman rose into the air and shot toward the corridor Bennett had indicated.

Whoosh!

With a crisp sonic pop and a refreshing draft of wind, her figure vanished down the hallway without leaving a trace.

As the surge of experience flooded his system, Bennett flexed his fingers and toes, absorbing the sensation. I can't believe that actually worked. It was a surreal revelation. Resolving a lethal encounter purely through knowledge of the dungeon tongue was entirely unprecedented.

Bennett stood dumbfounded by the sheer cascade of notifications. The system had always possessed an unpredictable sense of timing, but unlocking four achievements simultaneously was absurd. Surviving is one thing, but 'befriending' her?

Before he could process the thought, Bennett's eyes narrowed.

Detection had picked up approaching signals.

"Three o'clock," Bennett commanded sharply.

Though his party members were still wide-eyed with shock from the encounter they had just witnessed, their bodies reacted automatically. Edgar deployed the folding wings of his reinforced shield, while Bennett, Kyle, and Erika slotted smoothly into combat formation behind him.

"Well, well. More humans," a haughty voice echoed.

Emerging from the adjacent corridor was the elven expedition team. Numbering nearly ten combatants, they fanned out naturally, taking up flanking positions to encircle Bennett's party. Roxell, their captain, swept an arrogant gaze over the group.

"Are you the Third Team those Drake dogs were waiting for?"

"We are not," Bennett replied evenly.

"Not of the Drake Family?" Roxell's brows arched in mild surprise. "How curious. To think a mere independent scavenger party managed to survive this far into the facility."

Bennett remained silent, his hand resting near his sidearm.

"Well, slaughtering you won't bring any complications, then," Roxell sneered, drawing his twin daggers. "All units—"

Clack, clack.

Roxell paused mid-command, glancing toward the mechanical rhythm echoing down the hall. A pair of crimson optical sensors, familiar to Bennett's party, cut through the gloom.

It was the military robot dog that had greeted them at the main entrance. Pacing forward with broad, heavy strides, the quadrupedal machine halted near the threshold of the laboratory.

Spotting the opening, Bennett stepped forward and spoke loudly in fluent Dungeon Language.

"These individuals are unauthorized trespassers."

"They attempted to seize our access credentials," Bennett continued smoothly, "and are attempting to loot assets from the Security Wing without clearance."

The robot dog's optical unit, which had briefly turned green upon scanning Bennett's party, snapped to the elves and burned with a lethal crimson glare.

Listening to the frantic translation whispered by his dungeon linguist, Roxell's arrogant sneer evaporated into sheer panic.

"Scatter!"