Into the Lost Tomb
The level-up ringtone on his phone chimed twice, and the call connected right away.
"Yes, Eugene?"
"Where can I get info on A-rank gates?"
Eugene cut straight to the chase the moment the line picked up.
"Why the sudden interest in an A-rank gate?"
"I need it."
"Hmm…" Choi Cheolseung seemed to pause in thought before continuing. "I see. It's a bit out of the blue, but I can't just turn down your request after asking for your help myself."
Eugene waited silently for him to go on.
"Gates from A-rank up aren't made public the usual way. Their locations, risk levels, and clearance permissions are all handled under special authority. Checking them with my clearance wouldn't be hard, but…"
He trailed off briefly before adding, "There's one that comes to mind. A gate you can enter without any hassle. It's called the Lost Tomb. Real danger level is A-rank, but no one's ever cleared it—not even once."
A-rank Gate: Lost Tomb
In the middle of a field shrouded in gray mist, a massive rift gaped open like a maw. Association staff bustled around it nearby.
Eugene stood a short distance away, staring silently at the rift before him.
Lost Tomb. The name sounded grandiose, but seeing it in person made it feel fitting. It didn't even look much like a gate—more like the crumbled remnants of an ancient city gate.
Choi Cheolseung's explanation had been brief: "Danger level is solidly A-rank, but clearing it is impossible."
The reason it was classified A-rank was simple. Monsters spawned endlessly. And the key condition for clearing it? No one had ever found the boss.
Countless raid teams had been thrown at it over the years, but they all came back as failures. Most pushed to the center but retreated without ever locating the boss, dooming their clears.
Eugene scanned his surroundings, then rubbed his chin thoughtfully.
First things first: hide his identity. Around an A-rank gate, eyes were sharp and watchful. He couldn't just stroll in like this.
There were already so many Association personnel around. Going in bare-faced would draw unwanted attention.
In times like these…
Shhrrk.
The shadow at his feet rippled quietly. It spread like ink from his toes, climbing up his ankles and wrists before clinging to his face. Moving like living cloth, it wrapped around his jawline, crept over his cheeks, and settled naturally over his nose and eyes.
Moments later, a pitch-black half-mask covered Eugene's face.
It wasn't flashy. "Suspicious as hell no matter who looks," Eugene muttered, running a hand over it. But there was no choice. This would have to do for now.
Just then, a passing Association staffer glanced his way. The man's face hardened, and he immediately raised a hand in alert, signaling nearby personnel.
"Halt. Where did you come from? This area's restricted right now."
Eugene wordlessly pulled a card from his pocket. Black background with the Association emblem etched on it—a special task force card.
The staffer's eyes locked onto it. "…Special task force?"
He snatched it hurriedly to verify. Moments later, his gaze wavered noticeably.
"S-sorry, sir. But what brings you here…?"
"On orders."
"Orders from…?"
"The Association President."
The man's expression stiffened at once—not suspicion, but sheer bewilderment. Fair enough. Some shady guy shows up claiming presidential orders to let him through? Of course he'd be rattled.
"Directly from the President?"
"Yes."
Eugene took the card back and added, "Just clear the path."
The staffer hesitated, then straightened up. "Understood. Can't let you in without checks, but if it's the President's orders, I'll relay to upper command right away."
He grabbed his radio and reported the situation crisply. "Special task force member confirmed—one individual. Requesting site access under President's direct orders. ID card clear."
Silence followed. Then a curt reply crackled back, and the staffer stepped aside without another word.
"…Clearance granted."
Eugene gave a slight nod, saying nothing.
The staffer still looked tense, glancing at the gate. A lone special task force agent diving into a place like this didn't sit right with him.
Eugene stopped and looked around.
The black rift from outside was gone. In its place stretched an endless stone corridor, high-ceilinged with cracked pillars and a thin layer of dust on the floor. Half-ruined statues lined the walls, but there was no hint of life anywhere.
It was quiet. Eerily so—unnaturally quiet for a space where footsteps should echo. Sound seemed to die before traveling far.
Compared to the Graveyard of the Dead last time, this felt even more chilling. A-rank gate vibes, maybe.
Eugene turned to the walls. Faint patterns were carved into the stone along both sides—not simple swords or shields, but what looked like ancient script. They followed some pattern, but definitely not any modern language.
Yet, oddly, they didn't feel completely alien.
Eugene found himself drifting toward one wall. He reached out, tracing a glyph. Cold stone met his fingertips.
Suddenly, something rang in his mind. Fleeting images like shattered shards: a blackened sky, crumbling walls, endless ranks of soldiers, a broken flag staked before them.
His hand froze. What the hell was that? Too short for a hallucination, too vivid to dismiss as imagination.
This…
Shhff.
This time, it definitely wasn't his footstep.
Eugene spun. Nothing. The corridor was empty, only his own prints on the floor.
But the presence was real. Faint, mingled with the clink of metal.
Clank.
His eyes narrowed. The sound came not from ahead, but beyond the statues lining both sides.
Moments later, shadows stirred behind a half-collapsed pillar. Something emerged.
Armor. Or more precisely, a skeletal soldier clad in rusted, worn armor. An empty helmet gaped with black voids, bones protruding from armor joints.
Clank.
From behind pillars, beside ruined statues, from the shadowed corridor ends—they appeared one by one. As if they'd been standing there all along.
Eugene watched in silence.
"…Friendly welcome."
As he spoke, one skeleton raised its sword.
Clank.
Like a signal, they all hefted weapons in unison: rusted longswords, broken spears, chipped axes.
The front two kicked off the floor, lunging. Faster than expected—not shambling undead, but charging with clanging armor, closing distance in a blink.
Eugene's eyes narrowed. Definitely higher level.
Then.
His shadow surged.
Crunch.
It morphed into a spear mid-leap, impaling the lead skeleton's chest. But he wasn't done. With a flick of his wrist, black thorns erupted from the tip, shredding ribs and spine from inside. Bone shards scattered.
The second didn't falter, axe arcing down at his shoulder.
Clang!
The blade halted mid-air with a metallic ring. A shadow had thrust up beside him like a shield, blocking clean.
In that instant, space tore long beside him.
"Grrrrowl…"
A blood-red wolf. Black aura leaked from crimson fur, dark red drool stringing from its jaws. It pounced straight for the skeleton's arm.
Crunch!
It bit clean through arm bone and armor. The limb flew; the skeleton staggered. The wolf seized its nape, slamming it to the floor. Armor crumpled on impact.
Eugene's lips twisted into a grin. Even A-rank… I can handle this.
There was tension he'd never felt in a B-rank gate, but that just made it better. They kept coming no matter how many he killed. And the XP flowed steady.
More enemies poured in endlessly. Individually, not that strong. But who could stand against endless numbers?
Clank. Clank. Clank.
Behind spear-wielding soldiers, taller heavy-armored skeletons emerged, clad in rusted plate with massive tower shields.
And behind them, a larger figure perched on a broken statue slowly rose.
In that moment—
Riiip.
Space tore, a massive foreleg emerging. Then a blood-red mantis, rearing to corridor-ceiling height, head swiveling toward the skeletons.
Splat!
It blurred from sight; three heavy skeletons' upper bodies exploded into the air. Severed armor and bones collapsed.
The blood wolf dove into the fray too.
Thud!
A body slam sent two shield-bearers crashing into the wall. It crushed one's ribcage, jaws snapping to pulverize the helmeted skull. Bone and rusted shards flew.
Good. Damn good.
Level-up alerts scrolled across his status window.
Crunch. Crunch. Chomp.
The corridor filled with snapping bones and clanging metal in seconds.
Skeletons surged without respite. Front lines crumbled, rear pushed forward; more crawled from side passages. Some even dropped from ceiling cracks.
It was like the corridor itself was vomiting them out.
But Eugene's expression relaxed more with each wave.
"Haha…"
A short laugh escaped. No fatigue, no tension. His body felt light. Shadows danced smoother in his grasp, vision sharper. The wolf and mantis moved like open books.
The longer the fight dragged, the more alive his senses grew.
This is fun.
His lips curved upward. They rose again after death? Kill them again. And again.
Normal people would run from endless undead hordes. But not him.
Each kill made him stronger. His heart raced, mana flooding his veins.
……
……
……
……