Elementalism

That's strange.

I watched the sky shrink away, swallowed by a hole that was collapsing in on itself. The café entrance disappeared into the void.

I was just heading back inside.

I didn't register I was falling until my back slammed into the ground. Hard. Air exploded from my lungs, leaving me gasping, mouth opening and closing like a fish on dry land. But no breath came. My chest spasmed, my vision darkened at the edges.

Above me, the hole—the gate—sealed shut with brutal finality.

No.

Electricity crackled in the air, familiar and terrifying. Every nerve in my body screamed at me to move, to do something, but I could only lift a shaking hand toward the empty space where the gate had been. A useless, desperate gesture.

This couldn't be happening.

Not again.

At last, my lungs unlocked, dragging in a ragged, stuttering breath. Pain stabbed through my ribs as I curled onto my side, coughing so hard spit dribbled down my chin. My fingers dug into the fabric of my shirt, my apron. As if grounding myself in something tangible would stop the rising tide of panic.

Memories flickered in and out of focus. Too fast to grab hold of.

A child. A damp cave.

Glowing eyes in the dark.

Laughter—light and cruel.

And red. So much red.

Get it together, Ryung.

I inhaled slow, the way the doctor taught me years ago, when I woke up screaming in the hospital. Panicking would only get me killed. If the dungeon creatures didn't do it first.

Another breath. Then another.

Pushing up onto my hands and knees, I forced my eyes open. My palms pressed into compact dirt. The scent of dust and stone filled my nose.

Silence.

No growls. No shifting shadows. No immediate death looming.

The only sound came from the torches lining the sandstone walls, their flames crackling softly. Their warm glow flickered across the narrow hallway I now found myself in. Empty. For now.

I staggered upright, legs unsteady, and looked toward the ceiling—toward where the gate had been. It shouldn't have snapped shut so quickly. Gates never did that. They usually remained open for a week, the duration acting as a kind of invisible hourglass for those who entered. The countdown wasn't obvious at first—hunters learned to look for the signs. A faint shimmer in the air, the way the gate's edges flickered erratically, the hum of its energy growing fainter by the hour. In the final days, it would pulse like a dying heartbeat, signaling to anyone inside that their time was running out.

That was how it was supposed to work.

But my gate hadn't given a warning. It had slammed shut the moment I fell through.

And that was bad.

Very bad.

Had anyone seen me fall?

Ji-ho would notice I hadn't come back inside. So would the manager. The café had been busy—there were always people in and out. Someone must have felt the shift in the air, that unmistakable charge that signaled a gate's presence.

But even if they figured out what had happened, what good would it do? No one could reopen a gate.

The only way to get out was for another gate to open to this dungeon, but who knew when that would be.

I exhaled sharply, rubbing a hand over my face before looking down both ends of the corridor. The hallway stretched into shadow, the torchlight barely reaching beyond a few meters. The walls were too smooth, unnervingly precise. No cracks. No signs of erosion.

Something about it felt wrong.

In school, they told us to stay put if we ever got trapped in a dungeon. Don't take risks. Wait for a rescue team. But that advice had been for kids who hadn't awakened yet. Kids who had no way to defend themselves.

And it was useless.

Even for hunters, rescue missions were complicated, and dungeons didn't care about rules. There were too many cases of people vanishing without a trace. Gates opened in unpredictable locations—no one could track where they'd lead or when they'd appear again. Some never reappeared at all.

That was what I was dealing with.

If I stayed here, I'd die.

Whether it was starvation, monsters, or something worse, waiting wasn't an option.

I clenched my jaw. My abilities weren't strong—a single drop of water wasn't exactly the most impressive awakening—but sitting around doing nothing was a death sentence.

A faint gust of wind brushed past me.

I froze.

The torchlight wavered as the breeze rolled through the corridor.

I turned toward it, eyes narrowing down the right-hand path. Nothing. No movement. No sound. Just the quiet flicker of flames.

My stomach growled. I scowled.

I had no food, no idea where I was, and no way of knowing how long I'd be trapped here.

Whatever god had decided to drop me into this mess? I was inclined to piss in their cereal out of pure spite.