Elementalism

The stranger remained silent as he led me through the maze of corridors, his footsteps light, deliberate. I kept my eyes locked on his back, watching for the smallest sign of betrayal. A twitch. A shift in posture. Anything that might tell me he was about to turn on me.

I didn't trust him. Not even a little.

For all I knew, I'd just swapped one monster for another. The only difference? This one came with a label.

An elemental. And an air one at that.

That told me plenty. I knew how elementals worked—how their personalities tended to reflect the nature of their element. Fire burned hot, short-tempered, and reckless. Earth was steady but stubborn as hell. Water? I liked to think we were adaptable, calm under pressure. But air? Air was a damn wildcard. A soft breeze one moment, a raging hurricane the next.

Unpredictable.

My gaze flicked to his hands. Empty. No visible weapons. But I wasn't naïve enough to believe that meant I was safe. He didn't need a blade to kill me. With a flick of his fingers, he could strip the air from my lungs, leave me gasping like a fish on land. I'd seen it before—back in high school. Some asshole and his friends had picked on a kid who hadn't awakened yet, cutting off his breath just long enough to make him panic.

Just long enough to remind him how powerless he was.

The stranger slowed at the next bend, turning just enough to glance back at me. His gaze dipped to my throat.

It took me a second to realize why—I had my hand there, fingers curled protectively around my neck.

I swallowed hard, feeling my Adam's apple bob against my palm, then forced my hand to drop.

"Yeah?" I asked, keeping my voice steady.

He tilted his head toward the corridor ahead. "We're almost there. Thought I'd give you a heads-up."

There was a pause. Slight, but noticeable. Like he was debating how much to say. That alone put me on edge.

"The people inside…" He hesitated, rolling the words over in his mouth before spitting them out. "Some of them have been here for a while."

I frowned. "A while?"

He nodded.

"How long is 'a while'?"

A sigh. Then, scratching the back of his head, he said, "I think the longest has been a week."

A week?

A low buzz filled my ears.

Someone had been trapped in this dungeon for an entire week—and they were still alive?

"How?" The word left my mouth before I even realized I was speaking.

"They fell through the portal after grocery shopping."

I flinched, caught off guard by the answer. My gaze snapped to his, and he smirked—quirky, cocky, and wholly unearned.

"You said that out loud," he explained, clearly amused.

"Talk about luck," I muttered, shaking my head. "They wouldn't have survived otherwise." I scanned the desolate hallway. It was barren—too empty. And I doubted the rest of this dungeon was much better. "Are they all hunters?"

He shrugged.

I opened my mouth, irritation flaring, but he cut me off.

"Before you, I was the last to arrive. That was… maybe a day ago? Time gets weird past the gateways. If they talked about anything before I got here, I wouldn't know."

I studied his face, searching for any cracks in his expression. Any sign he was lying. I found nothing.

Eleven people. All pulled into this dungeon within days of each other. That wasn't normal. There'd never been an incident like this before. No reports. No warnings. Nothing in the news.

Something was seriously wrong.

"Are you a hunter?"

"I am," he said, and I blinked in surprise. I hadn't expected a straight answer.

"And you?"

I shook my head.

He grunted, turning away. "Alright then, let's get this over with. You actually seem useful—unlike some of the other asswipes in there."

He didn't bother checking if I was following. Just kept walking, forcing me to keep up.

The corridor emptied into a vast, open space. The dirt floor gave way to smooth stone blocks, and the dim torchlight flickered as if sensing our arrival. The air here felt different—heavier. Ancient.

The walls were lined with twelve towering columns, six on each side. At their bases, bronze and gold podiums gleamed under the firelight. In the center of the room, suspended from the ceiling, was an enormous chandelier. But instead of electricity, it held a roaring flame, its light casting shifting shadows across the ground. The metal framework twisted in intricate patterns, ancient symbols etched into its surface.

At the far end of the room stood a raised platform with a set of three steps leading up to a massive stone chair. Carved from sandstone, it loomed over the space like a forgotten throne, abandoned and waiting for a ruler who would never return.

A strange sense of longing settled in my chest at the sight of it.

Then, voices.

In the center of the room, huddled together, was a group of ten people. Their eyes snapped toward us the moment we entered.

Five women, five men. Two of the girls and one of the men looked around my age. Two other girls—high schoolers, if their uniforms were anything to go by—stood close together. Three of the men were also teenagers. Then there was a woman in her early thirties, her short-cropped hair framing sharp features. She wore a crisp suit, unnervingly clean given the circumstances.

And lastly, a child. A boy who couldn't be older than eight, clutching one of the high school girls' hands like a lifeline.

My stomach twisted at the sight of him.

The group fell silent as we approached, their gazes bouncing between me and my escort. Then, finally, the suited woman stepped forward.

"I'm glad to see you made it back," she said, her voice calm, measured. Something about it nagged at me. Familiar, but distant.

I studied her—sharp glasses, green eyes, a small mole just below the outer corner of her right eye.

Then she turned her attention to me.

"And I see you've brought us a new victim." She smiled, the expression softening her otherwise commanding presence. "I'm sure this has all been overwhelming for you, but don't worry. We'll figure out a way home."

And that's when it clicked.

Her tone. Her posture. The suit.

This was Ha-eun—founder and leader of Riotous, one of Korea's top three guilds. A hunter of terrifying renown.

The weight pressing on my shoulders lightened, and I was sure it showed on my face.

"I assume you already know," she continued, "but I'm Ha-eun, leader of Riotous. I'll make sure you and everyone else gets home safely. I've been missing for a week now, so people are bound to notice."

That was an understatement.

I almost snorted. If someone like her had disappeared, it should have been everywhere in the news.

Wait.

It wasn't.

I lifted a hand to my chin, thinking. There hadn't been a single report about Ha-eun's disappearance. No whispers. No rumors. The guild and the association could've been keeping it quiet, but…

"What if no one comes?" a voice bit out, sharp with fear.

A high school boy.

Ha-eun turned toward him, her expression unreadable.

"Even if they know we're missing, what are they supposed to do?" he demanded. "Gates don't just open because we want them to."

He had a point.

A girl with a high ponytail spoke next. "It's been days, Noona. We're running out of food. Then what?"

Beside her, her friend—a blonde with a neat bob—nodded, worry etched across her face.

Ha-eun raised her hands in a calming gesture. "I know you're scared. I would be too." She reached out, squeezing Ponytail's shoulder. "But trust me—I will get us home."

Tears welled in the girl's eyes before spilling over. Then, full-on sobbing. Ha-eun pulled her in, patting her back.

Out of the corner of my eye, I caught movement.

The stranger.

He strode past the group without a word, stopping at a pillar near the raised platform.

And then, without sparing anyone a second glance, he leaned against it—silent, watching.