"How many made it out?"
In a lava cavern on the seventh layer, Aik stood with both hands on his sword, his gaze sweeping over the battered members of the advance party who had escaped. Many had suffered severe burns and were receiving treatment from the priests.
"Two Advanced Professionals died. Thirteen Intermediate Professionals escaped. As for the Low-Level Professionals..." Ghost paused before continuing. "They were wiped out. Every last one died in there."
Bang!
A fist left an indentation in the solid wall. Wick Os bit down hard on his lip, his eyes bloodshot. With nowhere to vent the fury inside him, he felt unbearably stifled. There had been so many of them, and every squad of Advanced Professionals had conquered several small Dungeons.
They had fought in campaigns to conquer medium-sized Dungeons and ventured into large ones!
Yet despite all that experience, they had willingly built their temporary camp over a trap inside this Dungeon. They had even blocked the exit themselves, reinforcing the trap and crafting a death trap capable of wiping them all out.
Shameful!
Utter humiliation, along with a trace of fear none of them wanted to admit...
Those were the truest feelings in the hearts of the advance party's many Advanced Professionals at that moment. Something was wrong with this Dungeon.
This was not merely a feeling, but something everyone present tacitly acknowledged. No Dungeon had ever shown such malice toward invading adventurers-not the small Dungeons they had conquered, nor the medium-sized and large ones they had visited.
None of those Dungeons had ever been like this.
It felt as though the Dungeon itself possessed a sense of self, treating invading adventurers as prey, meticulously laying traps and creating specially mutated monsters to counter them. Everything served a single purpose: to keep the adventurers