Thunder rumbled in the distance as lightning briefly lit up the sky, rain pelting against the apartment window in a relentless rhythm. The scent of old paper and ink filled the air, surrounding me with shelves stacked high with books grimoires, journals, treatises on magic, and the occasional dusty novel. My desk was buried beneath precarious towers of tomes, and I sat at the center of it all, staring down what felt like my hundredth theory on mana.
Wheels screeched softly across the hardwood as I rolled toward the cluttered corkboard nailed to the far wall an explosion of notes, sketches, and diagrams. Magic theories, all of them.
"I've looked at this a hundred times..." I muttered, tapping a pencil against my chin. "Why can't I figure it out?"
This vampire's magic it had cracked open something in my understanding, something I hadn't known was missing. A few months ago, a sealed dungeon had opened, and a group of elite hunters cleared it. Or tried to. Only two survived. But that wasn't what haunted me.
It was the vampire.
He moved with elegance, each spell weaving effortlessly through the air. He didn't fight like other mages. He didn't even use spells in the traditional sense. His control over mana wasn't just superior—it was alien. It didn't look like casting; it looked like conducting.
Everyone treats mana like fuel—burn it, and fire comes out. Use a skill, lose some mana. Drink a potion, top it back up. Rinse and repeat. It's efficient. It's repeatable. It's safe.
But this vampire didn't use mana.
He commanded it.
That was what struck me. Mana wasn't just a tool to him—it was a language, and he was fluent in it. The blood he wielded wasn't the source of his power. It was a brush. Mana was the hand that painted.
I leaned back in my chair, rubbing my eyes. For years, we've been looking at mana like it's currency something you spend. But what if that's all wrong? What if it's not
about spending mana... but shaping it?
In modern combat, every class depends on mana to some degree. Tanks don't burn much most of their power's stamina-based but their defensive skills still dip into their mana pool. Archers and swordsmen use it for burst techniques. Mages? We drown in it. Or we're supposed to.
Mana stones, enchanted gear, potions every mage relies on them. It's become an arms race: whoever has more mana, wins. But all that has made mages rare, too expensive to deploy regularly. Most guilds rely on more cost-effective classes unless they're taking on something massive.
That's the problem. In theory, mages are nukes. In practice? We're batteries with timers. When things go wrong—and they always do in dungeons—we either save the raid or die trying. That vampire didn't have that limitation. His mana flowed, like it had no ceiling, no tether.
And maybe… maybe it didn't.
I stared at the apple on my desk, reaching out a hand slowly. "Alright, apple. You helped humanity figure out gravity. Let's see if you've got one more discovery in you."
I closed my eyes and focused not on skills, not on formulas, just the idea of mana itself. I didn't summon it. I tried to sense it. I imagined threads in the air, invisible but real, wrapping around the apple like fingers made of thought. Like the vampire had done. Move,
Silence.
I opened one eye. The apple sat still. Typical.
I sighed and slumped in my chair, dragging a hand through my hair. I wasn't giving up
couldn't but I was running out of angles. I grabbed my phone, idly scrolling through articles about the dungeon again. Nothing new. Just recycled speculation. Still, I skimmed. My body moved on autopilot slippers scuffing the floor, glass under the faucet, the soft hum of my thoughts blending with the storm outside.
Ping.
A new notification lit up the screen.
[Another Sealed Dungeon at Lyx Square]
I tapped it instinctively.
—
Another Sealed Dungeon at Lyx Square
On May 15, 2039 – 2:45 PM
A sealed dungeon has manifested in the center of Lyx Square, causing mass panic. Civilians are evacuating as Hunter Association officials rush to assess the situation.
This marks the second sealed dungeon to appear, and experts remain uncertain about their origin or mechanics.
Following the tragedy of the last sealed raid, many hunters are hesitant to engage—
—
I frowned, scrolling further. No real answers. Sealed dungeons weren't like normal onesthey didn't just open. Something had to unlock them. Conditions, rituals, triggers no one knew. But even sealed, their timers still ticked. Once the countdown ended, chaos spilled out.
The last one... the vampire's dungeon... had been sealed too.
If I missed this one, there might not be another for years.
My phone rang. I answered it before checking the caller ID.
"Get to the Association. Now." It was my ever-grumpy secretary. Behind his voice, I heard shouting and sirens.
"I'm on my way," I said, grabbing my coat.
"Wha—seriously? You never—"
I hung up before he could finish. I'd listen to the meeting. I hadn't decided to go in yet. Not officially.
Outside, the rain came down harder. My driver was already parked at the curb, waving. I jogged over, and he held the door open. "Mr. Min wants us there pronto, so I'll be speeding for a bit."
The car lunged forward as I climbed in. I braced myself against the seat.
My phone pinged again more updates about Lyx Square. All vague. All repeating the same thing: more info to come.
I looked out the window. Lines of cars choked the streets, all trying to escape the city. No one knew where to go. Just... anywhere else.
But I was heading in.