It was the dead of night, and Kagurem had long since drifted into a deep slumber.

  Moonlight, like a layer of thin frost, draped over the roofs of black rock and granite, tracing the sturdy, rugged contours of the dwarven architecture. In the forge district, the bustling noise of the day had vanished, leaving only the rhythmic, steady thump... thump... of the deep furnaces’ exhaust vents. It sounded like the beating heart of a giant—a sound so woven into the city’s breath that it had become a part of the silence.

  Occasionally, the solitary echo of a city guard’s heavy iron boots clicking against the cobblestones would briefly cut through the peace. Aside from that, the entire city felt as though even the wind had fallen asleep.

  In the center of the city, the Adventurer’s Guild was one of the few places still lit, though it carried only the lazy, quiet aura of the late hours.

  Inside the main hall, two young clerks sat huddled over a small table, playing a hushed game of Dwarven Chess. The clack of stone pieces hitting the wooden board was the only sound. Near the wall, an elderly guard on duty leaned back, using a soft cloth to polish his favorite ale tankard over and over again, preparing to fill it once his shift ended.

  Everything was exactly as it had been for hundreds of ordinary nights before.

  Aila, the receptionist in charge of the massive obsidian sensing plate, rested her chin on her hand. Her eyelids felt as heavy as copper coins. On the polished obsidian surface behind her, dozens of sensing runes—representing the "Warning Runestones" scattered across the outskirts—flowed with a steady, faint blue light.

  In the deepest, quietest moment of the night, a tiny, almost imperceptible crack echoed from the obsidian plate.

  Aila’s drowsy eyes snapped open. She stood up and leaned in to inspect the stone. On the top left of the surface, a rune representing the perimeter of the "Black-hearth Tunnel" had developed a hairline fracture. Its light began to flicker erratically.

  "...Strange. Is the mana circuit loose?" she muttered to herself, reaching out to touch it.

  But before her fingertip could graze the stone, two more runes—representing the "Red Moon Tunnel" and the "Deeprock Crag Mine"—let out sharp snaps. Fractures appeared on them simultaneously.

  This was no coincidence.

  Aila’s face turned deathly pale. She realized instantly—this wasn't a malfunction of the Guild’s equipment. It meant that miles away, the physical Warning Runestones were being attacked and destroyed from the outside!

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  Before she could cry out a warning, a thunderous BANG erupted.

  In the center of the plate, the largest rune—the core of the main defensive line—shattered with a piercing scream of stone. Countless cracks spiraled out from the center, causing the entire obsidian plate to vibrate violently. In that single breath, every rune on the board extinguished.

  "—ALARM!!"

  She screamed with every ounce of strength in her lungs. She bolted into the side room, shouting for the night guards while slamming her hand onto the copper emergency bell—a bell covered in dust, intended to be rung only for Class-A disasters or higher.

  BONG————

  A long, low, and ominous tolling rang through the Adventurer’s Guild, piercing the midnight silence.

  The two clerks dropped their chess pieces, their faces turning white as they stared at each other, frozen. The old guard stopped mid-polish, the soft cloth slipping from his fingers and fluttering to the floor. Aila, who had pulled the alarm, leaned against the cold wall, gasping for air, her heart hammering against her ribs.

  The bell did not stop there. It leapt over the Guild’s high walls, echoing through every sleeping street of Kagurem.

  In the Artisan District, an old blacksmith bolted upright, instinctively reaching for the forging hammer by his bed. In the Tavern Strip, a tavern owner counting his day’s earnings let his coins clatter to the floor, unheeding. In the depths of countless homes, mothers woke with a jolt, their first instinct to rush to their children’s beds and pull them into a tight embrace.

  For a city that had known peace for decades, this bell was a memory far too distant and far too terrifying.

  Guildmaster Hagg Ironmane was not in his comfortable home.

  Over the past few days, worried about his missing squad, he had been staying in the rest area on the second floor of the Guild. At this moment, he was reclined on an old leather sofa, covered by a coarse wool blanket. His eyes were closed, but his brow remained tightly knit.

  He wasn't woken by the bell. In fact, he hadn't slept at all.

  Just moments before the alarm rang, an inexplicable chill had surged up his spine—the kind of instinct for death that could only be forged through decades of rolling in the blood and dust of the battlefield.

  BONG————

  When that first long, ominous toll reached his ears from below, Hagg felt no surprise. He only felt a heavy, suffocating exhaustion—the weariness of a premonition finally confirmed.

  The first thing that flashed through his mind wasn't the image of an enemy, but the face of Glen, the captain of the "Ironflame Battleaxe" squad who had left three days ago. That young man who always thumped his chest and grinned, saying, "Leave it to me, Guildmaster."

  Hagg clenched his fist so hard his knuckles turned white. The personal grief and self-reproach lasted less than three seconds before they were replaced by the iron-hard responsibility and fury of a Guildmaster.

  He stood up slowly, his towering figure looking like a mountain preparing to face a hurricane in the dim lamplight. He looked at the hallway where chaos was beginning to erupt and muttered in a voice almost too low to hear:

  "...What was meant to come has finally arrived."

  Outside, the outskirts of Kagurem remained as silent as ever. But in the depths of the silent, abandoned mines, shadows that had slumbered for a thousand years were quietly opening their eyes.

  The Great Cataclysm had begun.

  "The silence of Kagurem has been broken. For decades, the city relied on its Warning Runestones to keep the darkness at bay, but in a single night, the core of their defense has been shattered.

  The mystery of the 'Blackstone Mine' is no longer a localized issue—it's a Class-A disaster. Hagg’s worst fears have come true, and the 'Ironflame Battleaxe' squad is likely lost to whatever has awakened in the deep.

  The stakes for Yggdrasil and Balin have just skyrocketed. They are no longer just going on an adventure; they are heading into the eye of a storm that could consume their home.

  Thank you for reading! If you felt the chill of that bell, please Follow and Rate to support the story! The journey to the mine starts tomorrow!"