Sabir trudged forward, his boots kicking up dust along the rocky path, leading the party as the “front runner”—the one meant to encounter danger first, the one everyone else kept their eyes on. He felt their gazes on his back, a weight that seemed almost as heavy as the oppressive silence that hung over the barren landscape around them.


    “Hey,” Sabir called back to the group after hours of walking. His voice echoed, only partially drowned by the occasional gusts of dry wind. “How much longer?”


    Rudiger, trailing at the back, lifted his head lazily. “You think I know? Front runner means you lead, not ask questions.” He smirked, and Sabir rolled his eyes, grumbling under his breath.


    Over the past few hours, a few creatures had surfaced from the shadows, eyes glinting hungrily at the small party of adventurers. They were quick, predatory things, but any time one dared to get close, Elektra or Rudiger was there to strike it down. Elektra’s gaze, however, rarely left Sabir. Her eyes tracked his every move, calculating and intense.


    Maize, who walked close by, noticed. She smirked, nudging Elektra playfully. “What’s with the stare, Elektra? Got a crush on our frontrunner here?”


    Elektra turned to Maize with a glare, her cheeks tinged with a faint pink. “You’ve got to be kidding me.” Her fingers flexed, crackling with faint traces of electricity, a reminder of her power.


    “Oh, relax. Just saying, you seem... a bit invested.” Maize’s voice was light, but there was a glimmer of amusement in her eyes, teasing Elektra further.


    With a mischievous grin, Elektra shot back, “Wait a second... don’t you have a crush on Sabir, too?” Her voice took on a mockingly sweet tone. “Wouldn’t you be upset if something, you know... happened to him?”


    Maize scoffed, shaking her head. “Me? A crush? Please.” She folded her arms. “I just find him... fun. Don’t ruin it for me by killing him, alright?”


    Elektra shivered, eyeing Maize’s unsettling smile, muttering, “Creepy...”


    Elektra tilted her head, shifting the attention away from herself. “What about you, Maize? Surely there’s someone who’s caught your eye. Maybe Jinjra?”


    Maize hummed, glancing over her shoulder as though she were genuinely considering it. “He’s handsome, sure, but... I don’t know. Too perfect.” Her gaze flickered toward Warren, who was focused intently on the path ahead. She allowed herself a slight, almost imperceptible smile before shaking her head. “Too perfect’s boring.”


    The momentary reprieve was short-lived. Sabir’s voice cut through their chatter. “Hey! I see something... some sort of prism up ahead.”


    Rudiger stepped up beside him, squinting into the distance. “Ah,” he said with a note of satisfaction. “We’re here.”


    Saliba licked his lips, his eyes gleaming with a peculiar, greedy light. “Hope there’s some good loot in there,” he muttered.


    As they approached, the structure before them slowly revealed itself. It stood about twenty-five feet tall, a massive, crystalline prism that pulsed with an eerie purplish-black glow. The sheer size of it, looming against the horizon, made Sabir’s stomach twist with a mixture of anticipation and unease.


    “This is it?” Sabir murmured. “Doesn’t look like much of a dungeon to me.”


    Zabo, standing nearby, scoffed. “The simulation dungeons were way bigger than this. It’s almost... disappointing.”


    Elektra snickered, overhearing his comment. “Figures. My little gopher here doesn’t know much of anything.” She gave Zabo a mocking glance. “Those simulations were based on the Prime Dungeons, you know—the ones defeated centuries ago.”


    “Oh, yeah,” Zabo drawled, rolling his eyes. “The ‘mighty seven’ original Espers saved the world or whatever. Give me a break.”


    Warren, quiet until now, raised an eyebrow. “You don’t believe in them?”


    Zabo shrugged, bitterness in his tone. “Oh, I believe they existed. I just don’t buy into all the grand tales.” His voice trailed off as they drew closer to the Prism, his skepticism slowly replaced with a sense of dread.


    As Sabir drew near, his eyes narrowed at a figure sitting cross-legged just in front of the prism’s base, shrouded in a heavy cloak. He squinted, his mind racing. It looked almost... human.


    Rudiger stepped forward, gesturing at the cloaked figure. “What’s that?” Saliba leaned in, eyes wide, with a twisted fascination. “Is it a monster?”


    Elektra cocked her head, squinting. “No... looks human to me.”


    Without warning, Rudiger pushed Sabir forward. “Go on. You’re the front runner, after all.”


    Sabir shot a glare back at Rudiger, who merely gave him an unsympathetic shrug. Swallowing his fear, Sabir edged closer to the cloaked figure, his hands tensed, every nerve in his body bracing for a sudden attack. The rest of the party watched from a distance, some with curiosity, others with outright caution.


    As he stepped closer, the figure stirred, rising to its feet. Sabir’s heart pounded as he realized he was facing a man—tall, with an aura that radiated quiet power. Slowly, the figure reached up and pulled back his hood, revealing a face framed by bright blond hair and piercing blue eyes. The man was handsome, almost unnervingly so; he wore a warm smile, yet he seemd to be looking past Sabir, through hid soul.


    “Ah,” the stranger said, his voice calm and measured. “I’ve been waiting for you... for days. It’s been a long time.”


    Rudiger’s face went pale as he studied the man. “Wait... Balaram? Is that... is that you?”


    Beside him, Elektra and Maize exchanged stunned looks. “Balaram... it’s really you?” Maize breathed.


    Zabo, watching the stranger with narrowed eyes, muttered, “Balaram? Like Balaram Luxor... like from the noble family that was... wiped out?”


    Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.


    Rudiger nodded slowly, beads of sweat forming on his brow. “Yeah... along with their entire guild they funded, and Balaram was the families youngest son.”


    “That shouldn’t be possible.” Warren’s voice was a low murmur. “We all attended his funeral... we saw him buried along with the rest of his family.”


    Sabir felt the man’s gaze shift back to him, that unsettling intensity now focused entirely on him. The man studied Sabir with a strange, almost reverent fascination that made his skin crawl.


    Elektra stepped forward, her expression softening. “Balaram... what happened? Why didn’t you come back? Your sister... she misses you.”


    For a moment, Balaram’s focus wavered, his gaze shifting to Elektra. He tilted his head, tapping his temple with a gloved finger. “Balaram... yes, that name... it feels so distant. So foreign.” He let out a low, hollow chuckle, his eyes gleaming. “No. Balaram is dead. I am no longer him.” He spread his arms wide, as if inviting them to witness his transformation. “I have fashioned myself anew. I am... the Overseer.”


    A murmur of confusion rippled through the group, but the Overseer’s eyes never left Sabir.


    The Overseer gave a small bow towards Sabir, his movements oddly graceful. “To meet you, The Unbound, is an honor I am hardly worthy of.”


    Sabir’s brows knit in confusion. “What... are you talking about?”


    But before he could react, Rudiger and Saliba stepped forward, weapons drawn. “He’s not Balaram,” Rudiger spat. “He’s a monster—an illusion designed to confuse us!”


    “Sabir, get back!” Warren shouted, readying a spark in his palm as Zabo tightened his grip on his chains, prepared for a fight.


    But the Overseer moved with alarming speed—a fluid, unnatural blur that left Sabir no time to react. One moment, the man was a few paces away; the next, his hand clamped down on Sabir’s shoulder with a force that felt more like iron than flesh. Sabir’s breath hitched as an icy, prickling sensation radiated from the Overseer’s touch, an unnatural chill seeping through his clothes and sinking into his skin.


    Sabir’s gaze rose, drawn inexorably to the man’s face, and that was when he saw it. Just above the Overseer’s brow, the skin seemed to ripple and part, as though something monstrous were clawing its way from beneath the surface. A single, enormous eye opened there—a demonic, blood-red iris surrounded by sclera as dark as midnight. It was unlike anything Sabir had ever seen, an eye that seemed to watch not just his movements but the deepest parts of his mind, his very soul.


    The eye blinked slowly, exuding a malevolent intelligence. As it gazed down at Sabir, its unholy glow seemed to pulsate, casting faint shadows across the Overseer’s face and bathing the surrounding air in an eerie crimson hue. Sabir felt as though he were being dissected, each layer of his mind peeled back and examined by that baleful gaze. He tried to look away, to pull his shoulder free from the man’s grasp, but his body wouldn’t obey; he was locked in place, helpless under the weight of that unblinking, otherworldly stare.


    The eye narrowed slightly, and Sabir could almost feel a probing presence, as though a cold tendril of energy was reaching into him, seeking out every hidden fear and forgotten memory. In that terrible moment, he knew—whatever this thing was, it knew him. It understood him, down to his most vulnerable thoughts, his weakest instincts.


    Time seemed to stretch as Sabir’s heart hammered against his chest, his pulse pounding in his ears. But the Overseer merely smiled, his grip unyielding, his gaze never breaking from Sabir''s. And through that dreadful silence, the eye continued to watch him—silent, patient, and filled with an intelligence as ancient as it was unforgiving.


    When the group made eye contact with it, everything changed.


    An intense, crushing pressure filled the air, and each member of the party began to collapse, dropping to their knees, clutching their heads. They groaned, gasping, as a deep, unsettling voice reverberated in their minds—a voice ancient and unfathomable.


    “Listen well, mortals,” the Overseer’s voice echoed, each word dripping with menace. “As the Overseer, I shall see to it that everything goes according to plan. You will enter this dungeon together. You will work together. And you will do everything in your power to complete the challenges that await you. Remember this well—there are fates far worse than death.”


    Sabir could only stare in horror as the demonic eye slowly closed, fading from the Overseer’s forehead. As the eye on the Overseer’s forehead closed and faded into his skin, Sabir felt his knees buckle, his breaths coming in shallow gasps. The malevolent energy that had bound them in fear was gone, but the echo of that monstrous gaze still clung to him, leaving a cold pit of dread in his stomach.


    Slowly, his party members began to stir, each looking rattled, disoriented, and drained. They groaned, clutching their heads as if the pressure of the Overseer''s words had left a physical mark.


    Zabo staggered to his feet, glancing around with wide eyes. "What… what was that voice?" he muttered, voice wavering as he exchanged a look with Warren, who was still trying to steady himself. Warren didn’t answer, his own face pale, confused and shocked from The Overseer’s attack.


    Rudiger, Elektra, and Maize all managed to stand, but the unshakable confidence they’d carried into this dungeon was gone. A strange, hollow look was in Elektra’s eyes, her hands trembling slightly. Saliba, however, had lost all nerve, eyes darting between his companions as though he expected something even worse to descend upon them at any second. He was a pale, shivering mess.


    “Come now,” the Overseer’s mocking tone shattered the silence, his gaze fixed on each of them. “Chop, chop! No time to waste. Into the prism.” He gestured with a sweeping motion, his eyes glinting with dark amusement.


    He then looked towards the Griffin that stood by Maize. “You’ll stay here,” he said. The griffin’s eyes grew in fear before quickly flying away, leaving Maize’s long hair billowing from the force.


    “Violet! No!” Maize screamed.


    Hesitant and filled with dread, the group exchanged one last fearful look before moving forward. Elektra having to pull Maize along with them. There was no going back; they’d come too far to even think of escape. One by one, they approached the shimmering prism, their forms phasing through and disappearing into its light, swallowed by the unknown.


    Sabir hesitated, his eyes lingering on the Overseer, but before he could ask anything more, the man’s cold hand was on his shoulder. “Yes, you too,” the Overseer smiled warmly, giving him a hard shove toward the prism. Sabir stumbled, reaching out in an attempt to steady himself, but it was too late—the strange surface of the prism met his hand, and in an instant, he was pulled through, vanishing into its depths.


    The Overseer watched them disappear, his eerie smile widening into something far darker. As the last trace of Sabir faded from sight, he began to laugh, a low, sinister sound that echoed through the darkened chamber.


    He tilted his head, addressing an unseen presence. “Do you see that, my lord?” he murmured, his eyes gleaming with a manic light. “I met him. Your hero, the one you spoke of—I met The Unbound.”


    The Overseer’s face contorted with reverence, as if he were confessing some dark secret. “He bears the prophet’s mark; his fate has been read,” he continued, his voice trembling with anticipation. “We must seek the prophet—he knows destiny, he knows where you lay dormant.”


    For a brief moment, a tense silence filled the wasteland, broken only by the Overseer’s shallow breaths. Then, as if receiving an unseen reply, his eyes widened, and he nodded. “Yes, my lord. The Unbound knows… he knows of the prophet.”


    His voice dropped to a whisper, “What shall I do?”


    There was no answer, at least none Sabir would have been able to hear, but the Overseer’s expression twisted, his eyes wild as he muttered to himself. “Wait… but, my lord—”


    Suddenly, a sharp, agonizing scream tore from his lips, his body writhing as though seized by an invisible hand. Yet even through the pain, his laughter grew louder, ringing out in crazed, unhinged peals.


    “Yes… I understand now,” he whispered, breath hitching as he collapsed to his knees, laughing even harder. “Xaiazoss shall rise.”


    And the wasteland echoed with his maddened laughter as darkness enveloped it, the shadows clinging thickly to every corner, sealing away his secrets.