I am Just an Average Tamer

The dust was still settling.

"Haa... Haa..."

Kai's breathing was ragged.

Drip! Drip!

The crimson blood still clung to his blades.

Kai slumped, about to close his eyes.

But...

[<Be careful, boy. It's a pseudo-dungeon.>]

His eyes snapped open.

"What…?"

His breath hitched.

A chill ran down his spine.

Pseudo-Dungeon.

These were not like regular Dungeons, that appear without warning, all around the places.

Dungeons were kind of rifts in space or reality, taking the shape of ancient ruins, shattered castles, corrupted groves, crumbling temples, or otherworldly lairs.

Some were floating islands. Some were sunken halls beneath the earth.

Dungeons were a mystery that even scholars couldn't explain.

And inside them?

Monsters, beasts, treasures, inform of relics, artifacts, weapons and many more things.

The environment inside was often distorted, not same in any of them.

Gravity could bend, time might slow, and natural elements could surge unpredictably.

They had traps that didn't obey normal logic, puzzles.

Sometimes there were lingering memories of what some called dead gods or fallen heroes.

A Dungeon always had a core. A beating heart of it.

And guarding it was always a Boss Monster or Beast, mutated version of the ones that found inside a dungeon.

Mostly, mercenaries and adventurers enter for riches, legacy, strength.

Though there were many cases in which some people didn't return.

Unlike Dungeons, Pseudo-Dungeons, were places- ruins, or domains that began the transformation into a dungeon… but never completed it. It was in-between.

Whether by accident or intervention, something halted the process midway.

Whatever the reason, the place was left unstable.

Unpredictable.

The rules of space and time were partially changed.

And the worst part?

Pseudo-Dungeons didn't have a Dungeon Core.

No core meant—

No way to halt the dungeon's process.

No heart to destroy.

You couldn't end it.

Only escape.

This wasn't a dungeon to conquer.

It was a place to survive.

The way how normal dungeons worked were, you enter, kill the boss monster, take the rewards, shatter the core.

And the dungeon collapses.

But this?

There was no end.

He clenched his jaw.

"There's no f*cking way to clear it…"

If you entered a Pseudo-Dungeon, you weren't inside a challenge.

You were inside a cycle.

A twisted, liminal space between death and survival.

The environment would shift, warp subtly with time.

The monsters would return.

Again.

And again.

And again.

There were no breaks.

No mercy.

And the Bosses?

They respawned.

Maybe not immediately.

Maybe not the same form.

But they'd be back.

Each wave more deformed.

Each horde more unstable.

It was a loop.

A fucking loop.

No matter how long you fought.

No matter how many you killed.

No matter what relic or artifact you uncovered…

It wouldn't end.

The ruin.

No, the thing pretending to be a ruin was alive.

Not sentient maybe but it was reacting.

Trying to self-complete. Trying to become a real dungeon by draining mana, blood, and soul.

So how the fuck do you survive something like this?

The only known way, really, spoken by those who barely escaped was this:

"Destroy the structure entirely. Collapse the whole frame and then run. Run like hell."

Once the space collapse—

Before it could stitch itself together again.

There was a brief disturbance.

A few minutes at most.

Where the spatial reality was disoriented, unstable and get disconnected from its anchor point.

And if you were fast and capable enough?

You could escape its grasp before it re-anchored to the world again.

If not?

You'd be trapped again.

But next time, the dungeon would remember you.

ROOOOOAR!

"Fuck me sideways," Kai whispered, voice low and dry as a raw, gravelly voice tore through the broken temple like a beast dragging a mountain behind it.

The air shook around.

Kai flinched a little.

Even Stromeon instinctively lowered his body, growling.

Vael's feathers flared, eyes narrowed into razor slits.

From the veil of shadows that clung to the temple's inner chamber, something began to emerge.

But it wasn't like the others.

The beasts before had been monstrous, twisted remnants of past fauna, malformed, blind with rage and corrupted by unstable mana.

But this one…

This one was coherent.

It had structure, form… a design.

Like it had been born for war.

Its hide was slick obsidian, as if molded from volcanic glass, etched with faint violet glyphs that pulsed in sync.

Bone-like spines jutted from its back like spears, curved forward like a shield wall.

Four long legs, muscled, ending in claws that clinked like steel with each step.

Its tail dragged behind, segmented and bladed.

And its face—

It had one.

A real one.

Its molten violet eyes met Kai's.

Hateful. As if it knew who they were.

And what they had done.

Kai's breath hitched.

The beast turned its gaze.

To Vael.

To Stromeon.

ROOOAR!

And it roared again.

Not wild.

Not chaotic.

It was a call to arms.

And as if in answer, the corrupted temple itself shuddered. Loose stones cracked.

Runes glowed faintly under the dust.

The shadows thickened behind it.

Kai's hand gripped his dagger tighter.

"…You've gotta be kidding me."

His muscles burned. Blood ran sticky down his arms.

He was tired.

Too tired.

But this monster didn't care.

It charged.

The floor cracked beneath its steps.

Straight at them.

Vael shot into the air, wings wide.

Stromeon snarled and pawed the ground, sparks dancing around his claws.

Kai dropped into stance.

[<Ghost Steps!>]

"Let's fucking end this nightmare."

****

Tap! Tap!

Soft footsteps echoed along the marble floor, as Lira walked to her class.

Class 1-A.

The classroom reserved for the top fifty first-years.

Hiss!

Her Crystalline frost serpent was collided around her neck like a scarf. Its scales shimmered like frost-kissed glass, catching the morning light.

Nuzzling to her cheeks from time to time, showing subtle affection.

As Lira stepped inside, the classroom was in its usual storm.

The boisterous chatter, chairs screeching, students comparing notes, or arguing over stupid things.

But then, noticing her presence—

Silence.

All of them stopped whatever they're doing and went still to their seat.

Dozens of gazes lingered on her.

But Lira didn't flinch. Didn't even acknowledge them.

She never did.

It was nothing new.

Then without missing a beat, she walked straight to her usual seat.

A quiet corner near the window.

Her boots made the faintest sounds as she passed.

Then her gaze paused, just briefly on an empty seat at the back.

Her emerald eyes narrowed faintly.

'He's not here yet.'

Her fingers brushed the pendant hidden beneath her uniform shirt.

A silver chain, its bluebird ornament cool against her skin.

Then she sat down, crossing one leg over the other with quiet poise.

Snow curled tighter around her neck, head resting atop her shoulder like a watchful guardian.

Lira leaned against her desk, eyes drifting toward the clouds outside the window.