SSS Awakening: I Can Create Skills By Will-Chapter 33: Those Who Walked Out

Another explorer added, "Messenger from Highridge Stronghold confirmed three C rank dungeons showing abnormal mana flux. They’re prioritizing those."

A low whistle passed through the group.

Highridge.

That name alone carried weight.

Highridge Stronghold was one of the largest frontier bastions in the eastern territories. Massive walls. Dense mana saturation. Veteran divisions. Entire companies of elites.

If Highridge was stretched thin...

Things were bad.

Veylor rubbed his chin.

"How many others like this?"

"At least seven confirmed across nearby territories," the scout replied. "Two in Stonehaven. One in Ironroot Pass. And this one."

Veylor exhaled slowly.

"So the wave started."

Nobody asked what wave meant.

Everyone knew.

Every few years, dungeons across wide regions began mutating at once.

No one knew the true cause.

Some blamed mana saturation.

Some blamed planar instability.

Some whispered about cult groups feeding dungeons from the inside.

The most dangerous explanation was also the one most people avoided.

The Abyss.

Abyss was what scholars called the tainted aspect of mana.

It was corrupted and warped. Alive in ways mana was not supposed to be.

Most nations publicly branded it as an evil byproduct of dungeon existence.

Something to be cleansed, burned. and sealed.

Unofficially, some groups worshiped it.

As they believed it was the true source of evolution.

And thus, those people were hunted. If seen.

Which was rare.

Because they hid well causing mischief which could only be seen.

Veylor turned slightly, addressing the squad leaders.

"Standard protocol stands."

"Squad One and Two, outer perimeter. Fifty meters out."

"Squad Three, close guard on the gate."

"Archers elevated positions. Mages rotate mana recovery."

One of the squad leaders frowned.

"We’re not entering, sir?"

Veylor shook his head.

"Not this one, we can’t."

A few grim expressions appeared.

They all understood why.

This dungeon was F rank.

Which normally meant it was safe enough for fresh awakeners.

But this dungeon had been used for something else.

Emergency Awakening Program.

A policy Grimwatch started two years ago.

Unofficially approved.

Perhaps, publicly denied.

Non awakeners with no background, no sponsors, no prospects were thrown into low rank dungeons.

The logic was simple.

Most would die. But some would awaken.

Those who awakened would become assets.

Those who died would reduce slum population and dungeon pressure.

It was cruel, but efficient. At least on paper.

Grimwatch had been a small stronghold once.

Barely more than a fortified town.

Few divisions. With outdated gear. And were constantly short on manpower.

Surrounded by unstable F and E rank dungeons.

To the north lay Blackfall Bastion, a massive fortress city that oversaw several B and C rank dungeon clusters.

To the west stood Stonehaven Hold, a medium stronghold built into a mountain ridge, famous for its smithing and rune industry.

To the south was Ironroot pass, another medium stronghold guarding a forest region plagued by beast type dungeons.

Compared to them, Grimwatch had started at the bottom.

But the Emergency Awakening Program changed that., As their numbers grew. And their divisions expanded.

With that, their survival rate improved.

But mistakes still happened.

As Veylor stared at the mutated gate.

"What becomes of the non awakeners stuck inside," he said quietly.

A squad leader clenched his jaw.

"With a mutation present..."

"Survival chance drops below five percent," Veylor finished.

Silence followed.

Everyone there had seen mutated dungeons. Some monsters grew stronger. Some gained bizarre abilities.

Some dungeons mutated seals that continuously produced enemies.

Worst case, the mutation accelerated growth inside until the dungeon burst.

Causing a dungeon break.

When that happened, monsters poured into the real world. And people died.

Lots of people.

Veylor did not like gambling with slim odds.

But he also did not order a purge.

Because there was still a chance.

A tiny one.

"If," he said slowly, "multiple awakenings occurred."

"And if," he continued, "at least one of them adapted fast enough to stabilize combat."

"And if," he added, "they didn’t immediately kill each other."

A scout scoffed softly.

"That’s a miracle stacked on another miracle."

Veylor did not disagree.

He turned sharply.

"Begin break preparations."

Movement exploded across the camp.

Explorers checked blade edges.

Mages uncorked mana potions and drank small sips.

Healers lined up vials of health potion on cloth mats.

Archers replaced cracked bowstrings.

Someone activated a portable barrier device and tested its glow.

Armor straps were tightened. Talismans were affixed.

People spoke in short sentences.

"Formation spacing five meters."

"Save your big skills for breach."

"Don’t chase."

"Protect the healers."

This was routine.

Which made it worse.

Veylor stood near the front, watching the gate.

He did not expect survivors.

But he would be damned if he was unprepared.

Then the air shifted.

Not violently.

Not explosively.

The distortion around the gate began to smooth.

The dark veins twitched.

Then started to recede.

A scout blinked.

"Captain...?"

Another explorer squinted.

"Is it... shrinking?"

The pulsing slowed.

The warped air condensed inward.

A low hum replaced the earlier sickening hiss.

Someone shouted.

"Movement inside!"

Veylor stepped forward.

"Shields up!"

Weapons rose.

Mages began chanting.

Archers drew.

As the distortion continued twisting.

Light formed.

Not the unstable black rupture of a break.

But a clean circular portal.

Veylor’s eyes widened.

"That’s... an exit."

Before anyone could react further...

A silhouette stepped through.

Not a monster. Not a twisted shape.

A human. A young man. Covered in blood, while holding tightly to a sword.

The battlefield went silent.

The man stumbled one step forward.

Then steadied himself.

Behind him, more figures appeared.

Humans.

Alive.

Veylor stared.

For a rare moment in his long career...

His mind went blank.

"Lower... weapons," he said slowly.

No one argued.

Because nobody could look away.

For a few seconds, nobody moved.

The portal stood open behind the first young man who had stepped out, its light washing over bloodstained clothes, broken weapons, and trembling bodies.

Then another figure stumbled through.

Then another.

And another.

One by one, humans emerged from a dungeon that everyone present had already marked as a grave.

The explorers posted around the gate stared.

Some with wide eyes.

Some with mouths half open.

Some with hands still gripping weapons they had forgotten to lower.

"They’re... alive?"

A low murmur spread.

"Those were the non awakeners... i mean now awakened"

"How many is that?"

"But the Abyss..."

Captain Veylor felt his chest tighten.