Chapter 19 – Amber city’s dungeon hall

  Amber City stood as one of the four great pillars of the continent, a fortress-city whose name carried weight far beyond its fifteen-hundred square kilometres of stone and mana. Its fame wasn’t only from size, but from design—layer upon layer, a wheel of power turning around a single hub.

  The outermost ring was the Residential Area, sprawling wider than all others combined. From above it looked like an endless grid of streets, yet on the ground it was a living tide of families, small guild outposts, training yards, and rooftop gardens. Children practiced with wooden blades in community squares, while carts—powered by steady streams of mana—wove through streets lit by pale-blue mana lamps. It was here that most of Amber City’s five million-plus citizens lived, under the constant shadow of the fifteen-meter wall that enclosed them all keeping them save from the wilds.

  Deeper in lay the Industrial Area, the veins and bones of the city. All type of production worker worked here. Foundries hammered dungeon ores into weapon steel, smoke and sparks spilling skyward as massive refineries siphoned ambient mana into stones. Entire streets thrummed with the pulse of machinery, each gear and piston driven by mana circuits instead of electricity which was a relic of past it was the era where everything worked on mana. It was a place of labour and fire, less glamorous than the heart of the city but vital; without it, Amber City’s strength would collapse.

  Past the heat and clangour came the Awakener Area, the very soul of ambition. Here stood the Hall of Awakening, a crystalline structure that marked the start of every awakened life, and not far from it the Dungeon Hall, a fortress where laid all hundreds of dungeons for the new generation to practice this was made possible with joint efforts of all guilds and world government. Shops, guild offices, alchemist stalls, weapon forges—every necessity for an Awakener’s path gathered here. This was where talent was tested, sharpened, and claimed.

  At the core of the Awakener Area rose the Dawn Guild’s base: a fortress of steel and mana glass whose spires pierced the skyline, visible from every corner of the city. Its walls glowed faintly with runes that never slept, a constant reminder of who held true authority. It wasn’t simply headquarters; it was a throne, the axis on which the entire city turned.

  Together, the three rings formed more than just a city. Amber City was a statement—that power could be built, structured, and defended. Among the top four cities of the continent, it stood as both shield and beacon, a place where ordinary life and Awakener ambition intertwined beneath the Dawn Guild’s watchful eye.

  The Dungeon Hall felt alive. Rows of portals shimmered along the far wall, their surfaces rippling like mirrors of liquid light. Each arch carried glowing runes and a simple inscription: [Lv. 1–10], [Lv. 5–15], [Lv. 10–20], and on and on until the numbers climbed higher than most rookies dared imagine. The air thrummed faintly, as if every portal carried a heartbeat of its own.

  Ciel, Sora, and Veldora moved toward the reception counters. Behind them, clerks in Dawn Guild colours greeted everyone with easy routine, crystal screens floating above their desks. The trio stepped up when one waved them forward.

  “First time here?” the receptionist asked, her voice carrying more warmth than formality.

  “Yes,” Ciel said.

  “Good, then let me give you the basics even though you are a little late.” She tapped her crystal screen, and glowing numbers and diagrams spun in the air between them. “Amber City’s Dungeon Hall manages two hundred forty-seven dungeons in total. About one hundred thirty-nine are under level twenty, seventy-seven sit between twenty and forty, and thirty-one between forty and sixty. Together, they make this one of the largest halls on the continent.”

  Her smile softened as she went on. “These halls weren’t built by chance. They were the result of a treaty between the World Government and the major guilds, back when the world was drowning in monsters during the Era of Chaos. Without shared halls like these, humanity wouldn’t have been able to train, grow, and fight back the way we did.”

  This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

  Sora’s gaze flicked to the nearest portal, its surface glowing faint green, but the woman raised a hand. “Now, about limits. Every dungeon comes with its own natural bracket—a lower and upper level range where monsters spawn. You can’t normally enter a dungeon if its lower limit is higher than your level plus ten, or if its upper limit plus ten is still below your level. It’s just how the system works, built into the gates themselves probably to prevent people from exploiting them.” She paused, then added with a little shrug, “There are some ways around it, but for now, it won’t matter to you.”

  Veldora leaned in, brows quirking. “So… pick something close, fight, grow stronger?”

  “Exactly.” The receptionist’s smile turned brisk. “But you should know, nothing comes free. As you might know each dungeon is worth at least a hundred thousand mana sometimes much more for everyone’s sake we are all expected to contribute not much twenty percent of the basic rewards from each run go back to the Hall, whether you succeed or fail. Think of it as keeping the doors open for the next group.”

  She let the numbers fade from the screen and looked at them again. “Simple enough?”

  “Yes,” Ciel said with a nod.

  The receptionist’s crystal screen dimmed, her expression turning curious. “So, what kind of dungeon are you three looking for?”

  Ciel answered without hesitation. “For beginners. Preferably one with larger monsters—within the 5–15 range. Something with a low cooldown between resets.”

  Veldora gave a half-snort. “Why stop there? We can handle more. A 10–20 dungeon would give better drops and more experience. We can take them on with our current strength.”

  Ciel shook his head firmly. “And it would also be riskier than we need. Better safe than sorry, especially on our first official run here.”

  Veldora muttered under his breath but didn’t press further. Sora only smirked, clearly siding with Ciel.

  The receptionist tapped her crystal, scrolling through glowing panels until she paused. “Alright. For your request, I’d recommend this one.” She flicked her fingers, and the display expanded into a shimmering landscape of rolling hills and open grassland. Black dots wheeled overhead in the illusion, wings glinting against pale light.

  “Dungeon: Harpy’s Nest. Grassland type with scattered hills. Harpies make up the majority of the population—larger monsters within your level bracket, agile but predictable once you understand their patterns. Cooldown is eight hours, so it’s popular for steady training. Basic rewards are

  Easy- 15 white mana stones

  Normal- 5 light green mana stones

  Hard- 15 light green mana stones”

  Ciel studied the projection for a moment before nodding. “We’ll take it.”

  The receptionist nodded as she logged their choice, fingers brushing across the glowing screen. “And what difficulty are you choosing?”

  “Hard Mode,” Ciel replied without hesitation.

  She blinked, the warmth in her tone sharpening with concern. “Are you certain? Hard Mode isn’t just stronger monsters. It’s unpredictable patterns, sharper instincts… and a very real chance of losing your life.”

  Before Ciel could answer, Veldora stepped in, grinning with quiet confidence. “We know our limits. We’re strong enough for this.”

  The woman studied the three of them, weighing their resolve against the countless rookies who had walked up with bravado and never returned. Then she sighed softly. “Very well. But you’d better come back in one piece.”

  She tapped again, and a number floated between them. “The basic reward for Hard Mode in Harpy’s Nest is fifteen Light Green Crystals. Twenty percent of that is three crystals, due upfront.”

  Ciel pulled three shimmering stones from his pouch and set them gently on the counter. The screen absorbed them with a faint hum, the transaction locking in.

  “Registered.” She handed over a translucent slip of paper that shimmered faintly with runes. “Here’s your receipt. Take it to the guard stationed at the 5–15 zone. He’ll confirm your entry and guide you to the correct portal.”

  Ciel accepted it with a nod. “Thank you.”

  The receptionist leaned back, her gaze softening just a fraction. “Don’t thank me yet. Thank me after you’ve cleared it.”

  The trio made their way across the hall, weaving through the lines of adventurers until they reached the section marked [Lv. 5–15]. A stern-looking guard stood before a cluster of portals, his armor etched with Dawn Guild insignia, spear grounded at his side.

  Ciel stepped forward and offered the shimmering receipt.

  The guard took it, the runes flashing once as he checked it against his own crystal tablet. He gave the faintest nod. “Registered: Harpy’s Nest, Hard Mode. You three must be confident.”

  Veldora smirked. “We are.”

  The guard’s eyes lingered on them, unreadable, before he jerked his chin toward the farthest portal. “That gate will take you there. Once you step through, the system locks the run. Don’t underestimate it—hard mode harpies won’t forgive arrogance.”

  Ciel inclined his head in thanks. “Understood.”

  Together, the three walked to the archway. The portal shimmered, grassland hues flickering faintly across its surface as if the world beyond were breathing. Sora tightened her grip on her staff, Veldora rolled his shoulders once, and Ciel’s gaze hardened with resolve.

  Without another word, they stepped forward.

  The portal swallowed them in light.