Warlock of Oceans: My Poseidon System

"We need to go," Cyrus muttered, his voice low, though it carried a tone of urgency. He wiped the sweat from his brow, feeling the toll the battle had taken on him. "We're not prepared for this... not yet."

Athena nodded, her face pale but determined. "Agreed. We'll come back... when we're ready."

Sylus, still catching his breath, glanced back at the menacing altar at the center of the room, then at his two companions. His body was bruised, his armor battered, and he could feel the weight of the fight dragging him down. "Let's get the hell out of here."

With a quick nod, they made their decision. Turning on their heels, the three of them began their desperate retreat from the dungeon, their footsteps echoing through the long corridors. The polished black marble reflected their figures, distorted and ghostly, as they ran. Every turn felt like a maze of looming shadows, the labyrinth of obsidian columns and eerie glow playing tricks on their fatigued minds. The oppressive atmosphere still hung heavy, and even though the monsters had retreated, it felt as though the dungeon itself was watching them, waiting for them to falter.

Their muscles burned with every stride, their legs threatening to give out beneath them. But none of them stopped. They pushed themselves, knowing that to stop would mean collapsing under the weight of exhaustion. Cyrus led the way, his sharp instincts guiding them through the maze-like hallways, his aether-infused senses alert for any sudden danger. Sylus followed close behind, his massive greatsword still drawn, ready to defend against any last-minute ambush. Athena, though drained of magic, stayed at the rear, keeping an eye on the shadows behind them, as if expecting the dungeon to shift again and trap them inside.

After what felt like an eternity of sprinting through the winding corridors, the dim luminescence from the dungeon's walls finally gave way to the dull, natural light of the surface. The cold, fresh air hit them like a wave of relief as they burst out of the dungeon's entrance, hearts pounding. They didn't stop moving until they were well away from the cursed place, their lungs burning from the relentless pace they had maintained.

The nearby town offered a welcome sight—a small sanctuary of warmth and life compared to the cold, malevolent dungeon they had just escaped. They headed straight for the tavern, bodies aching but driven by the overwhelming need for rest, food, and drink.

The tavern doors swung open, and the trio stumbled inside, a mixture of sweat, dirt, and exhaustion clinging to them. The cozy warmth and low hum of conversation offered a stark contrast to the chilling darkness they had left behind. They found a table near the corner and collapsed onto the wooden chairs with a collective sigh of relief.

"Drinks," Sylus muttered, his voice hoarse. He waved over a tavern maid with a tired hand. "And food. Lots of it."

The maid raised an eyebrow at the trio's battered state but quickly hurried off to fetch their order. Moments later, mugs of ale and plates of hearty food were set before them, the scent of roasted meat and freshly baked bread filling the air. Without hesitation, they dug in, the exhaustion momentarily forgotten as hunger took over.

Cyrus tore into a chunk of bread, barely tasting it as he devoured it with ravenous hunger. His muscles still trembled slightly from the strain of the battle, but the food provided a much-needed comfort. Sylus, with his hands still shaking, downed half his mug of ale in a single gulp, wiping his mouth before attacking the roasted meat in front of him. Athena, though more composed, wasn't far behind, quickly devouring her share of the meal while her usually graceful demeanor gave way to the pure relief of survival.

For a brief moment, there was silence between them, just the clatter of utensils and the soft murmur of the tavern around them. They had survived the dungeon's horrors and made it out in one piece. But as they continued to eat, there was an unspoken agreement among them: they would return. The dungeon had evolved, and they would have to face it again, but this time, they would be ready.

For now, though, they drank, they ate, and they rested—knowing full well that this peace was temporary.
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The next morning dawned crisp and cool, the sunlight barely piercing the heavy clouds that hung over the horizon. The trio of Cyrus, Athena, and Sylus stood once again at the entrance of the dungeon, but this time they were not alone. A larger contingent of heavily armored knights from the Church stood with them, their shields glinting in the dull light and their weapons at the ready. These weren't just any knights—they were seasoned veterans, their eyes hardened by years of battle and their presence radiating confidence. The church had taken the threat seriously, and now the dungeon had a far more formidable force approaching its depths.

Cyrus stood near the entrance, adjusting the hilt of his aether-infused blade strapped across his back. He looked over at Athena, who was busy securing her staff, the tip faintly glowing as it responded to the familiar flow of mana within her. Both of them exchanged glances, the memory of their last encounter with the dungeon's strange and suffocating effect on their mana still fresh in their minds.

"You feel it too?" Cyrus asked, his voice low but sharp, his hand lightly gripping his sword's hilt.

Athena nodded, her piercing icy blue eyes flicking toward him. "Yeah. I can feel my mana again. It's... flowing like normal." She flexed her fingers, her expression one of cautious relief. "It's like whatever was dampening it yesterday is gone. The dungeon's grip on it... vanished."

Cyrus exhaled a long breath, the tension in his shoulders relaxing slightly as he looked around. "Good. Because fighting without it..." He trailed off, shaking his head. "That was terrifying. I rely on my mana too much. I didn't realize how much until it was taken from me."

Athena's lips pressed into a thin line as she looked into the dungeon's darkened maw. "It's like being stripped of your strength, your instincts, everything. Magic is... it's part of who we are. When that's taken away, you're left vulnerable. Like trying to fight with your hands tied behind your back." She glanced at Cyrus, her voice quiet but steady. "I don't ever want to feel that helpless again."

Cyrus nodded, understanding the weight of her words. As a warrior who seamlessly blended aether and mana into his fighting style, the loss of that power had shaken him more than he cared to admit. "Same here. That feeling of being completely... cut off—it's something I never want to experience again. If we had faced those golems today without mana—" He let the thought linger.

"Then we wouldn't be standing here now," Athena finished for him, her gaze hardening.

Cyrus met her eyes, the unspoken understanding passing between them. They had survived, but they had been pushed to their limits. Today, however, was different. Today, they had their mana, their magic—and the reinforcements at their backs.

Athena closed her eyes for a moment, focusing on the flow of energy within her. She felt the familiar hum of mana coursing through her veins, and it was a sensation that soothed the tension that had built up from the previous day's fear. "The dungeon—it's still dangerous. But with our mana back, we can fight on equal terms. Whatever that thing was that suppressed it... we'll have to watch out for it."

Cyrus glanced over at Sylus, who stood near the front of the group with the knights, his massive greatsword slung across his back. "Sylus doesn't have that problem. No magic, but he's as solid as a rock. Good thing, too. We'll need him tanking the front again."

Athena's lips quirked slightly, her expression softening just a fraction. "He's like a fortress. I just hope we can match his strength today."

"That's why we have to rely on each other. We're stronger together," Cyrus said, his voice steady but firm. "Whatever happens, we've got our magic back, and we're not going in blind this time. Let's make sure we're ready for whatever's inside."

Athena nodded in agreement. She could feel her mana reserves at full strength now, and with it, the confidence she had lacked the day before. They had been blindsided once—but not again. She glanced at the altar-like structure still looming within the dungeon's entrance, its dark energy pulsing faintly, and felt a renewed sense of resolve. "We're ready."

With that, the group advanced into the dungeon once more, the knights moving in formation, shields raised and weapons drawn. The eerie, polished black marble of the dungeon greeted them as they descended, the dim luminescence casting long shadows on the walls. But this time, the air felt different—lighter, less oppressive.

Cyrus took a deep breath, feeling the familiar hum of aether pulsing in his sword and the calm surge of mana within him. For now, their power was restored. But deep in his gut, he knew the dungeon was not done testing them yet.