The gate through which Sung Ilhwan had appeared was slightly different from the ones that Suho had seen so far. Most gates were round. Their size could differ, of course, and their shapes could be distorted, but they were usually “holes” in the air. The one that his grandfather had come through, on the other hand, was a literal rift—it was as though a rough tear had been made in the wall of this dimension, shaking and undulating unsteadily.0

It’s the same as the sky I saw from the Glacier Dungeon, Suho thought. The sky of the Glacier Dungeon had been torn apart by countless rifts. Though this was on a much smaller scale, Suho found that the sights were similar.0

“Just so you know, this is not an ordinary dungeon,” Ilhwan muttered gravely, walking side by side with Suho toward the gate.0

Greed, the former high priest of the Itarim, as well as Iron, who had been an ordinary priest, followed behind them. They began to offer up what they knew.0

“Young Monarch, here in Yangpyeong, multiple field-type dungeons were left untouched on purpose,” Greed said.0

“Those dungeons slowly broadened until they combined into one,” Iron added.0

“When that happens, the rift distorts even more, worsening the...0