Project 307 was initiated after Uno’s release from the Asylum. For the first time in recorded history, the heads of every guild across the world set aside their rivalries and gathered to address a single purpose: to reach the highest floor of the dungeons. The undertaking required cooperation on a scale never seen before, because the dangers were not only immense but unpredictable. Opening portals always carried risk, and the monsters inside were as varied as the hunters themselves. Just as hunters possessed unique skills and affinities, so too did monsters possess traits that could overturn even the strongest attack. A beast that collapsed under fire might instead feed on flame, turning the advantage into disaster. Strength alone, Uno understood, would never be enough; survival depended on planning, adaptability, and coordination.

To measure progress, two methods were standardized. The first relied on Floor Sigils. When a Guardian was defeated, a glyph appeared on the Gate of Passage, etched in the script of mana. These symbols lasted no more than an hour, requiring trained hunters to record them before they faded. The second method involved Resonant Crystals, enchanted stones distributed to every guild. Attuned to the dungeon’s core, the crystals pulsed faintly as hunters descended, their glow shifting with each floor. They were practical but imperfect, especially in corrupted zones, where only comparison with the sigils could confirm accuracy.

Safety measures became law in every city. Portals could only be opened in secured zones, far from civilians. Once entered, portals were closed immediately and opened again only when a floor was cleared. Yet even with such precautions, within a few generations of raids, hunters uncovered a grim discovery.

Dungeons reset during every eclipse.

Each reset shuffled the order of floors, revived monsters in altered forms, and erased all maps. A monster once confined to the first floor might never appear there again.

There were, however, seven exceptions. The 301st through the 307th floors remained constant across resets, though their difficulty increased with each cycle. Debate surrounded how Uno discovered this, but the answer was straightforward. He had collected dungeon cores for years, keeping every one he recovered and studying them in detail until patterns emerged that no other hunter recognized. From that knowledge, Project 307 took shape.

The plan was a large-scale operation aimed at reaching the 307th floor of the world’s largest dungeon, with a portal established in the Polaris Desert. When preparations began, five months remained before the next eclipse. Hunters had already cleared the 263rd floor. The deadline was close, but there was still time to advance. The final seven floors, however, were considered too dangerous for ordinary raiders. For that reason, a Special Force was formed, with Uno appointed as commander. Presidential approval had already been granted. Only the authorization of the World Hunter Organization remained.

At the center of Project 307 was Uno’s theory that every dungeon was only a branch of a single vast labyrinth. At its highest point dwelled the Leviathan, the source of all portals and all monsters. If the creature were slain, the labyrinth would collapse, the gates would close, and humanity would finally be free. It was this conviction, Uno’s conviction, that held the guilds together.

Not all agreed. Some scholars argued the Leviathan was not the source but the seal, created to contain something worse.

“You speak of slaying the Leviathan as though it will end our suffering. But what if you are wrong? What if the Leviathan is not the source, but the seal? A prison forged to contain something far worse? If you kill it, you may unleash the very root of these dungeons.”

Another voice answered sharply, a younger hunter leaning forward on the table.

“Seal or source, it makes no difference. The dungeons are killing us now. If there is even a chance the Leviathan ends them, we must take it.” McIntosh shot back.

“You are reckless. The dungeons may not be cages at all, but living organisms. What you call the Leviathan might be no more than a single organ! A heart, a lung, a fragment of something far greater! If you destroy it, the rest of the body may awaken. Can you imagine what that means?” Another scholar replied.

A veteran guild leader, Waylon, scoffed. His arms crossed.

“You scholars bury yourselves in theories and nightmares. The truth is simpler. Dungeons are endless. Even if the Leviathan is slain, another dungeon will rise. Kill one root, another grows. Project 307 is a gamble built on desperation, nothing more.” A pragmatist interfered.

The chamber quieted for a moment, the words hanging heavy in the air. Uno let the silence linger before speaking, his voice measured, almost detached.

“Call it a gamble if you wish. But tell me… if there is even a chance to end the cycle, should we not take it? What is the alternative? To raid blindly, floor after floor, knowing every eclipse will erase our progress? To wait until the labyrinth consumes us?”

Despite doubts, humanity moved forward. Hope outweighed caution, and the world rallied under Project 307. Whether the Leviathan would mark the end of the labyrinths or the birth of something greater remained unknown. What was certain was that the answer waited in the Polaris Desert, where the portal to the 307th floor would open beneath shifting sands.

A small smile touched Uno’s lips, shadowed briefly by sadness, which he forced aside before it could linger.

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The sun rises on the horizon, bringing with it a sense of anticipation and new beginnings. The morning air is filled with chirping birds and the sounds of the waking world. But beneath the beauty of the moment lurks a shadow of uncertainty. As some people embrace the excitement of what the day may bring, others are plagued by a sense of foreboding in the wake of the impending first phase of the hunter examination.

Team Emerald assembled outside a massive dome, its metallic surface gleaming in the sunlight. Matthew stood before them, clad in his Hunter Association uniform. A moss green shirt with the HA emblem across the chest, fitted pants, and polished military boots. He held a tablet casually in one hand.

“Good morning, everyone!” he called cheerfully, voice carrying across the courtyard. “Welcome to your first hunter examination. I trust you’ve all come prepared.”

Excited murmurs and anxious whispers rippled through the team. Lev didn’t move. Not out of fear or caution. He was simply far above it all. Every nervous glance, every jittery shuffle, every whispered panic… laughably predictable. If confidence had a shape, it would be him, standing there like a living monument. 

Aris, Lev’s seatmate, an aloof and snobbish girl who always seemed to exist on a plane above everyone else, raised an eyebrow. “Option? So… weapons aren’t mandatory?”

Matthew grinned. “Exactly. This dome is a perfect replica of a dungeon. Your goal is to reach the sigil at the very end.”

The bands on their wrists glowed, and a hologram projected the sigil’s image above the floor.

“You do not need to kill any monsters, so do not worry,” Matthew said with a wink. “However, there is one rule: make any sound, and the dungeon will strike.”

The others’ eyes widened, but Lev’s expression remained unreadable. He gave no sign of concern.

Do not shout, taunt, or even grunt in pain. Make a sound, and the consequences will be…” Matthew let the words dangle, his lips curled.

“Well, not literally, but you get the idea.” He immediately followed.

A sharp ding echoed through the dome, cutting through the tense murmur of the teams. Matthew grinned, eyes sparkling with mischief, and checked his watch.

“Your first phase begins now. Ladies and gents….welcome to the Arena of Silence.”