Marco jolted awake, gasping and covered in sweat. His heart raced as he snatched the ginunting hanging over his bed. His eyes locked to the doorway finding no dark figure standing at the door, just shadows. A nightmare, he sighed, tossing the sword aside, landing on the sheets with a dull thump.

  Sleep never came easy anymore, a dreamless sleep was all that he could wish whenever he closed his eyes, but this time it was so much worse.

  Flashes of his life; his mistakes, desires, and fuckups. The losses, deaths, and the injuries he witnessed and caused after the emergence of the dungeons in this world. Their faces were clouded, but he could still remember their smiles, the laughs and the good times as they all shared the rewards and risks of diving. And finally their last words as they screamed for their mothers, the pain to stop, or just their horror of leaving their spouse and their children without a mother or father as they died.

  The screams faded.

  He was back on his bed, only to find a shadow loomed over him. Marco was pinned, crushing his chest that he couldn’t breathe, muscles straining but couldn’t move.

  He didn’t know how long it lasted, but he woke up.

  Marco sighed, reached for the cigarette on his bedside. He managed to tuck one between his lips before realizing that he was still in his room. His mother wouldn’t appreciate smelling tobacco whenever she comes in to clean, so simply he sighed and put it back.

  His clock read 4:30 am. Too early to rise, but too late to sleep.

  Then an alarm went off. A sharp, repeating whooping cry coming from his phone.

  A dungeon break event was imminent. Localized nearby, near the condo. Near his home. Near his family.

  He dressed fast. Tight black clothes to avoid grabs, thick soled boots for running on jagged streets. His gear was packed in a duffel bag and he threw the ginunting along as he got out.

  Marco moved quietly, through the small hall leading back to the kitchen and the door. Despite the walls of the condo muffling the sounds of his movements, his mother’s ears were still sharp. He didn’t want to wake her up this early and make her worry as there were only a few reasons he would be awake at this time in the morning, and all of them were bad.

  He’d then have to reassure his mom. But the last thing Marco wanted would be to lie.

  Walking past his mother’s room, he found Joy standing at the kitchen, fixing up a drink and both locked eyes.

  Marco paused as Joy looked him over. He remembered the times before and the arguments that followed. Her tear streaked face pleading him not to go back out there when many were already reported dead. Marco went anyway.

  But instead of pleading her case one more time, Joy simply sighed and whispered. “Stay safe okay?”

  Marco forced a smile. “You too. Don’t worry, I’ll make sure I’ll come back, like I always did. ” He said, before heading outside and slowly closing the door. He sighed, pressing his head to the concrete and feeling the cold seep into his forehead. A cigarette quickly found its way between his lips and lit it. He stood there at the hall for a moment, gathering himself for the day ahead.

  It was a somber walk down the elevators. He pressed the call and it opened to a group of men and women carrying their own gear. They exchanged nods as Marco headed in and was joined by other hunters on the lower floors.

  The ride down was quiet. There wasn’t any small talk to be shared.

  The walk to the command center was short. The basketball court last night had been converted into a local command center with massive tents, small cafeteria and briefing area. There was a spot for coffee on the side next to boxes of freshly baked salted bread along with peanut butter spread. The chairs facing the projector on the upcoming brief were quickly being filled out, each hunter holding a steaming cup of coffee and bread.

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  Marco found Jan holding two cups of coffee on both his hands with a piece of bread balanced on the lip of the cups, warming them.

  “Rough night? Here’s yours.” Jan said, eyes bright and well rested. Seeming to be ready to face the day ahead. “What’d you do without me?” he smiled.

  Compared to the kid, Marco guessed he looked like shit. Still, he couldn't help but be infected by the cheer and smiled. “You're probably just trying to take two for yourself.” he replied, taking the coffee.

  “Oh come on.” Jan said looking hurt, “If I was, then I wouldn’t have thought to bring this.” He said, opening his jacket where a flask glinted on the inside pocket.

  Marco chuckled. “I guess an apology is in order.” He said, offering his cup for it to be spiked with a shot of whiskey.

  “Here’s to coming back.” Jan toasted.

  “Here’s to coming back.” Marco echoed.

  The hard polymer crate was clear of any signs of tampering. Any scratch or cracks were made sure to be filmed along with an association representative to make sure, along with a video camera recording everything.

  With the cost following the demand of magical potions in the market. There was an allocation portion which is set aside for events like dungeon breaks, where potions, mana and healing, are much needed and are burned through at an industrial rate. Guilds would have their own stockpiles, but volunteers and neighborhood militia’s do not have such luxuries.

  This is where the Guild Association, subsidized by the government, comes through. They would supply the organizations with much needed resources, not just potions, but with ammunition like magical tipped arrows and even loans for defensive and offensive equipment. Those were being distributed across the courtyard. And being taken care of by the other half of the team.

  “Looks good. No tampering.” Roman said, turning off his phone. He was one of the two other volunteers that was attached to Marco’s group. Marco led the team, with Jan his second in the 4 man group and was out and about doing the many miscellaneous tasks needed done.

  “Open it up to account for the contents. Have Mr. Kang confirm the count.” Marco ordered. It wouldn’t be the first time for the crates to have missing contents even after being sealed.

  Marco took a deep breath. Nothing makes a man want to get chased, hunted, and fight against monsters more than pure bureaucracy.

  It was dumb. But he would be lying if he’d prefer being on the back lines making sure that everything was up and up, rather than be out there doing something. Everything done with tedium that cost time all because of some dishonest assholes thinking that the best time to steal potions for themselves is when it was needed the most.

  The count was finished and the papers cleared. Everything was accounted for and packed just as Jan rolled up with his modified truck with Eric riding on the bed. Its suspension beefed up to handle a couple of tons on the back and run through beat up roads at a good pace. That along with run flat tires and skid plates underneath. It was an overkill for the 99% of the times running through manila roads, but on the 1%, this 1% was where it was all made worth it.

  “Take your grub while you can. Might be the last time you’ll eat in a while.” Marco said, waving at a man distributing bread to the teams. He was given a pack of salted bread, to which he handed off to each member.

  “I got you your comms.” Jan said, handing over Marco’s phone along with a set of radio. A military grade UHF/VHF radio with the needed codes to connect with the rest of the AFP, and more importantly the units deployed in the area. It wasn’t their only set, with each member given a cheap civilian Ham radio to which they could communicate internally. A ‘just in case’ measure, and just like with the case of the truck, would be useful if they need it.

  Marco and his team of supply runners was a mix of hunters, him and Jan, with the rest being non-hunters. Marco, the only one wearing a vest. The piece of clothing was a mark distinguishing himself from the rest as the leader, along with the vest having a mount for his phone. Along with a row of 3 magazines. Just in case.

  They shouldn’t be looking for any fights, but Marco still insisted on taking a bit more firepower than should be trusted for civilians. He had his rifle on him. A fully automatic 5.56x45mm AR-15 pattern rifle fitted with holographic sights, lights on the rail and a heavy barrel for longer full auto fire.

  While the rest ate their quick meal, Marco fitted his phone to its chest mount. It was loaded up with the needed tactical programs and paired with the radio, allowing Marco a squad leader’s view of the battlefield. Testing the device for its connectivity, he could see the overview of the battlespace along with the distribution of friendly units and assets in an area. Pressing on an icon, it changed to a drone view of the portal, its usual swirling blue color changed to an angry and turbulent red.

  The portal would break soon. The portal entrance would dissipate, and the area around would start spawning hordes of monsters. In this case, Orcs.

  Pressing on another feed, his fists clenched as a mass of refugees filled the road. A river of humanity, flowing around islands of armed men clad in camouflage and mounted on their APC’s and utility vehicles, armed with heavy machine guns and towed trailers filled with ammo cans.

  Even with the mass of people, Marco knew that there would still be a stubborn few refusing to leave their homes or property. Either with the naive notion of protecting what belonged to them while keeping their head low. Marco hoped that they would simply be passed along, but the pessimistic side of him knew that it wouldn’t hold true for everybody.

  Blades thumped overhead, echoing between the buildings. Marco looked up just as a black hawk bearing sigils belonging to the Philippine Air Force, hovered on the building rooftop. It then dropped a slung loaded pallet then before rising up to the sky and disappearing out of view.

  Looking back down on his phone, Marco submitted his readiness and was immediately given his orders to go up the third phase line to run support to designated hard point 6. They are anticipating breakout within fifteen minutes and they are to be pre positioned for an eventual supply run.

  The break ended. Marco and the rest of the team hauled the supplies on the bed. The value of the blue and red vials set into the Styrofoam packaging on the crates lining up the truck being enough to set a person for the rest of his life.

  Marco then watched Eric and Roman, the non hunter volunteers. He looked them in the eye and nodded. There was fear in those eyes with anticipation mixed in. “I've said this before, but I’ll say it again.” Marco said as the rest all gathered, ready to mount up. “Our team’s job is to make sure these supplies get to where they need to be, but my job is to make sure all of you are going back alive. Put your trust in me, follow my orders and that job is going to be a whole lot easier. Got it?”

  “Yes sir!” The two replied in unison. Jan replied with a lazy salute.

  “Alright. Mount up. This day ain’t going to be easy, but it’s not going to be your last.”