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William blinked as the light surrounding him began to fade, the familiar, comforting warmth of reality returning to him.

The oppressive darkness and twisted landscape were gone, replaced by the cool air and the solid ground beneath his feet.

He felt the weight of exhaustion settle over him, but with it came a profound sense of relief. He had won.

As his vision cleared, William found himself standing at the entrance of the Death Tower, the same place where their perilous journey had begun.

He wasn’t alone. Around him, the surviving hunters appeared, emerging from their own battles, their faces a mixture of disbelief, exhaustion, and profound relief.

They were fewer in number—much fewer. What had once been a group of sixty had been reduced to a small, ragged handful.

They looked at each other, their eyes wide with surprise and then, slowly, with growing joy as they realized what had happened. They had survived. They had made it out alive.

Carson was the first to speak, his voice hoars