The air was still damp from the morning fog, clinging to Alexander's cloak as he stepped between moss-covered trees. Sunlight trickled through the thick canopy above like a leaky faucet, the occasional beam casting odd shadows across the forest floor. His crimson eyes scanned everything with practiced calculation.
His skeletal minions—three of them—marched a few paces behind him, bones clinking with each step. Though they moved in silence, he felt their presence like extensions of his will.
It had been a full day since his encounter with the Chaos Void-tainted wolves, and his instincts told him something was watching. Not like before. Not something corrupted. Something… ancient. Buried.
"I don't like this," he muttered to himself.
A subtle shift in the ground caught his attention. The soil near an old, gnarled tree seemed loose—disturbed. Curiosity gnawed at him. He stepped closer, brushing aside layers of dead leaves. There, beneath the roots, was a strange iron ring embedded into a slab of stone.
He crouched, brushing away more dirt until a rectangular outline appeared—a trapdoor.
"A hidden chamber?"
He tugged on the ring. With a groan of rusted hinges, the door gave way, revealing a narrow stone stairwell descending into darkness.
The faint pulse of Mana greeted him like a heartbeat.
His instincts screamed dungeon.
"This… wasn't on any map. Wasn't mentioned in any forest whispers."
Still, something called to him from below.
"Let's see what secrets you hold," he said, signaling his skeletons. One by one, they entered the stairwell, torches flaring to life in their bony hands.
The descent was long and damp. The stone walls were lined with ancient markings—runes of decay and warding, etched long before his time. The deeper he went, the thicker the air grew, saturated with ancient magic. At the bottom, a narrow hallway branched into darkness, marked by a stone arch bearing a single phrase in runes:
> "Only the worthy may raise the dead within."
He grinned. "Challenge accepted."
A dim pulse of system energy echoed in his mind.
> [You have discovered a dungeon: Root-Choked Catacombs — Floor 1]
[Dungeon effect active: Monarch of the Undead Passive & Active Abilities Limited]
"Tch. Of course."
He felt the tether to his skeletons dull, like fog between thoughts.
"Monarch abilities restricted here… Guess I'm back to basic command."
He raised a hand and gestured forward. The skeletons obeyed, though with a lag that wasn't present outside the dungeon.
As he entered the corridor, the smell of rot hit him like a slap. Just ahead, from the shadows, a hunched creature scurried across the wall. Then another. And another.
> [F Rank — Bone Gnawer]
Small, rabid creatures, with jagged bone claws and twisted skeletal heads. They rushed him in a pack of five, shrieking.
He fired a Basic Shadow Bullet, the sphere of shadow energy hissing as it blasted through the closest gnawer's head, pulverizing it. His skeletons engaged the others, bones crashing against flesh and claws.
One fell quickly, but another leapt over a skeleton and slashed at Alexander. He sidestepped and stabbed with a conjured bone dagger, impaling its skull.
The rest fled into side tunnels.
> [You have gained XP]
[Skill Progress: Shadow Bullet — +2%]
He frowned. "At this rate, evolving a single spell will take forever… Twice the XP it takes me to hit level 20?"
Still, he felt the rhythm of battle settle in. The next few rooms were full of traps—rusted spike pits and swinging axes. The bone gnawers attacked in erratic waves, but he adapted quickly.
By the time he reached Floor 2, he had lost one skeleton but raised another from a fallen gnawer's remains—rudimentary, but functional.
The second floor was colder. More structured. Ancient stone coffins lined the walls, and long-dead warriors stirred from their tombs as he entered.
> [F Rank — Hollow Sentinels]
They were slow, armored skeletons wielding rusted halberds. Not too dangerous—but far more durable than the gnawers.
Alexander ducked a wide swing and retaliated with another Shadow Bullet, then cast Shadow Fog to weaken their defense. The mist seeped from his hand, coiling around the enemies like sentient smoke. His skeletons surged forward with newfound strength, blades clashing against hollow armor.
He moved with precision, exploiting every weakness.
> [Shadow Fog Skill Progress: +3%]
> [Raise Undead Progress: +1%]
By the time they cleared Floor 2, he had grown slightly stronger—and more cautious.
"Something's coming," he whispered, glancing at the stairs leading downward.
Floor 3 was worse.
Crawling from the cracks were long-limbed horrors.
> [E Rank — Bone Leeches]
Parasites that swarmed, latched onto bones, and drained life essence. They overwhelmed one of his summons instantly, devouring it before he could react.
He was forced to retreat and adapt—learning to bait them into narrow corridors and incinerate them with well-placed Shadow Bullets. Even still, the loss of another skeleton stung.
But deeper within the third floor, something else stirred.
The walls became etched with newer runes, and the temperature dropped below freezing.
The fourth floor loomed beyond a sealed gate, adorned with the image of a skeletal beast crowned in thorns.
He placed his hand on the gate—and the system responded:
> [Final Floor: Bone Tyrant's Sanctum — Rank D Elite]
[Warning: Boss Encounter Initiated]
From beyond the gate, a deep growl echoed. The earth trembled, and Alexander felt something watching.
He smirked, voice cold as frost.
"Let's see what makes you elite."
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Word Count: ~1,050