NB: This chapter is going to be a bit long because my exams are here, and I need to study hard to get my dedicated pass. That's why I haven't been uploading chapters lately. I'll slowly build them up and upload once my exams are over. To those who read and enjoy this novel, I apologize, but I have to focus on my exams to reach my final year. For now, enjoy.
Nobody moved for a beat after Subject 19 spoke.
'Already handled.'
Those two words landed differently for each of them.
For Sylvie, it was the image of what the floor's boss had once been — a guardian of an entire dungeon level — now nothing more than a memory.
For Jones, it was the implication of what stood before them now.
For Marcus, it was both, along with the lingering question of what remained in the chamber without the boss.
For Ares, it was the Fragment.
The danger that had flared when Subject 19 stepped from the wall hadn't vanished, but it had settled into something steadier — a pressure behind the warmth still hanging in the air.
Subject 19 stopped, facing the group, now close enough that the details couldn't be ignored.
Most of his face was covered in scales.
One eye had disappeared beneath them, replaced by a hollow void with a faint green pulse, slow and uneven, like something alive breathing deep in its socket.
His remaining human eye was the last thing you wanted to see, yet impossible to look away from. The blade-hand caught the dim light and reflected it, even darker.
"His features… it looks serpent-like… like Vhala," Ares remarked.
"Yes… but that doesn't mean he is Vhala," Marcus replied. Nia frowned.
"Then why do I feel so much pressure from him?" Venia asked, clearly uneasy.
"I hate to say it, but I don't think we can win," Henry admitted.
"I'll be direct," Subject 19 said, pulling all attention to himself. Both layers of his voice spoke at once — the human one, and the other, moving beneath it, using it as a shell. "I'm only interested in one of you. The rest are a courtesy."
"A courtesy," Jones repeated.
"I'll try to make it quick," he added, without a hint of reassurance. "I need to finish the rest below."
'So there are still people deeper in this dungeon,' Ares thought, filing it away for later.
"We'll see about that," Nia said, charging toward him without hesitation.
She closed the gap in seconds, slamming both hands into his chest with the same force that had sent the Fractured Wolf through a wall.
"Kch." A slight groan escaped him, surprised by her speed. He staggered back three steps, dropping to one knee.
Subject 19 stepped back three times.
Nia stared at him.
"Hm," he said, eyeing the point of impact. "You're different. You're not a newbie."
He stood.
"I get that a lot," Nia replied.
"Oh, I see. Interesting," he said, a curious look etched on his face. Then, in an instant, he vanished.
Everyone in the chamber caught the absence, only to see him reappear behind Nia — even she was caught off guard.
Before anyone could react, he struck her across the back, sending her forward, and before she landed, he was already in front, the back of his hand catching her jaw. She hit the chamber floor, rolled twice, and came to rest on her side.
She pushed herself up, slower than usual. The hit had left a sensation she hadn't felt in long time.
'Who is this guy, and how is he this strong for an early participant?'
"Don't," Ares warned.
"I'm fine," she said, standing.
Subject 19 fixed her with his lone human eye, curiosity gleaming. "Interesting. The others I met couldn't survive even one."
"Hm."
"Twice, then," he said. "You can take two."
It wasn't a guess.
But—
Jones charged from the left, shield low, aiming for the legs.
Subject 19 didn't dodge, letting the shield slam into him without so much as a flicker of pain.
"What?" Jones blurted, startled— but before he could react, Subject 19 caught his shield's edge with his blade-hand and yanked.
The pull targeted his arm, straight toward the shoulder.
"GRAAAAHHH—"
Jones roared but refused to release it, forcing his shoulder to choose between holding and tearing. It chose wrong. Dropping to one knee, he still clutched the shield.
"Any further and the arm comes off," Subject 19 remarked.
"I'm sturdy," Jones growled through his teeth.
He held the shield.
Subject 19 yanked harder, losing interest and seeming ready to tear off his own arm.
"Hey."
Sylvie's voice rang from the left flank.
"Snake-head."
She fired three arrows in quick succession, each aimed at his head or neck. He slipped past the first two like they were nothing, but the third grazed his shoulder, leaving a thin line of dark blood.
"Hmmm."
He glanced at the wound, watching the blood trickle, then locked eyes with her.
"Too far," he said. "You'll need to be much closer for that to work."
"I'll remember that when you're dead," she replied, drawing her dagger.
"Don't—"
She ignored him and charged.
Subject 19 didn't bother taking a stance. He waited.
"Cocky bastard."
Sylvie fed from the arrogance rolling off him.
She was quick and agile — her constant edge since the first floor — and the slash she opened across his forearm was real. But before the second strike could land, he caught her wrist, holding it firm as he studied the fresh wound.
"Better than I said." A correction, not a compliment.
He released and shoved her backward. She hit the chamber floor, skidded, came up with the dagger still in hand, pressed her free palm to her side.
Subject 19 turned to the coming figure.
Ares was already in motion—had been since Sylvie was shoved—his sword sweeping in from the right, aimed at the shoulder she'd already wounded. He drove it in deeper.
Dark blood spilled.
Subject 19 turned his head, watching the blade sink in with the detached look of someone observing raindrops on glass.
"You think that's enough?" he asked. "I'm not done yet."
He moved to redirect the next strike, and Ares flowed with the motion instead of resisting, closing in rather than keeping distance—inside the arc, inside the reach—before slamming his elbow into the ruined face.
Subject 19 staggered back two steps.
His human eye locked on Ares with a new intensity.
A glance at the shoulder wound showed it was already sealing.
Healing factor. Ares registered it silently, though Subject 19 caught the realization.
"A perk of the Vhala fragment. Quite something, but—" Subject 19 paused, ignoring everyone else, his focus narrowing on Ares.
The Fragment inside him resonated with the one in Ares's chest—Ares felt it, that sensation of being read.
"You've done this before," Subject 19 said.
"How so?" Ares replied.
"This doesn't feel like dungeon training," the human eye tracked him. "Something else. Before whatever rank you were registered with."
Ares kept quiet. 'This guy's insane.'
He held his expression steady.
"For fuck's sake," Venia muttered, tracking his movements.
She'd spotted three openings and took them all. Standard rounds—no mana, the type that normally wouldn't pierce monster hide. She doubted they'd work, but fired anyway.
Two shots hit, breaking skin and drawing blood. One went straight into the void where an eye should be—and did nothing. Subject 19 turned toward her.
She kept firing. He walked through it like someone walking through rain—untouched.
She fired the left into his chest at point-blank range.
He stopped and looked at her.
She fired again.
"Consistent," he said.
He swung his blade-arm, but she dodged and triggered her stealth, vanishing from everyone's perception.
Subject 19 simply observed.
"Just because you erased your mana doesn't mean your manaforce is gone."
The flat of the blade-arm smashed onto something at the back, revealing herself, the bladed-arm smashed ribs-first into the wall, offering no mercy.
She stayed on her feet through sheer stubbornness, not strength, holding the last pistol steady as she drew shallow, deliberate breaths, silently taking stock of what still worked.
"Still here, lizard face," she muttered.
"You... are persistent," he replied.
..
"What the hell is this guy?"
Henry had been watching the whole thing.
Not just idly — taking stock the way he always did. Gaps in the scales, movement patterns, the exact moments Ares and Sylvie had drawn blood without the wounds closing fast enough to matter.
"Even though I said we're not going to beat this guy."He raised his hand and muttered, "Fire of Death."
The full skill.
Mana compressed to density. A flicker of awareness from Subject 19 before it hit. Henry hurled it before he could turn.
—BOOM.
The sound was nothing like the usual chaos of the fight—neither the dull thud of shield impacts nor the crack of bodies hitting walls. This one hurt. A sharp, pressurized exhale from both registers at once, sudden and involuntary.
Subject 19 stood in the flames for two whole seconds before stepping out.
Dark blood streaked his chest.
The scales around the impact point were fractured—actual structural damage, the transformation broken in a way no other blow had achieved. He glanced down at himself, then at Henry.
He crossed the chamber.
Henry fired again—smaller, faster, aimed right at the cracked spot. It hit, it hurt, but Subject 19 didn't slow.
He reached Henry and drove the blade-arm into his shoulder—not through, but deep enough to pin him to the wall.
Henry's hands grabbed the arm on instinct. The calculation left his face, replaced by something that had been there all along.
"Your fire is the closest thing in this group to a real problem for me," Subject 19 said, both registers, point-blank. "Worth acknowledging, but mildly annoying."
"Oh... Urgh... I-I'll take that as a compliment," Henry groaned through the pain.
"The Fragment in you—" Subject 19 glanced at Ares, then back. "—it's trying the same process as with everyone else.
But there's no source in you.
No soul.
No consciousness.
Just a signal reaching for something that isn't there." A pause. "Without the source, you'll be consumed before you consume it."
He pulled the blade-arm free.
Henry dropped to the floor, clutching his shoulder, his expression betraying nothing.
"Damn—" He called up another fireball without thinking.
-CRACK.
Subject 19's kick caught him clean across the head. The fireball fizzled.
"You crazy—"
"For that," Subject 19 said, "you would've died first."
He raised the blade-arm over Henry's limp form—"Don't you know killing is a crime?" Marcus appeared. "In this life, I doubt it," Subject 19 replied, swinging backward toward where Marcus had been moments before.
"Long years of fieldwork, I see it in you." Subject 19 said. "You've been reading this fight from the beginning, weren't you?"
"Oh, I see you're just as smart as you are strong," Marcus said.
"And?" Subject 19 asked, not interested in his compliment... or insult.
"Your left side reacts half a beat slower. The transformation didn't fully take there. You make up for it by turning away from strikes aimed at that flank."
Subject 19 nodded.
"Guess those old eyes still work. So, what will you do now that you know?"
"Hmm." Marcus paused, a smile forming. "You should know—act on it."
He stepped left.
Subject 19 let him commit, then turned into the move—a planned counter Marcus had already anticipated. He grabbed Marcus's wrist, the break sharp and precise, done before Marcus could finish the motion.
Marcus dropped to one knee, clutching his wrist against his side. Silent.
"Correct," Subject 19 said. "The left side is slower. But I'm aware of it."
He turned toward Ares, but then another figure emerged. He had already dropped the first, yet Nia was still standing.
She struck from behind while his attention was on Ares—going for the fire damage, the cracked spot Henry had opened. Her fingers found the gap in the scales and tore.
-KRRGH.
An involuntary sound, both registers, raw. Subject 19 reached back without looking.
She didn't let go.
Three elbows in quick succession. The third connected with her temple.
Her grip broke and she flew straight to the walls.
Twice, he'd said. You can take two.
He'd been off by one.
"Damn you." Now truly enraged, with no trace of his earlier lazy calmness, he roared—his presence swelling, oppressive, filling the chamber.
First, Nia.
He dashed toward her like before, but this time she noticed and launched a kick.
Subject 19 caught her leg, drove his elbow into her joints, making her groan loudly, then followed with brutal punches to her gut.
She tried to reel back, but he kept hold of her leg, raining blow after blow until every part of her body took a hit. A final strike sent her crashing into the wall.
She couldn't get up.
"Shit," Jones muttered, charging at Subject 19.
But this time, Subject 19 closed the distance first, hitting him in the chest with the same devastating force he'd used on Nia.
Jones felt a strange sweetness before numbness took over, his body slamming into the wall. Subject 19 wasn't done—he rushed him again, grabbed the arm holding his shield, and yanked it clean off along with the shield.
Jones's scream of agony echoed.
"Jones!" Ares shouted, but instantly sensed someone behind him.
He swung on instinct, only for Subject 19 to catch his sword and snap it in two. "I've had enough of you all. You've proven to be a real nuisance—couldn't just be like the others, screaming pathetically and running away. I admire your confidence… but—"
His fist smashed square into Ares's jaw, dislocating it so it hung by a thread, sending him hurtling into the wall.
"ARES!" Sylvie called out in horror and Venia went pale.
Marcus and Henry watched with tense, uneasy faces.
Subject 19 turned to them. "You're all next."
He dashed forward....
Subject 19 panted, his face pale and more exhausted than before, the lazy look gone as he waited for his healing factor to do its work. He felt the pain fade away and his wounds knit back together.
"This is the first group that ever gave me a challenge." He turned to face each member of the group.
Henry lay motionless in a pool of his own blood, his severed hand bleeding slowly, with no sign of breath.
Sylvie and Venia bore gaping holes in their chests, deep slash marks across their shoulders and necks. Same as they did to when attacking him.
Marcus's body was so badly dislocated it was unbearable to look at; he had made sure to finish off the most dangerous and important one. The one with Information.
He made sure to take down Ares and Jones as well.
"Too bad I work alone. You would've made great allies in this damn place, but I've got a job to finish."
"Y-You crazy bastard," a voice called from behind. Slowly, he turned to see Nia, breathing heavily as she struggled to her feet.
Subject 19 was stunned.
How.
How is she still standing?
Then, it suddenly clicked for him.
"You have the healing factor too, huh?"
Nia stayed silent, and that silence said it all.
"HA...HAHA...HAHAHA...HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!" For the first time, Subject 19's face twisted into something unhinged, almost pure madness.
"I guess I'm not the only special one here. Congratulations, you've really outdone yourself," he said with a spark of enthusiasm.
"Another one like me.
Impressive.
Your reward—" he raised his blade-arm and lunged at her.
"I'LL CUT YOU UNTIL I CAN'T TELL THE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN YOU AND ANIMAL MEAT."
His blade swung toward her neck, ready to sever her head, but slammed into something solid instead.
"What?" Subject 19's face twisted in shock.
"A tentacle!"
A dark-green, tentacle-like appendage coiled tightly around his blade arm, refusing to let go. He turned to Nia, finding her with an unreadable expression, tears streaming down her face.
"What the hell—"
The fragment embedded in him pulsed violently, sending waves through his body. Sweat poured down his face, his breath ragged, as an overwhelming presence filled the chamber, eclipsing his own.
"W-What… is… happening?"
The tentacle tightened its grip.
"Ugh—ugh!" he groaned, straining to break free, but it was useless. With a sickening crack, his blade arm shattered, and he roared in pain.
"You… you killed my friends, and you killed my friend," Nia said, her once playful voice now icy cold, her eyes black with golden irises. Her eerie playfulness had shifted into pure killing intent.
There was no sadness in her voice, no hint of mourning, only a surge of inexplicable rage as more tentacles sprouted from her back, stretching longer and longer until they filled the chambers.
"And for that you will feel their pain."
...
In the observation room, General Brown stared at the monitor with indifference. Liora's gaze was icy, while Valerius, Derrek, Amelia, Lyra, Mark, and Kael each wore their own distinct expressions. Kendrick let out a sigh, his face growing serious as he turned to the General.
"General Brown, sir."
"Yes."
"I request permission to handle Subject 00 personally."
Liora glanced at him. "What are you—"
"Request approved," Brown interrupted. "You may begin."
"Affirmative."