Ethan's eyes darkened until they were pools of black ink, void of pupils or whites. A deep silence
swallowed the chamber. The roar of battle, the crackle of magic, even the flickering torchlight—all
seemed to retreat into a vacuum around him.
Then a black aura began to spill from his skin like smoke, coiling around his limbs.
He didn't scream. Didn't speak.
He simply stood, like an ancient statue awakening from centuries of slumber.
Slowly, Ethan bent down and picked up Warlord's Fang from the floor. As he rose, the blade
hummed with a strange resonance.
A crimson glow flared along the steel, bright and vivid as fresh blood. But interwoven at the edges
of that glow were delicate tendrils of black, slithering like living shadows. The combined light cast
sinister patterns on the dungeon walls, both beautiful and terrifying.
Even the Lich, perched on its throne, fell silent, its skeletal jaw slightly parted in astonishment.
Ethan's grip tightened around the hilt.
He shifted into a low stance, his aura rippling outward like a shockwave.
Without a single word, he lunged.
The Dullahan raised its colossal axe to block, but Ethan slipped under the weapon with inhuman
speed. His sword flickered in the darkness, carving a precise slash across the Dullahan's
chestplate.
Sparks exploded from the black steel. The Dullahan staggered back.
Ethan was already upon it again. He twisted his body, spinning Warlord's Fang in a spiraling arc.
The crimson-black aura scythed through the Dullahan's left arm, severing it completely. The
armored limb clanged to the floor, trailing black vapor.
The towering knight reeled, trying to counterattack with a heavy boot, but Ethan stepped aside,
moving like liquid shadow.
He struck again. And again.
Every blow came faster, sharper, guided by a silent rage that seemed far older than Ethan himself.
The Dullahan swung its axe, but Ethan ducked beneath the blade and thrust upward, piercing
through the knight's breastplate.
A burst of black and crimson light erupted from within the Dullahan's torso.
For a single, frozen instant, the Dullahan's headless body spasmed as if held aloft by invisible
strings. Then it collapsed in a metallic heap, its armor clattering to the stones like thunder.
Ethan exhaled, mist forming in the cold air.
The Lich, who had been watching from its throne, jerked to its feet, skeletal fingers clawing at the
air.
"This is… impossible!"
It turned, attempting to flee, swirling its black robes around itself. Sigils flared beneath its feet as it
began casting a teleportation spell.
But Ethan was already moving.
He blurred across the chamber, sword flashing with crimson-black brilliance. The Lich shrieked as
Ethan appeared in front of it, cutting through the swirling magic.
"Going somewhere?"
Ethan's blade slashed diagonally across the Lich's torso. Black ichor sprayed across the floor as
the Lich staggered backward, clutching its cracked ribcage.
"No…! I am eternal—"
A second blow cut the sentence off forever. Ethan's sword sheared through bone, shattering the
Lich's skull in a single decisive strike. The Lich's phylactery, hidden within its ribcage, shattered
into dust, releasing a wail like a thousand souls screaming in unison.
A pulse of black magic rolled outward from the Lich's corpse—and vanished.
Silence returned to the chamber.
Ethan stood there, chest heaving, his sword still raised. The crimson-black aura slowly faded from
the blade. His eyes gradually returned to their normal grey. The black mist recoiled back into his
body and vanished.
And then—like a puppet whose strings were cut—Ethan collapsed to his knees.
The invisible power fled from his muscles all at once, leaving him trembling and gasping for air.
A sharp jolt like an electric shock suddenly pulsed through his brain.
"Gh…!" Ethan winced, clutching his temple.
[SYSTEM NOTICE]
[Congratulations. Dungeon of Lich Completed.]
[Level Up! You have reached Level 45.]
[Stat Points Gained: +50]
[New Hidden Achievement Unlocked: Slayer of Deathless Kings.]
Ethan stared at the window, sweat dripping from his chin. His whole body felt bruised and
battered.
"Holy shit… I… actually did it…" he whispered, voice hoarse.
He let himself fall backward until his shoulders touched the cold stone floor, eyes fluttering closed.
For several moments he just lay there, chest rising and falling. His mind felt like a ringing bell.
But slowly, a grin began spreading across his face.
He pushed himself upright and wiped his mouth.
"Level forty-five… and fifty stat points? Heh. That's one hell of a payday."
His eyes glimmered as he flicked through the rest of the notifications. But something else tugged
at his memory—a flicker from the past.
"That's right…" Ethan muttered. "I remember… there was a hidden dungeon linked to this place.
In the game, you had to trigger it by finding a secret passage behind the throne room."
He rolled his shoulders, popping joints that felt stiff as iron.
"Well… guess it's time to check if it's still there in this world too."
He sheathed Warlord's Fang in a single smooth motion and turned his gaze toward the back of
the chamber, where shadows gathered thickest.
"All right… let's see what kind of hidden bullshit this place has for me next."
With cautious steps, Ethan moved toward the throne room's rear wall, eyes narrowed and grin still
playing at his lips.