It was then the woman known as White Death turned, her snow-white eyes glinting coldly as she raised her hand—pointing straight at the middle-aged man who had previously tried and failed to capture Zarek.
The crowd instinctively followed her gesture, their gazes locking on the man.
His throat tightened, and he swallowed hard. A cold sweat broke out across his forehead as her chilling gaze pierced through him like a blade.
Then, a voice colder than winter's bite echoed across the field:
"You people sure have guts of steel to hunt the young master of the Silversword family in such a brazen manner."
Her words struck like thunder. The expressions of the middle-aged man and those around him instantly shifted to fear and despair.
Of course, they understood the consequences. If the Silversword family ever learned of their actions, they wouldn't just die—they would be erased, along with their families.
But the Silversword family's city was far, far away. By the time news traveled there, they planned to have long since killed Zarek and disappeared without a trace.
It was a fragile plan, a dream more than a reality, but it was all they had to cling to.
White Death's expression remained as cold and unreadable as ever. She didn't speak again, simply shook her head in silent disappointment, then turned and began walking toward the dungeon's gate.
The crowd held their breath, watching her every step.
When they realized she was planning to enter the dungeon, their faces twisted with disbelief.
They, too, wanted to chase Zarek down—but not in a sacrificial dungeon.
Sacrificial dungeons were infamous for their cruelty. The price for entry was always unknown, and one might lose something vital—like their legs, or even their very life force.
Who in their right mind would want to fight monsters while crippled?
Entering such a dungeon without preparation was nothing short of suicide.
As these thoughts ran through their minds, the gate's surface rippled like water and swallowed White Death's figure whole.
[You have entered the Sacrificial Dungeon of Divine Battle.]
[Your ability to use class skills has been sacrificed as the price to enter.]
[Clear the dungeon to regain your skills.]
White Death's expression hardened.
Of all possible sacrifices, this was the worst. Without her class skills, she was essentially crippled.
Clearing the dungeon had gone from difficult to nearly impossible.
Thankfully, this dungeon was only regular grade. If it had been of a higher grade, even someone like her might not have survived.
Meanwhile, outside the ruins, a collective sigh of relief rippled through the crowd.
"Whew! She's really gone!" someone whispered.
The middle-aged man collapsed to his knees, wiping the cold sweat from his brow.
While she had been present, it had felt as though the weight of the entire world pressed down on him. Now that she was gone, the crushing pressure finally lifted.
But even as relief washed over him, confusion gnawed at his mind.
Why was White Death here in the first place? She was supposed to be at the capital, far from this remote dungeon.
Then, like a bolt of lightning, a rumor he had once heard surfaced in his memory.
White Death's younger sister had last been seen with Zarek Silversword before mysteriously disappearing.
"No… don't tell me it's true," he muttered, his face darkening.
Given Zarek's vile reputation, it was more than possible. The man clenched his fists.
That scum might truly have done something to White Death's sister.
A dangerous sharpness flickered in his eyes.
"How big is this floor?" Zarek muttered, frustration creeping into his tone.
He had been walking for over an hour, yet there was no sign of an exit—only endless winding tunnels.
The journey so far had been eventful. Along the way, he and Misery had encountered several groups of goblins, usually three or four at a time.
After the first battle, dealing with them became almost routine. Misery would draw their attention while Zarek struck from behind, finishing them in a single blow.
Their teamwork was flawless, and before long, every monster they encountered fell without much struggle.
Zarek glanced at his status window:
[Name: Zarek Silversword]
[Class: First Sequence Ultimate Grade – Infinite Origin Summoner]
[Level: 1 (90/100)]
[Strength: 2.6]
[Agility: 2.8]
[Perception: 2.9]
[Physique: 2.4]
[Mana: 2.1]
[Unassigned Stat Points: 5]
He was only ten points away from leveling up.
His gaze shifted to Misery, trailing behind him.
The small, bloodstained goblin looked dejected. Its shoulders slumped, and its beady eyes were filled with melancholy.
After every battle, Misery had eagerly torn apart the corpses of fallen goblins, searching desperately for something.
What exactly it was, Zarek still didn't know. But judging by Misery's current mood, it had failed to find whatever it sought, and that failure weighed heavily on it.
Zarek sighed. He couldn't help Misery with its strange obsession, but he silently wished that next time, his summon would succeed.
Despite Misery's grotesque appearance, Zarek had grown strangely attached to it after surviving multiple life-and-death battles together.
The tunnel ahead widened suddenly. The narrow walls gave way to a massive corridor, glowing crystals studded in the ceiling casting a pale, milky light.
"What the hell…" Zarek muttered, his breath catching.
It wasn't the sudden change in terrain that shocked him—it was the scene of utter carnage spread out before him.
Countless goblin corpses littered the floor. Some were missing limbs, others decapitated entirely. The blood-soaked ground reeked of iron and death.
Zarek crouched, examining a nearby corpse.
Every wound was clean, precise—executed in one strike.
"Such power…" Zarek's eyes widened in awe.
His own battles had been messy and hard-fought, victories born from strategy and desperation. But this?
This was pure, overwhelming domination. Whoever had done this hadn't just fought the goblins… they had massacred them.
Even Misery, usually fearless, froze in place. Its beady eyes darted nervously, sensing the oppressive aura lingering in the air.
If they were to encounter the being responsible for this massacre, there was a very real chance they'd end up like the corpses scattered around them.