Chapter 62: Den Below
The stink hit first. Humans.
Azakh-Tur's thoughts lashed through the Brood Link, ordering Pain, Panic, and Snare to keep feeding. His body had knitted itself whole, Demonic Will long spent, but the blood still caked him thick, skin steaming, scars raw. A grotesque sight for the intruders now staring at him.
"Boss! Stay still, I'll heal you right—"
"Why did you disobey me?"
His voice cracked across the cavern, low and edged. Lynn froze, the glow fading from her palm as her hand faltered. John avoided his gaze, eyes sweeping the walls instead.
"After waiting a while, we… we thought to explore. There was a chest, so we—"
John's elbow cut her off.
"So I thought it best to find you. That way you can claim it before the dungeon ends."
Azakh-Tur's brow tightened.
"Why didn't you take it yourselves?"
John answered, his memory of the sight still crawled up and down his spine.
"It's in an Elderwarren den."
That, at least, made sense. His irritation simmered, but not enough to kill them. Not yet. Loot mattered. Chests weren't bound to the Network; every dungeon spat out its own kind of spoils. Treasure chest was just the name slapped on them.
"You chose correctly. Wait here while i finish my task."
[Recommendation: User should evaluate performance metrics.]
'Fuck off. Still getting used to this human shit.'
He glanced over his shoulder, bloodlight flaring around him...screeches answered. Wet, tearing sounds rising from the brood's feast. Lynn flinched, John stiffened.
"Don't be scared. They're my summons."
He turned back to where the Scorchclaws had been guarding, the pile of twisted railcars scorched black. His final reward...
But his prize, what had drawn the party of humans there in the first place, was gone.
"Where is it? Where's the Fae-fire?"
Lynn's head jerked.
"Fae-fire?! Here?!"
"It was."
His temples bulged, veins black under his skin. The floating ember that had anchored the Sentinels—vanished.
"Fae-fire's not just flame. It's half alive. If you don't claim it right after killing the Sentinels, it flees. Surprised you didn't know that."
Lynn gestured at the smoldering heaps of bear flesh, her voice too steady, her eyes too level. Azakh-Tur didn't like it. She stared into his demon shape without flinching, speaking as if they were equals.
"That's what subordinates are for."
The brood skittered over. Pain lumbered, Panic hopped, Snare was shoved, tripped, tail-yanked—lowest rung made clear.
'Did we know that?'
[Affirmative. Data present in Wohan Seo-jin's memory.]
'And you didn't share?'
From his chest Grimm drifted out, glow dimmed, eye sockets fixed uneasily on the humans.
[System assumed User had full memory access. Adjusting log: memory access remains partial. Future clarification protocols will be updated.]
Azakh-Tur narrowed his eyes. The system sounded almost… compliant. Too soft. Too careful. Lately, it had gone quiet more often, and that wasn't comfort—it was a warning.
He shelved it for later. Survival mattered now.
He turned to the brood.
"When we reach the main tunnels—hide. Move only when I command."
They grinned and growled in unison, dripping gore from their jaws.
"Now, tell me about this treasure."
Lynn lit up, bouncing closer at his side. Her voice carried a sharp edge of excitement as she began to explain.
The tunnel at the top of the waterfall had broken off into a side branch, after a few dozen feet, the stone floor caved in to reveal a pit beneath. An Elderwarren den spread wide below, and at the back of it, bones lay heaped, feces piled. And sprouting among the decay, glowing pale against the rot, was a clutch of Deathcaps. Rare. Valuable. Worth blood.
As her story unfolded, his body shifted with each step, flesh folding, bone reshaping.
[Minor Shifting // Activated]
[Slot 2 // Wohan Seo-jin]
The demon peeled away, leaving the man to walk beside her.
The Twinback Growths ripped free with low, guttural screams before settling against his spine. Their wet croaks echoed in the cavern, cutting off only when the flesh set into place.
Lynn's cheeks flushed red. Even in the shadow of blood and ruin, she stared openly at the body now walking beside her...human skin stretched over a frame that wasn't quite human, but something more.
"B-boss… I thought you might want these."
John unshouldered a pack, dragging it to his front. He pulled free folded clothes, spotted and stiff with blood. The stench carried their source—raided off his dead former allies.
He earned points for that. Seo-jin smirked.
"Not a bad start."
John's grin was sharp, proud.
Without hesitation, Seo-jin stripped the ruined trousers from his body. System light consumed the scraps of cloth as they hit the ground. John looked away quick. Lynn didn't.
Her eyes locked on him, breath caught, face burning red.
"So… big…"
She almost reached for it before she stopped herself.
Jeans went on. Black shirt pulled tight, pocked with small tears. The twinback growths twitched in annoyance at being covered, hissing faintly until he forced them into sleep. Better hidden than questioned...for now.
The return trip was clean. The tunnels had already been cleared, nothing left to slow them down. The brood clung to the ceiling overhead, silent, unseen. John and Lynn kept glancing up, uneasy. Monsters shouldn't move that quiet.
They made it there easy, headed deeper, and stood over the ledge that overlooked the den below. He motioned the brood back, keeping only Lynn at his side. Better not to test how sharp the Elderwarren noses really were.
Her whisper broke the dark.
"There. At the back."
He followed her hand. Black soil, bone piles, slick stone—and there, clustered low, glowing faint gray. Deathcaps.
"Ever eaten one?"
The casual question made her flush, but she answered.
"Wouldn't dare. Got stuck in a dungeon once, years ago. Two parties tore each other apart over a patch. Couple of them ate a cap—one grew twice his size and butchered the other group."
"And the other?"
"Exploded."
He grunted.
"Useful either way."
Eight caps. Thick-stemmed, broad-crowned, toxic with promise. Seo-jin's memories uncoiled with some effort, dragging the details across his mind. An A-rank resource. A single cap could bankroll his entire gang for a month. Alchemists bled for them, mages desired them for spell reagents. Direct consumption was the gamble, miracle or death. Rarely used raw unless desperation left no choice.
Eight caps meant something. This den was old. Large. The bones alone spoke to years of feeding. He counted rows of small shapes, then stopped. Too many.
'How many?'
[Thirteen adults. Three hundred forty-five kits. Significant power source detected in central burrow.]
His teeth clicked.
"That would be the Matriarch. This is the boss room. You did better than I thought."
Ignoring her gushing reaction, he looked her over for a moment.
"What's your cap?"
He didn't bother with tact. She didn't bother pretending to care.
"B. I can share my profile—"
Her panel flared open, finger hovering to confirm before his voice cut her flat.
"No need. Have you unlocked your class tree?"
This time the flush wasn't hormones—it was shame.
"…Not yet."
His brows knotted.
"Your stats are sitting at E. If your shard's B-rank, you should've already cracked your tree. Unless…"
His tone sharpened.
"You've been potting."
Her eyes flicked, caught.
"If I wasn't at least E-rank, the Dead Hands wouldn't take me. I couldn't risk solo runs, and no woman parties without a backer. I had no choice. But since joining—I swear—I haven't touched a pot."
Her voice stayed low, but the strain was carved into it. Everyone knew the truth of pot-leveling: hollow gains. Shards dulled. Classes stunted. Power that grew crooked, slower, weaker. And usually reserved for the rich.
He let it hang, then dismissed it.
"As long as you prove useful, I don't care how you do it. Wait here."
Leaving her stunned, he turned and headed back toward John and the brood. He found the man looking one breath from collapse—until Seo-jin's eyes met his. Relief lit his face like he'd just been spared the axe.
"Panic. Stop licking him."
The broodling whined, dragging his tongue back as John wiped his bald head with a sleeve. Snare shook his skull at his brother, then stepped forward.
"Do you need us, Broodfather?"
A smile cut across his face, anticipation stirring in his chest.
"We found the boss room."
"Knew it."
John clamped a hand over his mouth too late. All three broodlings turned, eyes burning, before looking back to their master. Seo-jin let him sweat, then leaned in.
"What's your cap?"
The man paled. Cleared his throat.
"E."
Disgust ran through Seo-jin. That was the end of the line for John's shard. Maybe with another he could climb again, but destiny didn't seem to favor this one. Most likely not worth the trouble.
"You'll stay here."
Relief poured out of John like he'd been unstrung.
"Thank you… uh, broodfa—"
The broodlings snapped.
"Not for you!"
"Shut your rat-fucking mouth!"
"Only we can say it! You say boss. Only boss!"
John froze, nearly pissing himself, stammering.
"Sorry! Sorry! Yes, boss! Only boss!"
Seo-jin let it ride a moment longer, enjoying the fear bleeding off the man, then turned away. He had no time to waste. Leading the brood to the lip of the den, he gave his order.
"Snare. You'll be main for this."
The new spawn stiffened, eyes wide. Seo-jin didn't give him room to answer.
"You need levels. Pain, guard him. Every wound he takes, I'll return to you twice over. Panic—you stick to Lynn. She'll be joining the raid."
He checked his cooldowns, eyes hard as he shifted to Snare.
"You've got ten minutes to build a plan for the four of you. Don't waste it."
Snare was already lost in thought, lips moving as he counted below. That pleased him.
"What about you?"
Lynn's voice cut through like a dropped glass. The brood bristled, glaring. They didn't like her addressing him directly. Through the link Seo-jin felt it—pure hostility. He smiled inside.
"I'll fight. But don't rely on me. If you're about to die, I won't save you. Any of you. When the boss shows—I'll take it."
They began to settle, the brood sharpening, Lynn getting serious and holding her ground. Panels opened across his vision. AP to spend. Rewards to claim. Growth to weigh.
His heart hammered steady, not from fear. From hunger.
'My first dungeon boss.'
His eyes fixed on the den below. Past the bones. Past the filth. To the faint red glow pulsing from the center.
He smiled.