Chapter 68: Predator's Throne
The brood circled Lynn's limp body. Her skin was slack and gray, hair clotted with bile where she'd been spat onto the stone. Panic crouched first, jabbing her cheek with one claw.
"Hellooo? You dead?"
Pain's eyes narrowed. His lip curled.
"Why she look so old?"
Snare's tongue clicked against his teeth.
"Where you think that light came from? She ate a deathcap. Too weak to handle it. It chewed through her life force to keep her alive."
Azakh-Tur stepped forward, laid a clawed hand on Snare's head.
"Correct. That skill was S-rank at minimum. For an E-rank shard user to channel it…she was lucky."
Panic's face lit with sick joy.
"Can we eat her?"
Pain cuffed him across the skull.
"Not yet. After she opens—"
Smack! Smack!
Both froze. Pain rubbing his temple. Panic cradling his head. The cavern went still. Azakh-Tur's gaze cut to the youngest. Snare stood rigid, bloodlight rolling off him in waves. His small frame shook with fury.
"She isn't to be touched! Not until Broodfather commands it!"
Firstborn and secondborn stared like he'd lost his mind. Pain's veins bulged. His mouth opened—
"Look at her!"
Snare's voice cracked raw.
"Look, you defective fucks!"
They sneered, until—
"Now!"
The bloodlight seething off Snare warped darker, his rage snapping the air like a whip. Weaker in body but stronger in will, he forced their heads down. For a moment, both flinched.
Looking at her, they saw only ugliness. Wrinkled skin. Faded hair. Useless.
Snare's voice cut like stone grinding.
"She carries the mark of sacrifice! A gift to our creator! To see her as meat shames your devotion to Broodfather."
Pain and Panic shifted, unease cutting through. Their eyes darted between Snare and Azakh-Tur.
He did nothing. He only watched.
'He's clever. Using me as weight to crush them.'
[User is not offended?]
'Offended? No. Proud.'
The elder broodlings wilted under the weight. Shame burned across their chests.
Pain muttered, head bowed.
"I didn't realize."
Panic grinned, fumbling for redemption.
"I get it now! She's not ugly. She's pretty. Like liver."
Azakh-Tur was enjoying the power play, but he cut it short. Time was bleeding fast, the dungeon collapsing.
"Enough. You both understand now. She is brood until she fails me. Treat her as you treat each other."
"Yes, Broodfather!"
"Yes, Broodfather!"
"Yes, Broodfather!"
"Good. Now move. Gather the deathcaps. Strip this place of anything useful. Not all treasure belongs to the Network."
The three scattered, claws raking, nostrils flaring, eager to prove themselves worthy. Azakh-Tur's eyes stayed on the human, still sprawled in bile. Time was bleeding out.
"Suggestions?"
[Place a hand on her. System scan can assess condition.]
He pressed a clawed hand to her chest. System light pulsed faint from his palm.
[Analyzing… Life signs stable. Subject aged. Vitality low, but death not imminent.]
"Just sleeping, then. Easy fix."
Slap, Slap!
Her eyes snapped open, breath hitching. She clawed at his grip, panic twisting her face.
"What happened?! Where—where's the boss?!"
"Dead."
Another sharp slap. Her gaze focused.
"We don't have time. Open the chest. Now."
He yanked her up and shoved her forward. Her knees buckled, balance gone. The world spun sideways and she nearly folded, only staying upright because his grip dragged her along.
Her head pounded. Every breath scraped her lungs raw. She blinked hard, trying to force the haze out of her eyes, but her body wasn't reacting the way it should've. No soreness from wounds. No ache in the muscles she'd shredded in the fight.
Then she saw her hand.
Wrinkled. Veins raised and crawling like roots beneath paper-thin skin. The sight froze her harder than the quake of the dungeon walls. A vise clamped around her chest, and panic hit late, sharp.
"The Deathcap. You knew the risk. Be grateful you're breathing. Move."
Her head shook, mind swimming...but he was right.
"I'm alive…"
She muttered to herself, and staggered toward the glow. The sight of her hand, the feeling of her body, it was all too much. Barely able, she shoved the thought away for now. As best she could.
Reaching the chest, the lock cracked open with a hiss of system light. The lid dropped back. A column of golden radiance blasted upward, items lifting out of nothing.
For a moment, they floated in silence, light burning across stone and blood. Then the chest dissolved, leaving the prizes hanging mid-air before sinking slowly to the floor.
Azakh-Tur's eyes burned. Six vials, crescent-shaped, filled with silver liquid that churned like mercury. A quarterstaff, its shaft scarred and swollen at one end. And a necklace—a severed rabbit's foot dangling rotten from a black cord.
'Stupid way to distribute rewards...'
He reached out, then Seo-jin's memories stabbed him. Raids. Chest spawns. Bloodbaths over loot. The way every survivor turned predator the second light hit steel.
'Maybe that's the point.'
The Network cut the thought short.
[Instance closing in one minute. Prepare for exit.]
"Prepare?"
He froze. Then it clicked. When an instance closed, the dungeon reset. Everyone alive snapped back to where they were when it dropped. His jaw tightened. The brood had been born here. No telling what the reset would do to them. Through the link, he snapped a command.
Back. Now.
Lynn's voice cracked, dragging his attention.
"Boss? What's gonna happen to me?"
For a moment, it caught him off guard. Fear bled off her, tangled with devotion.
'She's probably thinking she knows too much. Pathetic thing.'
His flesh shifted. Horns receded. Skin lightened. In seconds, Seo-jin stood in place of the demon. Torn jeans, shirt streaked in blood. The human shape calmed her, even if it was a lie.
"You gambled your life to save mine. So you may walk beside me. But beyond keeping my secrets, I'll require something from you."
She straightened, fire in her aged eyes.
"Anything!"
"You're weak. That ends here. You don't rest, you don't slow. Lose your value, you lose everything. Understand?"
The warning was clear. It didn't slow her.
"I promise! I'll do whatever it takes to stay with you. Thank you, boss!"
Even though she had aged, she still held potential. He'd already seen what an old woman could do, the human faced mantis was proof enough. If he could make her grow, so be it. If not...food for the brood was still an option.
The broodlings arrived, arms full. Each glanced at her outburst with the same flat expression.
Seo-jin eyed their spoils and exhaled hard.
"Not sure what I expected…"
Snare cradled Deathcaps. Useful. Pain carried a heap of torn kits. Panic chewed the Matriarch's ears, one hanging from his mouth.
He took the mushrooms into his inventory, scolding the elder two and pointing at Snare as the example. Then he ordered everyone to stow in the Twinbacks.
Snare hesitated, nerves plain, until he saw his brothers laughing as their bodies were swallowed and chewed. Then he followed, grinning as his own body cracked between the maws.
Lynn stared, almost entranced. She hadn't realized she'd gone through the same process, she tried to imagine it, but her thoughts slipped once his voice cut through.
"You and John stay put. I'll gather you after we're out."
[Instance closing in 10…9…8…]
He swept the boss loot into storage, then fixed her with one last command.
"Talk to no one and stay hidden."
"Yes, boss."
[2…1…Instance Closing.]
The dungeon walls bled into light. Stone, bone, and blood dissolved into nothing. For the first time since he'd crawled onto Earth, his jaw eased. Every moment until now had been clawed, rushed, and forced. Even here, while he fought, bled, killed, he hadn't been free to stop, to breathe.
As the system light devoured the world, a weight slipped off his shoulders. His chest loosened.
'Finally…'
It was time to find the green.
----
Shatterbay sprawled under a swollen moon. The light cut across the ruins, bones of broken towers and shattered streets all silvered in the glow. Only one building still stood whole, a black spire above the wreckage, undamaged, pristine.
On its top floor, a man stood at the glass. Broad-shouldered, hair dark but streaked with white, his frame pressed clean against the sharp lines of a tailored suit. He looked out of place in a city like this, yet nothing in shatterbay looked more predatory.
Far below, a purple cube of shifting system-light pulsed across twelve blocks. The dungeon breathed like a living thing.
"You watching for him?"
The voice was smooth, almost amused.
"Strange. I always heard you were too cold for that. My father swore you were the coldest human he'd ever met. Maybe he was wrong."
The man didn't move. His eyes stayed on the cube.
"Don't mistake caution for care. The boy is a liability. I've only invested too much to discard him yet. You—"
His voice ground low.
"—Inheriting his contract means you have your own stake."
Behind him, a void stirred. A figure, humanoid, but horns bent high, its form shifting, never fully fixed. A living shadow.
"My father's stakes were never mine. His habits always bled into his contracts. I'm surprised you let the boy sign."
"What's done with him once he's dead is not my concern."
The shadow twitched.
"Humans are fascinating."
The dungeon cube flickered. A ripple passed through the streets in the distance.
"Successful! That must be a relief."
Still the man said nothing, only watched the cube collapse in on itself. Had the raid failed, the ground would've warped, twisted into another cursed scar. Avoided—for now.
But the air behind him shuddered. A guttural moan bled from the shadow.
"Ooohhh, tragic. The dungeon clears…and with it, your son's fate lies revealed...dead."
The man's aura erupted. Black mist peeled from his body, rolling like smoke off a fire.
"Choose your next words with care. Skaal'ar should have warned you what I am."
"I'm not lying. With him inside, I couldn't be sure. But now? The contract's finished."
The storm of aura vanished as fast as it had come, like it had never existed. The man walked to his desk, sat, and pressed a finger to a hidden panel.
A girl's voice answered, casual.
"Need something, Dad?"
"Bring your sisters. Now."
"Now? I just started my hair—"
"Nox is dead. Do not make me repeat myself."
Silence, then her voice hardened.
"Yes, father."
The line cut.
The shadow drifted to the glass, then to the desk.
"Want my help? I can ask—"
"Leave."
"I only mean—"
"Do I need to remind you where you stand?"
The room froze.
Silence began to fill. Two auras pressed against each other, black weight filling the air. Then one folded.
"Scary. You win. But if you change your mind, you know where to find me."
It began to dissolve, voice echoing as it faded.
"Stay sharp, Mr. Woon. This city might yet birth something that shifts the ground under your feet. Pray that day never comes."
The presence was gone.
Woon leaned back, system panel rising before his eyes. His voice dropped to a growl.
"Skaal'ar. Always a fool. First my daughters, now your son. You should have waited. We were close."
He scrolled through the feed, patient. It was what separated him from others. Patience built his throne.
An imp's face flickered across the panel.
"Killed by this? Pathetic."
Light swam over the glass as the three Woon sisters entered the room. Their father didn't lift his eyes, still reading.
[End of Arc 2....Initializing Sequential Memory Sequence...Loading....]