Lucien barely had time to catch his breath after the grueling reflection battle. The floor beneath him cracked like a shattered mirror, fracturing with eerie precision, and before he could react or even stabilize his stance, the light was violently sucked from the world.
In an instant, everything was gone. He was teleported into a dark void.
No light. No shadows. No wind. No temperature. Just... endless, suffocating emptiness.
And then, the voices came.
Children laughing.
Children crying.
Children screaming.
The cacophony twisted and writhed around his ears, worming into the crevices of his consciousness like venomous whispers. His breath hitched in his throat. The air—if it could even be called that—reeked of iron, blood, burnt flesh, and madness.
Images started forming in the void, like distorted memories burned onto black glass.
Children. Dozens. Trapped in rusted cages barely large enough to curl up in. Malnourished and broken, their limbs looked like twigs ready to snap. Their eyes—glassy, lifeless—stared ahead, some blank, some haunted. The older ones clutched the younger, whispering comfort. The younger ones whimpered, voices hoarse, too tired to cry.
Then came the gas.
The laughing gas.
They inhaled. Giggled. Laughed.
Even as their skin was flayed. Even as bones were twisted out of place. Even as their joints snapped with wet, meaty cracks. Their laughter never stopped—some because they'd gone mad, others because the gas forced them to.
Lucien's fists trembled at his sides, nails digging into his palms.
The survivors—if they could even be called that—were not spared. Their souls were forcibly torn from their bodies, then grotesquely fused with those of the already deceased.
A magic that should not exist.
A desecration.
Dark Magic of Sacrifice. A forbidden hybrid of demonic energy and soul-binding, born from heresy and cruelty. Shunned by every kingdom. Outlawed by every civilization.
And then the end result rose.
A towering, hulking monstrosity.
Its grotesque body was a patchwork of agony, flesh stitched in defiance of natural form. A gaping, swirling hole pulsed in its chest where a heart should be—an abyss of despair. Etched across its grotesque limbs were faces. Children's faces. Twisted in expressions frozen in time. Some were smiling. Some weeping. Some locked forever in silent, open-mouthed screams.
Stage 5: Put them out of their misery.
The system voice echoed from above. Still artificial. Still mechanical. Yet… a subtle shift.
Was that pity?
Sympathy?
Lucien's voice was a growl, barely above a whisper. His bangs fell over his eyes, shadowing his face.
"Say no less."
The abomination let out a distorted wail—a thousand shrieks and cries compressed into one. It charged like a beast unchained.
Lucien was already moving. His blade gleamed in his grip, a cold and brilliant hue emanating from the edge. He darted forward, his aura blazing behind him like comet's fire. Astralis Mana flickered faintly around him, unstable, raw—but enough.
He slid under a massive swinging arm, slicing across the monster's thigh. Black ichor burst from the gash, sizzling the ground with acidic fury. The creature howled, the sound a horrific blend of giggles and sobs.
"You're in pain, aren't you?" Lucien muttered, almost regretfully.
Another swing came. He leapt backward, flipping in the air, hurling a flurry of mana-infused slashes as he twisted mid-spin. Each strike sank deep into the monster's flesh. The creature retaliated, forming jagged black spears from its limbs and launching them like arrows.
Lucien vanished—\[Shadow Step].
He reappeared above it, high in the air, descending like a falling star.
"For their sake—just die!"
His blade pierced the center of its chest, plunging into the void-like cavity.
The hole... screamed.
A vortex of lost souls surged forth, ghostly childlike hands clawing outward, desperate and terrified, trying to drag him in.
Lucien did not resist. He didn't flinch.
He pushed mana into the blade. Pure, radiant. Bright like a sun, laced with shimmering strands of Astralis Mana. The celestial energy cut through the shadows like dawn tearing through night.
"Sleep now," he whispered gently.
The radiant light exploded outward.
With one final, collective wail, the abomination dissolved into fine ash. Peace returned to the void.
"Thanks… Big bro."
"Thank you… sir."
Faint voices drifted around him.
And then he saw them.
Translucent figures shimmered into view. Dozens of spectral children. The same ones—fused, tortured, broken. Now free.
They stood in rows.
Smiling.
Lucien's heart clenched. He gave them a sad, bittersweet smile in return.
"No problem," he said softly.
The spirits bowed in unison.
And faded into the light.
Stage 5 Completed.
Challenger may rest for 10 minutes.
Lucien fell to one knee, his body aching with fatigue. His breathing came in ragged gasps. Sweat rolled down his forehead, dampening his collar.
He reached into his storage ring, pulling out a red vial and a blue one. Health and stamina potions. He chugged both quickly.
"Should've brought mana potions too," he muttered, wiping his mouth. "Stupid…"
His status screen flickered into view.
Mana: 45 / 300
He groaned quietly and shook his head. "Can't do anything about it now."
The ten minutes passed agonizingly slowly, dragging like a century condensed into minutes.
Then—
A flash of light.
He was teleported again.
Now to a plain. Wide. Endless. Grassy. Not a single landmark in sight. Just the sound of silence stretching forever.
Stage 6: Run.
Lucien blinked. "Run? Run from wha—?"
A tremor.
He looked behind him.
And then, he understood.
The very earth behind him was collapsing into nothingness. Disintegrating like crumbling sand, consumed by an endless abyss. And it was coming for him. Fast.
"Damn it!"
He ran.
No time to think.
Just run.
Time lost all meaning. Hours, days—Lucien couldn't tell. He ran through blistering heat, freezing wind, acid rain. Through phantom forests that whispered his failures. Through illusions that mimicked his family's voices.
His legs buckled. He fell.
He got up.
He fell again. Screamed. Crawled. Ran.
He drank every stamina potion he had. All eight.
But even they… began to lose effect.
Potion Resistance. A cruel reality. The more you use, the less they help. The body adapts. The exhaustion builds.
Lucien collapsed. Once. Twice. Dozens of times.
And yet, he rose. Every. Single. Time.
His breath burned. His heart thundered. His eyes blurred.
Still, he ran.
He should've collapsed permanently. Should've starved. Should've died.
But he didn't.
He wasn't hungry. Not thirsty. Not sleepy. It didn't make sense.
"Why…?" he gasped, dragging his body forward.
"How… long…?"
A whisper in his mind answered.
A month.
Thirty days of relentless, soul-grinding, sanity-breaking running.
And just as he was about to fall for the final time—
Stage 6 Completed.
Flash.
Back to the void.
Challenger may rest for 30 minutes.
Lucien collapsed onto his back, arms sprawled.
"Wow…" he croaked, a dry laugh escaping his cracked lips. "Thirty minutes… after a month… how generous."
No voice answered.
He chuckled again, the sound bitter.
Then silence.
He let his eyes close. The void was quiet now. Peaceful, almost.
Half an hour passed.
Then—
Another teleport.
A white void.
Clean. Sterile. Blinding.
A deep voice echoed—not from outside—but from the very fabric of existence.
Sit.
Lucien obeyed instinctively.
Something about the command left no room for disobedience.
Then the voice boomed again.
CHILD OF COSMOS. YOU POSSESS THE MANA OF STARS. IF YOU TRULY WISH TO WIELD ASTRALIS MANA, YOU MUST… ENDURE.
Lucien narrowed his eyes.
"Endure what?"
The presence vanished.
The system voice returned.
Stage 7: Endure and Control Astralis Mana.
Suddenly, an unbearable weight slammed onto Lucien's chest.
He gasped, clutching his ribs. It felt like his organs were being crushed.
He gritted his teeth, eyes wide.
"C-Control…" he hissed.
His mana surged, uncontrollably. Ribbons of celestial light exploded from his body, each one like molten fire, burning through the void.
Astralis Mana—divine, untamed, boundless.
And it was ripping him apart from within.
Outside the Dungeon
Caelum stood at the forest's edge, wrapped in a cloak of concealment.
Two shadow guards kneeled before him, clearly shaken.
"So you're saying my son… is inside this dungeon?"
"Yes, my Lord," they answered in unison, their voices strained.
"And you let him enter?"
His bloodlust exploded.
The forest darkened. Trees trembled. Birds fled. The guards choked, grabbing at their throats.
"We… are ashamed," they gasped.
Caelum's expression darkened.
"…Leave it. I'll get him out myself."
He stepped toward the cave.
But the moment his foot crossed the threshold, an invisible force slammed into him, launching him back like a rag doll.
He tumbled hard, rolling across rocks and roots.
He stood slowly, eyes narrowed. "What the hell?"
His gaze turned to steel.
"I can't enter? Even with my power?"
He clenched his fists, fury barely restrained.
"…Even an SSS-ranker might not be able to break through this."
He looked toward the dark mouth of the cave.
His expression broke—just slightly.
"Lucien… my son. Be safe."