The dungeon answered Kaelen's provocation.
The air split.
Two figures stepped forward in perfect synchronization—each movement heavy with authority, each footfall cracking the stone beneath them.
Sovereign Death Knights.
Their armor was not forged—it was grown, layered bone and abyssal steel fused together by necromantic law. Black flames burned within the slits of their helms, not wild like lesser undead, but disciplined, controlled.
Each one carried a greatsword taller than Kaelen himself, the blades etched with runes of death, suppression, and severance.
Sovereign rank monsters were not simply stronger.
They were categorically different.
An abyssal rank monster could wipe out cities.
A sovereign rank monster was one thousand times stronger—a walking catastrophe capable of collapsing nations through raw force alone.
For a lich to command two sovereigns?
That alone spoke volumes.
Only one at least at unmeasurable rank—one standing beyond conventional dungeon scaling—could dominate beings like these without resistance.
The lich leaned back upon its fractured throne, fingers steepled.
"Show me," it rasped.
"Hero."
The Death Knights moved.
Not charging.
Advancing.
One vanished in a blur, appearing above Kaelen with its greatsword already descending—gravity folded around the blade, compressing the air into a killing edge.
The other slid low, blade sweeping horizontally, death energy stretching outward to sever Kaelen's legs at the conceptual level.
Perfect coordination.
No wasted motion.
Kaelen's eyes narrowed.
Gravity surged.
He stepped between their attacks, the overhead strike missing by centimeters as time slowed around him. The sweeping blade grazed his coat—but failed to cut.
Kaelen twisted mid-motion, driving his elbow into the chest of the airborne knight.
The impact detonated.
The Death Knight was launched backward, smashing through three pillars before embedding into the dungeon wall.
The second knight adjusted instantly, blade reversing trajectory to strike Kaelen's spine.
Kaelen vanished.
Reappeared.
Behind it.
Axiomfall rang as it collided with the greatsword—time and gravity screaming as two sovereign forces clashed.
The dungeon shook.
Kaelen slid back several meters, boots carving trenches into stone.
He exhaled slowly.
"…Yeah," he muttered.
"Now this is sovereign."
The two Death Knights straightened.
Uninjured.
Unshaken.
And advancing again.
HOSHIGAWA —
Far away—
In Kael'Ar.
The gentle clatter of dishes filled the air of Hoshigawa.
Children cleaned tables. Laughter drifted softly. Steam rose from warm food.
And by the window—
Arata Kurogane sat.
Relaxed.
Regal.
One leg crossed over the other, elbow resting on the chair's arm, chin supported by his hand as golden afternoon light washed over him.
He was watching.
Not through eyes.
But through existence itself.
"Dungeon lords," Arata said calmly, more to the world than anyone present, "don't use circuits the way mortals do."
He smiled faintly.
"They use a derivative."
The glass in his hand reflected a shifting image—Kaelen facing the sovereigns, the lich observing.
"The lich's power source is circuit energy refined into mana. Structured, calculated, optimized. In other words—magic."
He tapped the glass lightly.
"That thing isn't just a dungeon boss. It's a Grand Arch Mage."
The atmosphere subtly changed.
"A being at that level," Arata continued, "if it escapes the dungeon and enters the real world… could erase multiple continents before anyone understands what's happening."
A pause.
Then a soft, knowing smile.
"But," he added, eyes glinting,
"it made one mistake."
He leaned back in his chair.
"It let Kaelen walk in."
BACK TO THE DUNGEON -
The lich raised one finger.
The air above Kaelen darkened as thousands of spell formulas layered over one another—binding, erosion, soul decay, spatial lock.
It was thinking.
Calculating.
Learning.
Kaelen felt it.
And instead of fear—
He grinned.
HOSHIGAWA —
Arata turned his gaze outward, voice gentle but absolute.
"Kaelen," he said softly,
"this battle will mark the beginning."
The wind outside the restaurant stirred.
"The world will start to recognize you as the Hero of this Era."
His smile widened just slightly.
"But remember—lich kings are intelligent. Ancient. Patient."
He closed his eyes.
"It won't be easy."
Then—
Confidently:
"But you can do it."
The window reflected Arata's smile—
And far below, in the depths of the dungeon—
A hero stood against sovereign death,
while a lich prepared to test the limits of fate itself.