Raven's POV
The monsters were already too close.
I grabbed Ayla's hand and shoved her forward with every ounce of strength I had.
"Go!"
Her body vanished into the gate in a flash of red light.
The moment I turned back, death was already reaching for me.
A massive ogre loomed overhead, its rotting muscles stretching as it raised a colossal club—wooden, jagged, wrapped in iron thorns. The air screamed as it descended toward my skull.
I dropped low.
Steel sang.
My grip tightened around my sword, and in a single fluid motion, I severed the ogre's arm at the elbow. The club crashed uselessly to the ground. Before the creature could even scream, I twisted my hips and followed with a second strike.
Its head left its shoulders.
The body collapsed behind me like a falling tower.
But there was no time to breathe.
They were already there.
More monsters poured in behind the corpse—snarling, howling, clawing their way forward as if the darkness itself was vomiting them into existence.
I inhaled deeply، Then I moved.
Mana surged through my legs as I pushed off the ground, my body blurring forward in a violent arc. Steel flashed. Bodies fell. Limbs scattered across the stone floor before the screams could fully form.
Still, they did not stop.
Their roars grew louder.
A wolf—huge, malformed, its muscles stretched unnaturally—leapt down from above, its claws inches from my throat.
I jumped back , Once, Twice, on the third step I didn't retreat, I charged .
My speed shattered the air around me. To them, I was no longer a figure—only a streak of pale light cutting through shadow. Monsters collapsed before they could even track my movement.
Morivain's voice echoed in my mind, startled.
"Where are they all coming from? There is no end to them."
I did not answer, I couldn't, There was only the rhythm now.
Decapitate.
Split the torso.
Drive the blade into the heart—twist—tear upward.
Blood coated my sword. My white shirt was soaked crimson, black ichor mixing with it as the floor became a graveyard of shattered forms.
The last one came screaming.
A Hollowborn.
Six elongated arms struck at once, moving faster than any creature I had faced so far. I slipped between the strikes, my body bending and turning as claws missed me by hairsbreadths.
I ran straight toward the wall, Kicked off it, Launched myself into the air, Gravity screamed, My sword came down, One clean strike Its head fell.
Silence followed.
I exhaled sharply, standing alone among the corpses. Blood dripped from my blade in slow, heavy drops. My chest rose and fell as I closed my eyes.
Then I reached inward.
Mana responded.
I drew it from the dead—every lingering trace of mana left in their broken bodies. It flowed into me like cold fire, threading through my fingertips, crawling along my arms, rising—slow, deliberate—until it settled over my heart.
Warm.
Alive.
I opened my eyes.
"…That's better."
I stepped toward the gate once more and placed my hand against its surface.
The moment my fingers touched it, a violent force surged outward.
The gate rejected me—hurling my hand back as if it burned.
I clenched my fist.
"Morivain," I asked quietly, "do you know why I can't pass through the gate?"
Before she could answer, the dungeon answered instead.
A colossal wave of mana erupted from deep within the abyss. The ground beneath my feet shuddered violently, stone grinding against stone as if the dungeon itself had drawn breath. A crushing pressure swept through the air, heavy enough to weigh on my chest.
Then came the sound, Roars, Screams.
Hundreds—no, thousands—of monsters howling in unison.
My eyes narrowed.
"What was that?" I asked, tension tightening my voice. "Was that the Boss pressure?"
Morivain was silent for a heartbeat, Then she spoke, grave and certain.
"It appears the dungeon has been promoted. Every creature within it has been elevated to a higher tier."
My blood ran cold.
"…Promoted?"
"Yes," she continued. "This is no longer a red gate. It has become a black one."
I lowered my voice.
"A black gate… Is that something normal?"
Morivain did not answer immediately, When she did, her tone had changed.
"Raven," she said carefully, "someone is watching us."
I exhaled slowly.
"Then it must be the Dungeon Boss."
"No."
Her denial was immediate. Firm.
"This presence does not belong to the dungeon. Something else is observing you—from far above. From a place beyond this world."
A heavy knot twisted in my stomach, I already know.
My teeth ground together as fury surged through me.
"…It's her again."
Morivain confirmed it with a single nod.
"Yes. And now we understand everything."
Her voice darkened.
"The gate refuses to let you leave because of her interference. The dungeon's rank has risen because she forced it to. Even the monsters' behavior yesterday—ignoring everyone and hunting only you—was her doing."
I clenched my sword so tightly my knuckles whitened.
"She does not wish to kill you directly," Morivain continued. "She wants the dungeon to do it for her. To crush you beneath endless waves of monsters. To ensure you die slowly and painfully … and utterly alone,Just like she did in your previous lives .
Silence fell between us.
Then Morivain asked, softly but honestly,
"Can you survive this, Raven? These are no ordinary enemies. Every presence here exists on an entirely different level."
For a long moment, I said nothing.
Then I laughed.
A low, sharp laugh echoed through the cavern—cold, unrestrained, dangerous.
I lifted my gaze upward, toward nothing and everything at once.
"So that's it," I said, a crooked smirk forming on my lips.
"You want me dead that badly?"
My voice hardened into a vow.
"If you're so afraid of me that you hide behind monsters… then you've already lost."
I turned and began walking—slowly, deliberately—deeper into the blackened dungeon.
"I won't die here," I said calmly.
"I'll walk out alive. Stronger."
My steps echoed as darkness swallowed me whole.
"And when I do," I whispered, eyes burning with resolve,
"I'll make you regret the day you ever laid eyes on me. I'll carve my name into your memory—and you'll remember me for the rest of your life."
The abyss answered with distant roars.
I started walking slowly and sank deeper into the dungeon .
I walked until the dungeon opened into a vast chamber.
It was enormous—wide enough that my footsteps echoed back to me after a delay. Four massive passages yawned open from its walls like the mouths of beasts, each leading deeper into the abyss. The stone walls were embedded with luminous crystals, glowing white and cold, casting an eerie light that illuminated every corner of the room.
Despite the light, the air was wrong.
A foul stench clung to my lungs, thick and rotten, and a crushing pressure pressed down on my body from all directions—as if the dungeon itself was watching, waiting.
I stepped into the very center of the chamber and stopped.
Slowly, deliberately, I released my mana.
I let it surge outward without restraint, without disguise—raw, sharp, unmistakable.
Morivain's voice echoed in my mind, edged with dry amusement.
"So," she said, "you're not hiding your power anymore."
A smirk curved my lips.
"No," I replied calmly. "I'm alone now. There's no reason to keep shackles on my mana anymore."
My gaze hardened.
"I'll end this dungeon quickly," I said, cold certainty in my voice. "And I will walk out of here alive."
Then anger bled into my tone—deep, burning, unrestrained.
"And that goddamn goddess… her day will come. I will make her regret ever touching my fate."
It didn't take long.
The dungeon answered.
A chorus of roars erupted from the passages. Heavy footsteps thundered toward me, shaking the ground beneath my boots. The tremors grew stronger with every heartbeat.
They were coming.
The chamber flooded with monsters—pouring from every entrance, filling the space wall to wall. When they saw me standing alone at the center, their rage focused instantly.
They charged.
I didn't move.
I didn't flinch.
I waited until they were close enough that I could see their twisted faces, their fangs, their hatred.
Then I raised my hand.
All the mana I had absorbed—from every corpse, every fallen beast—flowed into my palm. At first, a small flame bloomed there, flickering softly.
I shaped it.
Compressed it.
And then I wove an explosion spell directly into its core.
The flame pulsed once.
And the world detonated.
A deafening blast tore through the chamber, swallowing everything in blinding Black flames . The shockwave ripped outward with terrifying force, pulverizing stone, erasing sound—and annihilating every monster in its path.
In an instant, they were gone.
Not bodies.
Not screams.
Only ash drifting slowly through the air.
The chamber fell silent.
I lowered my hand as the last embers faded, Black flame reflecting off the empty floor where an monsters had stood moments before.
I exhaled slowly.
"…Good," I murmured.
This dungeon had wanted a monster.
So I became one.
Morivain's voice echoed in my mind, thick with astonishment.
"…Wow. That was fast. And powerful."
I scoffed, anger still simmering beneath my skin.
"That was nothing," I said coldly. "Does that cursed goddess truly think she can kill me with monsters this weak?"
I closed my eyes.
The ash that filled the chamber began to stir.
Invisible threads of mana rose from it—every last remnant of power left behind by the fallen beasts. I drew it in without resistance, without mercy. The energy slipped into my fingertips first, warm and alive, then flowed slowly through my veins, spreading across my body like liquid fire.
Strength returned.
No—more than before.
It settled deep within my core, steady and overwhelming, until my heartbeat itself seemed to hum with power.
I opened my eyes and smiled.
"…That was refreshing," I said softly. "Let's move to the next chamber. I don't know how long I've been trapped here.
I turned toward one of the passages, my steps calm, unhurried.
"I want this finished quickly."
Morivain let out a quiet, humorless laugh.
"I doubt that will be easy. This place is crawling with monsters. Every one of them stands between you and the dungeon boss."
"Yes," I replied evenly. "I know."
Then, almost as an afterthought, my voice softened—just a little.
"But I don't plan on staying here any longer than necessary."
I tightened my grip on my sword and began walking forward.
"I promised the children I'd play with them today," I added calmly. "So I'll finish this dungeon quickly… and go home."
The passage opened into a vast, uneven chamber.
The air changed the moment I stepped inside.
It wasn't just heavy—it resisted me.
Every breath felt thicker, as if the dungeon itself were pressing back, testing whether I had the right to stand here.
The floor was cracked stone, blackened as if burned long ago, and above me the ceiling stretched high into darkness. Faint crimson veins pulsed within the walls, slow and deliberate, like the dungeon was alive… and watching.
I stopped.
"…This one's different," Morivain muttered.
Before I could answer, the ground moved.
Not cracked—moved.
The stone rose, folding in on itself, reshaping. From the far end of the chamber, something pulled itself free from the wall, tearing stone apart as if it were wet clay.
It wasn't a boss.
But it was close.
A towering figure emerged—humanoid, but wrong.
Its body was armored in layers of black stone and charred metal fused together, glowing faintly from within. Long, heavy arms dragged against the ground, each step sending vibrations through the chamber.
Where its face should have been was a hollow mask of cracked obsidian, and behind it burned two dull, ember-like lights.
Morivain went silent.
"…That's a Vanguard," she said slowly. "A guardian-class entity. Not a dungeon boss—but something meant to break intruders before they reach one."
The creature took one step forward.
The pressure hit me instantly.
My boots scraped backward against the stone without me moving them.
"…So this is how it starts," I muttered.
The Vanguard moved.
Not fast.
But heavy.
Its arm swung—not at me, but at the air beside me.
The impact landed anyway.
The shockwave slammed into my side like a battering ram, hurling me across the chamber. I twisted midair, reinforced my muscles—Chris's strength enhancement flaring through my body—and hit the wall feet-first instead of spine-first.
Stone exploded behind me.
I dropped to the ground in a crouch, breath sharp.
"…That almost broke my ribs," I said quietly.
Morivain's voice tightened.
"Riven. Be careful. That thing isn't just strong—it's anchored to the dungeon. Your usual tactics won't overwhelm it easily."
"Good," I replied, eyes lifting. "I was getting bored."
The Vanguard roared—not with sound, but with force.
The air itself screamed as it charged.
I moved.
Wind wrapped around my legs and spine, compressed and sharpened. Air control surged, boosting my speed beyond the creature's perception. The world blurred as I vanished from where I'd stood.
I reappeared at its side and slashed upward.
Sparks exploded.
My blade bit into its armor—but only shallowly.
The creature didn't even stagger.
Its elbow came down like a falling tower.
I barely twisted aside, the strike missing my skull by inches and pulverizing the ground instead.
"…Not enough," I hissed.
I leapt backward, palm snapping forward.
Flames ignited instantly—compressed, spinning, fed by air magic.
A spiraling fire lance tore from my hand and slammed into the Vanguard's chest.
The explosion engulfed it in fire.
For a heartbeat, the chamber glowed white-hot.
Then the flames were pushed apart.
The Vanguard stepped through the fire.
Unburned.
Its armor glowed brighter now, heat crawling along its veins.
Morivain's voice sharpened.
"It's adapting. The more force you use, the more it stabilizes itself."
"…Of course it is."
The creature struck again—faster this time.
I accelerated, speed magic screaming through my muscles, dodging blow after blow. Each missed strike cracked the floor, shattered walls, filled the air with dust and heat.
Still—one hit clipped me.
The impact caught my shoulder.
Pain exploded through my arm, numbing it instantly, and I was thrown hard across the chamber, rolling until I slammed into a pillar.
I stayed down for half a second longer than I wanted.
My heart was pounding.
"…That hurt," I admitted.
Morivain was silent for a moment.
"…You're bleeding."
I glanced at my arm. Blood ran freely down my sleeve.
I stood.
This time, I didn't rush.
I planted my feet and drew deeply—air bending inward, flames condensing around my core, strength reinforcement locking my body into something closer to a weapon than flesh.
The air screamed.
Fire spiraled around me, not wild—controlled.
Sharp.
Dense.
The Vanguard charged again.
So did I.
We collided at the center of the chamber.
Its fist met my blade.
The shockwave shattered the remaining pillars, ripped stone from the floor, and sent a violent burst of wind and flame outward in every direction.
For the first time—
The Vanguard staggered.
Just one step.
But it was enough.
I grinned through the blood at the corner of my mouth.
"…There you are," I whispered. "Now I know how hard I need to hit."
The chamber no longer felt like a battlefield.
It felt like a furnace.
Every clash between us sent tremors through the dungeon's spine. Stone cracked, molten veins pulsed brighter, and the air burned with residual mana that refused to dissipate.
The Vanguard straightened after its stagger.
Slowly.
Deliberately.
Its armor shifted, plates grinding against one another as glowing fissures spread wider across its body. Heat poured from it now, distorting the air.
Morivain spoke, her voice low.
"…It's entering its second phase."
The creature raised both arms.
The dungeon answered.
Mana surged into it from the walls, the floor, the ceiling—black and crimson streams pouring into its frame. Its body grew denser, heavier, the glow beneath its armor intensifying until it looked like a walking core of destruction.
It slammed one foot into the ground.
The shockwave tore outward in a perfect ring.
I didn't dodge.
I leaned into it.
Wind coiled around me, bracing my body. strength reinforcement surged, locking my muscles and bones into unyielding alignment.
The force hit.
I slid backward several meters—but stayed standing.
"…That's new," I muttered.
The Vanguard charged again.
This time, its speed matched its strength.
Its fists became blurs of destruction, each swing carrying enough force to flatten buildings. I moved with it—air magic snapping, redirecting, shaving force off each blow by a fraction.
Still, hits landed.
A glancing blow shattered my ribs—then knit themselves together as absorbed mana flooded my body.
Another hit cracked my thigh—then vanished beneath a surge of heat and power.
Each impact hurt.
Each impact fed me.
I slashed.
Not wildly. Not desperately.
Precisely.
My blade cut into its armor again and again—never deep enough to cripple, but deep enough to drink.
Mana poured into me like molten light.
I felt it crawl beneath my skin, coil around my veins, strengthen my muscles, sharpen my senses.
The Vanguard roared.
Not in pain.
In confusion.
Morivain's voice sharpened.
"…Riven. You're draining it faster than the dungeon can replenish."
The Vanguard struck harder.
Faster.
Its blows grew erratic, brutal, desperate. Stone armor fractured under its own output, pieces breaking away with each movement.
And I—
I moved better.
My dodges became tighter.
My strikes cleaner.
My timing flawless.
I wove between its attacks with wind-guided precision, flames wrapping my blade in thin, lethal layers that cut and cauterized at once.
With every exchange, my smile grew sharper.
With every clash, my body felt lighter.
Stronger.
The dungeon groaned.
The Vanguard slammed both fists down in a final, overwhelming strike.
I didn't retreat.
I stepped forward.
I planted my foot into the cracked stone, compressed air beneath it until it screamed—and launched upward.
Time slowed.
I twisted midair, mana roaring through my limbs, blade raised high.
The Vanguard looked up.
For the first time—
Too late.
I came down like a falling star.
My sword struck straight through its shoulder, cleaving deep into its core. I twisted the blade and ripped upward, tearing armor, stone, and burning mana apart.
The Vanguard froze.
Cracks raced across its body.
Light bled out of it in violent streams.
I landed behind it, boots scraping stone.
For a heartbeat, nothing happened.
Then the Vanguard collapsed—its massive form disintegrating into ash and fading embers that were pulled irresistibly toward me.
I closed my eyes.
I absorbed everything.
The mana surged—violent, hot, overwhelming—then settled, flowing through me like a second heartbeat.
When I opened my eyes—
I was smiling.
With a smirk.
"…That's what you get for dragging this out," I said calmly.
Morivain exhaled slowly.
"… I didn't think you could really beat him."
I turned toward the deeper passage, power humming beneath my skin.
I started walking.
I continued walking deeper toward the dungeon lord's domain.
"Well then," I said with a faint smile, my footsteps echoing through the stone corridors, "let's see who's waiting for me next."
Morivain's voice drifted beside my thoughts, amused.
"…You sound like you're enjoying yourself."
I shrugged.
"Why wouldn't I? These are genuinely strong opponents. Let's call this training."
I exhaled slowly. "It's been a long time since I fought without holding myself back."
Morivain paused.
"…You still haven't fought with your full strength. You've barely used half."
"Yes," I replied calmly. "They're strong—but not strong enough to make me serious. Maybe the dungeon Boss will finally force me to use everything."
Then—
I felt it.
No.
Them.
A pressure rolled through the air, heavier than the Vanguard's had ever been. Or rather—several pressures layered together, overlapping like predatory gazes locking onto me at once.
Morivain's tone sharpened.
"…They're close."
I nodded and kept walking.
The passage opened into a vast chamber.
Four figures waited within.
The first was a Vanguard—but not like the one I had destroyed earlier. Its armor was darker, thicker, pulsing with a deeper, more violent glow. Its presence alone eclipsed the previous one completely.
Beside it stood two massive black wolves, each nearly as tall as the Vanguard itself. Their bodies were lean, predatory, carved from shadow and muscle, crimson eyes fixed on me with unsettling intelligence.
And last—
A towering green ghoul, its frame grotesquely swollen with power. Long, jagged fangs protruded from its mouth, dripping with corrosive saliva as it hunched forward, eager.
Morivain's voice lowered.
"Riven… how do you plan to fight all of them alone? They're elite monsters. Each one is deadly."
I smiled.
A slow, dangerous smirk curved my lips.
"Do you not trust me?" I asked lightly. "Do you really think I can't defeat them?"
"That's not what I said," Morivain replied tensely.
"I'm saying you can't fight all of them at the same time."
I didn't answer her with words.
Instead, I moved.
With my right hand, I drew my sword.
The moment it cleared the sheath, its ability activated.
Black light bled along the blade, thickening into a shadowy mist that rose up my arm and curled around my shoulder like living smoke. The air grew colder, heavier, as if the dungeon itself recoiled.
With my left hand, I summoned my mana.
It condensed instantly—compressed, refined—until it took shape as a long, razor-sharp dagger formed entirely from my own black mana. Its edge shimmered with lethal intent.
I rolled my shoulders once.
Then I looked at the four elites.
"Then watch closely," I said, my smirk widening.