The Nile Forest breathed like a living beast.
Every tree was twisted, every vine coiled like a waiting serpent, every patch of red mist flickering like embers in the dark. Aston stood still for a long moment, listening—feeling the forest through instincts he didn't yet fully understand.
Aston exhaled slowly.
"Alright… I have to know what's around me. Staying still is suicide."
He crouched low, letting the demonic instincts guide his posture—lighter steps, balanced weight, controlled breathing.
He hated how natural it felt.
He scanned the surroundings.
To the east, the forest thickened into a canopy of blackened trees, their branches twisting like claws. A faint red glow pulsed deep inside.
Bad sign.
To the west, a shallow ravine cut through the ground. Strange purple moss glowed along the rocks, releasing gentle wisps of vapor.
Suspicious.
To the south, the trees bent outward as if something massive had pushed through. The soil was disturbed. Tracks. Claw marks the size of his torso.
Absolutely not.
To the north…
Aston narrowed his eyes.
The forest there seemed thinner. Less oppressive. A faint breeze carried no scent of predators—just damp earth and something… fresh.
That would be the direction to Explore!
Aston moved through the shattered ruins with careful, quiet steps, each boot fall swallowed by the thick moss carpeting the ancient stone. The air was warmer here, heavier, like the ruins themselves were exhaling after centuries of sleep. He scanned every corridor, every collapsed archway, every flicker of movement in the creeping mist.
The regional chat pinged constantly in the corner of his vision. He kept it open, absorbing every scrap of information as he threaded deeper into the forgotten structure.
More messages were flying in:
"Lord Token acquired!"
"Human Church recruited another!"
"Legendary Hero Knight? What kind of cheat is that?!"
Then came the line that made him stop in his tracks.
"Natives CAN become Lords—but only if they kill an off-world Lord and steal their authority!"
Aston blinked, a cold chill creeping up his spine.
So the world wasn't rigged against natives—just brutally selective.
Any native species—elves, beast kin, native demons, dragons—could claim lordship… but only through killing an outsider who already held it.
A savage rule.
Aston exhaled slowly.
He was demon-born now.
Meaning one day, every Lord—human or otherwise—would see him as a potential threat.
And if they killed him… they'd grow stronger.
He kept reading.
Another flood of messages:
"Most species treat outsiders as prey."
"They hunt four races to evolve—Beasts, Demons, Devils, Aberrants."
"Saw a demon get torn apart by a beast pack 10 minutes ago…"
"Humans seem to be bottom-tier here."
Aston's stomach tightened.
Demons were one of the core hunted species.
He was among the hunted.
Perfect.
"Great. So everything that breathes wants to stab, chew, or sacrifice me."
He swallowed the spike of irritation, forcing his mind still. If he panicked now, he'd die even faster.
The ruin grew thicker around him—towering walls wrapped in roots, cracked pillars leaning like old giants. Each step closer to the heart of the structure felt strange, like gravity pulled him inward.
Then suddenly he saw.....
A dark sphere.
Floating in the center of a collapsed courtyard, hovering just above a circular stone platform carved with runes worn by ages.
Pitch black.
Perfectly smooth.
Absorbing the light around it like a miniature black hole.
Aston froze.
Instinct screamed at him to back away.
But curiosity dragged him a step closer, like a hook buried in his ribs.
"What… is that…?"
The sphere pulsed—
A deep, bone-vibrating thrum that echoed inside his skull.
Cold wind whispered across his ear, like someone exhaled right beside him.
His breath hitched.
Against every instinct, he lifted a hand.
His fingers brushed the surface.
The world detonated.
A violent WHOOOOM of dark light exploded outward, devouring the ruin in a veil of shadow. The sphere liquefied into pure black energy and surged up his arm—faster than he could flinch.
"Wh—AAAH!"
It stabbed through his chest like a collapsing star.
Aston felt it burn inside him—cold and hot at the same time—rewriting something fundamental, carving itself into his soul. His knees slammed into the stone as the last particles of the sphere dissolved into him.
In seconds, the sphere was gone.
Silence returned.
Then—
DING!
A chime echoed in his head;
[CONGRATULATIONS!]
You have absorbed: Dungeon Core (Dormant).
Gained: +20,000 XP! x 2 (due to talent lucky one)
Skill Acquired: Dungeon Creation (Consumable).
Aston wheezed, blinking through the afterimages.
"What… did I just… fuse with?"
New text appeared—this time in ominous crimson.
[Skill Acquired: Dungeon Creation]
Rank: — (Forbidden / Origin Skill)
Usage: ONE TIME ONLY.
Description:
A forbidden-grade demonic star-core originally forged for demon gods. Allows the user to create a Dungeon World. The Dungeon expands with souls, mana, blood, or faith. Capable of evolving into a Domain, Demonic Territory, or Netherworld.
Note:
Like Talents skills are ranked from lowest to highest as Common(E-rank), Uncommon(D), Rare(C), Epic(B), Legendary(A), Mythic(S), and finally Primordial(U).
Forbidden / Origin skills exist above Primordial rank.
Aston stared, jaw hanging open.
Lucky One talent.
And now… a dungeon core? A Forbidden skill?
"…I'm either the luckiest idiot alive," he whispered, "or the universe is preparing to murder me harder later."
Either way—
He had just obtained something that demon lords spent centuries struggling and bleeding to acquire.
Higher-tier demons could only forge a dungeon core by using the blood of millions—then nourishing the proto-core with mana for over four hundred years before it stabilized. That was why demonic wars never ended. Why entire continents turned into graveyards. Why ancient demon monarchs harvested souls like crops.
It was one of the fundamental requirements to ascend to Demon Monarch… or Demon God.
And he…
He just picked one up.
By accident.
No rituals.
No sacrifices.
No armies.
No centuries.
Just a ruined hatchery… a black sphere… and blind luck.
"…This is insane," Aston muttered. "Someone like me should NOT have this."
The realization sank in like cold metal.
Any demon—any lord, any tribe, any predator—would rip him apart for a dungeon core. Even a weakling would sell their entire clan to obtain one.
Aston shivered.
He needed to move. Immediately.
He shoved down the tremor in his hands, forced himself to inhale deeply, and turned away from the shattered ruin.
His pulse thudded with adrenaline and fear, but also—
Anticipation.
The north.
The air seemed lighter there.
The trees less twisted, less suffocating.
A faint breeze brushed against his cheek—carrying the smell of damp soil and something unexpectedly fresh.
No predator musk.
No demonic aura pressing down.
Just quiet.
A possible safe zone.
Aston's heart quickened.
"North it is… Please don't let there be anything horrible waiting."
His steps were cautious, but his chest thrummed with a strange sense of hope.
A new world.
A new body.
A forbidden skill.
And a direction that felt—finally—like an opportunity.
He walked deeper into the thinning forest, unaware that his journey toward power had already begun.