The third scream trailed off into a long, hollow echo, splintering into jagged fragments against the stone walls.
Allen didn't look down. He leaned against the rusted iron pillar, his gaze fixed on the semi-transparent system panel. The management interface had automatically popped up the moment Jason tumbled into the abyss, and he hadn't had a chance to examine it closely until now.
Now, he had time.
A bird's-eye map occupied the top-left corner of the panel, clearly displaying the layout of the three rooms: the Entrance Corridor, Room One, Room Two, and Room Three. Three green dots marked the real-time positions of the challengers. Two of them were pacing frantically in Room One—Jason's D-rank lackeys. The third green dot was in the corridor between Room One and Room Two, moving rapidly but stopping sporadically. That was Jason.
To the right was a row of buttons he had never seen before.
[Manager Authority— Activated]
[Available Function List:]
Terrain Editing (Real-time): Adjust corridor width/length/angle.
Lighting Control: Adjust brightness/color temperature/toggle.
Monster Commands: Preset patrol routes/attack priority/formations.
Environmental Effects (Experimental): Power Suppression / Perception Interference / Gravity Calibration.(Warning: Experimental features may produce unpredicted results.)
Allen's finger hovered over the"Terrain Editing" button.
He tapped it.
The map for Room One zoomed in. Twelve skeleton guards were displayed as small red dots, scattered across the corners and along the central path. The two D-rank challengers—labeled"Challenger B" and"Challenger C"—were standing back-to-back in the center of the room, surrounded by four skeletons.
Allen dragged his finger across the map, shortening the corridor.
It wasn't a conceptual change. It was physical—the stone walls ground together, the ceiling lowered slightly, and the passage narrowed. A dull sound of grinding stone echoed from beneath the warehouse floor.
A system prompt flickered:[Terrain editing successful. Corridor length: 8m→ 6m. Note: Real-time terrain editing may be perceived by challengers and could induce panic.]
Allen stared at the phrase"could induce panic."
Sure enough, a shrill, cracking scream rose from below—not from Jason, but from one of the D-rankers.
Allen turned his attention to the first option under the"Environmental Effects" list.
[Power Suppression (Experimental): Suppress the attributes of all challengers within the dungeon to a designated rank limit. Current selectable range: F-rank limit. Warning: This is an experimental feature and will enter a 24-hour cooldown after first use. Activate?]
Allen didn't hesitate.
Jason Collins was a B-rank Warrior. A B-rank's base attributes were roughly eight to ten times those of an F-rank. Twelve F-rank skeleton guards would normally be nothing more than paper dolls to him. Once he regained his composure, he could clear the entire dungeon before he even broke a sweat.
But if his attributes were suppressed to F-rank...
A"B-rank Warrior" with only F-rank strength facing twelve disciplined F-rank skeleton guards would be a very different story.
Allen pressed the activation key.
[Power Suppression activated. Target: All challengers within the dungeon. Suppression Level: F-rank limit. Duration: Until challengers exit or clear the dungeon.]
The effect was instantaneous.
The sounds from below changed. The previous sharp clangs of metal hitting bone—the sound of Jason effortlessly shattering skeletons—morphed into dull thuds of desperate parries, punctuated by heavy, ragged breathing.
On the management panel, Jason's green dot suddenly froze.
Three seconds later, the dot began to retreat.
Deep in the dungeon, in a stone corridor, a B-rank warrior who had just mocked Allen for being"unable to kill a single monster" was being hunted by a pack of F-rank skeletons.
Allen switched to the monster command panel. He spent about thirty seconds studying the options before making his move.
He changed the formation of the eight skeletons in Room One from"Scattered Patrol" to"Wedge Ambush." Four guarded the exit, two hid against the walls by the entrance, and the remaining two acted as bait in the center of the room.
Simultaneously, he cut the lights in the corridor between Room One and Room Two.
Total blackout.
The green dots on the map moved erratically. The two D-rankers' trajectories became chaotic as they fumbled in the dark, bumping into walls. Jason's dot stopped at the entrance of the corridor, motionless.
Allen waited ten seconds. Then, he adjusted the lighting in Room Two to a dim, ominous red—just enough to see the floor, but not enough to see the corners.
There were four skeleton guards in Room Two. Allen redrew their patrol routes: two circled the outer perimeter slowly, while the other two crouched behind the ceiling rafters.
He was a novice at these controls, but the logic wasn't complex—it was essentially like the tower defense games he had played in college. The only difference was that this time, the green dots were real people.
An explosive roar erupted from below.
"I'M B-RANK!"
It was Jason. But unlike the arrogant sneer in the Awakening Hall, this shout was laced with confusion, rage, and a sliver of underlying dread.
"THIS CAN'T BE HAPPENING!"
The sound of a collision followed. The sickening crack of bone—it was unclear if it belonged to a skeleton or a human.
On the panel, Challenger C's green dot suddenly vanished.
[Challenger C has been defeated. Safety Protocol initiated—Challenger has been teleported to the dungeon entrance.]
Allen looked up. The diamond-shaped opening in the warehouse floor flashed blue, and a figure was spat out—one of Jason's D-rank lackeys. He was battered, a gash running from his forehead to his chin, and half of his uniform sleeve was missing. He collapsed on all fours, coughing up bloody phlegm for ten seconds.
Then, he saw Allen standing by the pillar.
"You—"
Allen gave him a slight nod. Not a greeting, just an acknowledgment that he was alive.
A minute and a half later, the second lackey was teleported out. He was in even worse shape—his right arm hung at an unnatural angle, likely dislocated. He didn't even have the strength to cough; he just lay flat on the floor, staring at the ceiling and gasping for air.
Both D-rankers: Defeated.
Allen looked down at the management panel. Only one green dot remained.
Jason Collins.
His dot was in Room Two, moving slowly. He stopped every few seconds—likely engaging the skeletons. After every pause, his dot would retreat a short distance.
Allen switched to the detailed view of Room Two. He could see the status of the skeletons—two out of the four had been destroyed. But Jason's status bar didn't look good either.
Challenger Health: 34%.
A B-rank warrior's physical prowess, when nerfed to F-rank, saw his bone density, explosive power, and reaction speed all shrivel. But his combat experience remained. A B-rank warrior who had cleared dozens of dungeons possessed judgment and technique far beyond a normal F-rank.
Allen didn't interfere further.
It wasn't out of mercy. It was for data collection.
He needed to observe how an"attribute-suppressed but experienced" warrior behaved in an F-rank dungeon—the timing of every dodge, the angle of every strike, the stress response when cornered. This data was worth more than 500 BP.
Clearing Room Two took fourteen minutes.
Room Three went faster—Jason cleared it in nine. He picked off the four skeletons one by one, his movements shifting from panicked to cold and efficient.
Allen watched the last red dot of the skeletons disappear.
[Dungeon Cleared.]
[Challenger: Jason Collins (B-rank Warrior, suppressed to F-rank equivalent)]
[Clear Time: 38m 17s]
[Clear Evaluation: C+]
[Rewards Disbursed...]
A series of new panels appeared before Allen:
[Building Points (BP) Gained:+500]
[Current Total BP: 500]
[Blueprint Shop Unlocked!]
[Dungeon Operational Data Recorded. First Operation Evaluation: C+]
Allen expanded the Blueprint Shop.
The list was long. At the bottom were basic F-rank blueprints: Skeleton Guard (Owned), Ghost Wolf (200 BP), Gargoyle (350 BP). Further up were E-rank, D-rank, C-rank... with the price doubling for every rank.
His eyes skipped the middle tiers and went straight to the very top.
The final row. The font was a searing gold, but it was mostly obscured by a black shadow, revealing only a price tag and a blurred description.
[■■■■■(Sealed)— World-Class Dungeon: Final Judgment]
[Unlock Cost: 100,000,000,000 BP]
[Note: This blueprint is the ultimate creation of the Dungeon Architect System. Details will be revealed after unlocking.]
One hundred billion BP.
Allen currently had five hundred.
He closed the shop without lingering on that number. The gap between five hundred and a hundred billion was too large to have any practical meaning—at least for now.
But he remembered it.
The diamond opening flashed blue once more.
A hand reached out first, gripping the edge of the floor. The knuckles were bloody, the skin torn in several places. Then came the second hand. The arms were shaking—not from cold, but from the tremors of overused muscles.
Jason Collins crawled out of the dungeon.
His blue-and-gold uniform was ruined. The guild vest on his left shoulder was torn open, revealing a shirt soaked in blood. Three parallel gashes—left by a skeleton's finger bones—marred his face. His blonde hair was matted with sweat and blood, clinging to his forehead.
He knelt on the floor, bracing himself with his hands, head hanging low. His breathing was as ragged as an overheating engine.
His two lackeys hurried over to help, but Jason shoved them away.
"Don't touch me."
He stood up on his own. It was slow; his knees buckled twice before he found his balance.
Then he turned and looked at Allen.
Allen was still leaning against the iron pillar, hands in his pockets. The panels had been dismissed. He looked exactly as he had forty minutes ago—a lean, bespectacled, harmless-looking young man.
Jason stared at him.
The way he looked at Allen was entirely different from the Awakening Hall. In the hall, Jason looked down on him—a B-rank looking at a"???", a predator looking at prey.
Not anymore.
Now, there was something in Jason's eyes that Allen recognized. He had seen that same look in news footage three years ago—the look of survivors from an S-rank Dungeon Break being interviewed.
It wasn't hate.
It was a total lack of comprehension.
"What..." Jason's voice was dry, sounding like sandpaper on stone."What the hell was that?"
Allen didn't answer.
He was thinking about something else.
A notification he hadn't had time to read earlier popped back up:
[System Mission Issued]
[Mission Name: Initial Operation Challenge]
[Description: Your first dungeon has been cleared. Current Operation Evaluation: C+. Please raise the evaluation to B-rank within 7 days.]
[Evaluation Criteria: Increase number of challengers, increase dungeon complexity, enrich monster configurations, and overall challenger satisfaction.]
[Reward: A-rank Monster Blueprint x1]
[Failure Penalty: Revocation of Dungeon Creation Authority. System enters Hibernation Mode.]
Allen read the last line twice.
Revocation of Dungeon Creation Authority.
In plain terms—if he didn't reach a B-rank evaluation in seven days, his unique class would effectively be erased. He would return to being the"???" failure everyone mocked.
Permanently.
Seven days. He needed enough adventurers to challenge the dungeon, and it couldn't just be accidental incidents like Jason's. The system wanted"operations"—a sustainable, attractive, and sought-after dungeon.
Jason was still waiting for an answer.
Allen looked at him, covered in blood, and a realization struck him.
A B-rank warrior had just been tortured by an F-rank dungeon for forty minutes. Upon emerging, his first instinct wasn't to run or call the police; it was to stay and ask,"What was that?"
Fear and curiosity coexisted.
That was the magic of the dungeon—every Awakened could not resist the lure of becoming stronger, even if they had just survived a nightmare.
Allen's plan began to take shape. He didn't need seven days. He just needed to get the word out. If a B-rank warrior was thrashed like this in an F-rank dungeon, then the"quality" of this dungeon far exceeded any known F-rank.
The forums would go wild.
Allen pushed off from the pillar and headed toward the warehouse door. As he passed Jason, he stopped for a split second.
"I suggest you see a doctor."
Jason's mouth opened and closed. He had never been spoken to by an"Awakening Failure" in such a tone—not mockery, not provocation, just a flat, sincere suggestion. That flatness drove him crazier than any insult could.
Allen walked out of the warehouse, the iron door rattling behind him.
It was 9:00 PM. Half the streetlights in Brooklyn were out. Allen walked toward his apartment, the system panel hovering silently in the corner of his vision.
500 BP. A seven-day deadline. A dungeon with only three rooms.
And a small tip he had just noticed at the bottom of the Blueprint Shop:
[New Blueprints Available: Ghost Wolf (200 BP), Gargoyle (350 BP). Room Expansion Pack (Up to 10 rooms): 300 BP. Mini-Boss Blueprint: Shadow Knight (500 BP). Hint: Expansion and new monsters will significantly boost evaluation.]
500 BP. The Shadow Knight blueprint was exactly 500 BP.
But if he bought the Boss blueprint, he would have no balance left to expand the rooms or add other monsters. A three-room dungeon with a mini-boss would be structurally poor—challengers would hit the boss before they were warmed up. The experience would be bad, and the evaluation would suffer.
Allen needed more BP.
More BP meant more challengers.
More challengers meant... he needed to open for business.
Allen pulled out his phone and logged into"DeepRift," an Awakened forum on the dark web he had frequented for six months but never posted on. He used an anonymous handle and drafted a post, his fingers hovering over the screen, typing and deleting repeatedly.
The final version was only three lines.
He hit post, locked his phone, and turned into the side entrance of his apartment building.
Meanwhile.
In Manhattan, at the New York branch of the Global Warrior Administration (GWA), three floors underground in the Monitoring Center.
A massive curved screen displayed a real-time heat map of dungeons across the city's five boroughs. Each dot represented a registered dungeon: Blue for F-rank, Green for E, Yellow for D, all the way up to the rare Red S-ranks.
Tonight, a new dot appeared on the Brooklyn map.
It was flickering.
It wasn't the stable glow of a registered dungeon—it was an irregular, pulsing flash, alternating between blue and a deep, ghostly hue that wasn't preset in the monitoring system.
A man in a black suit stood before the screen. He was tall and lean, his dark hair graying at the temples and combed back neatly. Every button on his shirt was done up. He stood perfectly straight, hands behind his back, like a statue.
Robert Chen stared at the flickering dot for two full minutes.
A technician behind him typed furiously, pulling up detailed data.
"Mr. Chen, this signal first appeared three hours ago. Coordinates are in Red Hook, Brooklyn, beneath a derelict warehouse. We've cross-referenced it with all known dungeon energy signatures—"
"It doesn't match."
The technician blinked."How did you—"
"If it matched, the system would have categorized it automatically instead of marking it as an anomaly." Robert spoke slowly, with precise intervals between words."Pull up the core energy signature of this signal."
A set of waveforms was projected onto the screen.
Robert stepped closer.
Natural dungeons have a core signature of"Rift Energy"—a chaotic, uniform pattern born from the Great Fracture. Every known dungeon, regardless of rank, belonged to this same"family" of signatures.
The waveform on the screen belonged to no known family.
Its structure was... regular. Precise. It lacked the chaotic, frayed edges of natural dungeons. Every peak and valley looked as if it had been measured with a ruler.
Robert reached out and tapped a specific peak on the chart.
"This energy signature..."
His voice was calm, but held a strange weight.
"...it's artificial."
The technician turned to look at him.
Robert didn't look back. He stared at the ghostly blue dot flickering over Brooklyn, his finger tapping the screen's frame twice.
"Pull the records of today's Awakening ceremony in New York. Highlight every anomalous result."
"Anomalous? At what level?"
"All levels."
Robert turned and walked toward the exit, stopping at the threshold.
"Especially those... that the system couldn't even read."
The door slid shut.
In the monitoring room, the dot over Brooklyn continued to pulse.