Graphic Content Warning
The following chapter contains graphic content. Reader discretion is advised.
Dungeons were supposed to grow like the Tower of the Third Realm, spreading their corrupt roots through the world's flesh. But their growth had been paused centuries ago when the First Demon King forged a monstrous artifact - a vampiric device that siphoned every wisp of demonic energy fueling their expansion.
He'd redirected that stolen power into his own tower - the infamous Tower of the Third Realm. People had thanked him at first... until they realized the cost. Now only his tower spawned monsters, each horror ten times more vicious than nature intended. A brilliant, sadistic solution - starve all dungeons to feed one transcendent nightmare.
I adjusted my "gear" - if one could call it that. A dagger bought for thirty lumins that I bargained with a foolish merchant, and a leather armor handed out by Guard Kreig. it's only been a week and two days but he's now treating me like a brother, soon that naivety will most likely be a reason of his death. The dagger's edge could barely cut butter, and the armor smelled like a dead man's boots. Perfect. If I was going to die in some dungeon, at least I'd do it looking like a clown.
The team waited at the gate. Four of us total: Mord the over muscled leader, and his two harem girls - Sasha with her permanent sneer, and Lisa who stared like a doll with glass eyes. None had objected when Mord accepted me as their offensive mage.
That... bothered me.
Either they were morons who judged books by their malnourished covers, or they had ulterior motives.
I prayed for the latter.
"I apologize for not arriving early," I said, oozing false remorse. "I'm terribly sorry."
"No worries!" Mord clapped my shoulder hard enough to rattle teeth. "Happens to everyone!"
"You should've been here before us," Sasha snapped. "Now you've wasted our time."
Ah, the classic good-cop-bad-cop routine. Were they trying to ease my suspicions, or was she genuinely this bitchy? Either way, I'd play along - for now.
"Sasha!" Mord feigned shock. "This is our first recruit! Aizo, forgive her - we had a... disagreement earlier."
"Of course," I said, matching his fake sincerity. If this oaf was deceiving me, he deserved an Oscar.
Sasha hmphed, arms crossed, but I caught the smirk she couldn't quite suppress. Lisa just watched, silent as a grave.
"Shall we?" Mord gestured toward the dungeon.
The plan was laughably simple. We'd explore a failed dungeon, retrieve some dead idiot's belongings, and slay its boss - the creatively named "Worried Boar." Standard tactics: Mord aura user with the class of knight would frontline, I'd provide ranged spells, Sasha would buff us, and Lisa...
"Lisa has a Divine Ability," Mord announced proudly. "B-grade aptitude. She'll heal from the rear."
I nearly choked.
Divine Ability? In my novel, that power didn't appear until Chapter 85, which I didn't wrote. It was introduced by the Holy Sacral Empire's pope. Not some random girl in a backwater dungeon squad.
Had my presence already altered the timeline? Or had I simply forgotten this detail? No matter. Chaos was my favorite seasoning.
The dungeon entrance yawned before us - a jagged mouth lined with glowing crystals. The air smelled sickly sweet, like candy left to rot in a corpse's pocket. Four minutes in, we encountered our first enemies.
Corrupted goblins.
Where normal goblins were merely ugly, these were masterpieces of disgust - maroon skin stretched over distended frames, faces wrinkled like week-old fruit, claws blackened with what I hoped was filth and not poison. Each stood nearly human height, muscles twitching with unnatural energy.
Mord charged without hesitation. I hung back, lobbing fireballs at stragglers while Sasha's buffs settled over me - lighter limbs, sharper focus. Lisa stood ready, hands raised like some saintly statue.
Mord was an excellent fighter - the kind of warrior who made violence look like poetry in motion. Not only did he possess a B-grade aptitude, but his technique with the short sword spoke of countless hours spent drilling forms until they became instinct. Every parry flowed seamlessly into counterattacks, his footwork maintaining perfect balance even on the uneven cave floor. But for all his skill, he could only handle four at a time. A fifth opponent would overwhelm his defenses, leaving openings that even these mindless creatures could exploit. Fortunately, the dungeon pathway worked in our favor, its narrow confines only allowing three corrupted goblins to engage simultaneously.
A quick assessment revealed about six more lurking at the back, their maroon skin glistening with unnatural moisture in the crystal light. Mord fought with relentless vigor, his movements creating a macabre rhythm as goblin screeches echoed through the cave. In one fluid motion, he jumped behind a distracted goblin and brought his sword down in a diagonal arc, slicing its head cleanly in half. Dark red blood fountained everywhere, splattering across the crystalline walls like some grotesque mural. Without pausing, he pivoted on his lead foot and sliced another one from shoulder to hip with a full swing.
Thud.
The bisected corpse separated in two unequal ways, its steaming organs spilling onto the stone floor with wet, slapping sounds. Coils of intestine unraveled like grotesque party streamers, while the stench of ruptured bowels mixed with the dungeon's cloying sweetness. Honestly, it was the first time I'd seen such a real, brutal scene. It didn't shock me - if anything, it made my heart flutter with something disturbingly close to admiration.
Not content with mere butchery, Mord then threw his short sword with practiced precision, skewering another goblin through the stomach. The creature staggered back, clawing at the protruding blade as blackish blood bubbled from its mouth. With a predator's grace, Mord closed the distance, took hold of the embedded weapon, and used his momentum to leap back toward us, yanking the blade free in a spray of gore that painted his armor crimson.
"Aizo!" Mord called. "I'll leave three for you. Wouldn't want to hog all the fun!"
"You could take them all," I said. "But if you insist..."
Finally - a chance to test this frail body's limits.
"Wait!" Mord shouted as I surged forward. "You're not built for close-"
I tuned him out. Where was the fun in playing safe?
The first goblin slashed. I slid between its legs like a rat through sewage, springing up to drive my dagger through its skull. The blade punched through bone with a crunch I felt in my teeth. When it stuck, I hammered the hilt with my palm until steel erupted from the other side in a shower of brain matter.
Oho! that was exquisite.
Blood dripped from my chin as I wrenched the dagger free. The next goblin met a fireball to the jaw - its lower face vaporized in a spray of bone fragments and roasted meat. The stench was glorious - like barbecue at a slaughterhouse.
Then came my masterpiece.
I wrenched a crystal from the wall, whispered a spell, and hurled it. The enchanted shard detonated against a goblin's forehead, the concussive force hurling its neighbor straight at me. I caught the flailing creature midair, plunging my dagger through its gaping maw until the tip burst from the back of its skull.
For a beautiful moment, the goblin hung impaled on my arm twitching, like some grotesque puppet. I admired my handiwork before shaking it loose with a wet schlick.
"How was I?" I asked, wiping gore from my face.
The team stared. Mord's jaw hung slack. Sasha's lips moved soundlessly. Even Lisa's doll-like eyes had widened.
"How..." Sasha finally managed. "How can he...?"
I grinned, licking blood from my teeth. Let them wonder. Let them fear.
The game was just beginning.