Battles waited further in the descent. Every tenth floor brought a new trial, another enemy greater than the last. A pattern formed. Fight, watch, fall, wake. Each time he opened his eyes, his instincts grew sharper. Each win pushed him forward, step by step, floor by floor.
By the time Rage, Vaelith and the maids reached the eightieth floor, only six maids were left.
The chamber was wide, its high ceiling hidden in shadow. Jagged pillars stood at uneven angles, wrapped in thick silk that pulsed faintly in the dim light. Bones covered the ground. Some were old and dry, others still clung to bits of flesh.
Among the remains, pieces of armor shone. Not just any armor.
Rage looked over the wreckage. The marks of the Ebonwake Shroud were there, stained with dried, old blood. Plates were bent and torn. Rank signs lay dull under dust. Officers. Soldiers. Dozens of them.
Something moved behind the pillars. A shape unfolded from the dark, long limbs pulling free, joints clicking in rhythm. Mandibles snapped as many eyes gleamed in the low light, all fixed on them.
[SYSTEM] Brood Queen Lv.92
[SYSTEM] class : Tyrant Beast
[SYSTEM] Hostile
Rage tightened his grip, his jaw set as the creature pulled itself into view.
A calm voice cut through the tension.
Vaelith stood behind him. A slow smile curved her lips as she looked over the scene.
"This, dear one, is the test for those who would command my legions," she said. Her tone was smooth and grand. "The Bane of Generals. The trial that decides who may rise above the rank of soldier."
Her eyes moved over the broken armor and the remains of the fallen.
"A few endured long enough to earn the title of general, but none have ever gone beyond it."
Her crimson lips curved again as she stepped closer. "Survive this floor," she said, "and you will stand among my generals."
The Brood Queen stirred. Its many eyes caught the torchlight, silk-wrapped bodies hanging above as the air filled with the smell of decay.
Vaelith's eyes stayed on the creature.
"So tell me, dear one," she said, tilting her head slightly. "Will you claim your place, or join the collection?"
Rage's hands tightened around his weapons. His eyes moved to the six maids. The pattern troubled him. The blackouts. The missing attendants. Something was wrong, though he could not yet tell what.
As always, the maids moved with quiet skill. They spread the cloth, set the porcelain, and made sure Vaelith was comfortable before the fight began. She sat, lifting her cup with calm ease, watching as if it were only another evening's amusement.
Rage activated Null Veil and shot forward, the weight of countless battles dragging at his limbs. His body remembered every move, every stumble, every fall. The rests and blackouts were not enough. His strength was fading.
No wasted movements. No long fights.
He had chosen not to use Eclipse Convergence. The delay was too long, too risky.
He stopped in front of the Brood Queen. One clean strike, then another.
The Brood Queen reared back, its hard limbs scraping against the cavern walls. Rage stayed focused, every step measured and exact.
No mistakes.
Rage moved, and something clicked.
His body wasn't just reacting. It was remembering. A pattern. A discipline. Something carved deeper with each floor. He had begun this descent relying on raw instinct, dodging with wide rolls and striking with too much force. But now his movements were precise, shaped by repetition, by failure, by survival.
Every step and every dodge had been refined to its simplest, most efficient form. He no longer stumbled between attacks or lost time recovering from heavy swings. His footwork was tighter, his grip adjusted mid-motion, his movements exact.
Now, facing the Brood Queen, he was not just avoiding its strikes. He was moving through the edge of death itself, as if he had already fought this battle a hundred times before.
The Brood Queen struck, its limbs were cutting through the air, but he moved only slightly. A step to the side, a lean of his torso, each attack grazing past by inches. No hit landed.
Some strikes came too close. He met those with his dagger, angling the blade to deflect rather than block. Minimal effort. Minimal resistance. His breath stayed even, his steps light.
Null Veil was still active, but he did not push it to the limit. He did not need to.
Every strike from the Brood Queen met only air or stone.
He froze for a fraction of a second, a sudden awareness sharpened his senses. The calm, effortless ease he felt under relentless attacks was not new. His movements were already like in his previous fights. Every step adjusted instinctively, every motion flowed between strikes without pause.
In his effort to conserve energy, he realized something. His body had been copying Genma's movements all along, unconsciously, as if it had learned the rhythm long ago.
Every step, every slight shift followed the same principle. No wasted effort, no unnecessary reactions. Not from conscious choice, but from necessity. Survival had forced him to adapt, and his body had remembered.
He wasn't fighting harder. He was fighting smarter.
But then, a feint.
The Brood Queen lowered its stance, limbs coiling as if ready to strike. Rage shifted, anticipating the attack.
Then a sudden spray of toxic liquid shot from its mandibles, soaking him before he could fully react.
Rage's body burned, his skin was seared where the toxin clung. His limbs weakened, strength drained too fast to fight back. His vision blurred as he hit the ground.
The Brood Queen, seeing him fall, withdrew, returning to its initial position.
Soft hands gripped him. One of the maids pulled his body toward Vaelith's side, but this time, he remained aware. His breathing was ragged, his body was unresponsive.
The maids moved around him. One stepped forward. Without hesitation, she took a blade, pressed it to her chest, and drove it in.
Then she leaned down, her lips meeting his.
Something warm and unfamiliar passed over him. He could not react, could not move. The sensation flowed through him, distant but undeniable.
The maid slumped, her body went limp as another took her place, dragging her silently toward the exit.
The others worked without pause. Quiet, methodical. They removed the toxin-soaked clothing, cleaned his skin with practiced care, and dressed him in fresh garments.
He let himself rest.
Darkness took over.
***
Rage's eyes flickered open.
Vaelith's lap. Again.
His body tensed as the memories returned. The toxin. The maid. The ritual.
He pushed himself upright, movements sharp and deliberate. "What the hell was that?" His voice was raw. "They just, she just," he exhaled, jaw tightening, "what did they do to me?"
"They did what was necessary."
"Necessary? One of them just killed herself, and you're acting like it's nothing."
"Not nothing," she corrected smoothly. "An offering. A cycle of exchange. And now... you stand, whole once more."
"You call that an offering? I didn't ask for this."
"And yet, here you are. Would you have rather stayed dead?"
"Nah. I'm out."
Then she leaned forward. "Tell me, dear one, is your outrage for her... or for yourself?"
"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"
"You already know. What you are. What those before you were."
Rage's jaw tightened.
"All the same," she continued, eyes half-lidded. "Dropped into a world beyond their understanding, reckless, careless, treating it like the games they once played."
"And you know this how?"
"I have existed across countless generations, I have seen them all rise, fall, and fade into memory."
She tilted her head slightly watching him.
"But this time," she mused, almost to herself, "I think I shall take part in the cycle."
"Fine. Since they're your 'insurance' and 'investments,' I'll play along."
"Oh, boy. Look how quickly you change your mind."
His gaze moved to the maids. They stood quietly, their faces were calm, composed, unshaken. Yet when their eyes met his, they smiled, gentle, steady, as if nothing had happened.
The feeling pressed down on him.
He swallowed his unease and forced out a breath.
"But do me a favor, don't sacrifice any more of my bunny girls."
He looked at Vaelith. "I'd rather see them serving me omurice with heart-shaped ketchup than throwing themselves into some ritual for my sake."
Vaelith said nothing.
She only smiled, lifting her cup and taking another slow sip of tea.
Rage activated Null Veil and moved the moment the system engaged. The Brood Queen's movements were no longer unpredictable. Its patterns, its feints, even the surprise toxin spray were all committed to memory.
Blow after blow, every step was deliberate. Small, efficient motions, never more than necessary. When the toxin struck again, he shifted out of range, watching the acidic liquid hit the cavern floor uselessly.
The fight played out in cycles. He struck, withdrew, struck again. Each hit leaving cracks along the creature's legs. After a few more exchanges, the damage became clear. The Brood Queen's movements slowed, its footing uncertain.
Then an opening appeared.
Rage surged forward, slipping past its defenses, weaving through its towering limbs in a fluid sprint. He pushed off the ground, planted a foot against the chitinous surface, and vaulted upward, closing the distance to its torso.
Then he saw it.
The humanlike form embedded above, features twisted and fused into the creature's grotesque body. A final weak spot.
His grip tightened.
A clean strike, his blade driving deep.
He placed his hand on its upper back.
He injected streams of damaging codes, then activated Eclipse Convergence.
The Brood Queen convulsed, its limbs seized as deep fractures spread from the point of contact, jagged veins crawled across its body. Its chitin split with sickening cracks, ruptures formed beneath the surface. Then silence fell.
The creature collapsed.
Vaelith set her cup down.
"You have earned your place," she declared. "From this moment, you stand as one of my generals."
"Not me. The ones who sacrificed deserve that title."
"You're too modest for an otherworlder."
"I mean, don't you have healers or healing magic?"
"What do you think?"
"Isn't that a common thing?"
"The faster they became useful, the faster they were targeted in battles. It became an almost forgotten art."
"What do you mean?"
"Reserve that question for some other time."
His eyes scanned the remnants before returning to Vaelith. "Alright, what's next?"
For the first time, her smile changed. No longer the usual knowing amusement, but something else. A silent acknowledgment. A rare moment of regard.
The descent continued.
On the ninetieth floor, a towering figure waited
[SYSTEM] Minotaur Warlord Lv.95
[SYSTEM] class : Berserker
[SYSTEM] Hostile
Rage exhaled as he studied the towering figure ahead. Thick muscle, jagged scars, a massive greataxe gripped in its hands.
"You came too late for Rabbit Foot," he muttered.
He activated Null Veil.
He sheathed his dagger and adjusted his stance, holding his curved sword tightly, prepared for the attack.
"Kakatte koi," he muttered, tightening his grip.
The Minotaur bellowed. Its hooves cracked the stone as it charged.
Rage stepped aside at the last second. The axe slammed into the ground. Dust and debris kicked up on impact. The wild follow-up swing came instantly. He deflected it, redirecting the force just enough to slip past.
His eyes narrowed. "That could've cost me another bunny maid."
A sharp turn. A clean thrust. His blade drove into the Minotaur's lower back, twisting deep. The beast staggered. Its movements faltered.
Rage reached out. His palm pressed firmly against its massive frame. Target locked.
He activated eclipse convergence.
The next breath, no longer moving.
Rage stood over the fallen Minotaur. His breath was steady.
He pressed forward.
The next floors fell swiftly. The enemies were stronger, but it did not matter. He had refined every movement. He had burned every lesson into muscle memory. Each battle ended the same. Calculated strikes. No wasted motion. A precise rhythm of attack and execution. By the time he reached the 99th, it was nothing more than another step forward.
Then the final gate rose.
One-hundredth floor.
[SYSTEM] Godfrey the Vampire Lord Lv.???
[SYSTEM] Class: Archsanguine
[SYSTEM] Hostile
Rage exhaled, steadying his grip. He had fought his way through everything this place had thrown at him. Another enemy. Another battle. Nothing changed.
Yet Vaelith had.
For the first time, she did not smile.
Her poise remained. Her elegance unshaken. But something had shifted.
A stillness. A hesitation.
Not amusement.
Fear.
A voice echoed through the chamber, low and rich with age. "You disturbed my slumber... a thousand years undone in a single moment."
The air grew heavy, thick with something ancient. From the darkness beyond the gate, movement stirred.
Then the voice turned, amusement laced within its tone. "And you, Vaelith." A pause. "My daughter."
Rage's eyes flicked toward her, but she did not move.
The figure stepped forward, red eyes gleaming through the shadows. "Is this the champion you've brought to challenge me?"
Laughter followed, deep, knowing, utterly unconcerned.
Rage's grip tightened around his weapons. His stance shifted. Every instinct screamed that this was different.
But it did not matter. He had made it this far.
He activated Null Veil.
The Vampire Lord's laughter faded, replaced by a quiet, deliberate tone. "Let's see if he can last."
Rage braced himself as the Vampire Lord moved, faster than anything before. A blur of motion, appearing to strike his throat in an instant.
He barely caught it. His body reacted before his mind could process, twisting away just enough for the attack to graze past.
But the Vampire Lord did not relent.
A clawed hand followed immediately, swiping toward his ribs. Rage leaned back, narrowly avoiding the strike, but before he could counter, a second hand came from below, catching his arm and nearly tearing through the fabric of his sleeve.
He jerked away, but the force still sent a dull ache shooting through his muscles.
Rage exhaled, steadying himself. Too fast. He needed to.
The next strike came before the thought finished, a diagonal slash aimed at his torso. He caught it on the edge of his curved sword, redirecting the force just enough to let it slide past, but the Vampire Lord's other hand was already moving, spinning into a backhanded strike that clipped his jaw.
A flash of pain. His vision tilted for half a second.
He staggered, feet scraping against the stone floor, but he could not stop. The moment he slowed, he would be overrun.
Rage forced his body to move, forcing himself forward instead of reeling back. He met the next attack head-on, blade clashing against claws, redirecting, countering, slipping past another strike.
A rhythm formed, a brutal, punishing exchange of speed against precision.
Then a wild kick struck his side.
The impact sent him flying, his body twisting midair before crashing hard against the stone. His breath hitched, sharp pain through his ribs.
The moment he hit the ground, another strike followed, fast and precise, aiming for his nape.
His dagger snapped up just in time, steel met claws. The force behind it still sent him skidding back, boots scraping against the stone as he struggled to regain his footing.
Then he felt it.
Something warm trickled down his torso. A sharp, searing pain bloomed in his chest. His breath hitched as his fingers brushed over it, a hole torn clean through.
He never saw the attack.
His vision wavered for a moment, his body was screaming to collapse. But he refused. His legs locked in place. His grip tightened. He could still move. He could still fight.
Through gritted teeth, he muttered, "No more maids being sacrificed. It's either I win... or I stay dead."
Rage exhaled and closed his eyes.
Then an idea.
"What if I try it? Will it work? Will the process continue?"
Only one way to find out.
The Vampire Lord scoffed. "Do not insult me, mortal. I have lived long enough not to be defeated by a mere human."
It rushed forward.
It lunged.
Rage injected codes to modify the dagger and activated Dead Circuit.
They clashed, blade me claws. The dagger slipped from his grasp, arcing upward through the air.
He was thrown back.
When he landed, the Vampire Lord stood where Rage had been.
Rage assumed the transformation would keep going as long as he continued the input and the ability had activated.
And it worked.
By the time it began its descent, it was no longer a dagger.
It was a heavy longsword.
Now, with gravity pulling it back down, the moment aligned perfectly.
The sword struck the top of the head, slicing deep. The force drove the Vampire Lord downward, its own momentum turning the impact into devastation. The tip of the blade tore through, piercing down to the jawline.
Disabled.
Rage did not hesitate. He surged forward.
His grip tightened against the Vampire Lord's face.
"This is way worse than a wooden stake," he muttered.
He injected codes and activated Eclipse Convergence.
The Vampire Lord's body seized, locked in place as the ability took effect.
Its lips curled into something between pain and amusement. Then its gaze shifted past Rage, toward Vaelith.
"So... you have chosen."
Cracks formed along its body, spreading like fractured glass. The Vampire Lord exhaled one last breath before its form withered, breaking apart into ashen fragments.
In the next moment, it was gone.
[SYSTEM] Corruption Level : 25%
[SYSTEM] Unlocked Ability : Eclipse Requiem
[SYSTEM] Description : Enables Modification of Loyal Targets.
[SYSTEM] Activation : Physical Contact, User Input.
Now that the fight was over, his vision blurred.
Rage remembered the hole in his chest. He had been fighting with it the whole time.
He had died countless times in the tower, but Phantom Kernel Panic had never activated, not even now. Maybe it was controlled by something powerful. Or had he never truly been dead? Perhaps the sacrifices had taken place before the ability could even trigger.
But one thing was for sure.
He had been losing blood for quite a while now.
He felt numb.
Pain and exhaustion hit him fully.
"Donuts," he gasped.
He collapsed.
Then darkness.
[SYSTEM] Queen Vaelith : Loyalty 82%
[SYSTEM] Corruption : 25.0%