The building stood like a monolith in the heart of a forgotten city its windows sealed, its walls draped in layers of matte-black alloy that absorbed even moonlight. Within, silence reigned. The only sound came from boots clicking against polished obsidian floors and the occasional whisper behind masked faces.
Inside the central chamber, dozens of figures dressed in black robes and combat gear moved with clinical efficiency. Each one wore a smooth mask, unmarked save for the glowing crimson emblem carved onto the forehead a single curved horn encircled by a ring of shadows.
The Shadow Clan.
Their insignia loomed above them, emblazoned in bloodred across the high stone wall like a banner of death. Beneath its presence, none dared speak without purpose.
A young operative hurried through the main corridor, his breath sharp behind his mask. He approached the inner sanctum a room sealed with layered enchantments and guarded by twin elites whose very presence made lesser members flinch.
"Permission to report," the operative said, kneeling.
The door creaked open, revealing the chamber of the overseer. A circular room surrounded by glowing monitors, each tracking forbidden locations across the continent. At its center stood a man cloaked in black, his face hidden by a porcelain mask, stylized like a yawning void. His presence was suffocating. Not due to power but due to the certainty that everything he did was calculated and cold.
This was Sir Maelven, the one appointed to oversee the clandestine expedition.
"Speak," Maelven said, his voice like silk sliding across a blade.
The operative straightened. "Sir… we've lost all connection with the hunter team inside the dungeon. No vitals. No transmissions. Complete blackout."
There was a pause.
But Maelven did not react with shock. His fingers merely tapped the console in front of him, rhythmically. Calmly. As though he had anticipated this outcome all along.
"They're all dead," he said flatly. "Fitting."
The operative hesitated. "Sir?"
Maelven turned, folding his hands behind his back as he stared at the giant screen now displaying the last known feed static flickering across where once there had been live dungeon footage.
"None of them were meant to return," he said. "If by some miracle they had survived, we would have cleansed them ourselves. The secrecy of this operation cannot be compromised."
The operative gulped but nodded. "Understood."
"Did they complete their objective?"
"Yes, sir. We recovered a full scan of the zone. Including mana flow data, artifact activity logs, and the perimeter locations required to avoid triggering the gate mechanism."
At this, Maelven's posture shifted ever so slightly. His head inclined, interested.
"Good," he murmured. "Then we have what we need."
He walked slowly toward the edge of the room, where a glowing console displayed a 3D rendering of the dungeon structure. His gloved hand moved over the projection, isolating veins of material dark ore that pulsed with living energy.
"This," he said, pointing to the glowing sections, "is the prize. Ethyrium. Dense enough to distort space, strong enough to withstand A-rank attacks. The surface guilds think it's a myth. But we've found it."
The operative dared to ask, "Should we begin extraction?"
Maelven chuckled quietly.
"No. First, I present this to the Clan Elders. With this data, we secure exclusive rights to the mine under Shadow Protocol. Then we begin the real work quietly. Silently. As we always do."
He turned, his masked face unreadable.
"The sacrifice of those hunters was not in vain. Their corpses now feed a greater cause."
He stepped back toward his seat, crossing one leg over the other as he reclined.
"And once our next project is ready…" He paused, eyes narrowing beneath the mask. "The world will understand that the shadows were never beneath them. Only waiting above."
The operative bowed deeply. "Glory to the Clan."
"Glory," Maelven echoed, as the screen flickered, showing the dormant gate once more.
...
Deep within the heart of the dungeon, where light dared not linger and the walls whispered of ancient sins, a presence stirred.
The ground trembled not with rage, but with delight.
Baelgor stood in the center of the silent carnage, surrounded by the lifeless bodies of elite hunters. His tall, monstrous frame radiated an eerie calm. A wide, unnatural smile stretched across his face, exposing rows of jagged teeth. His eyes glowed with twisted amusement, the same way a painter might gaze at a masterpiece in progress.
He knelt slowly, one clawed hand tracing lines across the dungeon floor. Glowing red mana etched into the stone, sizzling as he carved precise shapes. One line. Then two. Then six. Each extended outward like the arms of a ritual circle, connecting at six evenly spaced points around him.
A hexagon no, a summoning star woven with blood and purpose.
With an almost reverent touch, Baelgor began dragging the fallen hunters' bodies, placing one at each point of the hexagon. Their expressions remained frozen in agony eyes wide, mouths gaping, as if death itself had refused to grant them peace.
When he reached Erin's body the loudmouthed, cowardly D-rank who had once believed himself untouchable Baelgor paused.
He looked down at the corpse and chuckled.
"This one… will do nicely."
He lifted Erin's limp form with one hand, the body dangling like a broken puppet. Then, with delicate precision, he placed him at the center of the ritual circle, right where every line converged.
Baelgor stood over the arrangement, spreading his arms wide as crimson energy flowed from his claws. One by one, he drew blood from each of the edge bodies. The thick, glowing liquid snaked across the floor like veins of molten lava, weaving together in a spiraling pattern until they surrounded Erin's corpse in a perfect ring.
The air thickened.
A hum began to rise.
Then Baelgor rose into the air, hovering above Erin's body in a meditative pose. His monstrous tail coiled beneath him like a serpent as he closed his eyes and began to chant an ancient incantation, spoken in a tongue so old that the very stones of the dungeon seemed to shudder in recognition.
"Vhar'ok… ten'shal vakreem… hal-dor'na…"
The circle ignited.
Erin's body began to glow, softly at first… then brighter. His limbs lifted from the ground, floating midair like a puppet without strings. Runes appeared on his skin, glowing red-hot, as if Baelgor was branding his very soul.
And then...
Light exploded.
In a blinding flash, Baelgor's body disintegrated into a swirling storm of black mist and crimson energy. Like a swarm of locusts, it dove into Erin's chest, the corpse convulsing violently as the ritual reached its climax.
The bodies at the edges of the hexagon twitched once… then crumbled to ash. Their energy drained, their essence consumed to fuel the impossible.
For a moment, the dungeon was silent again.
Then,
A gasp.
Erin's eyes shot open.
He lurched upright, sweat coating his skin, his chest rising and falling in deep, ragged breaths. He looked at his trembling hands, turning them over, then curling and flexing his fingers as a grin slowly began to stretch across his face.
He screamed, not in fear, but in euphoria.
"SUCCESS!!"
His voice echoed off the crystal walls, filled with manic delight.
The creature once known as Baelgor had succeeded. He had taken a human vessel merged spirit and soul with a mortal shell. Erin was no more. His body now housed something far, far worse.
Baelgor laughed, running his hands down his arms, marveling at the smooth, vulnerable skin.
"I'm… human now," he whispered in awe, as if tasting the words for the first time. "Weak. Soft. Pathetic."
And yet...
"So full of possibility."
He didn't seem to notice or care that he was completely naked. He flexed again, testing joints, feeling muscles move under skin. Every sensation was new. Alien. Exciting.
Then something caught his eye.
A nearby corpse.
He strolled over, the gait awkward at first this body was still unfamiliar, but he adjusted quickly. Kneeling beside the hunter's body, he picked up the man's head by the chin and tilted it, studying the face with a strange kind of pity.
"Still warm," he mused.
Then, grinning wide again, he leaned in close.
"Hello… human."