He raised a hand and gently brushed his chest—where the primordial flame still burned fiercely, as if replacing his soul.
The last time this skill was used... was millions of years ago.
He had experimented with hundreds of species. Tyrannosaurus rex, ancient sharks, giant sea scorpions... all of them burned, screamed, then were consumed by the eternal fire within him.
Over time, the accumulated number surpassed imagination. The land, the sky, and even the oceans—every creature that had ever breathed, roared, or struggled... had once stood before him and been judged.
He was not a warrior.
He was not a lord.
He was an "ancient law" — the absolute.
The king of the prehistoric era.
The one who stood at the very top of the food chain.
But... it did not bring him joy.
He slowly looked down at his feet, where the Spinosaurus had vanished.
The two subordinates who called themselves Dragon Wing Guardians of Vagador still lay flattened beneath. Whether due to grievous wounds or terror that drained their will, they seemed to have chosen not to open their eyes again.
Vagador stood up, his eyes fixed on the bizarre creature before him. He had seen many strange things, but this... this was beyond imagination. A strange sense of unease stirred inside him. His voice lowered, tinged with his usual majesty and a trace of undisguisable caution.
"Who are you? Which side are you on?"
The bare skull—no flesh, no blood, no eyes—a raw white cranium as if freshly unearthed from the ground, slowly tilted upward. An unnerving slowness, as if even time itself halted in its presence.
"Me?" An eerie silence blanketed everything.
"Call me... Primitive Wake... and..."
He raised his head high, casting his soulless gaze toward the dimly glowing crimson sky.
"I am the one who lived... before the concept of 'sides' even existed."
He—the ancient being who once ruled the era of chaos—now bore a name he gave himself before he decided to live among humans. Primitive—the primordial, and Wake—the awakening. A name that seemed arbitrary, yet came to define an entire era.
The air around them seemed to be sucked dry, forming an invisible pressure that weighed heavily on their chests. Their throats turned dry, burning, as if inhaling ash. Not just because of the terrifying implications of his words, but because of his very voice.
That voice... no one knew how to describe it.
It transcended all definition of language. It didn't come from a throat, nor did it carry the tone of any living being. It was like a whisper leaking from the cracks of the void, echoing from another dimension. A bass so deep it made listeners' spines tremble, like hearing an ancient burial bell from the depths of an abyss.
"Then... what is your purpose here?"
Vagador growled, fists clenched so tightly his knuckles turned white. He held back the chill crawling down his spine.
Wake did not answer. His dark, hollow eyes passed over Vagador and settled on a swamp creature trembling, hiding among the crowd of monsters. He stepped forward, Dolly still slumped lifelessly over his shoulder like a grotesque ornament.
No one dared block his path. Even Vagador, the self-proclaimed king of this domain, did not move. A ghostly vacuum radiated from around the swamp creature, as if Wake was dragging a whole realm of death in his wake.
The swamp creature cowered.
It didn't understand what was happening.
It wanted to run, but its body felt petrified—or rather, melting, like frozen mud simultaneously thawing and dissolving. No monster dared come near. Each instinctively stepped back, wide-eyed, mouths open but not breathing, yielding the path to "that thing" advancing.
When Wake stood before it, the once-weak swamp being was reduced to a trembling pile of mud.
"You remember me, don't you?" Wake's voice echoed in the stillness, each word carrying terrifying weight.
"N-no...! I've never met you before!" the swamp creature stammered, its voice broken by fear.
"Really?" Wake tilted his head—a simple gesture, yet disturbingly eerie. He stood like a lighthouse in a sea of death, guiding lost souls not to safety, but into Hell.
"I said I was the Monster King. And I said... I would return."
"S-Shadow...?"
Utter horror exploded in the swamp creature's eyes, turning them into two thick pools of mud. Its mind tangled in confusion, reducing it to a senseless blob of sludge, mouth agape, incapable of uttering a coherent word.
Suddenly, the plaza trembled with searing heat. Fire D'gon, standing not far from Gerald, released a suffocating wave of blazing energy. His massive body covered in dark crimson scales like crystallizing magma, with glowing veins pulsing beneath burning skin. His eyes burned with fire, rage directed solely at Wake.
"Who do you think you are... to turn your back on my master?"
A dry roar, like a volcano erupting, burst from him.
Wake still stood there, turned slightly away. His eyes looked into some undefined space, as if listening to distant, ancient music. He did not respond, nor did he turn. His indifference was more infuriating than a direct insult.
Fire D'gon squinted, veins bulging along his neck with suppressed fury. His voice roared, shaking even the weak-hearted:
"Wake! Or whatever cursed name you carry... that attitude is a blatant insult!"
"You mock Valador—my King, King of the deepest layer!"
An overwhelming pressure descended instantly, fire erupting around Fire D'gon like a dragon descending from within. A horn jutted from his temple, wings aflame behind him as if to incinerate the very air.
"I am Fire D'gon—Dragon Wing Guardian of the throne!"
"My lord Vagador's honor is my blood and bone. If you do not kneel... then spill your blood to cleanse this insult!"
Wake remained silent. But his gaze shifted from the swamp creature to Fire D'gon.
That gaze was terrifyingly strange. There was no contempt, no anger, not even evaluation. Just an endless void, as if looking through Fire D'gon—as if he never existed. It wasn't disdain, but absolute indifference.
That made Fire D'gon even more furious.
"I! Challenge you in the name of the Dungeon King!"
His roar echoed throughout the area, cracking the plaza below.
"[Infernal Spiral—Heart-Piercing Flame Pillar]!"
A spear materialized in his hand from nothing. Flames twisted into a column, coiling like a fire dragon ready to launch skyward. The ground beneath his feet melted, the air around the spear igniting as if to scorch the entire plaza.
"If you win, I'll shut up. But if you lose..."
"...You will kneel, bow, and declare your identity before His Majesty."
Behind, Vagador remained still. He didn't stop it. He merely curled his lips into a cold smile, then said softly:
"Very well, Fire D'gon. Show me... what that thing truly is."
He stepped back, arms crossed. His gaze cold, like a scientist examining a curious experiment.
Wake began to move.
He walked past Gerald, gently setting Dolly down as if handing over a fragile item, then coldly said:
"Watch over the 'storage' for me. If anything happens to it..."
That sentence carried absolute trust—and deep implication.
"Storage"? Just what was so important?
Wake took light steps toward Fire D'gon. Each step seemed to fuel the raging fire in Fire D'gon's heart.
Before the skull-headed undead figure drew near, Fire D'gon hurled his blazing spear. Countless flames spiraled together, forming a dense pillar. The air exploded in a chain of detonations. Molten stone splattered like rain, the ground split open, red cracks spreading like a spider web.
The pillar of fire completely swallowed Wake.
The entire plaza held its breath. No one was sure if Wake could survive such an attack. Even the other Dragon Wing Guardians—Storm D'gon and Earth D'gon, still lying motionless—cracked open their eyes to watch the outcome.
One second.
Two seconds.
Three...
Everyone held their breath.
The flames began to fade, the heat slowly dispersing.
And there stood Wake.
A thin mist passed over his body like immutable obsidian amidst a volcanic eruption. Not a single burn, not the slightest injury.
Fire D'gon widened his eyes, unable to believe what he saw. He had poured all his power into that strike, and yet...
Vagador raised an eyebrow.
The silence, like quiet contempt, was a slap to Fire D'gon's face.
No one spoke.
Even the other Guardians, beings whose authority made thousands bow, remained eerily quiet. They didn't understand... what was this creature? Why didn't it defend, dodge, or chant any spell... and yet Fire D'gon's destructive magic flame was no more harmful than the warmth of a stove?
Fire D'gon gritted his teeth, once again summoning a second blazing spear.
Not a single unnecessary word was spoken. He knew that words were meaningless at this point.
This time, he charged straight in, accompanied by a shrill roar full of murderous intent. He launched himself like a wild beast, bereft of reason, like a kamikaze soldier in a world war clutching a bomb, rushing to destroy a tank.
At the exact moment Fire D'gon lunged forward with his flaming spear, Wake tilted his body slightly to one side, dodging the attack with an almost insulting simplicity. It wasn't a refined technique, but rather an instinctive reaction, as if he were avoiding a fly buzzing near his ear.
The lunge missed. Fire D'gon lost his momentum and staggered forward.
That was when Fire D'gon realized—his head was caught.
No one saw when Wake made his move. They only saw his arm already extended, those fossil-like fingers gripping the flaming skull tightly.
"You...!!!"
Fire D'gon roared, his entire body igniting fiercely. The magical flames tried to scorch the hand that held him, but to no avail.
Still, there was no burn, not even a single scorch mark. Wake's hand was cold and unwavering, as if made from some indestructible material.
Then...
BOOM!!!
A crushing slam to the ground. The Dragon Wing Guardian – Fire D'gon – was smashed headfirst into the stone plaza like a tattered sack of scrap. The sound of breaking bones echoed through the silence, mingling with the creak of shattered stone as the ground cracked beneath him, spiderwebbing into the engraved patterns below.
Every grotesque creature and monster gathered there stood frozen. No sound, no breath dared escape. They trembled slightly, as if horrified by the brutal power just displayed.
But Wake wasn't done yet.
He pulled Fire D'gon up again like a bag of wet dirt, his rough hand clutching the creature's throat, choking off any plea or resistance. His eyes remained hollow, as if he were performing a mundane task rather than taking a life.
"Don't scream in my face again."
Wake spoke, his voice low and grating like stone grinding against metal, devoid of emotion. Even these words carried no threat—merely a reminder.
Then he gave a light kick.
CRACK!!
No fury, no hatred. Just a kick landing squarely in the gut. The fire-armored belly of Fire D'gon shattered like cracked porcelain, burning dragon scales scattering like dying fireworks.
He was flung away like a stone struck by a hammer, spinning through the air before crashing down at Vagador's feet. The magical fire surrounding him vanished, revealing a mangled form. His breath came in weak gasps, flickering like a candle in the wind.
The atmosphere after Fire D'gon's destruction was oppressively silent. Every being present seemed frozen in amber, unable to believe what they had just witnessed.
Vagador's eyes no longer held their usual leisure and contempt. In those radiant golden eyes with their vertical slits was astonishment—and a trace of doubt. No one... ever before had dared lay a hand on his Dragon Wing Guardians, the ones he had empowered, the extensions of his will. Yet this creature from nowhere had the audacity to trample on his pride in the very domain he ruled.
"May I ask..." Vagador spoke, his voice deep and echoing like stone winds sweeping across towering peaks, shattering the silence: "Where do you come from, and for what reason do you dare violate the laws of my domain?"
It was a question. It was also a command. And a final ultimatum.
Wake didn't answer immediately. He simply inclined his head slightly, his demeanor calm to the point of terror, as if the question meant nothing to him.
"...Laws?" he repeated, his voice deep like sand shifting in an ancient desert, like an echo from a distant past.
He took a single step forward.
Just one step, but the entire hall, already in ruins, trembled as if bearing the weight of an invisible, crushing force.
"I do not belong to the world you rule..." Wake continued, his voice steady, without arrogance or defiance.
"I did not come here to negotiate, bargain, or bow to any so-called 'king.'"
He raised his head, eyes still as hollow as a bottomless pit, like a cosmic black hole devouring all light and hope.
"...I am merely descending, and anything in my path... will be pushed aside."
That sentence sliced like an invisible blade through the veil of authority in Vagador's gaze.
"Who do you think you are?" Valador's voice now trembled with suppressed fury.
"A nameless wretch? A masterless shadow? A wandering breeze...?"
"Don't you know where you are?" Vagador growled, his patience running thin.
Wake said nothing. He tilted his head slightly, as if listening, or perhaps simply ignoring.
Vagador began walking forward. With each step, the ground groaned in agony, the air quivering, ready to shatter. The pressure of his magic caused the very atmosphere to shrink and twist.
Yet Wake, at the center of it all, stood still. Unmoving, unyielding. Like a mountain of stone, unshakable.
"If you truly do not understand... then let your body be the one to answer," Vagador declared, his voice a final judgment. His power surged to its peak, ready to crush any who dared oppose him.
He began chanting—an ancient tongue only primordial beasts could comprehend. The syllables reverberated like thunder, making the space itself tremble.
Then he raised his palm, upturned, tracing a half-moon shape in the air with pure magical power. The atmosphere cracked with each movement, revealing strands of raw magic.
"[Dragon Shadow Seal]." Vagador unleashed his signature ability.
The sky above the Dungeon twisted, dark clouds boiling like a stormy ocean. Light did not pour down; instead, darkness was pulled in, forming an endless black hole.
From the void, a colossal dragon head of living smoke began to take shape, sharply defined and terrifyingly vivid. It descended like it meant to pierce reality itself, carrying annihilative force.
The massive head loomed above Vagador like a monstrous shadow ready to consume all. Its golden eyes mirrored Vagador's own. Its fanged mouth opened in a soundless roar, a magical vibration that tore through the eardrums of all sentient beings. Even the strongest among them felt dizzy, their bodies trembling.
The surrounding monsters collapsed, shaking and groveling, not daring to look up.
Gerald gripped his staff tightly, sweat pouring like rain, struggling to remain upright.
Vagador raised his arm, the dragon-seal floating like a wheel of fate poised to crush all beneath it. The Dragon Shadow Seal—one of the most destructive spells, used to obliterate fortresses and flatten vast lands. Its power was enough to make anyone wary.
"Do you intend to take it head-on?"
Vagador asked, his voice booming like thunder, though deep down there was hesitation. He didn't want to kill this one, at least not yet. He wanted to learn more about the one who dared challenge him. But he couldn't allow himself to be disregarded. The way this creature looked at everything—as if only he was truly alive, and the rest were illusions—unsettled him deeply.
BOOOOOOMMMM—!!
The Dragon Shadow Seal descended, the heavens and earth roaring. Wild magic erupted, swallowing everything into a bottomless void. The stone plaza turned to ash, the ground screamed and buckled. From the epicenter where Wake stood, a pillar of darkness shot up, piercing through the sky of the Dungeon's fifth floor.
It was a soundless explosion, yet it carried the force of divine wrath. Shockwaves radiated like a tsunami, hurling all into a chasm of despair.
Even Gerald, hardened by countless battles, was flung away like a dry leaf in a storm.
But Vagador, master of absolute dominion, did not celebrate. His gaze pierced through the thick veil of dust. He sensed something—an indomitable presence that refused to be crushed.
The smoke began to clear, revealing a terrifying sight.
Amid the wreckage torn apart by Vagador's magic... a hand emerged. A bare hand, without a single scratch. A solid arm like black granite, a symbol of unwavering will.
That figure... still stood.
His eyes, piercing the grey haze, locked onto Vagador. There was no fear, no hesitation. Only a calm gaze, burning bright like a flame in the darkness. A terrifying tranquility. Absolute confidence.
"...That was impressive."
He spoke softly, like a breeze brushing past the ear. No mockery. No arrogance. Just sincerity.
"Was that... magic, too?"
Vagador, the so-called King of the Dungeon, the one who had lived for a thousand years and seen countless battles, felt his throat tighten for the first time. He was astonished, doubtful, and deep within... a vague fear began to take root.