A stillness fell over the grand hall, heavy and absolute, after the low growl of the newly evolved creature faded into silence. No one spoke. No one moved.
Wake stood there—calm, his gaze piercing through both reality and the past.
Then, he exhaled softly, his shoulders relaxing.
"Not bad," he murmured, as if concluding an examination.
His eyes rested on the kneeling creature—what was once nothing more than a mediocre swamp monster. But now, it was different. Too different. Those eyes... they no longer held the dullness typical of low-tier beasts. Instead, they reflected something akin to awareness.
No one responded. Earth D'gon and Storm D'gon stood motionless like statues. None could guess what Wake was thinking—and even he, perhaps, wasn't sure if understanding was necessary.
He paused, then inclined his head slightly, eyes casting a muted glow on the muddy body of the Swamp King.
"You were born from the swamp, weak, yet stubbornly clinging to life. Though it may have been no more than instinct, I acknowledge it."
"Last time… you protected a feeble part of me." Wake's voice drifted through the air—soft as mist, yet as penetrating as the wind on a frozen night.
The Swamp King didn't move. It didn't even know what it was anymore. In its murky eyes glinted something strangely unfamiliar—an emotion, perhaps.
"I owe no one anything," Wake continued. "But if something close to a debt of gratitude exists… you are one of the rare few."
The wind stilled. Storm D'gon and Earth D'gon remained silent.
"Vagador is dead." He paused. His gaze pierced the mucus-covered being before him. "I have no interest in becoming a King. But I want to ask you one thing, Swamp King..."
A moment of stillness fell, like the swamp itself was holding its breath.
"Do you want to become the King of this Fifth Floor?"
The Swamp King said nothing, but its entire form trembled—not from rage or fear, but as if a ripple of raw emotion was surging up from within the mud.
Wake gave a subtle nod.
"This is not a command. Nor is it a reward. It's simply… a question, offered as a privilege. Because you've earned the right to choose."
The Swamp King remained kneeling, like a living lump of sludge. No one forced it to answer. But the silence... it stretched on endlessly. A thin breeze drifted through the cracks in the dome, brushing away ashes into the ever-present mist.
The Swamp King slowly raised its head. And for the first time, within those murky eyes, there was no longer the blind emptiness of a beast. There was no ambition, no hunger for power. Only… withdrawal.
It shook its head. Just slightly.
No words were needed. The message was as clear as thunder echoing across the swamp: It didn't want the throne. It never had.
Wake looked at it for a long moment—neither angry nor disappointed. Only stillness, so pure that one might question if he even remained present in the moment.
Then he smiled faintly—whether in irony or understanding, none could tell.
"I see."
His voice was barely audible, yet within the cold halls, each word echoed like a solemn sentence.
He said no more.
The choice had been made. Sometimes, rejecting the crown… is the start of a silent reign.
Wake didn't smile. Didn't sigh. He merely stated the final word:
"Vagador is dead."
The sentence fell like a funeral bell in the ruined throne room, stirring the frozen air.
"This throne has no occupant. You no longer need to serve anyone."
His gaze swept over the two former royal guardians of the Dungeon King. His voice was steady, casual—like small talk: "From now on… you are free. Free to do whatever you wish."
No more chains. No more duty. Only two Draconic beings left to face something they had never known before—freedom.
Wake didn't wait to see their reactions. To him, it was merely one more chapter in an endless journey.
A tiny dot in the book he would soon turn the next page on.
"...Freedom, huh?" Storm murmured, her wings lifting instinctively. "I... never thought a day like this would come."
Earth D'gon said nothing. He bowed deeply, his legs sinking into the cold earth. After a long silence, he slowly looked up. "I will stay," he said, his voice deep and resonant, like a voice from within the soil.
The hall still smelled faintly of ash. The flickering flames of ancient torches cast ghostly shadows on the cracked stone ceiling. Vagador was dead. The throne stood empty. But the Fifth Floor could not remain without guardians.
Storm D'gon took one step forward. Her lightning-infused pupils narrowed, staring into the void as if interrogating her very existence.
"I don't need a throne," she said, her voice like rolling thunder. "But if this floor needs a keeper of order… then let me be the storm that sweeps away rebellion."
Beside her, Earth D'gon made his choice as well. His massive form moved like a living sculpture, each step sending faint tremors through the ground. Not loud, not angry—only the calm of a deep mountain.
"I was not born to rule," he said, his voice as steady as boulders falling into the abyss. "But if this place needs a foundation to keep its laws from crumbling… then let me be the last stone that will not be washed away."
They were not kings. But soon, the entire Fifth Floor of the Dungeon might come to know them as its new pillars.
Storm D'gon – Guardian of the Storm.
Earth D'gon – Sentinel of the Earth.
No throne, but there would be Law.
No king, but there would be Boundaries.
Wake turned and stepped back. Before him sat Dolly—a motionless doll, leaning against the vacant stone throne. Her glassy eyes stared into the void. Her body, covered in dust and dirt from the chaos, resembled an abandoned toy among ancient ruins.
Wake gently bent down and picked her up with one hand, slinging her onto his shoulder like familiar luggage. No words of comfort. No tender gaze.
His eyes flicked toward the two Draconic beings.
"Earth D'gon," Wake commanded calmly. "Gather all remaining equipment and items into the spatial ring."
"Understood." Earth D'gon bowed, his eyes reflecting not reverence for a king—but respect for the one who had shattered the old order.
Storm D'gon approached, holding the black dragon egg, encased in a cocoon of magical energy. She said nothing, simply waiting for orders.
"Lead me to the teleport gate. I have no intention of staying a moment longer," Wake said.
Both Draconic beings bowed deeply in unison. "This way."
They walked ahead, side by side—two new pillars of order on the Fifth Floor. Behind them, Wake followed in silence. On his shoulder, Dolly remained unmoving, as lifeless as carved wood. A wanderer passing through chaos. A strange wind had blown across this land… leaving behind an era without a throne.
Only the Swamp King remained behind, alone in the hall.
Its eyes followed the path where Wake had vanished beyond the doors—as if his presence still lingered in the still air, etched like stone into memory.
Within that stillness, a quiet surge stirred deep inside the Swamp King. It couldn't name the feeling rising within. Fear. Reverence. Or perhaps something deeper—vague and formless, unsettling the black sludge that had long filled its heart—if such a heart still existed.
Something inside it had changed.
No one ruled this floor anymore.
And perhaps… no one needed to.
The Swamp King lifted its gaze. The eternal twilight still hung above the swamp sky—never bright, never fading. The mud remained cold, the grass still wilted, and time seemed frozen. But deep beneath the bog, a seedling stretched forth in silence—fragile, yet unyielding.
That twilight glow… it might seem like an epilogue,
But it was never the end.
Everything... had only just begun.
---
The teleportation circle, made of stone, glowed faintly in the thick mist of the fifth floor's swamp.
Within the flickering light, three figures emerged at once—Wake, Storm D'gon, and Earth D'gon. All three stepped down onto the moss-covered ground, once the backyard of Vagador palace.
The atmosphere was heavy and unusually silent. Wake slowly glanced around, then turned to the two Dragonkin.
"This is far enough," he said.
The words were simple, but his low voice rang out like an order of dismissal.
Storm D'gon bowed slightly without replying. Earth D'gon gave a solemn nod. Neither dared to object.
Both turned away and silently walked into the dissolving mist in the distance. Their silhouettes quickly faded—as if they had never existed.
Now only Wake remained, standing motionless before the still teleportation gate.
He gently set Dolly down. Then, from a faint crack in his chest—shaped like a hellish abyss—fine trails of ash began to slither out. They were fragile yet uncanny, creeping across his skin like solidified magma, as if fractures from deep within were surfacing.
The ash climbed up his neck, covered his head, then flowed down his arms and legs—consuming his entire monstrous form. It was as if something was rising from the depths of darkness, enveloping him, then reshaping his figure.
His towering frame gradually shrank, compressing into the form of a human. When all was done, the ash dissolved into the air as though it had never existed.
All that remained was a man clad in pitch-black armor, standing in the midst of emptiness.
Gen had returned.
At the same moment, Dolly stirred.
No sound. No light. Just movement—like something inside had been reactivated by an invisible energy, a magical connection reestablished.
Her doll-like body moved with perfect mechanical reflexes.
Dolly had "awakened."
Not because of thought.
Not because of feeling.
Simply because Gen had returned.
His presence alone was the tether that brought her back to reality. A loyal attendant that needed no command.
Dolly stood up and silently stepped to his side, as if she had never been set down.
"Let's begin," Gen said softly, his gaze sweeping over a black dragon egg and several spatial rings that Storm D'gon and Earth D'gon had neatly placed in a corner.
He stepped forward. His finger brushed one of the rings—simple and unadorned, no carvings or gems. It was just a raw chunk of spatial stone, shaped into a humble ring.
He channeled his mana into it, forming an invisible link.
In less than a second, a vivid image appeared in his mind. The ring's inner space was laid bare—every nook, every item crystal clear. A space nearly thirty square meters wide, filled with assorted equipment and rare items.
Clearly, Earth D'gon had selected the largest and most valuable rings. Those who had fallen to the fifth floor were no weaklings. None of the items left behind were ordinary.
For Gen, who had once been just a low-ranking soldier, this was his first time actually owning a "spatial ring." In his past, such things were the symbols of nobles—a distant dream forever out of reach.
Of course, the use of spatial rings was no secret. Gen understood how they worked.
Without hesitation, he checked each ring. Heavy equipment, even sealed mystical items, passed through his hands. Eventually, he found the three Skill Boxes that Earth D'gon had mentioned.
He opened the first—a golden Skill Box.
[Notification: Select a skill to upgrade.]
The floating message appeared midair, like an invitation.
Available skills:
[Regeneration] [Forge] [Appraisal] [Swordsmanship] [Fire Ball]
[Wind Sword] [Arrows Water] [Bind] [Walls Land]
[Light Flash] [Stop Time] [The Shadow]
Gen paused in thought.
Then he chose The Shadow—a skill that created autonomous clones to scout his surroundings.
They were like mobile surveillance cameras—able to receive information and transmit messages. One of his strangest abilities.
Without hesitation, he confirmed.
[Notification: Skill "The Shadow" has been upgraded to "Umbral Avatar."]
Umbral Avatar, huh?
"Umbral Avatar, " he repeated aloud.
Curious, he immediately tested the upgraded skill.
As soon as he spoke, the air shimmered.
A dark shadow peeled off from his heel—silent, eerie, noiseless.
But unlike before, this was no vague silhouette. It now had skin, a face, even eyes and limbs—a perfect replica of the original.
[Umbral Avatar – Level 28]
A second body. No longer a mere shadow—another Gen.
The main issue was… the clone was completely naked.
Gen quickly waved his hand and dispelled the magic.
Next, he took out the silver Skill Box. Without pause, he opened the lid.
[Notification: New skill discovered.]
[Notification: Activate skill?]
[Yes] / [No]
He chose Yes.
There was no radiant light, no grand fanfare. Just a faint sensation—like a third eye opening somewhere in his subconscious.
Then, the status window appeared—but not just one.
Two overlapping status windows floated in midair—one in front, one behind—like a pair of playing cards.
Gen frowned, but didn't dwell on it. He realized the front panel was his current status. He could "flip" the other to the front and display it as needed.
[Status Window]
Gen | Age: 23 | Gender: Male
Race: The Human
Title: 「None」
Class: 「None」
HP: 「N/A」
MP: 「N/A」
Level: 「N/A」
Strength: 「N/A」
Resistance: 「N/A」
Magic Power: 「N/A」
Magic Resistance: 「N/A」
Agility: 「N/A」
Unique Skills: 「N/A」
Basic Skills: 「N/A」
Status Effects: 「N/A」
Gen skimmed through the new window. He didn't analyze it right away—there would be time for that later.
He then removed the Deadroot King Set armor, piece by piece, and changed into more ordinary gear—equipment with level 40 stats, dropped from the Devastated Tomb. The new set wasn't flashy, but just inconspicuous enough.
Next, he selected the largest-capacity spatial ring and placed it on the middle finger of his right hand—the seat of control, according to ancient philosophy.
"Dolly." he said, "Hold the egg. "
The doll quietly stepped forward. Without a word, she reached out and gently cradled the black dragon egg, as if holding a sleeping soul.
Gen pulled out a long cloak and draped it over her. Meant for adults, it completely engulfed her small frame, making her look like a moving shadow.
Lastly, he stored the Deadroot King armor in the spatial ring. Everything was neat and in order now.
No more loose ends.
He turned toward the teleportation circle, its glow flickering like the breath of a gateway between worlds.
Dolly followed, silent under her cloak.
No one would suspect that, hidden beneath those heavy folds, a dragon egg was being held tight by a soulless doll's embrace.