The flames still burned within the crater, painting the air with a suffocating heat and the stench of molten ash.
Airen stepped forward, his boots crunching through blackened dirt—eyes fixed on the faintly twitching silhouette within the smoke.
But then—
He froze.
A sharp, metallic taste filled his mouth.
Blood dripped from his lips.
His vision flickered. The world blurred, trembling around the edges as crimson lines crawled from his eyes.
He wiped his mouth—and saw red.
"…What…?"
He staggered one step forward, his pulse faltering. A dull ache spread across his chest, like fire burning from the inside out.
[Warning.]
The system's voice echoed sharply in his head.
[I told you not to use that spell. You didn't have enough mana. Your heart has been damaged.]
Airen's eyes widened slightly, breath hitching.
[Countdown initiated. One minute until cardiac failure.]
His pupils shrank. For the first time in what felt like forever—Airen froze completely.
A faint tremor ran through his fingers as he muttered, "So… I'm about to die, huh?"
He tried to move his arm, but it refused to obey. Even summoning mana felt like pushing through stone.
Then his gaze flicked downward—
A faint shimmer pulsed beside him.
Airen focused his fading thoughts, and in response, a small vial materialized in his palm with a soft flash.
A healing potion—summoned directly from his inventory.
His heart jumped. "Tch—if I can just drink this…"
But when he tried to lift his hand, his arm barely moved. It trembled midair before dropping uselessly to his side. His muscles screamed in protest, veins glowing faintly blue as if his body itself was rejecting motion.
No matter how hard he tried, his strength refused to return.
A faint hiss escaped his teeth. "Dammit…"
He was seconds from losing his composure
When he saw movement.
Inside the crater.
The corrupted elf was still alive.
Barely.
It was crawling through the molten dirt, its flesh burned away, its limbs missing. No arms. No legs. Just a broken torso dragging itself by sheer willpower. Black tears streamed down from its hollow sockets as it screamed hoarsely,
"M-my father… told me to protect… this place… what have I done…"
Airen's brows furrowed. The voice trembled—not in rage, but despair.
Then he noticed it.
The forest roots—the tentacles—were crawling toward the crippled creature, trying to fuse with its body once again.
Airen's breathing steadied.
A thought—sharp and desperate—flashed through his mind.
"This should work…" he muttered under his breath. His voice was weak but determined. "No…it has to."
He focused every last bit of mana in his lungs and shouted,
"Nyx! Kill it! Now!"
From the surrounding shadows, Nyx erupted—his single glowing eye flashing bright white. He lunged forward, moving faster than the crawling tentacles.
Airen's heart pounded.
Ten seconds left.
Nyx reached the elf first.
SHHHK!
The shadow blade formed from his arm, slicing clean through the creature's neck. The corrupted elf's head rolled once, its body collapsing as the tentacles stopped mid-motion.
The forest stilled.
And then—
BOOOOOOM!
The entire dungeon began to tremble. The trees cracked, their crimson eyes bursting into smoke. The ground folded inward, crumbling like glass under pressure. The entire floor began to collapse.
A glowing panel appeared before Airen's fading vision.
> [Experience gained: 150,000,000]
[Points earned: 150,000,000]
[Level up! Current Level: 74]
The world shattered around him.
Airen collapsed backward, his breath fading as light swallowed everything.
---
When he opened his eyes again, the silence was deafening.
He lay on cold stone—alive.
His chest rose and fell slowly, pain still radiating through his ribs. The torches flickered weakly around him. He was back in the seventh floor of the dungeon.
For a moment, he just lay there. Then, despite the ache in his chest, he laughed quietly.
"Heh… looks like the plan worked."
[Plan?]
Airen sat up slowly, his expression turning faintly smug. "When I couldn't move… I saw the elf was weak, and the tentacles were trying to merge with him. If Nyx killed him before the countdown ended, I figured I'd still get the experience. Level up. Strengthen my heart. And… maybe survive."
[So it was a gamble.]
"Kind of," Airen said with a faint smirk. "But it paid off."
He glanced around the room. No sign of Nyx. A brief flicker of worry crossed his face. "...Did he get left behind in the dungeon collapse?"
The answer came in silence.
Then—
A ripple of shadow spread across his chest.
Nyx emerged, silent as always, his single glowing eye flickering faintly in acknowledgment.
Airen let out a small exhale—half relief, half satisfaction.
"In the end… if this guy wasn't there, I might've been dead."
He glanced at the healing potion still in his hand. Though his level-up had repaired most of the internal damage, faint bruises and burns remained. Without hesitation, he uncorked it and drank. The liquid glowed faintly blue, warmth spreading through his veins as the remaining pain faded away.
Airen rolled his shoulders once, smirked, and looked toward the center of the room.
"Now…" he muttered. "Time for my reward."
A chest shimmered into existence.
He opened it slowly.
Inside was a single cube—shaped exactly like the Aurem Crystal Shard, but the energy swirling inside was blue.
[This is a Mind Crystal. Its energy strengthens the intellect and mental capacity of living beings.]
Airen raised an eyebrow. "So it makes people smarter, huh? Sounds useful. Can I use it?"
[No. Your mind already surpasses the limit it can affect.]
He stared at it for a moment before sighing and tossing it into his inventory. "Figures."
He turned toward the staircase leading downward. "Alright… let's see what the eighth floor's got for me."
But the moment his boot touched the first step—
Everything went white.
Airen's eyes snapped open.
The first thing he felt was the cold.
The next—the smell. Blood. Metal. Fear.
He was in a room. The walls were concrete, smeared with red streaks. Rusted tools hung from hooks—pliers, knives, clamps, and a rusted saw, all stained dark with dried blood. The dim light from a hanging bulb swung gently overhead, casting warped shadows across the floor.
In front of him stood a man—thin, disheveled, his face twisted in a cruel smile.
Two women sat tied to chairs nearby, both trembling, their wrists bruised, eyes red from crying. The man's filthy hand hovered near one of their chests.
And then Airen realized—he was tied up too. His wrists bound behind a wooden chair. His upper body bare, the chill biting into his skin.
His mind sharpened instantly.
Where… the f***… am I?
Snap.
The rope broke.
The sound cut through the room like thunder.
The man froze mid-motion, eyes snapping toward Airen. The women gasped, terror momentarily replaced by disbelief.
Airen stood slowly, the rope falling away like dust. His muscles flexed faintly, his calm gaze locking onto the man.
"Now," Airen said quietly, his voice cutting through the silence like a blade, "you're going to tell me… where I am."
The man's breath hitched. His lips parted. But no words came out.
The air was thick, heavy—because for the first time, he realized:
the monster in this room wasn't the one holding the knife.
It was the one standing free.