The basement was still. A faint hum filled the air, resonating from the Dungeon Core as it floated above the stone pedestal.
Kael stood before it, his breath steady but heavy with expectation. The orb of light pulsed, every beat echoing like a heart waiting to be claimed.
He extended his hand.
The Core responded instantly, threads of golden-blue radiance unfurling and weaving through the chamber like veins of fire. The ground rumbled. The walls bent inward and then outward, space itself stretching in ways impossible to mortal architecture.
[Dungeon Core Materialized][Layers: 2][Status: Incomplete. Awaiting expansion.]
The first layer appeared to him like a vast cavernous expanse, floors of seamless stone, walls alive with faint luminescence. The second layer was more intricate—pillars of obsidian-like rock supporting twisted corridors that branched like arteries.
But Kael saw them as nothing more than skeletons of what could be. Hollow shells waiting for design.
His eyes hardened. "This is not enough."
The abyssal power stirred within him, yet Kael reached deeper—beyond the dragon core, beyond the abyss. A skill pulsed to life, one he had neglected until now.
[Mana Return — Active]
It was a strange ability. Normally it recovered wasted mana from spells, recycling fragments of power that would otherwise be lost. But in his hands, fueled by the abyss, it became something monstrous.
Mana flooded back into him endlessly, surging, amplifying, multiplying with every cycle. It was like breathing in a storm and never choking.
[Skill Level Up: Mana Return → Rank A → Rank S → Rank SS]
His veins burned, his eyes glowed, and the Dungeon Core flared in tandem with his heartbeat.
Kael pressed both palms into the floor of the chamber.
The dungeon obeyed.
Rooms blossomed outward like cells in a hive. Corridors split and twisted, then split again, stretching into infinity. Halls, chambers, balconies, hidden alcoves, sprawling stairways—all of it carved into existence by will alone.
Stone bled into form. The walls gleamed with veins of light. Floors carried the faint shimmer of mana, resilient and alive.
By the time Kael finally drew breath, the dungeon had swelled into a living labyrinth—over a thousand chambers interconnected like an endless hive, layered across two colossal floors.
[Dungeon Expansion Complete][Chamber Count: 1,028]
Kael stood at its heart, trembling slightly. Not from exhaustion, but from awe. He had forged something no mortal should ever touch.
The dungeon pulsed with silence. Kael raised his hand, and from the shadows of his storage, chains rattled.
The rescued slaves appeared one by one—men, women, children—hollow-eyed, scarred by collars and cruelty. They looked around in confusion, their bodies tense with the instinct of survival.
But here there were no whips, no cages, no overseers. Only vast rooms waiting for life to return.
"This place," Kael spoke softly, his voice resonating through the stone, "is yours now. A sanctuary born of blood and ash. No one will hurt you here."
The dungeon seemed to respond, its walls humming faintly as if promising safety. The light from the core bathed the freed slaves in warmth, their shoulders trembling, tears brimming in eyes that had long forgotten how to cry.
Some fell to their knees in silence. Others clutched one another, daring to believe the nightmare was over.
Kael watched them, a storm of emotions stirring in his chest. Guilt. Fury. Resolve.
This dungeon would not be merely a weapon of vengeance. It would be a sanctuary for the broken, a fortress for the weak.
But also, in its deeper, hidden layers, it would be a crucible for those who had wronged him. Every corridor would bear their screams. Every wall would whisper their downfall.
Two sides of the same creation—light for the innocent, shadow for the betrayers.
He placed his hand once more on the glowing core. "Grow with me," he whispered. "Hide my truth, and show them only what I wish."
The Dungeon Core pulsed, as if in solemn agreement.
The Dungeon Core pulsed quietly, its glow steady now, casting gentle arcs of light across the vast hive-like chambers. Kael's voice had bound the freed men and women into a fragile hope. But the moment of silence did not last.
Greyspire had not slept since the night of fire. The streets still smelled of smoke, and the ruins of noble houses crackled with dying embers. Soldiers lined every road, their faces pale from the memory of three colossal monsters that had vanished into thin air.
At the heart of the city hall, Arlen stood with his hands clasped behind his back. His gaze swept across the chamber—nobles in silk, the mayor with his sweat-slick brow, merchants clutching ledgers like lifelines.
"Explain to me," Arlen's voice was calm, cold, "how three beasts the size of fortresses walked your streets unhindered. How an entire slaver's quarter is reduced to rubble. And why—" his eyes narrowed, "—Lord Maldrake's manor was found as nothing but ash."
No one spoke.
The mayor coughed, his voice trembling. "L-Lord Arlen, the soldiers fought. Our mages struck with everything they had. But the creatures… they ignored the flames, the blades, the spells. Nothing touched them. And then, before dawn, they simply vanished."
A nobleman muttered from the back, "It was the Abyss. The Abyss has sent a herald."
Arlen's hand struck the table like a whip. "The Abyss does not leave notes with my name written upon them."
The mayor froze. "N-Notes?"
Arlen's expression darkened. He did not elaborate. Instead, he turned on his heel, his cloak snapping like a whip of shadow. Whoever did this knows me. Whoever did this… remembers.
Kael stood within the central chamber, the rescued gathered before him. They looked ragged, beaten, uncertain. Yet they stared at him as if he were the only thing left that made sense.
The Core hummed above them, casting light on their gaunt faces. Kael raised his hand. "You have been chained by others. From this moment forward, I offer a choice: walk away and scatter to the winds, or bind with me—not as slaves, but as allies."
Murmurs broke through the group. A child clung to her mother. A scarred elf looked up with suspicion. A dwarf, his beard streaked with ash, narrowed his eyes.
Kael's voice cut through the noise. "I will not control you. But I will not let betrayal touch me again. Through a ritual, you and I will become bound. If I bleed, you will know. If danger nears you, I will know. You will have protection… and I will have your trust."
The Dungeon Core responded to his words, threads of light weaving from it like strands of silk. They reached outward, brushing across the rescued. Some flinched, but none pulled away.
[Subordinate Ritual Initiated][Confirm bond with rescued individuals: Y/N?]
Kael whispered, "Yes."
The light surged. Marks, faint and silver, appeared on the wrists of those gathered. The same sigil burned faintly against Kael's chest, linking them all through a shared pulse. It was not chains—but a covenant.
The silence that followed was heavy. Then Kael spoke again.
"You deserve to know why I do this. Ten years ago, I was betrayed. Left to die in the depths of a dungeon, by those I once called brother. Arlen among them." His voice was cold, sharp as steel. "While I was gone, they fed lies to my family. They built their power on the bones of trust."
Gasps broke the chamber. Faces turned pale.
"I will not let it happen again," Kael continued, his tone ironclad. "This dungeon will be your refuge. But it will also be a forge for my vengeance. And if you stand with me—you will never be caged again."
No one spoke against him. Some bowed their heads. Others clenched their fists, fire returning to their hollow eyes.
And then came a deep, rumbling laugh.
The dwarf stepped forward. His frame was short but wide, every inch of him hardened by toil. "Ye saved us from the pits, boy," he said, voice gravel-thick. "Ye've my oath, an' more. My craft."
Kael's eyes flicked to the glowing sigils above the dwarf's head.
Name: Branik Stoneforged
Race: Dwarf
Skills: Weaponsmithing (Legendary), Ore Processing (Legendary), Weapon Enchantment (Legendary)
Kael's breath caught. "Legendary… all three?"
Branik grinned, teeth flashing like iron. "Spent an entire century bendin' metal 'til it sang. Aye, I'll shape ye weapons fit to cut the gods themselves."
The rescued erupted into murmurs, awe sweeping through the chamber.
Kael felt the abyss stir in his chest, not from darkness, but from a dangerous spark of possibility. In Branik, and in the others, he had found not just survivors… but pillars. Pieces of a new empire.