Light fractured—
And Drax stepped onto Floor Two.
It was vast.
An endless open field stretching beyond the horizon, grass the color of ash swaying beneath a sky that felt too wide. No walls. No visible boundaries.
Just space.
And then—
The ground trembled.
Far ahead, the earth split as silhouettes began to rise.
One.
Ten.
Hundreds.
A tidal wave of monsters surged forward in formation-less chaos.
Drakes with jagged obsidian scales and wings that cracked the air with every flap.
True dragons—smaller than Velgrid but radiating terrifying density.
Ogres towering three stories high.
High Orcs clad in natural bone armor.
Trolls with regenerative flesh that bubbled and shifted.
Giant fire wolves wreathed in white-hot flame.
Colossal lizards dragging tails like siege weapons.
Cyclops whose single eyes pulsed with destructive beams.
And behind them—
A shape that blocked out part of the sky.
A Giant Titan.
Ancient.
Silent.
Watching.
Every single one of them radiated Unmeasurable power.
Outside the tower, if this army descended upon civilization—
There would be a thirty percent chance of survival.
At best.
Drax looked at the incoming horde.
And smiled.
"…Finally."
He leaned forward—
And ran.
The monsters roared as he charged alone toward an army that could end continents.
He whispered calmly:
"Monarch's Domain."
The world shifted.
A 200-meter radius exploded outward from him like an expanding sphere of authority.
Inside it—
Reality obeyed.
The air thickened into abyssal mist. The ground darkened, turning almost liquid-black. Sound distorted. Movement warped.
Within this space—
Drax was absolute.
He moved as if he were standing inside his Abyssal World itself.
A drake swooped down—
His sword flashed once.
Its head fell before its wings realized it had died.
Drax leapt upward, black essence flaring beneath his feet as he took flight. He plunged directly into a cluster of dragons—
The impact created a shockwave that detonated outward like a bomb.
Explosions of fire and essence consumed the sky.
But they kept coming.
An ogre's fist smashed into him—
He caught it mid-swing, twisted, and used the momentum to decapitate a cyclops behind him.
A fire wolf bit into his arm—
Its flames extinguished instantly as the essence feeding them was siphoned directly into him.
A troll attempted to regenerate—
Its regeneration slowed, then stopped, as Drax drained the very fuel it needed to exist.
Monsters fell.
And rose.
When they died—
They changed.
Their forms cracked open like shells.
Emerging from within were stronger versions.
Larger.
Sharper.
Denser.
They ascended to Monarch-Level.
Drax landed in the center of the battlefield as hundreds of Monarch-tier entities surrounded him.
He exhaled once.
The air itself thinned.
Because he was drinking it.
Not just their essence.
The atmosphere.
The energy of the field.
The ambient power of the tower's construct.
His Abyssal World expanded with every breath.
He did not tire.
He could not exhaust.
The monsters attacked relentlessly.
Claws tore mountains of earth into the sky. Dragon breath rained down like solar flares. Cyclops beams carved trenches across the field.
Inside Monarch's Domain—
Drax moved like inevitability.
He weaved through beams without looking. Split dragons from snout to tail mid-flight. Shattered ogres with single upward thrusts of his blade.
Yet still—
They came.
Wave after wave.
Evolving.
Adapting.
Testing.
After a while, Drax stopped moving.
He stood still as another dragon lunged.
He cut it absentmindedly and looked around at the endless tide.
"…It's been fun," he muttered.
A high orc charged.
He punched through its chest without glancing at it.
"But I've got more parties to attend."
He raised both hands slightly.
"Inner World Release."
Everything changed.
Darkness fell—not like night, but like drowning.
The field vanished.
The sky split.
A giant red moon appeared above, bleeding light across an infinite black horizon.
The monsters froze.
Their movements slowed—not physically, but existentially.
They felt something deeper than fear.
They felt irrelevance.
The Black Tree stood behind Drax—far larger now than before, its roots plunging into an unseen abyss, its branches stretching beyond sight.
Its leaves shimmered like stars swallowed by shadow.
The monsters roared—
But their voices echoed hollowly in this realm.
Drax lifted his hands outward.
"I sentence you," he said calmly, voice carrying across the endless expanse, "to the Black Sea."
Beneath the monsters, the ground liquefied.
Dark water spiraled violently into whirlpools beneath their feet.
They tried to run.
Tried to fly.
But their movements were slow—caught in existential fall.
The red moon intensified.
The Black Tree pulsed.
One by one—
They were dragged downward.
Dragged into spiraling black water that erased form, erased resistance, erased identity.
Hundreds of Monarch-level beings disappeared into the abyssal depths.
Silence followed.
The red moon dimmed.
The darkness receded.
The Inner World vanished.
The field returned.
Only one figure remained.
The Ancient Giant Titan.
It stood unmoving where it had been from the start.
Unaffected.
Watching.
Drax lowered his hands slowly.
The Titan's massive eyes focused on him—not with rage.
With curiosity.
Its voice rolled across the field like thunder.
"…I smell the abyss."
A pause.
"So you are the enemy of the gods."
Drax looked up at the colossal being.
And smiled.