The adrenaline crash was brutal, but the loot chest was beautiful.
Elian sat before the glowing obsidian chest that had replaced the Death Knight's corpse. His hands were shaking, covered in dried blood and dungeon dust.
"System time," he rasped.
[Current Time: Year 1, Day 21.]
Elian blinked, his dry eyes stinging. "Twenty-one days?"
Most parties cleared Floors 1 through 10 in three days. Speedrunners did it in twenty-four hours. Elian had spent three weeks inside. To the outside world, he was a dead man walking. A statistic.
"Three weeks of hell," Elian muttered, cracking his neck. "Worth it."
He threw the chest open.
[System Notification: Dungeon Clear Rewards (Hard Mode - Mutated)]
1. 50 Gold Coins.
2. Skill Book: Bone Plating (Passive - Rank D).
3. Weapon: The Executioner's Edge (Rare Greatsword).
Elian nodded. The gold was a fortune for a rookie. The skill book increased physical defense by 15%. The sword was a heavy, two-handed monster that dealt massive damage but reduced attack speed—perfect for his new, brutal fighting style.
But then, his hand brushed against something else at the bottom of the chest.
It was a small, matte-black cube. It had no hinges, no lock, and absorbed the light around it.
Elian frowned. "This... wasn't in the drop table."
He picked it up. It was heavy, cold as ice.
[Item: ???]
[Rank: ???]
[Description: An anomaly born from the First Divergence. It is locked.]
"First Divergence," Elian repeated, thinking back to the achievement he just got. Because he broke the logic of the dungeon, the Tower had spat out something... broken.
In his past life, he knew every legendary item, every artifact, every god-tier weapon. He had never seen this cube.
"I don't have the brainpower for riddles right now," Elian grumbled. He tossed the cube into the back of his inventory, burying it under wolf pelts and scrap metal. "Problem for future Elian."
He equipped the Executioner's Edge, strapping the massive blade to his back. It was comically large for his teenage frame, the tip nearly dragging on the ground, but with his Strength stat pushing 35 (thanks to the levels from the boss), it felt like a feather.
He stood up, drank his last bottle of water, and walked toward the exit portal.
"Time to see the sun."
Outside the Dungeon - The Graveyard Entrance
The sun was blinding.
Elian stepped out of the crypt and instantly shielded his eyes. The fresh air smelled sweet compared to the rot of the dungeon.
"Well, well. Look what the cat dragged out."
The voice was smug. Familiar.
Elian lowered his hand. His eyes adjusted to the light.
Standing by the mausoleum gate were five men. They wore matching steel breastplates with a fist emblem painted on the chest. The Iron Fists Guild.
In the center was Darius, the Vice-Captain. He looked clean, polished, and arrogant.
"We were taking bets, you know," Darius sneered, leaning on his spear. "Most said you died in a trap. Some said you starved. But I knew the little rat who let Vargas die was too slippery to just perish."
Elian didn't speak. He just stared. He looked like a beggar compared to them. His Wolf-Hide Vest was shredded, revealing bandages underneath. His face was gaunt from three weeks of rationing dried meat. His hair was a matted mess.
To the Iron Fists, he looked like a victim.
"You've been in there for three weeks," Darius laughed, stepping forward. "What were you doing? Hiding in a barrel on Floor 1? Eating moss?"
The other guild members chuckled, circling Elian. They were Level 5 and 6. Strong for the current timeline.
"Hand it over," Darius commanded, extending a hand. "Vargas's gear. And whatever scrap you managed to scavenge. Consider it a 'late fee' for the guild."
Elian looked at Darius's hand. Then he looked at the exit portal behind him.
"Move," Elian said. His voice was quiet, raspy, and utterly devoid of fear.
Darius blinked, his smile faltering for a second. Then his face reddened with anger. "You think because you survived camping in a hole you're tough? You're a porter, boy. A mule."
Darius signaled the man on the left—a Swordsman named Kael. "Teach him some manners. Don't kill him until we get the inventory."
Kael grinned and drew his sword. "On it, Boss."
Kael charged. It was a standard, textbook approach. A diagonal slash meant to disable the shoulder.
To the onlookers near the dungeon entrance, Kael was fast.
To Elian, Kael was moving underwater.
Elian didn't draw the massive sword on his back. He didn't even step back.
He simply took one step forward.
[Skill Active: Terror Gaze.]
Elian's eyes flashed with a predatory, golden light.
Kael froze mid-step. His brain screamed DANGER. It wasn't a magical stun; it was the primal instinct of a rabbit spotting a wolf.
In that split second of hesitation, Elian moved.
He didn't punch. He didn't kick. He used his shoulder.
THUD.
Elian slammed his shoulder into Kael's chest. The impact sounded like a car crash. The difference in Stats was absolute. Kael—Level 5, full armor—was launched backward ten feet. He hit the ground rolling, gasping for air, his breastplate dented inward.
Silence fell over the graveyard.
Darius's jaw dropped. "What..."
Elian stood there, dusting off his shredded vest. He looked at Darius.
"I didn't hide for three weeks," Elian said, his voice flat.
He reached over his shoulder and gripped the handle of The Executioner's Edge. The sound of the massive blade sliding out of its sheath was like grinding stones.
SHIIIING.
He slammed the flat of the giant blade into the dirt. The ground shook.
"I was taking out the trash," Elian finished. "And it looks like I missed a spot."
Darius took an involuntary step back. The "porter" was gone. The boy standing in front of him had the eyes of the Death Knight.
"Kill him!" Darius shrieked, panic cracking his voice. "All of you! At once!"
The four remaining Iron Fists drew their weapons. They were terrified, but they were outnumbered. They charged.
Elian sighed. He was tired. He wanted a bath. He wanted a hot meal.
"This is going to take five seconds," Elian muttered.
He lifted the greatsword with one hand and swung.