Dungeon Master Online is not an ordinary game.
That's what I always think whenever someone at the office asks jokingly, "You're still playing that dungeon game?" They never really understand. This game isn't just about pressing buttons and defeating monsters.
It's a war.
Dungeon Master Online is an online PvP game where every player is given complete freedom to design their own dungeon—as long as they have enough materials and stay within the system's rules. Layouts, traps, floor progression, even the types of monsters and NPC guardians—everything is decided by the player.
And it doesn't stop there.
The game also has MMORPG elements. Players can directly enter dungeon worlds as their own characters. They can form parties, clear missions, conquer massive dungeons, or… invade other players' dungeons.
Invasion means one thing: loot.
Rare items, expensive materials, even territorial ownership of a dungeon can be taken if the dungeon core is destroyed. That's why the game is so popular. High risk, high reward.
I glanced at the monitor while moving my mouse.
"When you think about it," I muttered, "this game is pretty brutal."
Seo Ah, sitting in the chair beside me, turned her head. "Brutal is fun."
"You say that because you've never been successfully invaded."
"That's because our design is good," she replied without hesitation.
I didn't argue.
I use the nickname CasualFishMan—a careless name I made the first time I logged in without much thought. Seo Ah uses DollMaker. The name suits her—she designs NPC guardians one by one like dolls, complete with behavior patterns, thought processes, and reactions.
We've been playing for a long time. Maybe too long.
"Guild chat's noisy again," I muttered while reading the notifications.
Seo Ah smirked. "Still talking about us?"
"Yeah. They're saying the Tower of Ourolith is a bugged dungeon."
"It's not," she said while typing rapidly. "Everything follows the rules."
I nodded. Our Tower of Ourolith doesn't break any rules. It's just that most players are too lazy to read mechanics.
Our dungeon wasn't built to be beaten with raw power. Every floor is designed to test patience and consistency. Guardians don't always attack. Sometimes they wait. Sometimes they force players to move. Sometimes they do absolutely nothing.
And that frustrates people.
"Anyone asking for another raid?" I asked.
Seo Ah nodded. "This afternoon. A coalition of twenty guilds."
"Rejected?"
"As usual."
I smiled faintly. "Wise choice."
We once accepted a large-scale raid. The result? Floor 53 became a graveyard of parties—not because of high damage, but because players grew careless.
Since then, the Tower of Ourolith has been known as a dungeon that has never been breached.
"Sometimes I wonder," I said, leaning back, "why they keep trying."
Seo Ah stared at the screen, then spoke quietly. "Because they're curious."
I fell silent. Maybe she was right.
This game allows players to be anything—dungeon conquerors, defenders, architects, raiders. Every role is playable.
I moved my character to the hub area.
"CasualFishMan online," I muttered, reading the status.
"DollMaker too," Seo Ah replied.
We entered dungeon management mode.
"Do we have enough Void materials?" I asked.
"We're fine for now. But Infinity shards are running low."
"Then we need an invasion."
Seo Ah immediately smiled. "Finally."
We opened the list of target dungeons. Dozens of names appeared—small dungeons, guild dungeons, event dungeons.
"This one," Seo Ah said, pointing. "Linear structure. Guardians focus on DPS."
I examined it. "Risky, but the rewards are good."
"We enter as players?"
"Yeah. Faster."
We confirmed the invasion.
Our characters materialized inside the target dungeon. Simple stone walls. Straight corridors. Standard monster spawns.
"Beginner mistake," I muttered.
Seo Ah moved fluidly, summoning small doll constructs that immediately pulled aggro.
"Brother," she said while moving, "do you think our NPC guardians are too cruel?"
I smiled faintly. "No. They're fair."
"Fair?"
"Everyone gets a chance. As long as they think."
Seo Ah was quiet for a moment, then nodded.
We cleared the dungeon without much difficulty. The core was destroyed. Loot was distributed automatically.
"Destiny Fragment," Seo Ah murmured. "Not bad."
"Add it to the collection," I replied.
Dungeon Master Online is like that—rare item collections, limited events, unique materials. Many players play solely to chase those things.
But for me…
I glanced at Seo Ah out of the corner of my eye. She looked focused, healthy, and lively.
This game gave her a world.
A place where she feels needed. Where her ideas matter. Where she isn't just waiting.
"Brother," she suddenly said. "Do you think… our Tower is perfect now?"
I paused.
"No," I answered honestly. "But that's okay."
"Why?"
"Because as long as we're still playing together, we can keep improving it."
Seo Ah smiled softly.
We returned to the Tower of Ourolith.
Seo Ah opened her inventory window with a serious expression.
"Hmm…" she murmured while scrolling through the loot list. "This time's decent, but there's nothing strange."
"The target dungeon was standard," I said while checking the invasion log. "The rewards match."
"Eh?" Seo Ah stopped scrolling. "What's this?"
I glanced at her monitor. A small item icon appeared in the corner of the inventory—a worn piece of paper, no effects, no flashy rarity color.
"A normal item?" I asked.
"Yeah… but it's weird." She clicked it several times. "I can't discard it. Can't destroy it. I can't even move it to storage."
I rolled my chair closer. "Check the description."
Seo Ah right-clicked and selected Inspect.
The screen displayed simple text.
[Unidentified Locked Item]
"This is the first time I've seen an item like this," she murmured. "Even quest items can usually be deleted once the quest is done."
"Try opening it."
"I already did. The system asks for manual confirmation."
I frowned. "Confirmation of what?"
Seo Ah swallowed, then read slowly.
"'This item can only be opened by DollMaker or CasualFishMan.'"
I froze.
"Why our names?" I asked.
"I don't know," she replied quickly. "This isn't a normal personal item."
She hesitated for a few seconds, then clicked Confirm.
The item icon changed. A new window opened, displaying a single digital letter against a plain black background. No illustration. No sound effect.
Just text.
Seo Ah read it aloud, her voice slowly changing.
"'To the Astral Monarch of Ourolith.'"
I went rigid.
"That…" her voice trembled slightly, "that's the name of our dungeon."
She continued.
"'Congratulations on conquering the final dungeon, Silverspire of Annihilation.'"
I immediately turned to my main screen.
"Final dungeon?" I repeated. "Wait—just now—"
Seo Ah kept reading.
"'The accounts CasualFishMan and DollMaker will now be transferred to Server Aurethys.'"
I stood up abruptly. "What?"
"'Thank you for playing Dungeon Master Online. Good luck.'"
Silence.
"…From the Administrator."
Seo Ah looked at me, utterly confused. "Brother… is this an event?"
I slowly shook my head. "There's never been an event like this."
Silverspire of Annihilation.
That name did appear in the invasion log just now. But the dungeon we cleared—I was certain—was low-level. Simple AI patterns. Uncomplex guardians. No special mechanics.
"Final dungeon… that makes no sense," I muttered. "If that were the final dungeon, it should've been… more."
Seo Ah bit her lip. "Then what is Server Aurethys?"
I quickly opened the server menu. Just as I remembered.
Server: Global
There were no other options. No Aurethys.
"I've never heard of that server," I said quietly. "This game only has a global server."
Seo Ah stared at the letter again. "But the system never lies."
That sentence made my chest tighten.
Suddenly, the cursor on my screen stopped moving.
"Huh?" I moved the mouse. No response.
"Brother," Seo Ah said quickly, "my screen—"
Both our monitors began to shake. Not physically, but visually. The display distorted. Colors fractured. The UI flickered erratically.
"A glitch?" I muttered.
But this wasn't a normal glitch.
Static noise began to pour from the speakers. Not electrical noise, but something heavy, drawn-out, oppressive—like time itself was being pulled along with it.
"Turn off the computer!" I shouted.
I reached for the power button. No response.
Seo Ah stood up from her chair. "Brother… I'm scared."
Light began to pour out of the monitor. Dim at first, then brighter. White. Not warm, but cold and flat.
The static grew louder—not deafening, but filling my head, as if something inside me had stopped moving.
"Seo Ah!" I pulled her close. "Over here!"
She clung to me, her body trembling.
"Brother, what is this?" her voice was small.
"I don't know," I answered honestly. "But don't let go."
The light spread throughout the room. Walls, desk, floor—everything began to lose its color. White, one by one.
I hugged Seo Ah tighter.
"Listen," I said quickly. "No matter what happens—"
"Brother…"
"I'm here."
The static suddenly stopped.
In a single second that strangely felt endless, our entire world turned white.
No sound.
No sensation of falling.
No pain.
Only one thought remained in my mind before everything vanished.
Server Aurethys… what is that?
And after that—
there was nothing.