The hole swallowed Bell whole. His body tumbled through the darkness, plummeting faster than he anticipated, as the gaping void seemed to stretch infinitely before him. His senses, fine-tuned after years of adventuring, screamed at him to react—brace yourself, ready yourself, prepare for impact—but there was no time. He was already falling too fast.
For what felt like an eternity, Bell was lost in the dark, wind rushing past him in a deafening roar. The very nature of the fall made his stomach lurch, but amidst it all, an odd sense of exhilaration burned in his chest. This was what he had come for: the unknown, the challenge, the thrill of facing something beyond comprehension.
Then, it happened.
As Bell continued his descent, something shifted. A ripple, an energy surge, and suddenly, the world around him changed. His body froze as a surreal sensation overwhelmed him. It wasn't the falling sensation that had him disoriented now, but the images.
The dark void split open, and with it came visions—visions that hit Bell like a tidal wave of memories that were not his own. His eyes widened as an ocean of images flooded his mind, so vivid and real it was like he was standing in the middle of them, living them.
Battles, wars, legends.
He saw heroes in ancient armor, fighting with swords glowing with divine light. The clash of steel on steel, the grunts of dying men, the desperate cries for victory echoing through time. He saw titans battling in the sky, their enormous forms clashing like thunderous storms. The very land seemed to tremble beneath their might as mountains split open and seas were reduced to raging storms. Titans falling, their massive bodies crumpling to the earth, leaving only destruction in their wake.
The rise and fall of empires.
Cities of impossible grandeur, filled with bustling crowds, followed by their swift destruction as they were wiped off the map by invading forces or forgotten to time. Heroes and kings turned to dust. Generations lost to wars. The faces of countless people passed before Bell's eyes, all of them speaking, pleading, shouting out to him, as though trying to tell him something. Faces of warriors, of gods, of the fallen—each of them lost to the tides of time. The anguish of their final moments echoed within his mind.
Battles with gods.
Bell watched the clash of gods themselves—beings of unspeakable power, throwing entire realms into chaos as they fought for dominion. Gods falling, defeated by their own kind or by the hands of mortals who had dared to challenge them. And there, amidst it all, was Bell's face, his younger self, standing among these colossal beings as if ready to enter the fray.
The nature of destiny.
The thread of fate twisted before his eyes, wrapping around his very soul. The string of his existence, his path as a hero, was interwoven with others—heroes, monsters, gods. His journey was not just his own. It was a part of something much, much bigger.
The visions came faster, more relentless now, each one pushing him further into the abyss of thoughts and histories not his own. Bell tried to fight them off, but they were too strong, too overwhelming.
And yet, he couldn't help but wonder: Why? Why was he being shown this? Was this the Dungeon's way of testing him? Was it trying to break him?
Bell's breathing grew heavier, his chest tight as the images warped and twisted in his mind. His vision blurred as he struggled to focus on the present, but the weight of what he was seeing pressed down on him.
The images of heroes dying, kingdoms falling, and wars fought to the bitter end—it all felt so real. For a moment, Bell's mind faltered, and he felt an odd sense of helplessness, as if he was just one tiny piece in a much larger, uncontrollable machine. His vision wavered again.
But then, something inside him snapped.
His hand clenched around his sword hilt. His feet kicked against the air, and a burst of power erupted from him, pushing away the oncoming barrage of images. He fought back—not just physically, but mentally. He wasn't going to be a puppet in this grand spectacle of fate. He wasn't going to let the Dungeon control him.
Bell's will surged forward, like an unstoppable force. His consciousness snapped back into focus, and in one instant, the visions shattered into nothingness. The reality of the moment crashed back onto him. The void around him—the falling darkness—returned, but the weight of those overpowering illusions was gone.
His body surged with life again. His mind cleared, and his chest rose and fell with steady breaths.
Bell's feet hit solid ground, the impact sending a shockwave through his body, but he recovered instantly. His movements were fluid, instinctual, like water rolling off his back. The air was heavy, saturated with a sense of foreboding, but there was no longer any confusion in Bell's mind. His heart beat strong, his gaze steady.
"Well, that was interesting," Bell muttered with a grin, brushing the remnants of sweat from his brow. His hair was ruffled, his eyes sparkling with excitement.
He stood now in an abyss. The darkness stretched out in all directions, and it seemed endless. The ground beneath him was cracked and barren, with jagged stone pillars rising from the depths. The very air hummed with a thick, oppressive energy, and the weight of emptiness pressed against him, but Bell could feel the pulse of the Dungeon's heart beneath the surface.
The floor stretched on forever—so wide, it seemed to have no end. The atmosphere was like a living thing. The silence was suffocating, but Bell didn't mind. His senses, heightened and attuned from years of combat, screamed that something was waiting for him—something beyond the endless dark.
But that didn't scare him.
No, Bell was eager. He could feel the challenge on the horizon, the unknown that called to him like a siren. Every battle so far had been a step toward this. Every test. Every monster. They were all preparation for the true trial that awaited in the deepest bowels of the Dungeon. And now, standing on the verge of Floor 100, Bell could taste it.
His grin spread wider, his hands flexing with energy.
"Oh yeah," he muttered to himself. "I've been waiting for this."
The void around him shifted once more, but it wasn't the illusory trickery he had faced before. This was something much more tangible. The air thickened, and the ground began to shake. But this time, Bell didn't hesitate. He welcomed it.
With a booming voice, he shouted into the abyss:
"I'm coming for you!"
And with that, Bell Cranel, the King of Heroes, stepped forward into the infinite darkness, his footsteps echoing through the endless void.
The true battle had finally begun.