Moyo's eyes strained as they adjusted to the oppressive dimness of the cave. The jagged terrain seemed to shift underfoot, each step a gamble. Every distant drip of water or faint scuttle made him freeze, his senses on edge. This was no place for the living—here, he was less than prey.
The HUD provided its cold, clinical information: a Tier 2 anomaly embedded in a Tier 1 mundane world. It defied every law of logic, yet here he stood, battered, bloodied, and exhausted. The only path to freedom lay deeper into this abyss.
The thought of the dungeon orb, the supposed key to escape, was no comfort. If this world obeyed even a fraction of the rules he knew from games, the orb would be guarded by something monstrous—something he couldn't hope to defeat. But this wasn't a game. The searing pain in his arms and the sticky warmth of his blood clinging to his skin were proof of that.
He pressed forward, driven not by courage but by a primal instinct to survive. The strange raw aether humming in his veins granted him strength, but its nature eluded him, as did its price. And then, there was the blade—a cryptic mention in the HUD. A weapon promised, but unseen. He clung to the hope it was nearby. Without it, survival seemed like a fantasy. Banishing thoughts of the life he had left behind, he moved forward.
The next chamber loomed like a predator's maw. Dim blue light spilled from crystals embedded in the walls, casting fractured, ghostly patterns across the jagged stone. Water trickled down, feeding strange, phosphorescent plants that clung to the edges like hungry parasites. Moyo crouched low, his every nerve a taut wire. The air was thick with the stench of decay, and the tingling at the back of his neck screamed a single truth: danger.
He wasn't alone.
Movement near the chamber's center caught his eye. Something massive coiled within the darkness, scales glinting faintly in the crystal light. It shifted with agonizing slowness, exuding an aura of predatory patience. His breath hitched, a cold sweat breaking over his skin.
A notification flared in his HUD:
[Rock Venom Serpent, Level 55]
The words might as well have been etched on his tombstone.
Moyo froze, terror gripping him in a vice. Outmatched. Outclassed. And utterly out of options.
"Wow. That's a big worm," a voice whispered, cutting through the tension like a blade.
Moyo nearly screamed. He whirled, his heart hammering, and saw the source of the voice. A man—no, a being—stood beside him, grinning with unsettling ease. Grey eyes glinted like polished steel, mischief dancing within. Swirling silver tattoos marked his tanned skin, their patterns shifting faintly as though alive. His black leather coat hung open, revealing lean muscle, and his braided grey hair framed a face that was both ageless and utterly alien.
"Who—" Moyo started, his voice cracking.
"Shhh." The figure held a finger to his lips, mock-serious. "You'll wake it—ah, too late."
The serpent stirred, its massive head rising, eyes gleaming like molten gold. It let out a low, resonant hiss that vibrated the very air.
"Pity," the stranger murmured, sounding more amused than alarmed. "It's awake now. Guess you'll have to deal with it."
"M-me?" Moyo stammered, disbelief choking his words.
The figure's grin widened, sharp and predatory. "Well, someone has to. And it's certainly not going to be me."
Before Moyo could process the absurdity of the situation, the chamber shook violently. A deafening roar reverberated through the stone walls, and something enormous broke through the cavern's far side.
[Blood Troll, Level 54]
The notification blinked coldly in his vision. The troll loomed, its grotesque body glistening with wet, matted fur, its crimson eyes locking onto the serpent.
"Ah, now this is interesting," the stranger said, his tone suddenly grave. His grin faded, replaced by something darker, more ominous. "But you… you need to learn a lesson."
Fear clamped down on Moyo's chest. The stranger wasn't just some passerby. Power radiated off him like heat from a forge, suffocating and absolute. Every fiber of Moyo's being screamed at him to run, but his legs refused to obey.
"You draw attention," the figure intoned, his voice now cold and devoid of humor. "You'd best be prepared to face what follows."
Before Moyo could react, the stranger moved. One moment he was standing still, the next, Moyo was airborne.
The world spun. Gravity seized him, and he crashed into the chamber's center with a sickening thud. Pain exploded through his body, and he gasped, scrabbling to his knees. Above, the serpent's eyes locked onto him, its massive body uncoiling.
The troll roared, charging forward with earth-shaking steps. The two monsters collided with bone-jarring force, the chamber trembling as their battle commenced.
Moyo barely had time to scramble for cover as debris rained down around him. A shard of stone clipped his shoulder, sending white-hot pain lancing down his arm. He ducked behind a boulder, his breaths coming in ragged gasps.
Above the chaos, the stranger's laughter echoed, cold and mocking.
Moyo dared to peek out, his heart hammering in his chest. The troll hurled a chunk of rock, narrowly missing the serpent but obliterating what little cover he had. His instincts screamed at him to move, to survive, but the crushing weight of despair bore down on him.
"Why…" he whispered, trembling. The serpent's golden eyes turned toward him again.
And above it all, the stranger watched, his grin a cruel crescent.
Ajax had to admit, this was entertaining. The look on the fledgling's face as he hurled him into the chamber's center had been priceless. Of course, there was a method to the madness—sink or swim, and all that. If the boy wanted to survive, he'd need to learn quickly. Fear was a luxury, one that often came with a body count.
His contract didn't stipulate how he'd train the kid. It only demanded results.
With a sigh, Ajax lowered himself onto the cold cavern floor, folding his arms as his sharp grey eyes tracked the chaos below. Moyo had scurried behind a shattered rock, trembling like a cornered rabbit. The dungeon's monstrosities were a study in brutality—a massive serpent, its fangs dripping venom, coiling itself around a blood troll. The troll, a grotesque mountain of sinew and rage, fought back with unrelenting savagery. Both creatures were aberrations of their kind, their clash a whirlwind of raw, primal fury.
But Ajax wasn't interested in the spectacle. His gaze lingered on Moyo.
"That won't do," he muttered, frowning at the boy's feeble attempt to hide. Picking up a small stone, he flicked it with casual precision. The rock sailed through the air, striking Moyo's already precarious cover—just as the blood troll hurled a boulder in the same direction. The combined impact obliterated the hiding spot, sending shards of stone flying.
Pure coincidence, of course. But Ajax smirked all the same.
Moyo's panicked scramble reminded Ajax of his own youth, back when he'd been little more than a half-starved swamp rat, hunting beasts with nothing but a blunt knife and desperation. The boy had potential—that much was clear. But potential without action? Useless.
The cavern shook again as the monsters roared, oblivious to the trembling figure darting between the wreckage. Ajax leaned back, arms crossed, his grin fading into something colder. His contractors had been warned—his methods weren't exactly gentle. But no one else would've taken the job. Tier-two dungeons weren't playgrounds, and fledglings like Moyo rarely survived their depths.
Then something caught his eye.
Moyo's arm, bent grotesquely from his earlier fall, suddenly snapped back into place with a sickening crack. The boy's scream cut through the din, raw and piercing, as the bone reset itself unnaturally fast. Ajax straightened, his eyes narrowing.
"What the…" he muttered, leaning forward. That wasn't normal.
The faint glow of aether pulsed through Moyo's veins, visible even from a distance. His mind raced, piecing together what he'd just witnessed. This wasn't luck or latent talent. It was something else entirely. Something higher.
Ajax's grin returned, but this time it carried a razor's edge. For the first time, he felt a twinge of uncertainty—not about Moyo's survival, but about what the boy was.
Below, Moyo staggered to his feet, his face a mask of terror and exhaustion. His eyes flicked between the two titans battling before him, their raw power shaking the chamber. Ajax pulled a small vial from within his coat, its contents glowing faintly with golden light.
"Time to up the ante," he murmured, tossing the vial lazily.
It shattered near Moyo's feet, releasing a shimmering mist that clung to the boy like a second skin. Ajax watched as Moyo's trembling subsided, his breaths steadied, and his posture straightened slightly. The elixir dulled his pain and restored a fraction of his strength, but it wasn't charity.
"No free lunches, kid," Ajax whispered, his voice barely audible over the chaos. "Show me you're worth the effort."
Moyo thought he was dead.
The explosion of his cover sent him flying, his body colliding with jagged stone. He screamed as his arm bent at an unnatural angle, bones snapping like brittle twigs. Panic clawed at him, threatening to pull him under—until it hit.
The blood absorption skill surged to life, aether coursing through him with merciless efficiency. His broken bones knit together in seconds, each agonizing snap and pop like fire racing through his veins. He choked on his own scream, his vision swimming as the skill worked its grim magic.
He collapsed to his knees, gasping, his body trembling from the aftershock. Then, another sensation washed over him—a strange, numbing relief. A mist settled around him, and his HUD blinked to life.
[Blood Absorption has absorbed Healing Elixir.]
The notification barely registered as clarity returned. His body felt lighter, the haze of pain dissipating. He looked up, his eyes locking onto the figure perched above. The man's face was a study in mockery, one hand raised in a sarcastic wave.
Rage flared briefly, but the roar of the monsters dragged his attention back to the battle. The serpent's fangs sank deep into the troll's flesh, venom coursing through its massive body. Black veins spiderwebbed across its crimson skin, its regeneration faltering under the relentless assault. The troll retaliated, gripping the serpent's skull with both hands and squeezing, bone cracking under the pressure.
Moyo froze, unable to look away from the brutal clash. The serpent coiled tighter, its constriction shattering the troll's ribs. Stone fractured, flesh tore, and blood painted the cavern floor in a grotesque display.
And then it was over.
The troll's regeneration failed, its skin sloughing off in chunks as the venom consumed it from within. In its death throes, it crushed the serpent's skull in a single, sickening crunch. Both creatures collapsed, their bodies twitching as life fled them.
The chamber fell silent.
"Now would be a good time to end it," came a voice, calm and sharp.
Moyo turned toward the figure. A rusted blade landed at his feet, its edge mottled with corrosion.
"Seriously?" he muttered, glaring at the weapon.
But there was no time to argue. The troll's body shuddered, its eyes flickering open. The sickening sound of bones resetting spurred him into action.
The blade felt heavy, clumsy in his grip, but his legs moved of their own accord. A scream tore from his throat, primal and raw, as he charged forward. The blade plunged into the troll's eye with a wet squelch.
The creature roared, jerking back as Moyo twisted the blade deeper. He didn't stop. He couldn't stop. Each strike came harder, faster, as if something deep within him had snapped.
When the cavern finally stilled, Moyo stood over the troll's lifeless body, his chest heaving. The notification in his HUD blinked, but he barely noticed as power surged through him, pulling him to the ground.
The world darkened, and his vision swam. The last thing he heard was the figure's laughter echoing in the distance.
Ajax hopped down from his perch, whistling a jaunty, off-tune melody. He strode across the blood-soaked cavern, stepping over the serpent's shattered skull with casual ease. His boots splashed through the pooling ichor as he came to a stop beside the unconscious fledgling sprawled across the jagged floor.
"Frail," Ajax muttered, crouching low. He prodded Moyo's face with a finger, tilting the boy's head to study him. Soft skin, unmarred by scars, brimming with untapped potential. A wicked grin spread across Ajax's face.
"Oh, what a rare gem I've stumbled upon," he murmured, his voice a blend of amusement and malice. His sharp gray eyes flicked to the faint glow of aether coursing just beneath the boy's skin. The skill Moyo carried—it wasn't luck or coincidence. This was the handiwork of the Archailect. Or perhaps Ajax's contractors? Either way, it was something special.
Rising to his full height, Ajax cast his gaze over the ruined cavern. His eyes lingered on the serpent's venomous fangs, still oozing their deadly acid. A thought took root, and his grin grew sharper.
"Oh yes," Ajax whispered, stepping toward the glistening fangs. "I know just the thing to toughen you up."
[Congratulations! You have reached Level 3!]
[Congratulations! You have reached Level 5!]
[Congratulations! You have reached Level 10!]
[Congratulations! You have reached Level 25!]
[You have obtained the skill: Endure Agony [C]]
Moyo awoke with a scream, his body writhing in agony. Every nerve was ablaze, his skin blistering and bubbling as a searing liquid dripped down his torso. The acrid stench of burning flesh filled his nose, and he scrambled back, eyes wild with terror.
"The serpent's venom..." he rasped; his voice raw. "Are you insane?"
"Insane?" Ajax's voice cut through the haze of pain, smooth and unbothered. "Hardly. Resourceful? Absolutely." He sauntered closer, holding a crude wooden bowl from which the venom dripped in slow, deliberate droplets.
Moyo's gaze darted between Ajax and the bubbling acid on the floor. "Why… why would you—?"
"Do relax, worm," Ajax interrupted with mock cheer. "It's potent stuff—might even save your life one day." His grin widened, and he turned toward a fire crackling at the cavern's center. A slab of meat sizzled over the flames, its savory aroma filling the air.
Moyo's stomach churned as his eyes flicked to the mangled remains of the troll and serpent strewn across the chamber.
Ajax followed his gaze and let out a bark of laughter. "Do I look like some kind of savage? Eating dungeon meat? Honestly, I'm hurt."
Moyo said nothing, his attention drawn to the glowing HUD hovering in his vision.
"Who... who are you?" he asked, his voice low and wary.
Ajax smirked, taking a bite of his meal. "Depends on who you ask. To some, I'm a devil; to others, a savior." His gray eyes gleamed in the firelight as they locked onto Moyo.
"Where are we?" Moyo's voice trembled. "What is this dungeon?"
Ajax waved the question off. "Yes, yes, you're still on Earth—quaint little backwater in the grand scheme of things."
Moyo stiffened, his fists clenching. "What do you mean 'backwater'? And why are you here?"
Ajax sighed dramatically, as though the conversation bored him. "I was hired to find you, worm."
Moyo's breath caught. "Find me? Why?"
Ajax's smile turned razor-sharp. "Questions, questions. Do I need to toss you into another fight to get you focused?"
Moyo swallowed hard, forcing himself to remain still. "The system told me to find the blade," he said cautiously. "That's what I've been searching for—a weapon."
At this, Ajax threw back his head and laughed, the sound echoing through the cavern like a cruel specter. "Oh, Killian, you cryptic bastard! The 'blade' isn't a thing, worm. It's a person."
Moyo blinked, the weight of Ajax's words sinking in. "A person?"
"Indeed." Ajax's grin was predatory. "Allow me to introduce myself: Ajax Death Blade. The one you've been looking for."
Moyo's jaw dropped, words failing him.
Ajax leaned closer; his face half-lit by the fire's flickering glow. His expression turned deadly serious, the grin fading into something colder. "Let's get one thing straight. You are nothing—less than a worm—until I deem you worthy. Call me Master, and maybe I won't leave your bones for the dungeon beasts to gnaw on."
A shiver ran down Moyo's spine. He lowered his gaze, forcing the bitter words out. "Yes... Master."
Ajax nodded, satisfaction gleaming in his eyes. "Good. Don't pout—I can feel the hatred bubbling under your skin. You crave power. Revenge, even. That's good. I'll give you the tools to take it."
Moyo's fists clenched tighter, the flicker of defiance not entirely extinguished.
Ajax's tone dropped, turning icy. "The Archailect spans the cosmos, worm. You're too small, too fragile to challenge it. But if you're smart, you'll take the chance I'm offering. Grow strong enough to survive, and maybe—just maybe—you'll live long enough to claim the vengeance you so clearly desire."
Moyo's HUD flared to life:
[Expert Ajax Death Blade offers to take you as his disciple. Accept?]
The message glowed like a taunt. Trembling, Moyo dropped to his knees, bowing his head low.
"Please," he whispered, the desperation in his voice raw and unrestrained. "Help me."
Ajax's grin returned, as sharp and cold as a knife.
"Oh, worm," he said softly. "This is going to be fun."
Ushotan, disciple of the Pale Hand, knelt amidst the fetid shadows of the tier-2 dungeon. His fingers, slick with blood, traced arcane sigils into the earth, their crimson lines shimmering faintly before sinking into the stone. Beside him lay the crumpled body of a jungle claw, its massive form sprawled lifeless against the cavern wall.
The beast had been a formidable level 60 predator, its muscled frame bristling with claws and sinew designed for carnage. Yet it had fallen to Ushotan—a gaunt, pale figure whose skeletal frame seemed better suited for burial than battle. The juxtaposition was almost laughable, save for the aura of dread that clung to him like a second skin.
Ushotan's blessing, however, was no laughing matter.
The mark of the Pale Hand branded his existence, a gift—and a command—bestowed by the benefactors who had raised him from obscurity. Their resources had smuggled him past the Vanguard Warden, delivering him to this unremarkable backwater world. He was an emissary of the Undeath Empire, his orders etched into his soul: avoid the vanguards, trust the wisdom of the Hand, and carve the path set before him.
And so, Ushotan obeyed. His master's word was law.
The air thickened with decay as his spell reached its culmination, waves of undeath mana radiating from the sigils he had inscribed. A putrid green light seeped into the dungeon floor, corrupting the stone with the empire's taint. This place, nestled deep within the bowels of the world, would become his base of operations—the first foothold for the glory of the Undeath Empire.
Yet even as he worked, doubt clawed at his mind.
Why had he been chosen? He was no more than a peak initiate, a faceless disciple among countless others serving the Pale Hand's dominion. He had no patron of renown, no great triumphs to his name. Yet here he stood, entrusted with the monumental task of subjugating this world in the name of the Empire.
"Perhaps the Hand has seen my dedication," Ushotan muttered, his voice low and gravelly. His words echoed hollowly in the cavern, swallowed by the oppressive silence. "Or perhaps I am merely a pawn in some grander scheme."
His lips curled into a bitter smile. "No matter. I will seize this chance, regardless of their intentions."
Rising slowly, Ushotan reached out with one bony hand. His staff of blackened bone—a relic steeped in the death of a dozen worlds—flew into his grasp, its surface etched with runes that pulsed faintly like dying embers. The skull mounted atop it flared to life, emerald flames igniting in its hollow sockets, casting twisted shadows across the bloodied walls.
With deliberate precision, he slammed the staff into the ground.
The dungeon floor trembled as a wave of necrotic energy surged outward, its cold touch suffusing the air. The lifeless jungle claw jerked violently, its body writhing unnaturally as the spell took hold. Its massive frame rose unsteadily, twisted and grotesque. Where once there had been muscle and power, there was now an abomination—undeath mana coiling through its veins, warping its form.
Its glowing green eyes locked onto Ushotan, its guttural roar reverberating through the cavern. The beast, once a hunter of flesh, now stood as a thrall to its new master.
A cruel grin spread across Ushotan's face as he surveyed his handiwork. The beast's sheer power, now bound by undeath, would serve him well. The sigils on his staff flared brighter, and the creature knelt before him, its submission absolute.
"Yes," he whispered, his voice dripping with ambition. "This is my time."
Ushotan's pale fingers tightened around the staff as he raised his gaze, his eyes burning with resolve. "None will stand in the way of my ascent. The glory of the Undeath Empire will begin here. And it will begin with me."