Bounding across the forest, Moyo's ears attuned to the rushing sound of water in the distance. The shrieks of Razorbacks echoed behind him, but their pursuit no longer filled him with dread—it barely even interested him.
He slowed as one leapt at him, its bladed limbs slicing through the air with a feral screech. Without breaking stride, Moyo swung Ida, the blade humming with intent as it cleaved the creature cleanly in two. Its halves hit the ground with a wet thud.
Leaping over another, he flipped through the air and landed in a shallow stream surrounded by jagged rocks. The water was clear, the forest around it vibrant with greens and golds. Dozens of Razorbacks surged out of the trees to surround him, their chittering cries echoing in the natural amphitheater of the stream.
Moyo exhaled, gripping Ida tighter.
He had grown bored.
At Level 42, with 66 points to his name, the Razorbacks had become little more than a chore. He'd allocated 21 of his points into Strength, sharing the remaining 15 among his other attributes. The increase had propelled him to a whole new realm of power—even as an Initiate—and the Razorbacks, once a source of terror, now barely offered a challenge.
He'd let them swarm him, even letting their numbers grow in the vain hope that another Warrior Razorback might appear. None had come. Instead, their endless ranks had become a tedious mass of chittering bodies, burrowing out of the earth and throwing themselves at him.
"Nothing but cannon fodder," he muttered, swinging his blade in a lazy arc.
He noted with faint curiosity that no other dungeon aberrants had emerged—likely driven away by the overwhelming Razorback presence. The thought took him back to a high school science experiment, where fire ants had swarmed a single roach in a perfect example of mob mentality.
Here, as in that experiment, the Razorbacks sought to overwhelm him with numbers. But he wasn't a helpless roach.
And he had grown tired of the game.
The Razorbacks surged toward him, their chittering cries rising as they closed in. Moyo swung Ida casually, cutting through their ranks like wheat before a scythe. His blade moved in a blur, each swing precise and devastating.
Despite the carnage, his level refused to budge. Not even a single point.
The grind was grating on his nerves.
Moyo paused, letting his blade rest for a moment. His fingers loosened their grip, and he allowed his intent to leak out of his core, surrounding him in a faint, shimmering aura. He shaped it with his will, forming a spinning sphere of blade-like energy around his body.
The Razorbacks rushed in, undeterred.
The first wave met the sphere, their bladed limbs slicing toward him—only to be severed cleanly as the storm of intent tore through their chitin. The second wave followed, and then the third, their bodies reduced to chunks of ichor-soaked pieces.
His HUD blinked.
[Congratulations, you have created skill: Blade Storm (U)]
[Blade Storm (U): Killing is your specialty. With ruthless efficiency, you can cut down dozens, crushing all those who oppose you with the will of a titan.]
There it was again: titan. The word lingered in his mind, teasing at something deeper. What did it mean?
Moyo stretched the storm outward, watching as the remaining Razorbacks hurled themselves into the spinning vortex, their numbers dwindling rapidly. When the last of the creatures fell, the storm fizzled out, leaving nothing but silence and scattered remains.
Breathing heavily, Moyo sheathed Ida. His core was nearly empty, the reserves of intent drained entirely. He crouched by the stream, cupping the cool water in his hands to wash his face.
Staring at his reflection, he hardly recognized himself. His skin was darker, his features sharper, and his hair had grown into a tangled mess. He ran a hand over his arms, feeling the lean, corded muscles that had replaced his once-lanky frame.
He wasn't the same bumbling weakling who had first stumbled into the dungeon. That much was clear.
Moyo's thoughts turned briefly to the world outside the dungeon. He wondered how the others were faring. As far as he knew, Earth was still classified as mundane, meaning most of its inhabitants were likely still Fledglings. The thought unsettled him.
What if there were other Tier 2 dungeons out there? What if they "broke," as dungeons often did in games, unleashing horrors onto the remnants of his world?
He sighed, pushing the thoughts aside. There was nothing he could do about it now.
Following the trail of the Razorbacks, Moyo traced their burrowing paths through the forest. The ground was pockmarked with holes, all leading toward a deep crevice in the distance.
As he approached, two massive figures emerged from the shadows.
[Warrior Razorback Spider, Level 65.]
[Warrior Razorback Spider, Level 64.]
The creatures stood as silent sentinels, their bladed legs glinting in the dying light. The forest around him was steeped in shadow, the dungeon's imitation of the setting sun casting long, flickering silhouettes.
Moyo grinned.
"Finally, a real test."
He crouched low, blending into the forest's darkness. His eyes stayed fixed on the two warriors guarding the entrance, watching for any signs of movement.
In the silence, Moyo began plotting his next move, the thrill of the challenge lighting a fire in his veins.
This was a whole new level of fight. Two Razorback Warriors, both stronger and faster than anything he'd faced before—and this time, he didn't have the element of surprise.
Moyo crouched in the shadow of the forest's edge, surveying the hive's entrance. No nearby trees offered a convenient vantage point for a decisive ambush. With one calculated move, he could have eliminated one of the warriors and reduced his risk. But here, he'd have to take them both on, simultaneously, with a core that was slowly refilling—drop by agonizing drop.
The thought was tempting, but foolish. It bordered on pride, and Moyo shook his head, shoving the reckless notion aside.
He retreated to the edge of the stream, climbing a tree and settling into its branches. Here, he allowed his body to recover, absorbing ambient aether at a painstakingly slow rate to refine it into intent. While he waited, he called up his HUD to review his progress.
Name: Moyosore
Race: Human
Rank: Fledgling
Core: Intent [Dim]
Level: 42
Weapon: Blade (Imbued) Ida
Skills:
Blood Absorption [?]Endure Agony [U] 25Physical Regeneration [U] 25Blade Storm [U] 1Toxin Resistance [C] 30Titan's Edge [R] 1
Attributes:STR: 59DEX: 46END: 53VIT: 50
Titles:Dungeon Pioneer [+1 point to every level gained within dungeons.]Emberkin [Resistance to flame +10%.]Slayer [+50% damage to dungeon creatures below Level 50.]
Items:Ethereal Credits: 100,600
He had come a long way. The sight of his stats filled him with grim satisfaction, but also a pang of frustration. He idly wondered about the meaning of "path" and what the system had hinted about Titans.
Slayer had proven to be a double-edged sword. While it granted him devastating power against weaker foes, it also seemed to prevent him from gaining experience from them—an unspoken mechanism to curb his growth. If anything, the system was pushing him toward stronger and stronger enemies.
He sighed, chewing on his lip. Emberkin was all but useless in the current environment—there hadn't been another flame-bearing aberrant since the Flame Serpents. Still, it wasn't lost on him how far he'd come.
For a brief moment, he even wondered how he might fare against Ajax now. The thought made him snort. The Death Blade hadn't even been trying during their training, and yet, he'd still barely survived.
The hours ticked by. Moyo drank from the stream periodically, keeping his body hydrated, and returned to the safety of the tree. Sleep crept over him, and he let it take hold, waking only to the faint chirping of nocturnal dungeon creatures.
The darkness of the dungeon was absolute, its night devoid of stars or moons. Drawing Ida, Moyo dropped soundlessly to the ground. He crept toward the hive entrance, retracing his earlier path.
This time, the warriors were gone. A thick layer of venomous webbing now covered the entrance.
Moyo narrowed his eyes. They're hunting.
He remembered something about spiders and their reliance on vibrations to locate prey. A dangerous idea sparked in his mind—reckless, maybe suicidal. Still, it was the best he had.
Slashing his palm, he let his blood flow and rubbed it into the sticky web. His HUD blinked as Toxin Resistance absorbed the venom harmlessly. With his intent-coated blade, he cut through the web, exposing the entrance. Then he sprinted back into the shadows of the forest.
The shrill cries of the warriors echoed from the hive moments later. The two Razorbacks emerged, their serrated legs gleaming like polished blades. They hesitated, sniffing the air.
Perched in a tree, Moyo smeared his blood on the bark, baiting them closer. When they reached his position, he leapt.
[Titan's Edge activated.]
His blade came down in a brilliant arc, glowing with purple intent as it cleaved through the skull of the first Razorback. The Level 64 warrior shrieked, its body convulsing as it died instantly.
Moyo spun mid-air, his fist slamming into the second warrior. The impact sent a shockwave up his arm, pain erupting in his knuckles as the creature's chitin rebounded his blow. He gritted his teeth, pulling Ida free from the first corpse just as the remaining warrior charged.
Its bladed limbs became a whirlwind of death. Moyo ducked and parried frantically, his strengthened skin barely holding against shallow cuts. The venom stung as his body fought it off, Toxin Resistance working overtime.
Backing into a defensive stance, Moyo activated Blade Storm. The sphere of cutting intent burst around him, but the warrior's reinforced shell shrugged it off with minimal damage.
He need to end this. Now.
With a guttural growl, he stepped into the creature's attack. Its mandibles lunged forward, clamping down on his shoulder.
Agony ripped through him as raw venom pumped into his bloodstream. His scream tore through the forest, his vision blurring as he gripped Ida with both hands.
Shoving the blade into the Razorback's eye, he triggered Titan's Edge once more.
The explosion of power shattered the creature's skull, its body falling limp as Moyo collapsed to the ground.
Writhing in pain, he fought against the venom coursing through his veins. His body convulsed; his throat raw from stifling screams that would attract more aberrants. Slowly, agonizingly, the burning began to subside as his Toxin Resistance and Physical Regeneration worked in tandem.
His HUD blinked, barely registering through the haze of pain.
[Congratulations! You have slain Warrior Razorbacks, Level 65 & 64.]
[Level 55! 65 points +13.]
[Toxin Resistance 40.]
[Physical Regeneration 35.]
[Skills fused: Physical Regeneration (U) + Toxin Resistance (C) → Titan's Vitality (R).]
[Titan's Vitality: Converts toxins into healing energy, enhancing regeneration and resilience. You have done the impossible once more, fusing two foundational skills into the vitality of a titan. Poisons and venoms mean nothing to you, and grievous wounds are but fleeting setbacks. Could this be a sign of greater trials yet to come?]
Moyo chuckled weakly, wincing as pain flared through his battered body.
"Well... damn you too," he muttered, his voice a rasp as he lay sprawled on the forest floor, the faintest grin tugging at his lips.
Ajax tapped his foot repeatedly, biting his nails with nervous energy. His glowing eyes pierced through the dungeon's oppressive night, fixed on Moyo's prone form.
The boy was reckless—no, idiotic, Ajax decided. What in the Archailect's name had given him the notion that taking on two Level 60+ aberrants at the same time was a good idea?
Ajax shook his head, the corners of his mouth twitching. It wasn't just the sheer stupidity of the act—it was the fact that Moyo had actually won.
The thought swelled him with pride, though he crushed it just as quickly with a more alarming realization. Something strange was happening with this child. His growth was not merely rapid—it was unnatural.
Ajax's gaze flicked to Moyo's HUD, his brow furrowing as he once again reviewed the stark changes. It had been only a day—one day—and the differences were staggering. His stats had skyrocketed. His skills had advanced beyond reason. And there was that word again: Titan.
It lingered like an ominous whisper in the back of Ajax's mind, its implications just out of reach.
"What are you?" Ajax muttered under his breath.
Running scenarios through his mind, Ajax considered calling his contact. The idea of sharing what he'd seen gnawed at him. The boy wasn't just unusual—he was impossible.
Skill fusion, for instance. It wasn't supposed to happen, not without a Primal Shard or something even rarer. Yet Moyo had slammed two skills together and somehow created Rare-grade abilities.
And not just one. Two.
Rare skills—costing at least a hundred thousand credits apiece in the open market—were appearing in this boy's arsenal as if by whim. And then there was that word again, threaded into every one of those new abilities: Titan.
The implications made Ajax's skin prickle.
Ajax ran a hand through his locked hair, the silver tattoos shimmering faintly as his fingers brushed them. His thoughts strayed to his network of contacts. Perhaps one of them would know what this all meant—if they even bothered to answer his calls. His reputation across the systems was… complicated.
On one side, there were those who pitied him, tolerating him for reasons of debt or obligation.
And then there were those who wanted him dead.
Unfortunately, the latter group vastly outnumbered the former.
He crossed his arms, leaning back slightly as he watched Moyo. His contractors had made it clear what they expected of this arrangement, but Ajax couldn't help but think the boy would reach—and possibly surpass—the required level far sooner than any of them had anticipated. That was good news for the planet, Ajax supposed.
If nothing else, it meant he wouldn't be stuck on this backwater world for too long.
"Nothing I can do about the system's decisions," he muttered.
And yet, the prospect of Moyo's ability to fuse skills gnawed at him. If word of this reached the greater Archailect, the boy would become a target.
The inter-system bounty hunters would descend like vultures, hired by the empires, the great families, or the factions that thrived under the Archailect. They'd enslave the boy in service for as long as he drew breath, stripping away what freedom he had left.
Ajax's eyes narrowed.
No. That couldn't happen. If it did, Moyo would need to be ready—strong enough to defend himself, or better yet, strong enough to make his enemies regret their decision.
"A good defense is always a stronger offense," Ajax muttered, the corner of his mouth lifting into a wry grin.
He watched as Moyo, battered but alive, slowly dragged himself to his feet. Despite the pain and exhaustion etched across his face, his eyes gleamed with raw determination.
Ajax sighed, crossing his arms.
The boy was a walking disaster, reckless to a fault—but perhaps that recklessness was the fire he'd need to survive.
Reconsidering his initial plan to scold Moyo, Ajax allowed himself a smirk.
"Maybe just a gentler approach this time," he mused aloud. Then, after a moment of thought:
"...Or maybe a few more beatdowns for good measure."
Moyo allocated his points with careful deliberation, every close call with death a stark reminder of his fragility. He placed 20 points each into Strength and Vitality, shoring up the two attributes that had kept him alive so far. The healed bite mark on his shoulder throbbed faintly at the memory, though the wound itself had vanished entirely.
With 38 points remaining, he split them evenly, adding 19 points each to Endurance and Dexterity. His stats now reflected a much sturdier foundation, most attributes surpassing 70, with Dexterity trailing slightly behind but still formidable.
The system had also granted him 10 refined aether shards, a rare and welcome boon. Grudgingly grateful, Moyo crushed one in his palm, letting the swirling energy refill his core to the brim.
He brought up his HUD once again, glancing over his table for what felt like the tenth time that day. A soft smile flickered across his lips—a brief moment of pride—before he trudged toward the gaping maw of the cavern ahead.
Name: Moyosore
Race: Human
Rank: Acolyte
Core: Intent [Dim]
Level: 65
Weapon: Blade (Imbued) Ida
Skills:
Blood Absorption [?]Endure Agony [U] 25Blade Storm [U] 1Titan's Edge [R] 10Titan's Vitality [R] 1
Attributes:STR: 79DEX: 65END: 72VIT: 70
Titles:Dungeon Pioneer [+1 point to every level gained within dungeons.]Emberkin [Resistance to flame +10%.]Slayer [+50% damage to dungeon creatures below Level 50.]
Items:Ethereal Credits: 100,600Shards (Refined): 9
He sighed as he crossed the threshold of the cavern, weapon drawn. "Another underground adventure," he muttered under his breath, the prospect weighing heavily on him.
The tunnel walls were lined with sticky, poisonous webs, their glistening strands coated with a thick, mucus-like substance that seeped into the floor. Moyo bit back his revulsion, carefully stepping around the worst of it as he descended deeper into the oppressive darkness.
The further he went, the more his evolved senses kicked in. His eyes had grown sharper, his vision adapting to the low light of the dungeon. He could see the faint glimmers of aether shards embedded in the walls, their glow just enough to reveal the path ahead.
As he approached the edge of a large chamber, he paused, crouching low to avoid being seen. His knees brushed against the slick mucus coating the floor, and he cursed silently, forcing himself to move closer.
Peeking out from behind a jagged outcrop, his eyes widened at the sight before him.
The cavern was enormous, its vast expanse filled with hundreds of white-shelled eggs, their surfaces glistening under the faint light. They were scattered haphazardly, embedded in layers of mucus that pulsed faintly with life.
Dozens of regular Razorbacks scurried between the clusters, dragging the corpses of smaller aberrants toward the eggs. The creatures tore the bodies apart, stuffing the remains around the shells—food for the soon-to-hatch brood.
Moyo's gaze swept the room. These smaller Razorbacks wouldn't be a problem—not anymore. But his stomach twisted as his eyes locked onto the greater threats.
Ten Warrior Razorbacks, each in their Level 70s, circled a raised platform at the center of the chamber. They moved with practiced precision, their blade-like limbs gleaming under the dim light.
Atop the platform stood a humanoid Razorback, its insectoid wings stretched out like a grotesque mockery of divinity. Its stillness was unnerving, its presence radiating an oppressive aura that felt almost physical.
[Razorback King, Level 95]
Moyo's breath caught. The King was unlike anything he'd faced. Its chitinous body shimmered with an otherworldly sheen, its blade-like appendages promising death with a single swing.
And yet, even this monstrosity paled in comparison to the other presence in the room.
Near the back of the chamber, a massive, pulsing form dominated the space. Mucus-covered chitin wrapped its enormous bulk, coiled twice around the room like some grotesque god.
Then its head shifted, glowing eyes the size of boulders locking onto nothing in particular, yet exuding a chilling awareness.
[Razorback Queen, Level 100]
Moyo clenched his blade tighter, his knuckles whitening as he stared down at the scene. His heart raced, adrenaline surging through him.
Ten Level 70+ Warriors. A Level 95 King. A Level 100 Queen.
The odds were insurmountable, yet here he was, crouched at the edge of hell.
"Well," he whispered to himself, "this is going to be fun."