Chapter 5

The Adventurer’s Guild of the Royal Capital was unlike any other building in the city. While most establishments closed their doors as the sun dipped below the horizon, the guild only grew livelier. Torches burned bright along its stone walls, casting shadows that danced to the rhythm of raucous laughter, clinking mugs, and the occasional brawl that broke out among spirited adventurers.

But tonight, there was a different kind of energy in the air. An unease that simmered beneath the surface of the revelry.

Yamamoto Kenzou pushed open the heavy oak doors, his white hair catching the torchlight like a streak of moonlight, his crimson eyes sharp as ever. He walked with calm confidence, each step echoing on the wooden floorboards. Alicia had insisted on accompanying him, but this time he came alone. The Guildmaster had summoned him specifically, and though he didn’t know the reason, Kenzou could already guess.

The whispers started the moment he entered.

“That’s him… the hero.”
“They say he cleared an Abyssal Veil.”
“Why would the Guildmaster call for him at this hour…?”

Kenzou ignored the murmurs. He wasn’t here for gossip.

At the far end of the guild hall, past the bustling tables and mission boards plastered with requests, a spiral staircase led upward. Two armored guards stood watch, their spears crossed until they recognized him. Without a word, they stepped aside.

Kenzou ascended the steps, the noise of the hall fading behind him. The second floor was quieter, reserved for high-ranking adventurers and official guild business. At the end of the corridor, a pair of tall double doors awaited.

He pushed them open.

The Guildmaster’s office was spacious yet dimly lit, the glow of enchanted crystals illuminating shelves stacked with maps, scrolls, and relics from expeditions past. Behind a massive oak desk sat a man as broad as a bear. His hair was iron-gray, his beard thick, and his single visible eye gleamed with authority. The other was hidden beneath an old scar and an eyepatch — a reminder of the countless battles he had survived.

“Sir Kenzou,” the Guildmaster rumbled, his deep voice carrying the weight of command. “You came quickly.”

Kenzou inclined his head slightly. “You summoned me. I assumed it was urgent.”

The older man leaned forward, steepling his fingers. “It is. Reports have come in from our scouts and adventurers. A dungeon… no ordinary one. A Tier Four has surfaced just outside the capital’s northern forest.”

Kenzou’s eyes narrowed. “Tier Four, huh?”

For most adventurers, a Tier Four dungeon was a death sentence. The monsters inside were not just numerous — they were intelligent, coordinated, and far stronger than what the average party could handle. Guild records showed entire C-rank squads wiped out attempting such places.

The Guildmaster studied him carefully. “Normally, I wouldn’t even consider sending you in so soon after your last expedition. But the situation is dire. This dungeon is expanding. Its influence is spilling outward. Villages near the forest report strange noises at night, livestock vanishing, people dragged away by unseen hands.”

His fist struck the desk, rattling the inkpots. “If we leave it be, it will grow into a calamity.”

Most adventurers would have flinched at the grim words. But Kenzou only smirked.

“Sounds like a good place for me to stretch my legs.”

The Guildmaster’s brows knitted together. “You take this lightly.”

“Not lightly,” Kenzou corrected, his crimson eyes glowing faintly in the dim light. “I take it personally. If what you’re saying is true, then this dungeon is just the beginning of something bigger. Which means I’ll need to be stronger than I am now.”

He rested a hand on the hilt of his Heavenly Spear, the weapon shimmering faintly with golden light. “And what better way to get stronger than to dive headfirst into a nest of monsters?”

The Guildmaster’s eye widened a fraction. “…You see a Tier Four dungeon as training?”

Kenzou grinned. “More like a feast. Those monsters? They’re nothing but food for me to grow. Experience points waiting to be harvested.”

Silence hung in the room for a long moment. Then, the Guildmaster leaned back in his chair and barked a rough laugh.

“Hah! You’re mad. But perhaps that’s what this kingdom needs. Still…” His expression sobered once more. “Do not underestimate it, Kenzou. Even a hero can bleed. I’ve seen too many young talents who thought themselves invincible, only to be buried in stone and darkness.”

Kenzou’s smile softened. “Don’t worry. I don’t plan on dying. Not when there are people waiting for me outside.”

For a fleeting moment, Alicia’s face flashed through his mind — her golden hair catching the sunlight, her warm laughter, her jealous pout.

The Guildmaster caught the look in his eyes and grunted. “So that’s your reason. Hold onto it. You’ll need it when the dungeon tries to break you.”

He reached into a drawer and pulled out a rolled parchment, sealed with the guild’s crest. “Here. The official writ of authorization. With this, you have clearance to challenge the Tier Four dungeon. But be warned — you’ll go alone. No party. No backup. If you fail, the guild won’t risk another rescue attempt.”

Kenzou accepted the parchment without hesitation. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

The Guildmaster shook his head, half in exasperation, half in admiration. “You’re either the bravest fool I’ve ever met… or the kind of hero bards will sing about for centuries. Go, then. Test yourself. And may the gods watch over you.”

Kenzou turned, the heavy parchment tucked under his arm. At the door, he paused and glanced back.

“I don’t need gods to watch over me,” he said with quiet conviction. “I just need to keep walking forward. For her.”

And with that, he left the office, the weight of the writ in his hand but the fire of determination blazing in his chest.

Tomorrow, he would step into the dungeon that adventurers feared.
Tomorrow, the monsters of Tier Four would learn the difference between prey and predator.

For Yamamoto Kenzou, they weren’t nightmares.
They were nourishment.

The northern forest was quiet, unnaturally so. By day it teemed with life — birds, deer, and the rustle of leaves in the wind. But now, under the pale glow of the moon, the silence pressed down on the trees like a suffocating blanket. Even the insects had ceased their nightly chorus.

At the forest’s heart lay the source of that silence.

A rift.

It yawned open at the base of an ancient tree, its twisted roots clawing at the earth like skeletal fingers. From within the jagged tear in reality poured a dim, violet mist that seeped across the ground like smoke. The stench of iron and rot clung to the air, heavy enough to make lesser men gag.

The Tier Four Dungeon.

Dozens of adventurers had gathered at its entrance, most of them C-ranks and B-ranks. They kept their distance from the rift, whispering nervously among themselves. Their armor clinked faintly as they shifted in place, eyes darting between the dungeon and the path leading back toward the city.

Kenzou arrived without ceremony, his white cloak trailing lightly behind him. The moment the others noticed him, a ripple went through the crowd.

“That’s him…”
“The outsider… the hero.”
“Is he really going in there alone?”

He paid no mind. His crimson gaze locked onto the rift as if the whispers were nothing but wind.

One of the adventurers, a burly man with a battle-axe, stepped forward nervously. “H-Hey, you’re Yamamoto Kenzou, right? The Guildmaster gave you permission?”

Kenzou stopped, glancing at the parchment still tucked into his belt. “Yeah.”

The man swallowed hard. “Then listen… I’ve been in there. My party barely made it back. We lost three men before we even reached the second floor. The monsters—” His voice cracked. “They’re not like anything you’ve seen before. Packs of Direfang wolves, stronger than warhorses, with hides like steel. Swarms of Screechbats that tear flesh off bone in seconds. And deeper in… shadow beasts that move faster than the eye can follow.”

The adventurer’s face had gone pale at the memory. “You can’t go in alone. Not even an S-rank would dare.”

Kenzou met his gaze evenly. Then he smiled faintly.

“That just means more experience points for me.”

The man stared at him, stunned.

Kenzou walked past him without another word, his steps unhurried, unshaken. The other adventurers murmured louder now, half in awe, half in disbelief.

“Is he insane?”
“No… maybe he really can do it.”
“Look at his eyes. He’s not afraid at all.”

At the edge of the rift, Kenzou paused. The air vibrated faintly, a low hum resonating from the tear in reality. It was the dungeon itself — alive, hungry, waiting.

He gripped the Heavenly Spear, its golden light flickering faintly along the weapon’s shaft. The aura responded to his intent, wrapping around him like a protective mantle.

“Monsters that scare even veteran adventurers…” he murmured, his smile widening. “Perfect. I’ll turn this place into my training ground.”

Without hesitation, he stepped into the violet mist.

The world bent.

The cold forest air vanished, replaced by a suffocating heat. The sky was gone, swallowed by a cavernous ceiling that dripped with glowing crystals, their light sickly and pale. Jagged stone spires jutted upward like teeth, and the ground pulsed faintly, as if the dungeon itself had a heartbeat.

A low growl echoed from the shadows. Then another.

From the darkness emerged Direfangs — massive wolves with glowing red eyes and obsidian-black fur bristling with mana. Their breath steamed in the air, each exhale heavy with killing intent. One… two… six of them slinked into view, circling him.

Most adventurers would have drawn their weapons and prayed.

Kenzou?

He chuckled.

“So you’re the welcoming party.” He twirled the Heavenly Spear once, the golden light flaring. “Good. Let’s see how much you’re worth.”

The first Direfang lunged, its maw wide enough to snap a man in half.

Kenzou vanished.

In the blink of an eye, he reappeared behind it, spear already thrust forward. The weapon pierced clean through the wolf’s skull, golden light erupting outward in a violent flash. The beast collapsed, its body dissolving into mist as the dungeon claimed it.

A faint notification chimed in his mind.

[Exp Acquired.]
[Strength +1.]

Kenzou’s grin widened.

The other wolves snarled, their eyes glowing brighter, but instead of retreating, they attacked together.

Claws slashed, fangs snapped, shadows blurred with speed.

Kenzou’s movements flowed like water. Every thrust of his spear carried precision, every sweep cut down another beast. Golden arcs of light tore through the cavern, painting the walls with brief flashes of brilliance before fading into darkness again.

One by one, the Direfangs fell, their corpses dissolving into mist until nothing remained.

Kenzou stood amidst the silence, his cloak unstained, his breathing steady. He twirled the spear and rested it against his shoulder.

“That’s six already,” he said softly. “Not even a warm-up.”

The dungeon trembled faintly, as if angered by his defiance.

From deeper within, the sound of countless wings erupted — a deafening screech that reverberated through the cavern. The air grew colder, the crystals flickering ominously.

Kenzou tilted his head, crimson eyes gleaming.

“So the real game begins.”

He stepped forward, deeper into the dungeon, his every step echoing like a challenge.

The cavern pulsed with sound.

A wave of screeches tore through the air, so sharp that even the stone walls seemed to shudder. From above, the ceiling cracked open with movement — hundreds, no, thousands of shapes spilling downward in a black torrent.

Screechbats.

Each was the size of a hound, their leathery wings stretched wide, their eyes glowing with pale green fire. Their shrill cries clawed at the mind, disorienting, maddening. Many adventurers who had faced them before were said to collapse in terror before a single blow even landed.

But Yamamoto Kenzou only smirked.

“Perfect. A swarm means more EXP.”

The first wave dove at him like arrows loosed from a hundred bows. Their teeth gleamed in the sickly crystal light, claws ready to rend flesh.

Kenzou slammed the butt of his spear against the ground. Golden aura surged outward in a sudden pulse, forming a barrier that deflected the first assault. Wings tore and bodies collided, the weaker bats shrieking as they bounced off his protective field.

He leapt upward, impossibly high, spear drawn back like a lightning bolt ready to strike.

“Heavenly Spear Art – Crescent Arc!”

His spear swept in a wide slash, releasing a curved wave of golden light. It cleaved through the swarm, cutting dozens of bats in half in a single motion. Their bodies dissolved into violet mist, leaving only echoing cries that faded into silence.

A faint ripple shimmered before his eyes.

[Exp Acquired.]
[Strength +2.]
[Agility +1.]

Kenzou landed smoothly, his boots striking stone with a dull echo. He twirled the spear, golden sparks dancing along its shaft.

The swarm roared in fury, thousands more rushing forward to fill the void left by their fallen kin. They came from all angles now — above, below, behind.

Kenzou didn’t panic. His crimson eyes narrowed, reading their movements like an open book.

“They’re fast… but predictable.”

Another shriek descended. He ducked low, spear thrusting upward. One bat impaled mid-flight, bursting into mist. He spun with the motion, parrying claws, severing wings, striking vital points with pinpoint accuracy.

Every movement wasn’t just attack. It was training. Refinement.

If I shift my stance lower, my recovery speed increases.
If I channel aura along the spear’s tip only, the strike penetrates deeper.
If I cut at this angle, I can chain three kills in one motion.

The dungeon was no longer just a battlefield. It was his forge.

Minutes passed. Dozens fell. Then hundreds.

The swarm’s endless numbers began to thin, their cries growing desperate. But Kenzou’s expression hadn’t changed — still calm, still sharp, still hungry.

Another ripple flashed before his eyes, brighter this time.

[Level Up.]
[Status Increase: Strength +5, Agility +4, Endurance +3.]
[Skill Progression: Heavenly Spear Mastery → Intermediate.]

Kenzou exhaled slowly, feeling the surge of energy flood his veins. His muscles responded sharper, his reflexes keener, his aura brighter. It was intoxicating, like drinking pure fire.

“So this is the pace of my growth,” he muttered, crimson eyes glowing faintly. “Faster than even I imagined.”

But he wasn’t satisfied.

The dungeon trembled again, the crystals flickering. From deeper within, a new sound emerged — heavier wingbeats, slower, each one vibrating with killing intent.

The remaining Screechbats scattered in fear, retreating into the shadows.

From the cavern’s depths, a larger shadow emerged.

Its wingspan stretched nearly ten meters, its eyes glowing like emerald flames. Its body was armored with jagged black carapace, its fangs long enough to pierce steel.

The Screechbat King.

Kenzou’s grin widened.

“Finally… a boss.”

He leveled his spear, golden aura flaring brighter than ever, casting long shadows across the cavern floor. The air thrummed with tension as the beast spread its colossal wings, unleashing a roar that shook the very ground.

Kenzou lowered his stance. His blood sang with anticipation.

“Let’s see how much EXP you’re worth.”

The cavern shook as the Screechbat King spread its wings. Dust rained from the ceiling, pebbles tumbling across the floor as its roar reverberated like a thunderclap. Its presence dwarfed every other monster Kenzou had faced — the sheer mana pressure pressing down like a storm.

Kenzou planted his spear into the stone, aura flaring. The golden light wrapped around him like armor, defying the oppressive weight.

“So this is a Tier Four boss,” he murmured, crimson eyes gleaming. “Good. I was hoping for a challenge.”

The king moved first.

In a blur, it lunged, wings cutting through the air with enough force to slice stone. Its massive jaws snapped down where Kenzou stood. But in the instant before impact, Kenzou vanished — his body flickering as he dashed aside, spear already drawn back.

“Heavenly Spear Art – Piercing Star!”

The spear shot forward, a streak of golden light. It slammed into the king’s side, shattering part of its armored hide. The beast shrieked in fury, twisting mid-air and swinging its claw. The blow struck Kenzou full force, sending him crashing into a stone pillar.

The cavern rumbled. Dust billowed.

For a moment, silence.

Then, Kenzou’s laugh echoed through the dust. He stepped out, cloak torn, blood trickling from his lip — but his eyes burned brighter than ever.

“That’s more like it!”

He spun the spear, aura exploding outward. Golden flames surged along the weapon, crackling with raw power. The dungeon itself seemed to recoil, its walls trembling, the crystals dimming as if the light was being devoured.

The king roared again, summoning a storm of sonic waves. The shrieks shattered stone, ripping cracks across the floor, aimed to tear flesh apart.

Kenzou dashed forward, aura shielding him from the worst of the assault. His movements blurred — faster, sharper than before. Each step left afterimages, each strike of his spear splitting the soundwaves themselves.

“Heavenly Spear Art – Dragon Fang Strike!”

His spear thrust pierced through the wall of sound, striking the king’s chest. The beast howled, staggering back as blood-like mist sprayed across the cavern.

But it wasn’t finished.

The king beat its wings, unleashing a gale that knocked Kenzou off balance. With terrifying speed, it dove, fangs aimed straight at his heart.

Kenzou gritted his teeth. He could feel his stamina draining, his aura flickering under the relentless onslaught. But giving up? That wasn’t in his nature.

He closed his eyes for a heartbeat. Calm your breathing. Focus. Compress the aura.

When he opened them again, his crimson gaze blazed like fire.

“Heavenly Spear Secret Technique… Dimensional Thrust!”

The spear shot forward — faster than lightning, sharper than any blade. Space itself rippled, the air distorting as if reality bent to his strike. The weapon pierced straight through the Screechbat King’s skull, golden energy erupting like a miniature sun.

The beast’s screech died in its throat. Its massive body convulsed, then dissolved into violet mist, scattering like ash on the wind.

The cavern fell silent.

Only Kenzou stood, his chest rising and falling with heavy breaths, spear planted in the ground for support. Sweat dripped down his brow, but a triumphant smile curved his lips.

Then, the familiar ripple appeared before his eyes.

[Boss Defeated: Screechbat King.]
[Exp Acquired – Large.]
[Level Up.]
[Status Increase: Strength +10, Agility +7, Endurance +6.]
[New Skill Acquired: Spear Aura Burst.]

Kenzou exhaled slowly, feeling the surge of power course through his body. His muscles felt lighter, his aura steadier, his senses sharper. He had stepped onto another threshold.

“…This is it,” he whispered. “This is how I’ll be ready when the real bencana comes.”

Meanwhile, Outside the Dungeon

The adventurers waiting near the rift were restless. The ground had trembled for several minutes now, and an unnatural screech had split the night sky earlier, sending shivers down their spines.

“By the gods… what is he fighting in there?” one whispered.

Another shook his head, face pale. “We should never have let him go alone. If he falls, we’re doomed.”

Among them, Alicia stood at the front, her golden hair catching the torchlight, her blue eyes fixed firmly on the rift. Her hands were clenched tightly, knuckles white.

Kenzou…

When the tremors ceased, a hush fell over the group. The violet mist at the dungeon’s entrance stirred faintly, as if acknowledging the end of a battle within.

Alicia’s heart pounded in her chest. She pressed a hand over it, whispering to herself.

“Please… come back to me.”

The cavern floor where the Screechbat King had fallen was eerily quiet, save for the faint crackle of golden aura fading from Kenzou’s spear. For most adventurers, this chamber would mark the end — a victory worth celebrating, proof they had conquered a Tier Four dungeon.

But Kenzou wasn’t like most adventurers.

As the mist of the fallen boss dispersed, a new glow appeared at the far end of the cavern. A stone archway etched with runes slowly shimmered into existence, pulsing with violet light. It was a gateway — one that led further down.

Kenzou narrowed his eyes. “So this wasn’t the true end.”

The thought alone made his blood stir. His body was still sore, his aura reserves cut nearly in half, but the surge of power from leveling up coursed through him. He wasn’t satisfied yet.

He rested the butt of his spear against his shoulder and walked toward the archway. The runes responded to his presence, flaring brighter.

A soft chime echoed.

[Transfer Gate Activated.]
[Proceed to Next Floor? Y/N]

Kenzou smirked. “As if I’d stop here.”

He stepped through.

The Second Floor

Darkness swallowed him at first. Then, light bloomed — but it was no gentle torch glow. Instead, an eerie, phosphorescent radiance emanated from fungi sprouting across jagged stone walls. The air was damp, heavy with the stench of blood and decay.

The floor beneath his boots crunched, and when he glanced down, he realized it wasn’t stone. It was bone fragments.

The atmosphere pressed on him immediately. Stronger than before, thicker, as if the dungeon itself was watching.

From the shadows, eyes opened.

One pair. Three. A dozen.

The cavern erupted with movement as monstrous forms slithered, crawled, and stomped into view. Hulking ogres with jagged clubs. Packs of scaled hounds with glowing fangs. Winged fiends with talons that gleamed in the sickly light.

The sound of claws scraping stone filled the chamber, a predator’s chorus.

Kenzou tightened his grip on the spear, crimson eyes blazing. “So this is the real hunting ground.”

He thrust his spear into the ground, golden aura exploding outward like a shockwave. Dust and spores scattered, the glow of the fungi flaring as if recoiling from his presence.

The monsters shrieked, enraged, but they did not retreat.

“Good,” Kenzou said, lowering into a stance. His aura coiled tighter, sharper, ready to strike. “Come at me. All of you. I’ll turn every last one of you into fuel for my strength.”

The first scaled hound lunged. His spear moved faster. One thrust — one kill.

Another wave surged forward. Kenzou spun, his spear a golden whirlwind, cutting through flesh and bone, painting the cavern with the mist of slain beasts. Each kill sent a ripple through his body, the system whispering in the back of his mind:

[Exp Acquired.]
[Exp Acquired.]
[Exp Acquired.]

Dozens became hundreds. The floor soon ran slick with blood, but Kenzou didn’t falter. His breath came heavy, his arms ached, but his spirit roared louder than any monster’s cry.

This was no longer a battle. This was a feast.

And at the heart of it all, deep within the cavern, something stirred.

The bones beneath Kenzou’s boots shifted. A low, guttural rumble shook the chamber. Two crimson eyes flared in the abyss ahead, larger and more malevolent than any he had seen yet.

Kenzou froze for just a moment, his instincts screaming. This wasn’t just a dungeon guardian. This was something… more.

A grin spread across his face.

“So… you’re the real prize waiting down here.”

He spun his spear once, the golden light blazing like a second sun in the gloom.

“Perfect. Let’s see just how far I can go.”

The monsters roared as one, the dungeon trembling in response, and Kenzou launched himself forward, aura blazing, ready to carve a path deeper into the unknown.

The air on the second floor of the dungeon was heavier than before. It wasn’t just the scent of damp earth and moss — it was the stench of blood, rotting carcasses, and something far more suffocating: a lingering hatred left behind by the countless creatures that had perished here.

Kenzou walked slowly across a ground littered with fragments of bone. Each step produced a brittle crack, as though the floor itself was made from the remains of the dead. His spear glimmered faintly, the golden glow of his aura pushing back the gloom that was only barely lit by the phosphorescent fungi clinging to the jagged walls.

“This place…” he muttered, crimson eyes scanning the darkness, “…was built to swallow the weak alive.”

A low growl rumbled in the distance. Then, from behind a massive boulder, a pack of Scaled Hounds emerged — hellish dogs with black, scale-covered bodies, fangs like polished blades, and eyes glowing like embers. Six of them at first, but more shadows shifted in the dark, drawing closer.

Kenzou tightened his grip on the spear. “Perfect. I needed a warm-up.”

One of the hounds lunged, jaws wide, its saliva dripping like green acid. With a single motion, Kenzou thrust his spear upward, impaling the creature through the skull. Its body convulsed in the air before collapsing to the ground.

Without pause, two more struck from the sides. Kenzou spun his spear, the blade tracing a golden arc through the air, cutting them both down in one sweeping strike.

Hot blood sprayed across the bone-littered floor.

But their death cries only summoned more. From the left tunnel, Winged Fiends surged forth — batlike demons with elongated talons, their shrieks sharp enough to make stone tremble.

The sound drilled into the cavern, rattling the bones beneath his boots. Any ordinary adventurer would have dropped to their knees, clutching their ears in agony. But Kenzou only scoffed.

“You think a voice like that can break me?”

He clenched his teeth, his aura bursting outward in a golden wave that shattered the oppressive sound. With a single leap, he swept his spear in a wide arc.

Light extended from the blade, slicing cleanly through the air — three fiends fell in halves at once.

But the swarm didn’t stop. Dozens more descended from above, their wings blotting out the faint glow of the fungi. From the front, more scaled hounds thundered forward, their claws striking sparks against the bone-strewn ground.

Kenzou now stood at the very heart of a living nightmare.

And he smiled.

“This… is exactly what I wanted. Relentless pressure.”

He lunged forward, driving his spear through a hound and pinning it to the ground before wrenching the weapon upward in a whirl. The blade carved through two fiends mid-flight, sending their bodies crashing to the floor.

Blood, screams, and the crack of shattering bones filled the cavern.

But in the midst of chaos, Kenzou’s body grew hotter, lighter. Every attack that came his way was not a threat, but an opportunity — an opportunity to sharpen his reflexes, strengthen his muscles, and feed the fire in his core with more and more power.

[Exp Acquired.]
[Exp Acquired.]

The cold notifications echoed with each monster that fell.

“Yes…” he whispered, parrying a claw strike with the shaft of his spear, “devour them all… become my fuel.”

And with that, he pushed forward, deeper into the horde, each step resounding like the drums of war, cleaving the dungeon’s darkness with golden light.

The cavern shook beneath the weight of countless claws and wings. The horde pressed in from every side, their snarls and shrieks blending into one endless roar that threatened to drown out thought itself. Yet at the very center of it, Kenzou stood unshaken, his crimson eyes gleaming like burning coals.

The spear in his hand vibrated with restrained energy, golden light crawling along its length, hungry to be unleashed. The battle against the Screechbat King had unlocked something within him — a technique born not from books or training manuals, but from instinct honed in blood.

He could feel it now, coiled like a storm waiting to break.

The monsters came again. A scaled hound lunged for his throat while two winged fiends dove from above, talons aimed for his shoulders.

Kenzou exhaled slowly.

And then moved.

His spear swept forward in a line so precise, so sharp, that it seemed to split the very air. For a heartbeat, the world itself froze.

Then —

Piercing Horizon.

A golden streak tore across the battlefield. Everything caught in its path — hound, fiend, and even the jagged stalagmites — was cleaved in two, their forms dissolving into mist and blood. The shockwave carved a furrow in the bone-littered ground, stretching for dozens of meters before fading into silence.

Kenzou lowered his stance, the spear humming in his grip. A grin tugged at his lips. “So that’s the shape of it.”

But there was no time to savor the strike. More monsters surged in, undeterred by the massacre.

Kenzou stepped into them. His spear became a line of golden death, each thrust extending farther than before, piercing through three, four, five bodies in a single motion. Every time he swung, Piercing Horizon resonated within the weapon, guiding his hand, sharpening his precision.

The horde shrieked and faltered, but for every monster that fell, two more emerged from the darkness.

“Perfect,” Kenzou said, his voice low, almost gleeful. “Keep coming. You’re the whetstone, and I am the blade.”

His aura flared brighter, golden light wrapping around him like a second skin. His movements grew smoother, faster — a dancer in a storm of claws and fangs. The battlefield transformed into a blur of light and shadow, each strike carving a path through overwhelming numbers.

But Piercing Horizon was not without cost. Each release demanded focus, draining his aura reserves. He could feel the strain building in his arms, the weight pressing into his lungs with every breath.

Still, he pressed on.

Because this wasn’t just survival. This was training. This was preparation for something greater — the calamity he knew was coming. If he couldn’t endure this hell, then how could he possibly hope to withstand what awaited beyond?

Blood splattered across his face as another fiend fell. His chest heaved, his muscles burned, but his eyes never wavered.

“More…” he whispered, raising his spear again. “I need more.”

And the dungeon answered.

From deeper within the cavern came a roar, heavier and more resonant than anything before. The horde stilled for a moment, as if the sound had cowed even them. Then they parted, clearing a path.

The ground trembled. Heavy footsteps echoed.

Kenzou’s grip tightened. His crimson eyes narrowed, hunger flashing within them.

“So… the real challenge finally shows itself.”

The roar grew louder, rolling through the cavern like thunder. Bones rattled against the ground, fungi lights flickered, and even the endless horde of lesser monsters pulled back in submission. Their snarls turned to whimpers as they retreated to the edges, leaving a vast circle of silence in the middle of the battlefield.

From the darkness emerged a colossal figure.

An Abyssal Ogre.

It stood over four meters tall, its skin a grotesque shade of gray veined with glowing crimson lines that pulsed like molten lava. Its shoulders were broad enough to crush boulders, and in its hand it carried a massive bone club, jagged and slick with dried blood. Its eyes burned red, not mindless like the hounds or fiends, but sharp — calculating.

The ground shook as it stepped forward, every movement radiating menace.

Kenzou’s lips curved into a grin. “Now this… this is worth my time.”

The ogre roared again, the force of its voice shaking dust from the cavern ceiling. Without warning, it swung its club down, a strike so fast it blurred through the air.

Kenzou leapt aside just as the weapon slammed into the ground. The impact shattered the bone floor, sending shards flying like shrapnel.

The moment his boots hit the ground, Kenzou lunged forward, spear flashing in a golden thrust aimed for the ogre’s chest.

But the monster was faster than he expected. The club swept sideways, intercepting the strike. The collision sent a shockwave through the cavern, forcing Kenzou back several paces.

His arms ached from the impact. His grin widened.

“Strong. Good. This won’t be boring.”

The ogre charged, swinging its weapon in a wide arc that would have cleaved an ordinary adventurer in half. Kenzou ducked low, sliding beneath the strike, and slashed upward. His spear grazed the beast’s ribs, carving a glowing line of blood.

The ogre bellowed in pain and rage, spinning with terrifying speed for its size. Its club came around again, and this time, Kenzou caught it head-on with his spear. The two forces clashed, golden aura against brute strength, the ground beneath them cracking from the pressure.

Kenzou’s teeth clenched. The monster’s strength was overwhelming, pressing down like a mountain.

But then, with a sharp breath, he let his aura surge. Golden light blazed along the spear’s shaft, and he twisted, redirecting the force. The ogre staggered, off-balance for a heartbeat.

That was enough.

“Piercing Horizon!”

The spear shot forward, a line of golden brilliance cutting across the ogre’s torso. Flesh split, blood erupted, and the beast roared in fury.

But it didn’t fall.

Instead, the wound began to knit itself back together, crimson light crawling over the torn flesh. Regeneration.

Kenzou’s eyes narrowed. “So you can heal, huh? Annoying.”

The ogre slammed its club into the ground, creating a shockwave that knocked Kenzou back. It pressed forward, relentless, each strike heavier than the last, each roar shaking the cavern.

Kenzou blocked, dodged, and countered, his spear flashing in golden arcs. Every exchange sent sparks flying, every impact rattled his bones.

Minutes passed, then longer. The duel became a brutal test of endurance — the ogre’s raw power and regeneration against Kenzou’s precision and aura techniques. His muscles screamed, sweat dripped down his face, but his crimson eyes only burned brighter.

“This… is exactly what I needed.”

He steadied his breathing, gathering the last of his focus. The ogre roared and raised its club for a killing blow, but Kenzou was already moving, his aura flaring brighter than ever before.

He dashed forward, faster than the eye could follow, spear leveled like a lance.

“Fall!”

The spear struck true, piercing through the ogre’s chest. Golden light erupted from the wound, tearing through its body from the inside out.

The Abyssal Ogre howled one last time before collapsing to its knees, then crashing to the ground with a thunderous impact.

For a moment, silence reigned.

Then the system’s voice echoed in Kenzou’s mind:

[Elite Monster Defeated.]
[Exp Acquired: Massive.]

Kenzou stood over the corpse, chest heaving, aura flickering faintly around him. Despite the ache in his body, a grin stretched across his face.

“That’s more like it.”

The Abyssal Ogre’s body collapsed with a thunderous crash, shaking the cavern walls. Dust and blood filled the air, thick and suffocating. For a moment, silence followed, broken only by the steady drip of crimson fluid from Kenzou’s spear.

Then the silence shattered.

The lesser monsters screamed, a chorus of shrill howls and guttural roars. Without their leader, they had lost all order — but not their fury. Panic turned into frenzy, and frenzy into madness.

Dozens of eyes gleamed in the darkness. Hounds with scales, fiends with twisted wings, ogres smaller but no less vicious — all of them surged forward like a tidal wave.

Kenzou tightened his grip on the spear. His crimson eyes scanned the horde, lips curling into a smile that held no fear.

“Perfect. I was just getting warmed up.”

The first wave struck. A scaled hound leapt for his throat, jaws wide. Kenzou spun, his spear slicing cleanly through its body. Before its corpse even hit the ground, he stepped into the path of another, thrusting forward with lightning speed. Blood sprayed, bones cracked, and monsters fell in droves.

But for every one he killed, three more appeared.

Claws raked his arm, teeth scraped against his shoulder guard, and wings beat the air with enough force to stagger him. Yet every time, he answered with precision. His spear danced in wide arcs, golden aura blazing like wildfire, each strike tearing through multiple enemies at once.

Still, the assault did not stop.

Minutes bled into hours.

Kenzou’s lungs burned, sweat stung his eyes, and his muscles screamed with every movement. But his mind stayed sharp, his will unyielding. He refused to back down.

“Is this all you have?!” he roared, his voice echoing across the cavern.

His aura surged, golden light bursting from his body in a storm. Monsters screeched and faltered, blinded by the brilliance. Kenzou seized the moment, his spear becoming an unbroken stream of motion. He slashed, pierced, and spun, carving through flesh and bone like a reaper harvesting souls.

Bodies piled around him, yet still they came. The dungeon itself seemed endless, spawning more creatures, testing him without mercy.

Time lost all meaning.

At some point, his arms trembled with exhaustion. His breath came ragged, his vision blurred. For a fleeting moment, doubt whispered at the edge of his thoughts.

Can I really keep this up?

But then he remembered.

Alicia’s smile, the warmth of her hand in his, the way her golden eyes softened when she looked at him.

And deeper than that — the memory of his promise.

I will protect this world. I will protect her.

The doubt vanished, crushed under the weight of resolve. His crimson eyes flared with renewed fire.

“Then I’ll carve a path… through hell itself if I must!”

He planted his spear into the ground, channeling every ounce of aura into its core. The weapon glowed blindingly, a pillar of golden light piercing the cavern ceiling.

“Piercing Horizon — Expanded!”

The aura burst outward in a devastating wave. Spears of light erupted from the ground, skewering dozens of monsters at once. The cavern shook violently, chunks of rock falling from above as the floor itself split under the power.

The wave of enemies was obliterated. Screams turned to silence, bodies crumbled into ash. For the first time since the ogre’s fall, the cavern grew still.

Kenzou staggered, leaning on his spear for support. His chest rose and fell in heavy breaths, his aura flickering faintly.

Around him lay the remnants of his trial: hundreds of corpses, the floor stained black with their blood.

He looked at his trembling hands and let out a breathless laugh. “This… this is what I needed. To fight until nothing’s left. To be ready for what’s coming.”

But as the echoes faded, he felt something else.

A low rumble, deep beneath the ground.

The corpses began to crumble into dust, absorbed by the dungeon floor. The blood seeped into the cracks, vanishing as if consumed. And then, in the far corner of the cavern, a new glow emerged — a massive stone door etched with ancient runes, pulsing with sinister light.

The path to the next floor had revealed itself.

Kenzou’s crimson eyes narrowed, his fatigue forgotten as anticipation replaced it.

“So, you were hiding something deeper all along.” He smirked, tightening his grip on the spear. “Fine. Let’s see what you’re keeping from me.”

With steady steps, he walked toward the glowing door, his silhouette bathed in both golden light and the lingering shadows of the dungeon’s wrath.

This was no longer just a dungeon crawl. It was a forge, shaping him into the weapon he needed to become.

The massive stone door loomed before him, towering high, its surface etched with runes that pulsed like living veins of fire. Each symbol throbbed faintly, whispering a language far older than kingdoms, older even than the dungeon itself.

Kenzou stood in front of it, his chest still heaving from the battle that had nearly torn him apart. His spear felt heavier now, the weight of both exhaustion and triumph pressing down on his arms. Yet his crimson eyes gleamed with defiance.

“Another test…” he muttered, raising a hand to trace one of the glowing runes. The moment his fingers brushed the cold stone, the carvings flared brighter, a chorus of low hums reverberating through the cavern.

The entire dungeon trembled.

The corpses littering the floor dissolved completely into ash, sucked into the ground as though the dungeon itself was reclaiming them. The air grew colder, heavier, and with it came a pressure that pressed against Kenzou’s skin like invisible blades.

A voice — deep, ancient, and layered with malice — echoed faintly from beyond the door.

“Mortal… you have trespassed far enough.”

Kenzou froze for a heartbeat, then smirked. “So the dungeon finally speaks.”

The voice rumbled with a dark laugh. “Your victories mean nothing. Beyond this door lies despair… a despair that no spear can pierce.”

He lifted his weapon, its golden glow still faint but steady. “We’ll see about that.”

With both hands, he pressed against the stone. The runes flared violently, the humming rising into a shrill scream. Cracks raced across the door’s surface, and with one final push, it split apart with an explosion of light.

The brilliance blinded him for an instant. Then the light receded, revealing a vast chamber beyond.

The cavern stretched endlessly, lined with obsidian pillars, each carved into twisted shapes of screaming faces. At the center, on a throne of jagged bone, sat a colossal figure — a being draped in shadows, its eyes burning with violet fire.

It wasn’t just a monster.

It was a Dungeon Warden — the guardian of the deeper floors.

The figure leaned forward, its massive hand clutching a blade forged from pure darkness. When it spoke, the cavern itself seemed to shudder.

“Come, challenger. Bleed for me.”

Kenzou tightened his grip on his spear, his heart pounding not with fear, but exhilaration. The aura around him surged once more, golden flames licking the air as his crimson eyes locked onto the towering foe.

“Good,” he whispered, a grin spreading across his face. “I was hoping for something worthy.”

He stepped forward, the echo of his boots ringing across the chamber like the opening note of war.

The Dungeon Warden rose from its throne. Shadows writhed like serpents at its feet, the oppressive aura threatening to crush the unworthy.

But Yamamoto Kenzou was not unworthy.

He was a man who had promised to protect a world. A man who fought until his body bled and his spirit burned brighter than any flame.

And this dungeon… would become his crucible.

As the two forces stood poised to clash, the air between them quivered with tension, as if reality itself was holding its breath.

Then, with a roar that shook the walls, the Warden charged.

And Kenzou met him head-on, spear blazing like the dawn breaking through eternal night.