Chapter Eleven: The Dungeon of Angels

Morgana watched quietly as Zero walked away from the training area.

There was something haunting about the way he moved — fluid, efficient, and heavy with experience. He walked like a man who had seen far too many battles, carrying the weight of countless unseen wars on his shoulders.

Arthur stood motionless for a long moment, still gripping his bastard sword. A rare flicker of frustration crossed his usually composed face.

Zero had given him no quarter. No ground. He had matched Arthur’s refined, elite technique with raw, instinctive mastery.

It was difficult for someone like Arthur to comprehend.

Trained by the greatest Delvers in the Euro Kingdom, raised in luxury and privilege, Arthur had rarely met his equal. Even the most terrifying monsters inside the dungeons had never been able to trade blows with him so evenly.

And yet… in that final exchange, Arthur realized the truth.

Zero had been toying with him.

The realization settled heavily in his chest.

Merlin let out a low whistle, breaking the silence.

“Well… that was enlightening. His combat sense isn’t trained. It’s instinctual. Like the sword is an extension of his soul rather than a tool.”

Lancelot grunted in agreement, his grip on his shield still tight.

Morgana stepped closer to Arthur, her voice gentle.

“He fights like someone who has forgotten more battles than we have ever seen. Be careful, Arthur. There is something… ancient about him.”

Arthur exhaled slowly and sheathed his sword.

“I see now why the Shogun took such a risk,” he said quietly. “That man is no ordinary Prisoner.”

Commander Hanzo, who had been watching silently from the side, finally spoke.

“Zero is a blank slate with the power of a storm. Whether he becomes our greatest ally or our greatest threat remains to be seen.”

He turned to the Artemis Unit.

“Rest for now. Tomorrow, we begin proper coordination. The Fae are moving, and I suspect Zero will be at the center of whatever comes next.”

As the group began to disperse, Arthur glanced once more toward the direction Zero had gone, a new fire burning in his eyes.

That night, as Zero lay in his assigned quarters within Central HQ, sleep came uneasily.

His dreams were not peaceful.

He found himself kneeling on cold, ancient stone. Towering figures in flowing, ornate robes stood before him — warriors and judges whose presence radiated overwhelming authority. Their faces were obscured by shadows and glowing runes.

One of them spoke, voice booming like judgment from on high:

“You, a failed warrior king… will be sentenced to eternity inside our greatest tombs! Your rebellion shall ignite the fury of our gods! You, a mere Fatebreaker, shall spend eternity chained to a wall.”

Zero felt heavy manacles clamp around his wrists and ankles, the chains biting deep into his flesh. The cold weight was suffocatingly familiar.

In the dream, he bared his teeth, eyes burning with defiance.

“You’ll regret this…” his own voice growled, filled with raw hatred. “I swear… You’ll all die in the most painful of ways!”

The robed figures remained unmoved. One of them — perhaps their leader — spoke with cold finality:

“We think not. Strip his name from our histories. I pray the next time you see the light of the sun, you are withered and broken. For the last of that light, I pray that you are scorched by it.”

“TAKE HIM AWAY!”

Zero felt powerful hands seize him. The chains dragged him backward into darkness as the dream began to fracture.

He woke up with a start, sitting bolt upright in bed. His breathing was heavy, and a cold sweat covered his body. The manacles on his wrists — now long gone — still felt like they were there.

He ran a hand through his silver hair and stared at the ceiling of his dimly lit room.

“…Fatebreaker,” he whispered to himself.

The word no longer just caused pain.

It was starting to feel like the key to everything.

Outside his window, the corrupted Spiral Dungeon glowed ominously against the Tokyo night sky, as if watching him.

Zero clenched his fist.

Whatever he had been in that forgotten past — whoever he had been — one thing was becoming clear.

He had defied gods.

And they had feared him enough to bury him alive for eternity.

The morning briefing in Central HQ’s war room was tense from the start.

It was interrupted almost immediately by a blaring alarm. Reports flooded in — multiple dungeons across Japan were showing abnormal activity. Elite Delver teams and other units had already been dispatched.

Commander Hanzo stood at the head of the table, expression grave as he tapped the large holographic screen. A detailed map of Kyoto appeared.

“Captain Haruto, Lieutenant Rinne, Artemis Unit, Zero,” he began. “Normally we wouldn’t commit so many high-value Delvers at once, but this situation requires a different approach.”

The map zoomed in on Kyoto.

“Fushimi Inari Taisha — one of the most sacred sites in Shinto tradition — has become the Dungeon of Angels. No Delver has ever entered its depths and returned alive. We have always treated the shrine grounds as protected cultural and sacred land, but the dungeon’s corruption has overtaken it.”

Hanzo’s tone darkened.

“Earlier this morning, we detected a major Breach. The stationed Delvers were ordered to hold the first floor. When we sent an Auditor to assess the situation… this is what they found.”

The screen switched to graphic images.

The bodies of the Delvers were horrifically mutilated — limbs torn apart, blood smeared across the iconic red torii gates and shrine walls, entrails hung like grotesque trophies. The sight was enough to make even seasoned veterans look away.

Arthur’s jaw tightened.

Hanzo continued, “Arthur, I would like you to take point on this mission.”

“Of course, Shogun,” Arthur replied firmly. “It may also help our investigation into these Fae intrusions.”

Hanzo nodded, then looked at Zero.

“Take Zero with you as well. Haruto, Rinne — remain at Central HQ. There is no need for all of us to walk into potential disaster.”

Rinne let out a visible sigh of relief. Haruto looked equally glad, though he tried to hide it. Being around Zero was already dangerous enough. Being around the full Artemis Unit on top of that felt like inviting catastrophe.

Zero, who had been quietly listening, simply nodded.

“Understood.”

As the meeting broke up and the team prepared to depart, Zero glanced once more at the horrifying images on the screen.

Another dungeon. Another massacre. And something inside him stirred — a faint, violent familiarity.

The Artemis Unit’s Flatwing cut through the sky toward Kyoto, engines humming steadily.

Inside the troop bay, the team performed final equipment checks — armor seals, weapon runes, mana cells, and emergency beacons. The atmosphere was focused and professional.

Arthur glanced over at Zero, who sat calmly with the composure of a saint despite the high-stakes mission ahead.

“Zero,” Arthur said, his voice steady and commanding. “We work as a team. No one receives special treatment. I would never intentionally put you in harm’s way if it meant protecting the unit. Consider yourself part of the Artemis Unit until this mission is complete.”

Zero met his gaze and gave a single, firm nod.

“Understood.”

Merlin adjusted his glasses, studying Zero with open curiosity.

“You’re not much of a talker, are you?”

“No, not really,” Zero replied simply.

Lancelot, who rarely spoke, rumbled from his seat:

“No memory, but pure instinct. Almost like a wild animal.”

Zero turned his head toward the stoic knight, expression unchanging.

“Nothing I say has any bearing on the mission.”

The cabin fell quiet again, save for the low drone of the engines. Morgana offered Zero a gentle smile, but said nothing.

Arthur leaned back, secretly impressed by Zero’s unshakable calm. Whether it was confidence or something deeper, the silver-haired man remained an enigma.

As the Flatwing began its descent toward the Kyoto region, the corrupted Fushimi Inari Taisha came into view — a haunting sight of beautiful red torii gates now twisted and overgrown with dark, glowing veins.

The real mission was about to begin.

“Landing zone clear. Prepared for departure,” the pilot’s voice crackled over the PA system.

Arthur stood up immediately.

“Let’s move, Artemis Unit!”

Zero cracked his neck once and followed the team out of the Flatwing. They passed through the iconic — yet now corrupted — red torii gates of Fushimi Inari Taisha and entered the Dungeon of Angels proper.

The sight that greeted them was horrific.

Bodies of Delvers were brutally mutilated and strewn about with no apparent pattern. Some hung from torii gates like macabre decorations, others were torn apart with entrails used as grisly markers. Blood stained the sacred ground and ancient shrine structures.

Arthur’s face hardened.

“Merlin, get me a full scan of the area. Lancelot, take point. Morgana, protect our flank. Zero, you’re with me.”

The unit moved into standard formation: Lancelot at the front with his massive shield, Merlin in the middle for magical support, Morgana guarding the rear, and Arthur just behind the tank. Zero walked beside Arthur, his senses on full alert, sword already drawn.

The air was thick and unnaturally still.

Then they heard it.

It wasn’t a roar.

It was a chorus — dozens of haunting, overlapping voices singing in an incomprehensible language.

The space around them began to warp. The courtyard expanded outward unnaturally, the shrine architecture stretching and twisting as reality bent.

From the main shrine building, something emerged.

A massive, floating eyeball the size of a small building hovered into view. It was surrounded by spinning golden rings and adorned with ethereal wings. A giant, complex magic circle rotated slowly behind it. The eye opened wide, its pupil glowing with malevolent intelligence.

Merlin’s voice cracked with alarm.

“That’s… an Angel-class entity! A Watcher! This is far beyond a normal Breach!”

Arthur raised his bastard sword, golden armor gleaming.

“Formation tight! Zero — stay alert!”

The giant eye fixed its gaze on the group. The chorus grew louder, vibrating through their bones.

The true horror of the Dungeon of Angels had revealed itself.