Dungeon Collapse: Chaos on the Surface
The moment Leon's boots hit solid ground outside the dungeon gate, he staggered forward, lungs burning, cloak torn, undead flickering with instability behind him.
His Warrior Zombie reformed mid-step, dragging its cleaver like a corpse crawling back from hell. The Sorcerer hovered behind, its flame dim, flickering like it had seen something it couldn't understand.
Leon dropped to one knee.
He had made it out—but something had followed.
The portal behind him pulsed violently, cracking at its seams. Runes along the dungeon gateway flickered erratically, no longer golden, but bleeding red.
[WARNING: CORE ANOMALY DETECTED][DUNGEON BARRIER OVERRIDE IN PROGRESS][EMERGENCY LOCKDOWN FAILED]
A sudden snap echoed out as the portal split down the center.
The sky dimmed.
The air thickened.
Mana curdled like spoiled blood.
A ring of adventurers, inspectors, and silver-ranked operatives had begun to gather near the gate, weapons drawn, unaware of what was coming.
A surge of static hit every system.
And then—he came through.
The air folded inward.
The light was swallowed.
And the Abyssal Champion stepped out of the collapsing dungeon.
He was not summoned.
He was released.
Towering. Ten feet of jagged, twisted muscle encased in black warplate etched with abyssal scripture. His greatsword, bound with cursed chain-links, scraped against the earth behind him like a predator dragging its own kill.
One foot forward—and the ground beneath him cracked.
His gaze fell on the nearest three hunters—two men in runed armor and a rogue-class woman adjusting her blade.
They didn't have time to react.
The Champion moved.
A single, sweeping horizontal slash.
No buildup. No flourish.
The sword blurred like a streak of black lightning, too fast for the human eye.
THWAK.
The sound came half a second later.
The woman's legs slid forward while her torso fell backward, her expression frozen in confusion.
One of the men's head spun through the air, eyes still blinking, mouth half-open in a final, unfinished scream.
The other—his chest split cleanly from shoulder to hip, intestines unraveling like wet rope onto the stone tiles.
No one screamed.
No one could.
The stench of blood and hot metal hit next.
The Champion didn't slow down. His sword returned to his back with a hiss of steam as the heat of fresh kills met cursed steel.
He walked forward.
No battle stance. No roar.
Just slow, precise steps.
A moving executioner.
Panic erupted.
Some hunters ran.
Others screamed orders—casting defense spells, raising barriers, calling the Association.
"Activate spatial anchor!"
"Fall back—NOW!"
"Back-up teams are ten minutes out!"
"Someone stall it—!"
Nobody moved.
Nobody stepped forward.
Until one figure did.
Leon.
Still breathing hard. Still dust-covered and drained from the mid-dungeon boss fight. The faint trails of mana still clung to his shoulders. He turned slowly, looking back toward the gate.
He didn't need the system to tell him.
This wasn't just a dungeon outbreak.
It was a summoned execution.
He met the Champion's gaze.
Molten red eyes flared from beneath that abyssal helmet—recognizing something in Leon.
Like a dog sniffing out its quarry.
And for the first time, the Champion stopped walking.
Leon stood upright.
His cloak drifted behind him. Gun holstered. Summons standing on either side, flickering with barely contained power.
He took one step forward.
Just one.
Then—someone moved.
Not toward the battlefield.
But toward their phone.
A silver-ranked hunter crouched behind a cracked barrier, blood smeared across his cheek, eyes wide with disbelief. With trembling fingers, he activated his livestream app and angled the camera toward the scene.
"Y-you guys seeing this?" he whispered hoarsely.
The feed went live.
[LIVE] – @HunterOne – "Dungeon Outbreak?? WTF IS THAT THING?!"
The viewer count ticked up fast.
342... 728... 1,560... 3,011...
The comments exploded.
"That's a boss?!""Holy shit he just cut those hunters in half!""Who's that walking toward him?!"
The camera shook slightly as the hunter zoomed in.
Leon stepped into frame.
Gun drawn.
Cloak torn from the dungeon run, blood on his collar, undead flanking him like hounds ready to be unleashed.
The Abyssal Champion stopped mid-step, turning his helmet toward Leon.
And then—for the first time—
He smiled.
The stream viewer count spiked again.
7,000... 12,000... 18,000... and rising.
Around the world, people tuned in.
Phones buzzed. Forums lit up. Newsfeeds froze mid-scroll.
The crowd at the outpost didn't move.
Only one man did.
Leon.
He pulled his gun from the holster, slow and steady.
"I don't care who's watching," he muttered under his breath. "I'm not letting this thing walk out of here."
And then—
The Champion moved.
The Clash Begins
Leon didn't wait.
He moved first.
His mana gun roared in his hand—the first bullet sliced through the air like a shriek of pressure.
But the Abyssal Champion… tilted.
Just a shift of weight. A lean of the shoulder. Enough for the shot to sail past his helmet with millimeters to spare.
And then—
Flash-step.
The Champion blurred—gone from his position, now directly in front of Leon, sword raised high.
The downstroke would have split him in half.
But metal met metal first.
Leon's Warrior Zombie intercepted, cleaving upward with its cleaver-like greatsword.
The two blades collided—A scream of steel.A burst of black mana.And the earth cracked beneath their feet, the force of it throwing dust and debris outward like a shockwave.
Leon rolled out of the pressure zone, sliding across the dirt, coat flaring behind him.
He landed on one knee, already aiming.
BOOM. BOOM. BOOM.
Three mana shots left the barrel in a single breath—One aimed at the Champion's armored shoulder.The second drilled toward the right knee.The third curved mid-air, angling for the exposed slats at the side of the ribs.
The Champion twisted fluidly. The first round struck his pauldron, sparking against the infernal plating. The second grazed the thigh joint, forcing him to shift his footing.
The third—
Was caught.
Two fingers. A casual pinch. Mana fizzled between them like fire suffocating in a jar.
Crack.
He crushed it without looking.
Leon narrowed his eyes, voice low.
"He adapts mid-fight."
From the far edge of the clash, his Elite Sorcerer flickered into motion. Its robes split like smoke, skeletal hands raised high. Mana surged between its bony palms, coalescing into burning green sigils.
[Soulfire Barrage]
Ten bolts spiraled outward in a starburst formation. Each homed in with eerie accuracy, burning with necrotic fire strong enough to melt iron.
The Champion didn't brace.
He turned, sword gripped in both hands.
And spun.
A full rotation—sword edge wide and screaming through the air.
He carved through the barrage.
Seven bolts shattered instantly, reduced to mist. Two were deflected, pinging off the curved rune-etched armor.
One landed.
Direct hit—into the side of his neck.The flesh there sizzled, blackened. A sizzling hole opened where armor had briefly parted.
The Champion didn't scream.
He grinned.
His eyes locked with the Sorcerer's.
And then he vanished—appearing directly behind it.
The Elite Sorcerer barely registered the presence—Leon's voice barked, "Move!"
The undead warped in an instant, blinking to the far side of the battlefield in a swirl of green ash.
The Champion's blade tore through where its spine had been a second before—And sliced halfway into a stone pillar, splitting it down the middle with one effortless stroke.
Without pausing, the Champion turned—Only to be tackled mid-motion by the Warrior Zombie, whose momentum slammed into his side like a battering ram.
They crashed into the earth, kicking up a cloud of debris.
Leon used the chaos.
He switched mags, loaded a charged Overbreaker round, and sprinted to higher ground—climbing a chunk of broken wall for a better angle.
Below, the Champion kicked the Warrior off, sending the undead crashing through a row of barricades—but his chestplate had fractured. Leon saw it.
He's bleeding. The barrier's thinning.
Leon raised the gun.
The Sorcerer reappeared beside him, hands already glowing.
"Channel me," Leon muttered.
The Sorcerer extended both hands over the barrel of the gun—pouring necrotic mana into the chamber.
A black flame ignited inside the core.
Leon leveled the weapon, aimed center mass—right where the last bolt had burned him.
The Champion rose, his smile now gone.
Leon's trigger finger squeezed.
BOOM.
A cannon-blast of undead-forged mana tore through the open sky.
And it was heading straight for him.
Hunter Deaths and Desperation
The blast from Leon's shot collided with the Champion's chest—but he moved at the last moment.
With one devastating motion, the Champion turned his blade flat-side outward and swatted the energy blast like a tennis ball.
BOOM.
It soared across the air, streaking like a cursed comet before slamming into the side of an administrative building near the outpost's northern wing.
The explosion shattered half the structure.
Stone. Steel. Mana-glass.
Gone.
The shockwave buckled nearby walls, and bodies were thrown like rag dolls. Smoke billowed into the sky. Alarms screamed.
Behind Leon, a high-ranking hunter squad surged forward, clad in reinforced guild armor, each wielding enchanted blades and heavy relics.
"Flank him!" the captain shouted. "Now!"
They fanned out—flawless formation. Years of dungeon training behind their steps.
Didn't matter.
The Champion moved.
His greatsword arced in one smooth horizontal swing—wide and impossibly fast.
A gust of air followed the blade. Then blood.
SIX hunters were bisected.
The crowd gasped as bodies fell in twitching halves, blood jetting from open torsos before nerves had even registered pain.
The grass was no longer green.
One hunter's helmet rolled. Another's sword clattered uselessly beside a dismembered hand.
The screams from the crowd at the Hunter Association base rippled through the area like a shockwave of panic.
Even the hunter who had been livestreaming—a tech-type standing on the south observation deck—lowered his phone briefly.
"Holy f—" he muttered, breath catching.
But he didn't stop.
The camera feed trembled slightly. The numbers didn't.
[Viewers: 872,000+]
And rising.
The whole world was watching.
Leon Evolves the Battle
Leon saw the bodies fall, the blood soaking the earth, the terror gripping every watching face.
He didn't flinch.
He clicked his tongue once—calm, clear.
"Time to end this."
He reached inward, dragging from the darkest part of his system interface. The world slowed around him.
A faint red ring pulsed beneath his boots.
[Deathbound Link – Activated.]
The Warrior Zombie twisted, the bones in its arms cracking outward as its torso bulked. Corrupted black steel laced over its limbs, eyes blazing a molten red. Its cleaver warped—twice as long, jagged, dripping dark mana like oil.
Across the field, the Sorcerer responded instantly.
Its skull flickered, and its tattered cloak flared. Glyphs burned along its arms—its mana flared brighter than ever.
[Undead Synergy: Coordinated Assault Initiated.]
Leon's interface updated.
Synchronization Rate: 92% Attack Window: 4.7 seconds
They moved as one.
The Sorcerer opened both hands.
[Soulflame Cone] burst forth—an arcing wave of green inferno that flooded the Champion's left side in withering fire.
The Warrior lunged in the same beat, bringing its overcharged cleaver in a vertical arc aimed at the Champion's collarbone.
And Leon?
He didn't wait.
He sprinted wide, circling like a wolf around the collapsing flank. His gun glowed in his grip, the barrel whining with compressed necrotic power.
He fired.
BOOM.
The bullet was no longer just metal.
It was vengeance.
The necrotic shot tore through the air, curved beneath the Sorcerer's flame, and hit the Champion dead in the spine—right where Leon had marked his weakness earlier.
CRACK.
A sharp sound split the sky.
The Champion jerked.
His armor fractured—split along the lower back in a lightning-shaped fissure that bled dark light.
He grunted.
For the first time, he reacted like a man in pain.
The Soulflame continued to burn across his shoulder.
The Warrior pressed harder, landing another crushing blow that forced the Champion to block with both hands, his posture shifting to defense.
Leon saw it.
The first sign of tension.
Not fear.
Not fatigue.
But recognition.
The Champion straightened slowly, the fire fading off his skin in wisps.
He turned toward Leon, molten eyes burning like the heart of a forge.
"You are not ready…" he said, his voice low, echoing like a tomb door grinding open.
"...But you will be."
Leon's hand clicked another round into the chamber.
He raised his gun.
"Then I'll keep proving you wrong."
And fired again.
The Final Blow
The Champion charged, dragging his greatsword behind him, carving trenches in the earth with each step. Every stride left molten cracks glowing beneath his feet. He wasn't slowing.
He was preparing to end it.
Leon knew.
This was it.
The Champion raised his blade overhead in a brutal two-handed grip—an executioner's swing meant to cleave through everything in its path.
Leon didn't block.
He stepped into the swing.
At the last second, he dropped into a slide, his boots skimming the blood-slicked earth, momentum carrying him beneath the arc of death.
The Champion's sword passed over him—too slow, too wide.
Leon's hand reached out—
And grabbed the hilt of a broken longsword lodged into the rubble near his feet. It was rusted, chipped—useless to anyone else.
But not to him.
Mana surged through his body.
The sword trembled, veins of black light crawling up the steel.
Leon's system flared.
[Weapon Infusion: Necrotic Core Applied][Piercing Channeling Active: Condensing Mana Through Blade…]
He didn't wait for a perfect moment.
He made one.
"NOW!"
The Warrior Zombie roared and crashed into the Champion from the side, its corrupted greatsword slamming into his ribs with explosive force. The Champion staggered, thrown slightly off-center.
At the same time, Bladewraith emerged from the ground behind the Champion like a shadow pulled from the abyss. Silent. Fast.
Two black daggers extended from his wrists like bone-blades.
He stabbed forward.
Both blades sank deep into the Champion's hamstrings.
The demon grunted, knees buckling slightly, armor cracking as his stance collapsed.
Leon moved.
One step.
Two.
Then he leapt, twisting the broken longsword in both hands. He brought it down with everything he had, aiming for the gap beneath the Champion's cracked chestplate—right where the core pulse glowed beneath torn armor.
The blade screamed as it pierced through the rune-etched skin.
Steel met meat. Mana met heart.
The Champion's body froze.
His molten eyes widened.
Leon didn't pull back.
He drove the sword deeper.
Then the Warrior Zombie stabbed through the opposite side.
And Bladewraith's twin daggers crossed through the lower back, piercing the corrupted spine.
The Champion finally fell.
Not like a man.
Like a collapsed building.
He hit the ground with a thunderous crash, his sword falling from his grasp with a heavy clang. Cracks spidered through the earth. His body convulsed once—
Then dark mana burst upward from his chest like a volcanic plume.
The system chimed:
[World-Class Threat Eliminated][Dungeon Anomaly Resolved][System Recovery Engaged…]
The battlefield was silent.
Except for the voice of the streamer, whispering into the open mic:
"…holy shit… he did it."
A Failed Summon – And a Final Warning
Leon stepped over the body, sweat dripping from his chin, the broken sword still clutched in his right hand.
The Champion was dying—but not dead yet.
Leon reached into his inventory and retrieved a rare item he had saved: a Summon Sigil: High-Tier Deadbound (One Use Only).
He pressed it against the Champion's body.
The system pulsed.
[Attempting to Bind Fallen Entity: Abyssal Champion][ERROR: User Level Inadequate. Soulbound Integrity Unstable][Summon Failed.]
Leon's jaw clenched.
He was close. So close.
But not yet.
The Champion let out a slow, fractured breath. Blood-black steam curled from the corners of his cracked lips. One eye glowed dimly.
"You… fight well," he rasped. "But you are not the first…"
Leon leaned in, jaw tight. "Then who sent you?"
The demon coughed, blood sizzling as it hit the air. A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.
"The Abyss watches…" he whispered. "And the gates… will open."
His body convulsed one final time—
Then crumbled into ash.
Only his cracked greatsword remained, burned into the ground like a monument to what had just happened.
Comments Section – The World Reacts
The stream didn't end.
The hunter who had filmed the whole fight stood frozen, mouth open, phone still raised.
[LIVE]Viewers: 2,398,702Chat Replay: Disabled (Too fast)
Then the chat caught up:
"HE KILLED IT HOLY SHITTTT""WHO TF IS THIS GUY???""IS THAT A GUN??? A NECROMANCER WITH A GUN???""I JUST SAW A BOSS GET STABBED FROM THREE SIDES WHAT IS THIS ANIME""STREAMER GUY GIVE US HIS NAME!""WHERE DO I FOLLOW HIM???"
@SystemTracker:"Unconfirmed combatant. Classification: Unknown. Necromancer-Class Confirmed. B-Rank dungeon clear. Feat recorded."
@GlobalRankingBot:"Temporary classification: [Ascendant Tier – Pending]"
@AnonymousHunter95:"Y'all saw the dude stab a Demon Champion in the HEART with a busted sword?? I'm clipping that."
After the Ashes
The battlefield reeked of scorched stone and blood-soaked earth.
The Abyssal Champion's body had long since turned to ash, swept away by the wind like it had never existed. But the damage remained—cracked foundations, shattered walls, the distant screams of survivors being pulled from the rubble.
Leon stood alone in the crater's center, his coat torn, boots heavy with dust, his mana reserves nearly empty.
He looked down at the twisted greatsword embedded in the stone—a cursed relic forged in the Abyss. A remnant of a being too strong for this world.
He reached down, touched the hilt, and the system responded.
[Loot Acquired: Abyss-Forged Greatsword (Cursed)][You have obtained: Abyssal Core Fragment][Corrupted Soul Residue x 1][Associative Trade Notification – World-Class Item Detected]
Leon's fingers closed over the weapon.
He said nothing.
He simply turned and walked.
Hours Later – Hunter Association HQ (Vaulted Trade Hall)
The Association's main branch was buzzing—anxious whispers, urgent footsteps, screens flashing red from earlier alarms. But when Leon stepped through the lobby entrance, the noise dropped.
He wasn't a ranked guild hunter. He didn't wear custom armor or travel with an entourage.
But the front desk staff stood up anyway.
He handed over his hunter token and a single blackened relic—the Abyssal Greatsword.
The clerk blinked.
"…This came from the Champion?"
Leon didn't answer.
The clerk swallowed, tapped something into the console. The valuation scan ran across the weapon, its cursed energy flickering wildly on the display.
[Analyzing…][Processing Inventory Sync…][Market Override Triggered: High-Tier Relics Detected]
The system locked in the offer.
A single number appeared on the screen.
$40,000,000 USD.
The clerk's voice dropped. "Do you… accept?"
Leon nodded once.
[Transaction Complete – Immediate Transfer Initiated][Funds Deposited: $40,000,000 USD]
He took his token back and turned away.
No questions. No gloating. No explanation.
Moments Later – At Seraph Medical Institute
Leon stepped out of the Association building into the night, the cold air stinging his lungs with each breath. The city was still buzzing from what had happened—screens across skyscrapers looping his final shot over and over again.
He ignored them.
Instead, he flagged a private transport and keyed in a destination.
Seraph Medical Institute. Room 805.
The hospital was quiet when he arrived. Dim lighting. Hallways that smelled faintly of antiseptic and old paper. A tired nurse glanced up from her terminal, and when Leon gave his name, she nodded and guided him up without question.
Room 805 was near the top.
He stepped in.
His mother lay there—still, pale, her body caught in a fragile balance between survival and surrender. The machines hummed softly, tracking her heartbeat in green lines and soft beeps.
Leon stood at her bedside for a long moment, silent.
Then he reached into his coat and pulled out a single, thin silver card—his personal account key synced with the Hunter Association's global banking system.
He tapped it to the tablet mounted beside her monitor.
[Authorization Confirmed – Leon Drayven][Outstanding Balance: $5,000,000][Advanced Regenerative Therapy – Class-A Private Treatment Plan]
Leon tapped again.
[Confirm Full Payment?][Yes]
[Processing…]
[Transaction Complete.]
[Full Treatment Plan Initiated – Estimated Recovery Window: 1 Weeks]
A new tone played as the system locked in the order.
The machine adjusted.
The lights on her IV stand shifted blue.
For the first time in years, the system stopped tracking her decline—and started tracking her recovery.
Leon sat beside her, resting both arms on the edge of the bed.
She didn't wake.
But he didn't speak either.
He didn't need to.
This was why he fought.
This was why he would keep going.