Ethan exhaled a long, ragged breath, dragging a hand through his sweat-damp hair.
"Let it flow as it is for now," he muttered, shaking off the last fragments of the mysterious bandit
girl. "I'll go clear that damn Lich dungeon."
He clenched his fists and started marching again, the air cool against his heated skin.
The entrance of the Lich's Dungeon loomed before him like the gaping maw of some ancient
beast. The stone archway was cracked and blackened as if burned by ages of dark magic. Pale
violet mist drifted out of the shadows, swirling around Ethan's legs as he stepped inside.
The moment he crossed the threshold, the temperature dropped. His breath steamed in front of
his face.
The walls were carved black marble veined with purple light, pulsing slowly like a heartbeat. Sigils
in twisted, runic script shimmered faintly on every surface. Chains dangled from the ceilings,
clinking as though something unseen moved them. From deep within, a low, echoing growl
rumbled like distant thunder.
"Home sweet home," Ethan said dryly, gripping the hilt of Warlord's Fang.
He advanced deeper. Every few steps, grotesque statues shaped like half-melted skulls seemed
to glare at him. Pools of dark liquid bubbled in shallow basins, and faint whispers curled around
his ears.
But Ethan was not fazed. He moved forward, determined.
The first monsters lunged from the shadows—Skeletal Minions, their bones blackened and fused
by dark magic. They were Level 20, swinging rusted blades with unnatural speed.
"Come on, then!" Ethan shouted, rushing in.
He dropped low under the first skeleton's swipe, twisted left, and slammed the Warlord's Fang
across its spine. Bone fragments exploded in a rain of shards. Another skeleton lunged at his
flank. Ethan pivoted and drove the sword point-first into its ribcage, crushing its core.
Their shrieks echoed down the corridors. He kept moving, dispatching skeleton after skeleton
with precise strikes, using simple swordsmanship fueled by his agility boost.
Eventually, the halls widened into a massive chamber where pillars shaped like writhing serpents
coiled upward into shadows.
A new wave of monsters approached—Level 25 creatures named Nightbone Reapers.
These skeletons were taller than men, bones lacquered obsidian, wielding crescent-shaped
blades that glowed violet. Black mist hissed from their eye sockets as they stepped forward in
perfect synchrony.
Ethan sucked in a breath.
"All right… let's dance."
He shot forward. The first Reaper slashed at his chest, but Ethan's boosted agility let him duck
under the swing, hair whipping around his face.
[Dominion Warlord Trait Active – Battle Focus]
[+20% speed and perception for 10 seconds].
The world slowed to a crawl. Ethan saw every motion—the way the Reaper's right ankle rolled as
it attacked, the fraction of a second it left its spine exposed.
He pivoted sideways and swung his sword.
CRACK.
Bone split open as Warlord's Fang smashed into the Reaper's torso. Dark ichor burst out like a
burst of ink in water.
Another Reaper lunged in. Ethan feinted left, darted right, then activated Dark Blade.
Shadow mana wrapped his sword in swirling black flames. He struck diagonally, slicing the
Reaper's arm clean off. It fell backward, screeching, before shattering into fragments.
He continued, dispatching each Reaper with a mix of precision swordsmanship and the eerie
power of Dark Blade. Shadows trailed behind his strikes, cutting through bone and dark magic
alike.
When the final Nightbone Reaper fell, silence returned to the chamber. Ethan stumbled a few
steps, panting heavily.
"Fucking… finally…" he gasped, dropping to sit on the cold marble floor.
A chime rang in his head.
[SYSTEM NOTICE]
[LEVEL UP! → Level 30]
[+30 Stat Points Acquired]
Ethan opened his system window, sweat dripping from his chin.
[Name: Ethan Graves]
[Race: Human]
[Class: Overlord (SSS-Class)]
[Level: 30]
[Health: 260/260]
[Mana: 320/320]
[Strength: B]
[Agility: B+]
[Endurance: B]
[Intellect: B]
[Charisma: B-]
[Luck: B-]
[Dominion Points: 0]
[Potential Rating: SSS]
[Harem Slots: 0/10]
[Stat Points: 30]
"B, B, B… damn, I'm practically alphabet soup."
He dumped all 30 points evenly into his stats, feeling a surge of energy ripple through his veins.
His body felt lighter, his senses sharper.
Ethan clenched his fists and stood up, shaking out his shoulders.
He glanced toward a huge iron-bound door at the far end of the room. The carvings on it depicted
a monstrous figure robed in bones, its skeletal hands clutching an orb of dark fire.
"That's definitely the mini-boss chamber," Ethan whispered.
He took a deep breath, squared his shoulders, and strode toward it. His hand hovered over
Warlord's Fang's hilt.
"All right, Lich-boy," he murmured, voice low and determined. "Let's see what you've got."
With a heavy creak, he pushed the door open, shadows billowing out into the hall.
And stepped inside.