I died like shit.
No grand battle. No last words. Just a blade in the back and the taste of blood in my throat. I remember the cold, the stone under my knees, and my own heart still beating as my guts spilled onto the ground.
And then, black.
An endless black, dreamless. Not even nothingness. Just… nothing.
Until now.
My eyelids tear open with a sharp jolt. The air is hot. Damp. I pant like a dog, lungs on fire. My back is pressed against a warm, smooth, pulsating slab of stone. I feel it throb. Beneath the surface. As if the ground itself were breathing.
My eyes struggle to open, burned by a red, pulsing light, like a giant heart exhaling.
The Dungeon Core.
I recognize the smell instantly. That mix of ancient magic, molten metal, and ash. This isn't a dream. Not an illusion.
I'm here. Alive. Naked as the day I was born.
Fuck.
I sit up. Slowly. My body responds, despite the pain. My hands tremble, but I still have all my fingers. My chest is covered in dust. There's nothing on me. No weapon. No armor. Not even a damn belt to hide my dick.
I'm standing, alone, in the heart of hell.
Or almost.
There's movement. A ripple in the air. Something — no, someone — is there. Close.
I slowly turn my head. And I see her.
Her.
Crouched in front of the Core.
Naked.
Totally naked.
She wasn't moving. Not even a blink. Like a living statue, carved from obsidian and flesh. Palms resting on her thighs, eyes closed, breathing slow. A red light poured over her skin like wine over porcelain. It was almost… ritualistic.
I say nothing.
I step back. Bad reflex.
Her eyes open.
Two metallic slits, shining gray, crossed with red lines that pulse with the Core. No surprise in her gaze. No fear either. Just a glacial certainty, like I was expected. Programmed. Awaited.
— You are awake.
Her voice. Shit. Low. Controlled. Sensual without meaning to be. A voice that could deliver a mission order or whisper dirty things in my ear. Both, at once.
I swallow.
She rises slowly. No wasted motion. The muscles in her legs stretch like a feline's. Her hips roll gently. Her chest rises in heavy silence.
Nothing hides her body.
And what a fucking body.
Her breasts, perfect, full and high, looked like they'd been sculpted by an artist deprived of oxygen — soft, pale curves, tipped with dark pink nipples hardening in the moist air. Her stomach, flat and taut, tapered down into a neat dip ending at a sex as bare as the rest — a discreet mound, hairless, obscene and mesmerizing in the red glow.
Her hips were wide, anchored. Her legs long, shaped, almost too flawless. And between her thighs, that absence of shame, that silent offering, screaming at me to take her… or run.
She was made to tempt me.
— You wanna tell me why you're naked?
My voice comes out rougher than I expected. She just tilts her head, like a cat eyeing a dumb insect.
— The Dungeon awakened me to serve you. Clothes are secondary. Efficiency is not.
I stay frozen. My brain trying to piece it all together.She's not human. Too calm. Too poised. Too dangerous.
She steps forward. One step. Two. Barefoot. Each movement sends a pulse through the Core behind her. As if she's part of it.
— You are the new Dungeon Master.
— Great. And you, what are you exactly? Some sexy AI? An illusion?
She stops just in front of me. One breath away. Her skin gives off a strange heat, somewhere between living and mineral. She slowly raises her hand. I brace for a slap. Or an attack.
But no.
Her fingers touch my temple. A light shiver.
— I am Naëlith. Servant of the Forgotten Core. Heroic rank. I served three Lords before you. None survived more than twenty days.
I feel a pressure behind my eyes. A kind of blurry interface pulsing in my head. She "linked" me to the Core.
— If I'm here, it means the Dungeon accepts you.
— And if I fail?
— The Core will devour you. Me with it.
Silence.
She bows.
Slowly.Her black hair slips down her hips. Her back reveals itself. And there, just between her shoulder blades, a mark. Carved, alive. A circle of molten runes, pulsing gently like an invisible mouth.
— Let me guide you, Master. Or die alone, like the others.
A second later, I've got a blinding migraine.And an interface in my skull.
Not a screen. Not words. A flow. A presence. As if the Dungeon had opened its veins to whisper:
"You're mine now. Fight."
I stumble back a step.
Naëlith doesn't flinch. She watches. Coldly. As if recording my reaction for a report.
And in my head, the data begins to pour.
[CORE OF WAR: ACTIVATED]Level: 0Core: UnstableFloor: 11 / 12Control: 3%Available Energy: 0003 units
Nearby resources:• Blackstone vein (low quality)• Raw iron deposit (medium quality)• Collapsed chamber (structure erased)
I blink.
It's real.
I can see everything. Every room. Every wall. Every damn stone around me. I've got a living dungeon beneath my feet. And a power begging to erupt.
I can see it all: the main chamber, the iron vein in the left wall, the old door that once led to a collapsed corridor.And I can interact.
Dig. Scan. Rebuild. Activate.
— The Dungeon is linked to you. But it is starving, says Naëlith behind me.
— Starving for what?
— Matter. Territory. Survival.
— Great. So I'm its Uber Eats, huh?
— No, Master. You are its last gamble.
She steps closer. Still naked. I look away for half a second — mistake.
She grabs my chin. Firmly.
— The Core needs decisions. Not hesitation. It will follow if you lead. If not, it will consume you.
Her eyes gleam.
I don't know if she's testing me, teaching me, or threatening me. But I get the message.
I reach for the wall.A mental overlay pops up:[IRON DEPOSIT — medium quality — extraction possible]
— I can mine?
— Yes. But not with your hands.
She snaps her fingers. A black stone rises from the ground. Twists. Bends. Takes the form of a crude tool: a raw iron pickaxe, forged by magic.
— First tool. First choice. First risk.
I grab the handle.
It's heavy, hot, almost alive.
I turn to the wall and, without thinking, I strike.
[+1 unit of Raw Iron][+2 units of Blackstone]
Naëlith nods.
I strike again.
Again.
I'm sweating, shirtless, sprayed with stone chips, breathing hard, hands on fire. But I don't care.
I'm alive. A second chance. I've got a fucking dungeon under my feet. And I'm gonna make it grow. With my own damn hands.
I strike again. Three times. Four. The rock gives way with a dull crack, fragments tumbling at my feet. A blackstone vein. A raw iron shard, still warm. Not much, but enough to start.
I crouch, scoop up the pieces with both hands. The edges cut into my palms, but I grit my teeth. Then, without a word, I lay them at the foot of the Core.
The ground vibrates. A thick red light climbs up the crystal. Behind me, Naëlith steps back. Silent.
[RESOURCES DETECTED]• Blackstone x4• Raw Iron x2
[Do you wish to sacrifice them to the Core?] ⚠️ Materials will be permanently consumed.
I give a short, bitter laugh.
— Of course it's permanent...
I confirm.
The blocks disintegrate in a crimson glow. Thin filaments of energy spiral into the air, slowly sucked into the crystal's base. The Core beats louder. A deep heat spreads through the room, like a heavy breath.
[SACRIFICE ACCEPTED][CORE CHARGE: 0.8%]
— It's reacting, Naëlith says calmly. You just fed it.
I straighten up, panting. My body aches, my hands are bleeding, but something else kicks in. A kind of clarity.
— So? Is it gonna reward me? Clap for me in its head?
— It judges you. It waits. And when its gauge is full, it will change. In shape. In function. In power.With each upgrade, you gain a new feature.And a General.
I look up at her.
— You're one of them.
She nods, chin high.
— I'm the first. The General of the Dormant Core. The starting point. There will be twelve more — one for each level of awakening. If you survive that long.
I don't get the chance to reply.
A sound tears through the silence. A scraping. Wet. Slow.
Something's clawing at the rock, on the other side of the room.
I turn instinctively. A shape slips out of the shadows. Long. Bent. Almost human. Too human. Twisted arms. Hunched back. Two red eyes, glowing like fevered embers.
The mental interface flashes.
[Presence detected: Corrupted Scavenger]• Class: F• Threat: Moderate• Behavior: Erratic
I step back.
Still naked. Still unarmed. But this time, I've got a Dungeon.
— Can I build a trap here? Now?
Naëlith crosses her arms under her bare chest, like the situation's anything but urgent.
— You've sacrificed enough to activate one. Place it. And own it.
A schematic overlays in my vision.
[CONSTRUCTION AVAILABLE]• Type: Floor Trap – Piercing Blade• Cost: 2 Blackstone, 1 Raw Iron, 3 Core Energy• Activation: Immediate
I confirm instantly.
The ground vibrates. Three spikes rise slowly, sharp as fangs.
The creature leaps without warning.
CLACK.
The blades snap shut on it, crushing one leg, impaling the other. An inhuman howl fills the chamber. It thrashes, twisted, spasming.
I step forward. Pick in hand. My fingers tremble. My heart pounds too fast.
It looks at me.
Its eyes are almost human.
I strike.
Again.
Until everything stops.
Silence falls. Heavy. Deafening. Dense.
Naëlith doesn't move.The Core, though, beats harder than before.As if it had understood something.
[Threat eliminated][Energy generated: +3][New area unlocked: Threshold Room]
A wall behind the Core groans. A crack opens slowly, revealing a narrow corridor. Black. Deep. Something moves in it, further down.
I stand tall. Spit on the ground. Wipe blood from my chest.
Naëlith finally steps forward.
— Every room opened brings you closer to the others. The ones still sleeping.
I stare at her. Then, without another word, I walk toward the crack.
— Then let's wake them all.
And I vanish into the dark.