The days bled together in this cursed place.
If it could even be called days. The sky inside the dungeon was a constant black haze, torn open every few seconds by streaks of violet thunder. Sleep was a gamble — a moment too long and something would come crawling out of the storm to sink its claws into me.
I stopped counting after the seventh sunrise that never came.
The first enemy that truly tested me wasn't the ash-creature or the lightning wolves. It was Stormfang, a predator shaped like a lion with bone-white fur and violet fire in its mane.
Stormfang didn't just pounce — it vanished into the storm, reappearing with its jaws inches from my throat. The fight dragged me across broken stone, ripping gashes into my arms and legs. My lightning barely slowed it down.
At one point, when its claws pinned me to the ground, I felt my ribs crack. The system screamed warnings: [Vitality critical]. My vision blurred.
I thought I'd die there. But the storm inside me raged, unwilling to let go. I poured everything into one desperate strike — purple lightning erupting from my chest like a second heartbeat. It tore through Stormfang's skull and left me gasping in its smoking carcass.
That was the first time I realized this dungeon wasn't just spawning monsters.
They had names. Instincts. Some of them… willpower.
And every time one of them fell, I grew.
Then came Zephyra, a serpent with wings of pure current. She coiled through the skies, her voice slithering inside my skull.
"Little lightning thief. The storm was never yours. It belongs to us."
Her words froze me. Until now, everything here had growled, hissed, or screamed. But Zephyra talked. She mocked my every movement, her laughter echoing as she split into afterimages of lightning across the clouds.
I chased her for hours. Every bolt she spat shattered stone. Every slash of her tail sent me tumbling.
When I finally brought her down, it wasn't with strength, but with patience. I waited until she opened her jaws wide enough for her final strike. Then I rammed my lightning straight into her throat.
Her dying words still haunt me.
"The storm will break you too, child of the nameless."
And then there was the one I still fear to remember.
Gravehowl.
A wolf twice the size of a house, its body stitched from shadows, ribs showing, skull cracked open. Its howl didn't just echo — it paralyzed. My body turned to stone every time the sound tore through the dungeon.
That fight lasted days. Every time I thought it had fallen, Gravehowl rose again, lightning reforming its body.
I nearly died a dozen times. Once, it crushed me beneath its jaws until my bones snapped like twigs. Only the storm's strange hunger saved me — my lightning devoured the beast's own current, knitting me back together.
By the end, I wasn't the same.
I had scars that would never heal. My eyes burned with faint violet sparks. And when I stared into the storm, I could hear whispers.
Current Stats (after weeks inside):
Strength: 29
Agility: 31
Vitality: 27
Intelligence: 22
Willpower: 34
Perception: 30
Charisma: 8
Unique Attribute: Purple Lightning (Evolving)
— Techniques refined:
Bolt → Spear (Piercing, long-range strike).
Veil → Shroud (Full-body cloak, boosts speed, resists damage).
Field → Domain (A controlled storm zone, cripples enemy stamina).
The dungeon wasn't endless. It was leading me somewhere.
Every path I walked, every storm-wracked plain, every canyon split by thunder — they all curved toward the heart of the dungeon.
Toward the Storm Throne.
I saw it one night: a throne of broken stone, suspended in the air by chains of lightning, and on it sat the one who ruled this place.
Asterion, the Storm Sovereign.
He wasn't beast, nor man. He was both. A figure of muscle and storm, skin carved with runes, hair flowing like arcs of lightning. His eyes… empty, endless, violet suns.
And when his gaze met mine, my blood turned cold.
"So… the storm finally chose a vessel. Pathetic. Frail. Human. But if you wish to leave this place alive… you will have to take my throne."
That was the moment I realized.
The Purple Lightning Dungeon wasn't just a test.
It was a crucible. A god's prison. A place designed to find the one foolish enough to steal the storm's heart.
And if I wanted to walk out of here, I'd have to kill its king.