Kaelen didn't rest.
The moment Tessandra finished explaining the dungeon system, he moved again—through forests, across borders, over entire continents that were still learning what a "dungeon" even was.
The Emerald Tunnels of Varlion were the first.
A spiraling cave system dripping with green mist and crystal growths. Kaelen walked into it with calm eyes and walked out with three new abilities, a satchel full of glowing monster cores, and a reputation.
By the second dungeon—the Ashwater Bastion, a molten labyrinth atop the northern continent—other adventurers began whispering:
"That kid again…"
"No way. He cleared it alone?"
"Who the hell is he?"
Kaelen didn't answer questions.
He simply fought, adapted, survived, and learned.
Tessandra Liones, ever-watchful, guided him through mental threads of mana:
"Breathe. Do not brute force every enemy. Track their animus. Sense their rhythm. Kill with intention."
Her voice sharpened him.
He cleared a frozen dungeon in Valtia, a desert dungeon in Cyanos, a jungle dungeon in Relhara.
Everywhere he went, adventurers—new or veteran—watched a young man cut down horrors with the efficiency of someone who'd been doing it for decades.
The world began giving him names:
"The Quiet Prodigy."
"The Frostfire Reaper."
"The Boy Who Survived Abysmal Rank."
And Tessandra… she began to sense the shift too.
"Kaelen… you're rising too fast."
"Should I stop?"
"No. But be ready. Fame has its own monsters."
She wasn't wrong.
Because far away—hidden in the folds of a metaphysical chamber—Arata watched Kaelen's ascent with an unreadable smile.
A smile that hinted at planning.
A smile that hinted at chaos.
A smile that meant the world was about to change.
In the stillness of a floating palace of shadow and silver, Arata lifted a single finger.
His whisper wasn't loud, yet reality trembled.
"Instant Dungeons… appear."
Across the globe—
Not one.
Not two.
Hundreds.
Thousands.
Instant Dungeons manifested above cities, inside streets, on beaches, in mountains, even beneath the sea.
Tessandra's eyes widened mid-training.
"Kaelen… something's wrong."
Her voice cracked with urgency she had never shown before.
Kaelen felt it too—like the world's mana pulse suddenly dropped. Like its heartbeat skipped a beat.
And then the first Dungeon Break happened.
A colossal rift snapped open over the city of Daelstrom—followed by a monstrous roar that shook skyscrapers.
All over the world… breaks followed.
The Dungeon Era officially became a Dungeon War.
Circuit users scrambled.
Hunters screamed orders.
Mercenaries rallied.
Families ran.
Sirens howled.
Monsters flooded out of ruptures like rivers of nightmares.
Tessandra summoned her spear and roared:
"KAELEN! MOVE!"
Her students, fellow hunters, and even international associations began forming defense lines as panic swept the globe.
Kaelen clenched his fists.
"Tessandra… I'll handle the northern breach."
"Don't you dare die, kid!"
He sprinted into the chaos.
Far away in a quiet forest near Karveth, John opened his eyes as the ground trembled.
"Hah. I was wondering when something interesting would happen."
Karveth looked to him nervously, but John smirked and simply stepped off the porch.
By foot.
No weapon.
No armor.
Just walking.
Because for him, that was enough.
And on the opposite continent, near Arkion, Alzwalt stretched his neck.
He sensed it.
He felt it.
He grinned.
"Arkion… I'm going for a walk."
Arkion didn't stop him.
He knew better.
Alzwalt left the city by foot—hands in his pockets, humming.
He didn't get far before an instant dungeon rippled open on the hillside.
Monsters—lesser ones—charged at him.
He stopped walking.
Smiled.
"You little things aren't even afraid? Oh… this might be fun."
The slaughter began.
A blur of silver aura.
Heads flying.
Limbs tearing.
Screams silenced.
The monsters didn't retreat—they swarmed like the dungeon itself urged them forward.
And after a few seconds, the ground cracked beneath a much larger presence.
A towering figure stepped out.
Skin like dark iron.
Eyes like burning blood.
A voice deep enough to shake the air.
"Human. Your arrogance interests me."
Alzwalt grinned wider.
"A talking one? Nice. What's your name?"
The monster straightened its massive spine.
"I am Druvok, Lord of Shattered Abyss."
And then it vanished.
Faster-than-light movement—raw, violent, tearing the air.
Alzwalt barely raised his arm.
BOOM—!!
The impact sent him flying through trees—dozens, then hundreds—until he crashed into a cliffside.
Silence.
Then…
Alzwalt stood up.
Rolled his shoulders.
Cracked his neck.
And laughed like a madman.
"FINALLY!! A GUY WHO CAN ACTUALLY FIGHT!"
He disappeared.
A sonic boom followed.
They clashed mid-air—the sound like planets colliding.
Then they fought across the sky, streaks of light flashing like shooting stars.
Then in the sea, shockwaves sending tidal waves outward.
Then underground, the earth trembling as if giants wrestled in the dark.
Then back across continents.
Finally, they returned to the forest, landing on opposite ends of a crater.
Both breathing heavily.
Both smiling.
Both stepping forward.
They punched simultaneously—
BOOOOM—!!
Each was sent skidding backward, carving trenches in the dirt.
Smoke rose between them.
And then—
Another voice echoed from behind Alzwalt.
Arrogant.
Hungry.
Thrilled.
"Hey… Other Me. Won't you let me join the fun too?"
Alzwalt froze.
Druvok looked confused.