The first dungeon orc slammed its foot down and charged.
Too slow.
I stepped forward instead of back, blood snapping into motion around my arm as I hardened it into a crimson blade that extended past my wrist. Steel met flesh—my iron sword parrying the greataxe while the blood blade carved straight across the orc's abdomen.
It roared, blackened blood spilling out.
Shadow struck immediately.
He slipped beneath the second orc's swing, jaws clamping onto its forearm. Poison flooded the creature's veins, its movements stuttering as Shadow dragged it off balance.
The third orc adapted.
It didn't charge.
It threw its weapon.
The axe spun through the air like a guillotine. I twisted, barely avoiding decapitation—the blade still tore across my shoulder, sending pain flaring and blood pouring down my arm.
HP dropped.
Wrath surged.
"Bloodlust Strike."
My heartbeat thundered. The pain sharpened my focus instead of dulling it.
I yanked the blood spilling from my wound outward, forming a spiraling spear mid-swing, and hurled it forward. The spear punched through the charging orc's skull, exploding out the back in a spray of gore.
It fell instantly.
The wounded orc tried to retreat.
Pride rose in my chest.
You don't get to run.
I stomped the ground, blood veins snaking across the dungeon floor and binding its legs. I walked up calmly and drove my sword straight through its chest.
Shadow finished the last one.
The poisoned orc collapsed to its knees, convulsing. Shadow lunged, tearing out its throat in a violent spray of blood.
Silence returned.
The dungeon walls pulsed—once, twice—uneasy.
Then something new appeared.
I exhaled slowly, blood dripping from my hands.
"They've noticed," I said softly.
Shadow returned to my side, eyes glowing brighter than before, his form more solid—stronger.
I absorbed the surrounding blood instinctively, pulling it into myself. Warmth spread through my body, wounds closing, hunger quieting.
Another line appeared, faint but unmistakable.
I smiled.
"This place is generous."
Deeper within the dungeon, something shifted—something far stronger than elite orcs.
A presence.
Watching.
Waiting.
I wiped my blade clean and stepped forward into the darkness.
"Come on," I murmured. "Show me what you're guarding."
The deeper I went, the more the dungeon changed.
The corridors narrowed, the walls pulsing like living flesh beneath black stone. The mana in the air grew thick enough to taste—sharp, metallic, almost sweet. Every step echoed longer than it should have, as if the dungeon wanted me to hear myself approaching.
I didn't slow down.
Shadow walked beside me now, fully manifested, his body larger than before—fed by blood, strengthened by combat. His presence alone made the lesser creatures lurking in the walls retreat.
They knew better.
We passed bodies.
Human ones.
A hero squad.
Their armor was shattered, weapons snapped, blood smeared across the stone in desperate streaks. One of them still clutched a glowing system interface, frozen mid-notification.
I glanced at it.
I felt Pride stir, pleased.
They came together. They still died.
Ahead, the corridor opened into a massive chamber.
The ceiling disappeared into darkness, and the floor was carved into a circular arena etched with runes that pulsed slowly, rhythmically—like a heartbeat. At the center stood a massive stone gate sealed by chains of crimson mana.
And in front of it—
Something knelt.
A creature of muscle and armor, far larger than the warlord I'd killed. Its skin was dark green veined with glowing red cracks, and jagged plates of dungeon-forged armor were fused directly into its flesh. In its hands rested a colossal hammer engraved with runes of suppression.
Its eyes opened.
The moment it stood, pressure crashed down on me.
My blood resisted me.
Not fully—but enough to notice.
"Oh?" I murmured. "You try to deny me?"
The tyrant slammed its hammer into the ground.
The arena sealed.
Shadow growled low, muscles tensing.
I rolled my shoulders, feeling Wrath coil, Pride solidify, Gluttony whisper hungrily at the back of my mind.
"This dungeon thinks you're its strongest weapon," I said, staring up at the tyrant.
"But you're just another lock."
The Orc Tyrant roared, charging forward, each step cracking the arena floor.
I raised my sword.
Blood surged despite the suppression—fighting back.
Good.
If I could overpower a dungeon's authority here…
Then claiming it would be inevitable.
The fight began.
The Orc Tyrant slammed its hammer down, sending a shockwave through the chamber. Dust and stone shards filled the air, and I barely rolled aside, blade cutting through a shard before it could pierce me.
But something was different. The dungeon's blood suppression aura… it was delicious. Not just satisfying—it called to me, stirred something deep. The blood of the fallen heroes, the spilled dungeon orc lifeforce, even the essence of the Tyrant itself—it throbbed with raw energy I could consume.
Gluttony stirred.
A whisper at the back of my mind, seductive and soft:
Take it. You can't lose. Consume. Everything. Become more than this world.
I felt my SP twitch, pulse, begging me to give in. My body ached to drink it all in, to swallow the life force radiating from this dungeon and its guardian. Pride, too, flared. You alone are worthy. The Tyrant's roar only reinforced it—every swing of its hammer an insult to my superiority.
I smiled, letting the hunger roll through me, mixing with Wrath's rage and Pride's dominance.
The world narrowed. Everything became sharp edges of red, black, and silver. The Orc Tyrant charged again, and I didn't flinch.
I let Blood Manipulation coil around its legs and hammer, draining the residual blood and mana of the arena. The tyrant screamed as I approached, hammer swinging, veins of crimson energy twisting through the air to meet it.
My heart raced—not with fear, but ecstasy. Each strike, each dodge, each stolen essence from the battlefield fed me, strengthened me. Wrath, Pride, Gluttony—they all converged into a single, terrible rhythm.
I flexed my fingers, feeling power surge through me. My sword felt alive, Shadow's presence amplified, and even the dungeon seemed to hesitate. The Orc Tyrant's swings slowed; it sensed the shift—the singular dominance I now radiated.
This dungeon will bend to me, I thought.
These sins aren't just tools. They're my evolution.
I laughed softly. Blood dripping, veins pulsing, the world narrowed to this moment.
"Come on," I whispered to Shadow. "Let's see how far we can go."
And I stepped fully into the Tyrant's path, letting my sins take control.