The dungeon roared.
Stone corridors twisted endlessly, mana storms surging through the air like invisible tides. Liam barely noticed. His entire focus was locked onto the monsters flooding toward him—fangs, claws, malformed bodies screaming as they charged.
Only when the echoes of familiar voices vanished did he realize it.
He was alone.
Somewhere during the chaos, the dungeon had shifted. Walls reformed. Paths collapsed. His team had been swallowed by a different route, leaving Liam standing alone in hostile territory.
Good, he thought.
The Red Core pulsed beneath his skin, responding to the danger with eager hunger.
He moved.
His fists shattered skulls. His reinforced strikes caved in armored chests. Monsters dissolved into motes of mana and ash, their deaths feeding the dungeon—and him.
Time lost meaning.
Pain came and went.
Blood soaked his sleeves, most of it not his own.
Then—
[Level Up]
[Level: 21]
The world lurched.
Mana surged violently through his body, forcing him to his knees. Bones screamed. Veins burned. His heartbeat slowed, each thump echoing like a war drum inside his chest.
[First Transformation: Initiating]
Liam clenched his teeth.
This wasn't power being granted.
It was power being forged.
Mana that once raged like a wild river now flowed with terrifying discipline, carving new channels through reinforced flesh. His senses sharpened beyond instinct.
And then—something else awakened.
[Ability Awakened: Death Sense]
A passive hum settled behind his eyes.
The dungeon changed.
Not visually—but fundamentally.
He could feel it now. The echoes of death soaked into the walls. Lingering souls. Fear that never faded. Rage that refused to disperse.
Death wasn't an ending.
It was a presence.
Liam rose slowly, breath steady.
"…So this is First Transformation."
His Red Core responded with a deep, restrained pulse.
He followed the pull.
Downward.
Deeper.
The corridor widened until it opened into something massive—an arena carved from the heart of the dungeon itself. The ceiling vanished into darkness, runes burning faintly along the walls like ancient stars.
At the center lay a stone platform.
And upon it—
A man.
Human.
Alive.
He slept as if the dungeon itself bowed to his rest. His aura was dense, heavy, pressing against Liam's chest with crushing authority. A Second Transformation cultivator.
Red robes draped over a well-built frame, threads woven with arcane symbols. Even unconscious, he radiated superiority.
Not a guardian.
Not a monster.
A predator sealed by time.
Liam stepped closer.
The moment his foot crossed the rune-circle—
The man's eyes snapped open.
Mana exploded outward.
"You dare enter my slumber?" the red-robed cultivator said, voice cold and absolute. "A Yellow Core… awakening me?"
The dungeon screamed as he stood.
"You don't belong here."
The air shattered.
The Fight
The first strike nearly killed Liam.
A mana-reinforced fist slammed into his ribs, launching him across the arena. Stone fractured where he landed, pain blooming like fire through his body.
This wasn't brute force.
This was refinement.
Every movement of the cultivator was precise, efficient—years of mastery compressed into violence.
Liam rolled, barely avoiding a follow-up strike that split the ground where his head had been.
So this is the difference…
Blood ran down his chin. His Red Core throbbed violently, suppression layers groaning under pressure.
Liam pushed back up.
Again.
And again.
Each exchange carved understanding into his bones. He studied muscle tension. Mana flow. Breathing rhythm.
Then—
He let go.
Intermediate Mana Reinforcement surged to its limit. The Red Core pulsed, leaking controlled, lethal power.
The world slowed.
He saw it.
The twitch before the strike. The angle of attack. The exact moment to counter.
Liam moved.
His fist slammed into the cultivator's chest—hard enough to crack bone. The red-robed man staggered for the first time, shock flashing across his face.
Impossible—
Liam didn't stop.
Strike after strike. Controlled. Merciless. Mana barriers shattered. Armor split. Confidence bled away.
With a final surge, Liam gathered everything into one blow.
A Red Core-enhanced strike that pierced through every defense.
The cultivator collapsed.
Silence followed.
When Death Answered
The moment the man's life force dipped below survival—
Death Sense screamed.
The Red Core roared.
[New Skill Class Detected]
Necromancer Path Identified
[Trigger Condition Met: Victory over Higher Transformation Entity]
Dark mana flooded outward.
From the fallen cultivator, a spectral form rose—eyes glowing with cold obedience.
[Undead Legion Mage Acquired]
Designation: Transformation Expert
Specialty: Mana Control · Transformation Analysis · Combat Mastery
Knowledge poured into Liam's mind—Second Transformation insights, refined techniques, battle logic beyond his current stage.
Not stolen.
Claimed.
"Rise," Liam said quietly.
The undead mage knelt.
"I serve, Master."
Aftermath
[Level Increase: 21 → 25]
[First Transformation: Expert Review Complete]
New abilities unfolded within him.
Undead Legion Control.
Life-to-Mana Conversion.
Dark Command.
Liam exhaled slowly.
The dungeon gate released Liam in a wash of pale light.
For half a heartbeat, nothing happened.
Then the academy exploded.
Mana alarms screamed across the grounds, runic towers flaring as if under siege. Instructors rushed toward the gate, expressions sharp with disbelief and caution. Students froze mid-step, eyes widening as they felt it—
That pressure.
Not hostile.
Not wild.
Controlled.
Liam stepped forward calmly, clothes torn, faint traces of dried blood along his sleeves. His posture was relaxed, his breathing steady.
Too steady.
A senior instructor halted a few meters away, eyes flicking instinctively to the mana scanner in his hand.
"…Level twenty-five," he whispered.
The device cracked.
Silence followed.
Someone swallowed audibly.
"That's impossible," another instructor muttered. "He entered at sixteen."
Principal Arvane arrived moments later. He said nothing at first. His gaze moved from Liam's eyes, to his stance, to the subtle way the surrounding mana bent toward him rather than resisting.
First Transformation.
And something else.
Something wrong.
"Report," Arvane finally said.
Liam met his gaze. "Dungeon clear. Solo."
A pause.
"…Casualties?" an instructor asked carefully.
Liam shook his head. "My team was separated early. They should exit from secondary gates."
Arvane nodded once. The tension didn't fade—but it shifted.
Then the ranking board updated.
Not slowly.
Violently.
Academy Rankings — Beginner Dungeon (Final Update)
1. Liam Vale — Level 25 (Solo Clear)2. Team Orion — Level Avg: 163. Team Helios — Level Avg: 15
The board flickered.
Locked.
The system refused further changes.
A murmur spread through the crowd—fear, awe, disbelief blending into something far more dangerous.
Interest.
Liam felt it immediately.
Death Sense pulsed.
Not killing intent.
Not yet.
Pressure. Scrutiny. Calculation.
Parents with influence. Families with agendas. Students re-evaluating the hierarchy they thought they understood.
And somewhere among it all—
Hostility.
Sharp. Focused. Directed.
Alpha.
Liam didn't look in his direction. He didn't need to.
Alpha stood rigid near the rear of the crowd, his arm wrapped in glowing medical bindings. His face was pale, jaw clenched so tightly it trembled.
"How?" Alpha whispered. "He's a Yellow Core…"
Behind him, a man in formal robes watched Liam with cold eyes. A ring bearing an old crest gleamed faintly on his finger.
Alpha's father.
A Second Transformation cultivator.
The man's gaze narrowed.
"This is the one?" he asked quietly.
Alpha nodded.
The man smiled.
Not kindly.
Administrative Judgment
Inside the principal hall, Liam stood alone at the center of a circular chamber. Runes glowed beneath his feet, scanning, evaluating, measuring.
The undead legion mage remained sealed within Liam's shadow, presence suppressed to the edge of detection.
Good, Liam thought. Not yet.
Arvane circled slowly. "You reached First Transformation inside a beginner dungeon," he said. "Then exceeded projected growth by four full levels."
"Yes."
"You encountered a human entity inside the dungeon."
Liam met his gaze. "…Yes."
The room tightened.
"Describe the encounter."
"He was sealed," Liam said evenly. "Hostile upon awakening. Higher transformation."
A long pause.
"You killed him."
"I defeated him."
That distinction mattered.
Arvane studied him for several seconds before turning away. "This incident will be classified as a dungeon anomaly."
Murmurs erupted from the observing elders.
"A lie?" one hissed.
"A necessary one," Arvane replied sharply. "If word spreads that a Second Transformation cultivator fell to a student, the academy becomes a battlefield."
His gaze returned to Liam.
"You will be placed under Special Observation Status."
Restrictions.
Surveillance.
Protection disguised as control.
Liam inclined his head. "Understood."
But inside—
Death Sense stirred again.
Closer now.
More focused.
A Warning Without Words
As Liam exited the hall, the corridor parted.
Alpha's father stepped into his path.
Up close, the pressure was immense. Second Transformation mana coiled around the man like a restrained storm.
"So," the man said calmly, "you're Liam Vale."
Liam stopped.
"Yes."
"My son suffered permanent core instability because of you."
"I defended myself."
A beat.
The man smiled again. "Careful. The academy protects its assets—but accidents happen. Duels escalate. Dungeons malfunction."
Threats wrapped in politeness.
Liam felt Death Sense respond—not violently, but attentively.
"I understand," Liam said.
The man leaned closer, voice dropping. "Good. Then understand this too."
For just a fraction of a second—
He released his killing intent.
Not enough to act.
Enough to declare.
Liam's Red Core pulsed once.
Deep.
Patient.
The man stiffened.
Just slightly.
Then he stepped back, expression unreadable. "Enjoy your rise, student."
He walked away.
That Night
Liam sat alone in his dorm room, lights off.
The undead mage emerged silently, kneeling.
"Your enemies will move soon," the mage said. "Quietly at first."
"I know."
"Shall I begin preparations?"
Liam looked out the window at the academy towers, glowing against the night sky.
"Yes," he said softly. "Start with analysis. Countermeasures. No moves yet."
The mage bowed and dissolved back into shadow.
Liam closed his eyes.
The system pulsed once more.
Not a warning.
A reminder.
Power draws attention.Attention draws conflict.
And conflict—
Feeds death.
Somewhere far beyond the academy, something ancient shifted in its slumber.
The Demon God turned slightly in its sleep.
And smiled.