Chương 23: Ascension of a Dungeon Core

The world was indifferent to the struggles of its inhabitants. Come hail or high water, it always remained detached from the woes of mortals. It was something the priestess had often implied through the tales she used to recount back at the church. And Nero grown up witnessing the truth of it all. When he was being chased by the alley kids, bent on beating him, when he was singled out by the captain of the Red Rats, and when he'd endured a night in a blizzard with only a single blanket for warmth.

The world hadn't come to his rescue; it had stayed above everything, probably not even deigning to glance down and sneer in contempt. The inhabitants, too, were no different from the land itself. They were ruthless, selfish, and self-absorbed. They prioritized their own safety above everything and everyone else's interests. Such was the world of the weak, such was his world, and such was he. It wasn't some grand, hidden mystery—many were aware of it.

The great families and clans of the Seventh Circle never went out of their way to aid even a gifted slum rat; they'd far rather expend those resources coddling their own flesh and blood. It was only fair. If self-interest was the core driver of humanity, it was best to be upfront about it. White snow blanketed the land as he walked through the boundless heavens, with only one breathing, living being on his back—Sylvia. The last remnants of Zyran, Cypher Warrior of the Phantom Path.

A man hailing from the City of Silver. Who'd gone out of his way to repay Nero for his services by sacrificing much of his remaining life, his final moments, saving him, teaching him, and granting him the one trump card that might finally allow Nero to rise above the ordinary abyss. [Congratulations, You've acquired a Prehistoric Gene Talent, The Endless Path.] Despite the pristine aura enveloping both Nero and Sylvia, he still felt cold seeping into his very bones.

And as the indifferent world would have it, a blizzard was also brewing in the distance. He focused on turning over the new Gene Talent's information in his mind, the details he'd received upon acquiring it. It was best to keep his thoughts occupied; otherwise, the grim situation he was currently in, if he let his brain rest, would surely freeze it solid. With a playful smirk on his lips, Nero pondered the ability. The closest comparison he could make for the effects of Endless Path was essentially a scale.

A scale that tracked your progress. While recovering his stamina, Nero had discovered this panel. [Meditation Technique (Basic)] 9/1000 According to his instinctual understanding, techniques could be learned after a single use thanks to this Gene Talent, and could then be ground out to evolve into higher tiers. His mind reeled at the implications. When he'd told Zyran about it, the old man's eyes had widened slightly at the description he'd given.

He had little time left, so before departing to meet his daughter for one last time, he left Nero with some advice.

"Look, boy, this ability is extraordinary, and I'm certain you'll advance swiftly with it as your primary engine." He again gazed up at the starry sky, nostalgically.

"You'll also draw a great deal more attention. The faster one rises, the faster one falls, as the saying goes. Pace yourself, keep as much of your achievements concealed as you can." He stood, hands clasped behind his back, ready to leave.

"Only unveil your full strength when the chances of being harmed by those around you are negligible, and you have enough trump cards in your sleeve to crush even that faint possibility." The figure of the great elder faded, leaving him with a white envelope, his voice reverberated still despite his departure.

"You'll stumble at that initially—pacing yourself and keeping secrets are tough. But keep at it; your ability rewards that, after all. And deliver this to the Nether Sect Elder in the Seventh Circle." Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more. Nero patted his pants pocket, where the elder's letter of recommendation rested. After walking for nearly an hour, Nero finally spotted light, and a horse-drawn carriage coming toward him in the distance.

And contrary to his pessimistic expectations, it held no bandits—it was the old man's carriage. The fellow had come back to pick him up after dropping the villagers off at the station. Nero smiled and mentally chided himself for doubting the old timer's honesty. He boarded the carriage, while the old man nearly broke into tears at seeing their village chief's daughter alive. Nero let him be, lying down on the much warmer wooden floor of the carriage.

"Finally, some well-deserved rest." He exhaled, and while keeping the girl still shrouded in Pristine Aura, and himself as well, he drifted off. The carriage slowly rolled along the snow-covered road, while in the distance, children's wails could still be heard, mingled with the growls and howls of monsters. … [A certain dungeon miles from Sylvia's Village] The dungeon's core hummed with activity, liquid energy spinning at speed around its nucleus. The energy used to be normal, calm, and pulsed rhythmically.

But right now, it was in a furious swirl, its raging tide threatening to burst the core's outer shell. From within this chaotic organ came a shrill, wet, almost throaty voice.

"Why, why is this happening?!" it demanded, knowing full well that none in its vicinity could hope to answer.

"First that bastard of a dungeon tributary of Dungeon Lord Nacht entered the Seventh Circle unannounced. And now my avatar somehow lost to some hidden Cypher Warrior!?" To it, the logic and sequence of events made no sense. The Nine Immemorial Dungeons were supposed to remain dormant for another thousand years after defeating the unified alliance of the sapient races. The various sapient races had been reduced to only that small City of Silver. They were no more.

Sure, they'd been trying to expand their available resources by developing the twelve circles and the infrastructure and population around them. But that was merely a minor nuisance. The dungeons within the circles were still siphoning off enough resources and were thriving. The core of the Vice Goblin dungeon itself was doing exceptionally well. With fifty villages under its intermittent attack coverage and the steady inflow of corpses and souls, it was easy to keep growing.

In fact, its growth had been so robust because of exactly that consistent profits! And after acquiring a Gene Seed almost by coincidence, the dungeon core even had the extra resources crafted a special Vice Goblin with the seed embedded and allowed it to develop it into a gene talent. And with that gene talent, it had raised the creature to prominence! Teaching it fragments of Cypher Arts while at it—mainly scavenged from the many village guards it had ripped souls from. And yet, and yet!

"It had all been for nothing!" The core's energy slammed against the shell, forming cracks along its surface.

"How, where, why was there a Cypher Warrior of the Nether World Sect in that tiny village?!" The core had already sent waves of mana crackling across the network of spawns it controlled and had ordered them to devour anything that could be found around the Lesser Oni's death site. And it had been exactly half an hour; in that time, his Vice Goblins had torn across the lands, consuming everything, and yet, there wasn't even a trace of that Lesser Oni's Gene Seed left.

"Why, why did I allow the Lesser Oni to pursue that white-haired girl, Why!" Sure, it had sensed that girls potential to be unusually high, and wanted to use her as a breeding stock. But still, still! A crisp, cracking sound of shattering rang out, as the dungeon core's energy burst forth. The energy was thick, dark in its hue. The larger Vice Goblins around it leaped into the liquid, seemingly ravenous for it. The core, on the other hand, its nucleus only emitted waves of regret and lamentation.

Sending the Vice Goblins even further into frenzy as they devoured the liquids, transforming into much larger and bulkier figures.

"My beloved Lesser Oni, I will avenge you!" The shrill scream intensified, as the Vice Goblins began to wail in unison, growing ever larger. The nucleus of the core floated upward, then splintered into fragments. And as the shattered core fell over the liquid, it hissed upon contact, releasing plumes of violet smoke that slowly coagulated. And what emerged from the chaos was a Dungeon Core, evolved into a Dungeon Spirit. With an army of Ogres as its spawn.

Their unified cry for slaughter and revenge reverberated throughout the land, as countless vegetation and animals withered, their vitality drained away for the apotheosis of a new dungeon spirit. And from atop the distant mountain, east of the village, a lone figure observed the events with an expressionless face. His hair flowing in a braid of gold, with equally golden pupils that seemed to look down upon the very existence of his surroundings.

"So Nacht had managed to open a second front while we were busy dealing with the first." His cold voice carried through the growing blizzard.

"Truly, this land would never know peace."