[Warning: Attempting Irregular Synthesis on a Lord-Tier Entity]
[System Parameters Exceeded]
[Forcible Override Initiated]
Blood-red lightning exploded, not just illuminating the cavern—it devoured it. Walls trembled, stone shattered, and toxic fog evaporated in sizzling clouds of acidic mist. The ten-meter corpse of the Crypt-Broodmother writhed violently under the storm, bones cracking, flesh melting, and jagged purple crystal pulverized into fragments before violently reforging at the center of the vortex.
Arthur stood at the edge of the roaring storm, his mind straining against the impossible pressure. His vision darkened at the edges, his head felt like it was splitting in half, yet his hand remained steady, his eyes unblinking.
"Form," Arthur commanded, voice slicing through the chaos with absolute authority.
The red lightning struck the crater's center one final time.
BOOM!
A shockwave cleared the toxic haze instantly, leaving an eerie silence. Dead silence. The cavern itself seemed to hold its breath.
Arthur wiped a fresh trail of blood from his nose, breathing heavily, and looked up. The ten-meter monstrosity was gone.
In its place knelt a humanoid figure in perfect symmetry, three meters tall, forged from pitch-black bone and jagged, dark-purple crystal armor. A tattered, shadow-like cape fluttered from its broad shoulders. Its massive double-bladed crystal greatsword gleamed, and within the visor of its heavy bone helm, two crimson flames burned with chilling, calculating intelligence.
[Ding!]
[System Override Successful]
[Irregular Synthesis Complete]
[New Species Created: Abyssal Crystal-Bone General]
[Level: 20]
[Tier: Epic]
[Skills:]
- Toxic Domain
- Crystal Aegis
- Commander's Will
[Special Trait: Primitive Intelligence]
Epic Tier. Level 20. A General.
Not a puppet. Not a mindless minion. A commander capable of leading armies of the undead with lethal efficiency.
The massive knight slowly raised its head, its crimson eyes locking onto Arthur. It didn't immediately bow. The crimson flames flickered, assessing the fragile, bleeding human standing before it.
For a fraction of a second, the immense, primal weight of a Lord-Tier ego bristled against the System's control.
Arthur didn't step back. He let the absolute, crushing void of the [Calamity Seed] bear down on the creature.
I am your creator, Arthur's pitch-black eyes promised silently. And I am your end.
The General lowered its gaze. It planted its greatsword into the crater's floor and bowed deeply. A raspy, echoing voice, like grinding stones, emerged from the flames of its helm.
"My… Liege."
The word sounded... wrong. As if the concept of loyalty itself had been forcefully rewritten.
Arthur's lips curved into a slow, chilling smile. "Rise, General."
For a brief second, Arthur felt it. The General wasn't just waiting for orders.
It was waiting... for war.
The Abyssal General stood, its massive presence compressing the air around Arthur. With a single command, it dissolved into a shadow and sank perfectly beneath his boots.
Arthur looked at the empty crater. He had gambled his life, his army, and his sanity.
He waited for the adrenaline. He waited for the rush of triumph.
He felt... nothing.
[Warning: Corruption Level Increased to 8%]
[Notice: Emotional Suppression Intensified.]
Arthur stared blankly at the notification. The cold, hollow cavity in his chest was expanding.
He turned away.
His attention shifted to the glowing purple orb hovering nearby.
[Crypt-Lord Core (Epic)]
[Effect: Contains massive, pure dark energy. Can awaken a new Class-Specific Skill or forge an Epic-Tier weapon.]
Without hesitation, he pocketed it. Absorbing an Epic Core required time and safety—luxuries he did not have in a collapsing Hidden Dungeon. He pulled his hood over his bloodstained hair. Time to leave.
…
One week later.
The sun shone brightly over the Grand Academy's main courtyard. Thousands of Awakeners, instructors, and guild recruiters filled the massive stands. Cameras hovered in the sky, broadcasting to the entire city.
Today was the Graduation Dungeon Exam.
The day the weak were discarded.
The day the strong became untouchable.
In the center of the courtyard swirled a massive blue portal—the Artificial Dungeon. Students chattered, comparing gear, boasting stats, forming parties.
"I reached Level 4!" a mage bragged.
"That's nothing! Oliver from the Silver-Blood Guild hit Level 7! Full Rare-Tier set!"
The crowd parted like the Red Sea. Oliver stepped forward, golden hair gleaming, clad in pristine silver armor radiating holy magic. His A-Rank [Holy Knight] aura pressed down like a physical weight.
He was the undisputed king of the academy. Genius of the generation.
"Level 7…" muttered an instructor from the stands, nodding. "To reach that in a week. He's a monster."
But whispers suddenly shifted—not awe, but confusion.
"Who… is that?"
"Is he in our year?"
Oliver turned, frowning. A lone figure approached the academy gates. Not in the standard uniform, but in a sleek, pitch-black trench coat. Posture flawless, footsteps silent, eyes dark and cold.
Arthur Pendelton.
No longer the slum orphan, no longer the F-Rank trash. He exuded the quiet, suffocating presence of a predator stepping into a cage of rabbits.
Oliver's sneer faltered. A flicker of fear passed through his mind. In a split second, he didn't see Arthur—he saw a towering, dark-purple shadow wielding a massive greatsword, looming like death incarnate. His breath caught. His hand trembled.
Arthur didn't even look at him.
"Move."
Oliver gritted his teeth, his face aflame with sudden, violent humiliation. But his body instinctively stepped aside before his pride could stop it.
Before Oliver could react to his own cowardice, the Headmaster's voice boomed across the courtyard:
"STUDENTS! THE EXAM PORTAL IS OPEN!"
"Survive. Hunt. Prove your worth. Enter!"
Arthur walked past Oliver with absolute indifference. His coat fluttered like a shadow in motion. He stepped into the portal alone.
Oliver stared at Arthur's back, drawing his golden sword, his humiliation twisting into pure, poisonous rage. "I'll crush you in there, trash," he hissed, charging into the portal with his elite party. "Every bone—every ounce of pride—will be mine!"
The portal swallowed them whole.
Inside—
There were no teams.
No alliances.
No second chances.
Only one truth remained.
Arthur stepped forward into the artificial forest.
"Hunt."