The toxic yellow gas hissed through the vents of Level 4, actively eating away at the reinforced concrete and melting the thick glowing chains holding the Troll King.
Arthur stood entirely untouched in the center of the poisonous fog, his pale hand pressed gently against the beast's massive forehead. But before he began the synthesis, his mind briefly swept back up through the facility he had just conquered.
Level 1: Failed experiments. Endless agony.
Level 2: The Guards. Unwitting meat.
Level 4: The Abyss. The unbreakable.
But Level 3...
Arthur's crimson mana pulsed invisibly, mapping the structural integrity of the underground prison.
Level 3... nothing.
No heat signatures. No mana fluctuations. No movement of any kind.
Not even silence.
It wasn't empty. It was... absent.
Like reality had tried to remember something down there, and failed.
Arthur's fingers paused for half a second against the Troll King's scarred skull. His dark eyes shifted upward, piercing through the thick concrete ceiling.
A cold, calculating stillness washed over him.
Irrelevant, Arthur decided, forcing his immense Mental Energy back onto the task at hand.
The Troll King looked up at him. Its intelligent, tortured yellow eyes fully submitted to the overwhelming, suffocating presence of the [Mantle of the Fallen Lord]. It was ready. It eagerly welcomed the end of its suffering.
"System," Arthur commanded, his voice cold and absolute. "Initiate Complex Live Synthesis."
He didn't just use the dying Troll King.
From the dark, shifting void of his shadow—his [Domain of the Dead]—the four high-quality corpses of the Level 25 Elite Guards slowly rose into the toxic air, hovering like macabre marionettes around the massive beast.
And finally, the slender, pitch-black form of the [Plague-Bone Assassin] stepped out of the darkness, offering itself willingly to the forge.
"Target 1: The Troll King."
"Target 2: The Plague-Bone Assassin."
"Catalysts: 4 Elite Human Corpses."
[Warning: Complex Live Synthesis initiated.]
[Mental Energy Drain: Critical.]
Everything... paused.
Even the swirling toxic gas seemed to hesitate.
Then—blood-red lightning erupted.
It was far more violent and unstable than anything Arthur had produced before. The lightning didn't obey him instantly; it fiercely resisted the unnatural combination.
Then, slowly, agonizingly, it bent to his will.
It tore the cavern apart.
The four human corpses dissolved instantly, breaking down into pure, highly refined mana veins and dense muscle fibers. The Plague-Bone Assassin shattered into thousands of toxic-green bone fragments, swirling wildly within the crimson storm.
The Troll King roared—not in pain, but in the terrifying ecstasy of a violent, forced evolution.
Human muscle fibers aggressively grafted onto its massive frame. Toxic-green bones pierced through its rotting flesh, violently replacing its shattered skeletal structure with unbreakable, poisoned steel.
The synthesis was perfect. The physical vessel was stabilizing.
Arthur breathed heavily, dark sweat dripping from his chin. His vision blurred, but his control remained absolute.
"Now," Arthur whispered, reaching deep into his pocket.
He pulled out the jagged, pitch-black, lightning-wrapped crystal.
[The Corrupted Dragon Soul Shard (Mythic)]
The exact moment the shard left his pocket, the cavern trembled. The toxic yellow gas seemed to physically recoil from the sheer, ancient fury radiating from the crystal.
"MORTAL…" The overlapping, draconic voices roared directly inside Arthur's mind. "I WILL BURN YOUR SOUL TO ASH!"
"You will be a battery," Arthur replied coldly, plunging the Mythic Shard directly into the open, glowing chest cavity of the mutating beast.
[CRITICAL WARNING!]
[Mythic-Tier Soul forced into non-draconic vessel!]
[Rejection Rate: 99%]
[Consciousness Override Attempted by Foreign Sovereign Will!]
The red lightning turned violently green. The storm raged completely out of control.
The Troll King shrieked as the Dragon's soul actively tried to rip the physical vessel apart from the inside, refusing to be caged by a lesser beast.
Arthur fell heavily to one knee. A sharp, thick line of black blood ran from his nose. His skull felt like it was being crushed in a vise, his mind fracturing under the weight of the raging god.
The pressure was immense. Unbearable.
But then... something shifted.
Not from the Dragon. Not from the Troll.
...From below.
A pulse.
Not of mana. Not of life.
...Of absence.
Something... noticed.
For a fraction of a second, the furious, roaring soul of the Plague-Drake King froze.
Not in confusion. Not in anger.
It froze in cold, primal recognition.
The ancient draconic soul didn't falter—it violently recoiled, attempting to shrink away from the abyss that was infinitely deeper than its own hatred.
Whatever was sleeping in Level 3... the Dragon remembered it. And it was terrified.
Arthur's pitch-black eyes snapped open, blazing with tyrannical, world-ending authority.
He didn't miss the opening.
[Title Activated: Calamity Seed]
"SUBMIT!" Arthur roared.
He poured every single ounce of his monstrous Mental Energy into the synthesis, physically crushing the terrified Dragon's soul deep into the Troll's mutating flesh.
He didn't dominate it.
He overwrote it.
CRUNCH.
The green lightning shattered. The storm instantly collapsed.
The toxic yellow gas in the room didn't just fade; it was violently sucked into the center of the crater, absorbed entirely by the creature kneeling in the darkness.
Silence returned to Tartarus. Heavy. Suffocating.
Arthur wiped the blood from his lip, breathing heavily, and pushed himself up to stand.
In the center of the melted cavern... something... breathed.
Not air. Power.
It knelt in the darkness. A living nightmare.
It was over four meters tall. Its body was a horrific, perfect fusion of sleek, regenerating gray muscle and cracked, rotting emerald dragon scales.
Its left arm was massive, corded with the terrifying brute strength of the Troll King. But its right arm was a slender, elongated limb of pitch-black bone, pulsing heavily with toxic green veins and ending in razor-sharp, acid-dripping talons.
A thick, dark-green fog of highly concentrated plague leaked endlessly from its body.
[Ding!]
[Complex Mythic Synthesis Successful!]
[New Species Created: Plagueborn Dragon-Troll]
[Level: 30]
[Tier: Legendary]
[Title: The Grave Tyrant]
[Skills:]
- Abyssal Regeneration
- Draconic Plague Breath
- Toxic Bone Blades
- Sovereign's Fury
Level 30. Legendary Tier.
The Grave Tyrant slowly raised its massive head.
It opened its eyes.
The right eye was the deep, intelligent yellow of the tortured Troll King. But the left eye... was a burning, vertical slit of pure emerald fire. The eye of the Plague-Drake King.
It recognized him.
For a terrifying, suspended second, the emerald eye flared with pure, unadulterated draconic hatred. It was the ancient pride of a Lord-Tier dragon actively fighting against its new master.
The massive beast shifted its weight. Its black-bone talons twitched dangerously.
It didn't kneel.
It took half a step forward. Not toward the door. Toward Arthur.
Arthur didn't flinch. He didn't summon a weapon.
The air around him grew impossibly heavy as the full, unfiltered weight of the [Calamity Seed] pressed down on the cavern, cracking the bedrock beneath their feet.
His voice was quiet. Absolute.
"Kneel."
The word didn't echo. It imposed itself on reality.
The Grave Tyrant's massive frame shuddered under the existential weight. The yellow eye widened in immediate submission, and the emerald fire in the left eye violently flickered, finally breaking under a will far darker than its own.
With a heavy, earth-shaking thud, the nightmare collapsed onto both knees, bowing its horned head to the melted stone floor.
Arthur stared down at his ultimate creation, wiping a final drop of blood from his chin.
BOOM!
The ceiling high above them groaned as heavy military explosives rocked the upper levels of Tartarus. The Silver-Blood Guild reinforcements had finally broken through.
Arthur didn't look up.
His gaze remained fixed on his creation. A slow, chilling smile spread across his pale face.
"Perfect timing," Arthur whispered into the dark. "Let's see if they survive the first test."
...
Far below them.
In the absolute, suffocating darkness of the empty third floor.
Something shifted.
Not awake. Not yet.
But aware.