The air grew colder the deeper they descended. Lieutenant Sato's sharp eyes scanned every inch of the corridor, his gloved hand resting firmly on his rifle. The stone around them no longer resembled the jagged, chaotic caverns of earlier. Here, the walls had form—etched symbols, aged tapestries clinging by threads, and braziers that still smoldered as if lit by unseen hands.
Every footstep echoed. The sound was maddening. Too loud. Too deliberate.
"Watch your spacing," Sato ordered quietly. His voice barely above a whisper, but firm enough to still command authority. "Don't let the architecture distract you. Something's wrong here."
Behind him, Genghis Asura smirked, the cracked leather straps of his battle gear creaking with each confident step. His infected soldiers fanned out like beasts off their leash, their eyes glowing faintly in the darkness—hungry, unbothered.
"No need to whisper, Lieutenant," Asura grunted. "This place is dead. If there's anything lurking, I want it to hear me coming."
Sato shot him a sharp glance. "Bravado won't bring your dead back to life."
Asura just chuckled.
They finally stepped into a vast, vaulted chamber. The change in air pressure was immediate. The temperature dropped again, the scent of old blood and sulfur thick in the nose. Columns lined the room like ancient sentinels, carved in a grotesque, almost Lovecraftian manner—twisted humanoid forms locked in eternal agony.
At the far end of the chamber, rising on steps of black obsidian, was a single throne. Towering. Medieval. Carved from a fusion of stone and dungeon crystal, it pulsed faintly—alive with dormant energy.
Everyone froze.
"What in god's name…" murmured Sergeant Tanaka, one of Sato's loyal men.
"This isn't a natural dungeon structure," Sato said, voice low, tense. "This was built—engineered. We're not the first humans here."
Back at the military base, the atmosphere was suffocating. General Yoshi Matsuda leaned forward, fists clenched on the table before the massive tactical display. Live drone feeds, heartbeat monitors, and dungeon readings lit up the screen with flickering data streams.
"They found it," said one of the intel officers. "The rumored inner sanctum."
"Throne Room," corrected another. "But there are no confirmed lifeforms… yet."
A government official in a black suit shifted uncomfortably. "Should we recall them? The death toll is unacceptable. The risks—"
"No," General Matsuda cut in, voice sharp. "We're closer than ever. That throne… it could be connected to the original dungeon outbreak. We see this through."
Back inside the chamber, one of the infected—bare-chested, scarred and twitching—lurched toward the throne.
"Asura! Tell your mutt to stand down!" Sato barked.
But it was too late. The moment the infected warrior touched the throne, the entire room groaned like a sleeping beast roused from slumber. The throne lit up—pale violet veins of energy crackling across its structure.
A deep vibration surged through the floor.
From the shadows behind the columns, something began to move.
Something that had been waiting.
---
The rift opened like a wound in the world.
It began as a low hum—then a tearing sound like the sky itself had been split apart. Lieutenant Sato raised his rifle instantly, instincts screaming. From beside the throne, the air shimmered, rippled, and convulsed until it violently burst open in a spiral of dark violet light and dungeon energy.
And then came the serpent.
Its massive, glistening form slid from the rift with an unnatural grace—coils as thick as tree trunks, covered in jagged obsidian scales that shimmered with an oily sheen. Its head alone was the size of a military transport truck, crowned with bone-like horns and a grotesque maw filled with uneven, dagger-sized teeth.
Before the infected soldier who had touched the throne could even scream, the beast struck.
Crunch.
The sound echoed like a cannon blast. Blood and sinew sprayed across the throne room, painting the ancient floor in streaks of red. The monster didn't just kill—it devoured, swallowing the infected whole in a single, wet gulp. Bones cracked audibly as it pulled back, hissing, its tongue flicking the air.
"BACK! FALL BACK!" Sato bellowed, grabbing his comm unit as he crouched into cover behind one of the twisted columns.
Several task force members opened fire. Tracer rounds and dungeon energy bursts flared in the darkness, lighting the beast in strobing flashes—but the monster didn't even flinch. The bullets clinked off its hide like raindrops. The dungeon energy rounds sizzled and faded into the aura swirling around it.
Genghis Asura, for the first time, didn't charge.
He stared, a savage grin twitching on his face—but his eyes were hard. Calculating.
"What the hell is that…" one of his infected lieutenants whispered.
Before anyone could answer, a second presence emerged.
There was no sound—no flash of power or warning. One moment the throne was empty. The next, a hooded figure sat upon it as if he had always been there.
Tall. Lanky. Shrouded in black robes that fluttered without wind. His face was mostly concealed, save for the pale smirk that curled across thin lips.
"Well," the figure said, voice smooth and casual—almost amused, "that was a poor welcome offering."
The serpent lowered its head slightly as if acknowledging its master, then coiled protectively around the throne, eyes glowing like lanterns in a fog.
"Identify yourself!" Lieutenant Sato demanded, rifle trained on the figure.
"Must we start with such aggression?" the man sighed. "Humans. Always shouting. Always pointing weapons. You come into my home, disturb my nap, and demand answers. Should I also offer you tea?"
Sato's finger tightened on the trigger. "You're in a restricted zone. This dungeon is under Japanese military jurisdiction—"
The man chuckled—a low, echoing sound that chilled the room.
"Oh, Lieutenant Sato… you are in my jurisdiction now. That throne you so boldly approached isn't a relic. It's a beacon. A remnant of the first pact. And you… all of you… are standing in what remains of a failed god's mausoleum."
The lights dimmed further, as if the very dungeon was reacting to his words.
"You've only just reached the surface of the truth." His voice lowered. "Go any deeper, and you'll find more than monsters and madness—you'll find the architects of your extinction."
Asura stepped forward, undeterred. "If you wanted us dead, serpent-boy, you'd have sent that pet of yours already."
The hooded figure grinned wider. "True. But what's the fun in that? You see, the game's only just begun. Let's see how far your bloodlust takes you… before it devours you."
And with that, the serpent coiled tighter, the throne pulsed again—and the rift behind them expanded, as if beckoning them forward.
---
The Military Base....
The command center turned dead silent.
On the massive screen, the feed from drone cameras crackled with static and reconnected, showing the rift, the serpent, and the carnage. General Matsuda's jaw clenched as he stepped forward.
"Who the hell is that?" one of the younger officials whispered.
Matsuda's voice was low and grim. "That's no ordinary dungeon inhabitant. That's a gatekeeper—or worse."
He turned sharply toward the tactical officer. "Get me a live transmission link. We may be about to lose our last elite unit."
The Government Officials – Observation Bay.....
Panic laced their voices.
"We need to extract them now—this was a mistake!"
"No. If we pull out now, that thing could follow through the tunnels. We risk a full breach!"
"Then we sacrifice them?!"
"There's no win here—only the lesser failure."
---