Chapter 23: What the hell is that thing!?

Chapter 23: What the hell is that thing!?

Meanwhile, Seraphina moved deeper into the dungeon, her hand resting lightly on the hilt of her sword. Her steps were steady, but her mind was anything but.

She let out a quiet sigh, barely audible over the distant echoes of the cavern. Her fingers tapped idly against the hilt of her weapon, an unconscious habit when she was deep in thought. Her lips pressed into a thin line as her thoughts wandered.

"That idiot... he actually made it out alive. For a second, I thought—" She exhaled sharply, shaking her head. "Tch. What am I even thinking? It's not like I was worried or anything. He's the reckless one, not me."

She scoffed to herself, but her grip on her sword tightened slightly.

"Still... if something had happened to him... Hah. That old man would've made my life a living hell. Honestly, I don't know who his real child is—me or him. He always goes on about Kael this, Kael that... Yet here I am, cleaning up his mess. Again."

Her brows furrowed as she moved deeper into the dimly lit passage, her gaze flickering between the jagged walls and the path ahead.

"I should've just stayed in the office. At least then I wouldn't be marching through a damp, disgusting dungeon because someone decided to be reckless." She clicked her tongue. "But no, I had to check things out myself. Good choice, Seraphina. Brilliant."

She rolled her shoulders, pushing away the irritation bubbling in her chest. There was no point in dwelling on it now.

"Let's just get this over with," she muttered under her breath as she pressed forward, her boots echoing against the cold stone floor, disappearing into the darkness ahead.

---

—Eleventh Floor—

The orcs dragged them forward, their heavy footsteps echoing through the endless corridors of stone. The cold, damp air clung to Leon's skin, his body still throbbing from the relentless assault. His ribs screamed with every ragged breath. His head hung low, his vision blurred at the edges, his muscles trembling with exhaustion.

But then—

They stepped into a vast hall.

And everything inside them froze.

The space was impossibly large, lined with jagged stone walls that seemed wrong—like they didn't belong on the eleventh floor of this dungeon. There wasn't supposed to be a boss room here. There wasn't supposed to be anything like this here.

Yet it existed.

And at its center—

A throne.

Not just a crude, primitive seat of bones and metal like the orcs often built, but a colossal black throne, sculpted from molten rock that had cooled and solidified into jagged, uneven shapes. It pulsed—breathed—as if something alive slumbered within the stone itself. Faint cracks lined its surface, glowing with the same infernal ember-like energy that spread across the body of the monster sitting upon it.

Leon's breath hitched.

It wasn't just an orc.

It wasn't just a monster.

It was something far worse.

The Orc King maybe.

It loomed over them, a hulking giant even among its kind. Its body was massive, its muscles carved like blackened steel, each limb thick enough to shatter mountains. But it wasn't just its size that made the blood drain from Leon's face.

It was the fire.

Its skin, deep charcoal-black, was covered in cracks—cracks that glowed with the light of molten embers, as if its very flesh had been torn open to reveal the burning rage within. Its jagged tusks gleamed like obsidian, wickedly curved, reflecting the eerie orange glow of its own inner heat. Its eyes—hollow, burning pits of deep, dull orange—seemed to see through them.

And beside it—

Eight more.

Not as massive as the one on the throne, but still towering over any normal humanoid. Their skin burned with similar cracks of ember-like energy, their tusks gleaming under the dim glow of the throne room.

Then they opened their eyes.

And everything changed.

A monstrous wave of magic crashed into them.

It wasn't just pressure. It was pure, suffocating terror.

Leon's heart stopped. His breath caught in his throat. His body went rigid.

His very soul screamed.

The air itself seemed to grow heavier, pressing against their chests, making every heartbeat feel like it was being squeezed by something unseen. Their limbs trembled violently, their knees buckling under the sheer weight of the power radiating from these creatures.

Leon wanted to breathe—but his lungs wouldn't listen.

He wanted to move—but his muscles refused.

For the first time in his life, he felt like an insect—no, something even less than that.

Then—

A sharp shove from behind.

The orcs pushed them to the ground.

Leon's already broken body collapsed, his ribs screaming in agony as he hit the cold stone floor. Blood dripped from his mouth, his fingers twitching against the ground.

His friends were beside him.

Arthur. Mira. Elara.

All of them on their knees.

All of them shaking.

Their eyes were wide. Their faces pale. Their hands trembled.

But no one could speak.

Because in that moment—

They all had the same thought.

"What the hell is that thing?"

Arthur's mind screamed at him to look away, to shut his eyes and pretend this wasn't real. But he couldn't. His body refused to obey. His breath hitched in his throat, his stomach twisted in ways that made him want to retch. This was wrong. This was so, so wrong.

This wasn't just an orc.

This wasn't even a monster.

This was something that shouldn't exist.

His vision blurred, but the image of the burning titan remained carved into his skull. Those cracks in its flesh—like an inferno trying to escape a prison of muscle and bone—seemed to flicker with every breath it took.

Arthur clenched his teeth, but his body still trembled.

"No. No, no, no. This isn't supposed to happen. This floor—it's mapped, it's been cleared before. There shouldn't be a boss. There shouldn't be anything like this here. This is a mistake. This has to be a mistake."

His thoughts crashed into one another, spiraling deeper into panic. His hands curled into fists, his nails digging into his palms, but he didn't even feel the pain.

He didn't want to die here.

He didn't want to die at the feet of something like that.

Mira forced herself to laugh. It was instinct. It was a reflex. But it was empty. It was broken. And it didn't even sound like her own voice.

Her lips quivered as she tried to smirk, tried to play the part she always did. But it wouldn't come.

Her eyes locked onto the titan. The way its molten flesh pulsed, like the embers of a dying star, the way its empty, burning gaze fell on them—it was suffocating.

Mira swallowed hard, her heartbeat hammering against her ribs.

"I should say something. I should crack a joke. I should complain about how this is the worst day ever."

Her mouth wouldn't move. Her body wouldn't move. For the first time in her life, she had nothing to say. And that terrified her more than anything."I don't want to die like this. Not in some dungeon. Not on my knees. Not like this."

Elara exhaled slowly. It didn't stop her fingers from trembling. It didn't stop the chill that spread through her chest, wrapping around her lungs like an invisible hand, squeezing tighter with each second that passed.

She wanted to think. She wanted to analyze, to rationalize. But this—this thing—

It wasn't something that could be rationalized.

Her black eyes reflected the molten glow of the monster's skin, her mind racing as it tried to make sense of what she was seeing.

"No record. No mentions. No signs of its existence in any reports. A creature like this—there's no way it should be here. But it is."

A realization settled over her like ice. This wasn't a mistake. This wasn't something they had stumbled upon by accident. They had been led here. Her fingers clenched the stone beneath her.

Leon breathed through the pain. Through the fear. Through the sheer, overwhelming presence pressing down on them. His body was in ruins. His ribs, his muscles, his bones—all screaming. But he couldn't afford to fall here.He couldn't afford to break.

His gaze remained locked on the monster sitting upon its throne, his mind turning, turning, turning, trying to grasp at anything—any plan, any chance.

But nothing came. Nothing.

His fingers twitched against the cold ground. He didn't know what this thing was.

And that made it worse than anything he had ever faced before.

He had been afraid before. He had faced death before. But this—

This wasn't just death. This was something far worse. Because as he looked into the creature's burning, empty gaze—

He knew.

It didn't see them as a threat. It didn't even see them as prey. It saw them as nothing. As if they had never mattered in the first place.

Their silence was unbearable.

Then—

Rhythm.

The orcs standing behind them kicked their weapons across the floor.

Again.

Again.

The sound rang through the hall like a twisted, primal melody.

Clang! Clang! Clang!

---

(Chapter Ended)