Chapter 6
Adrian sat in his cramped, run-down apartment, the dim light flickering as he leaned back in his chair. Three days had passed since he had taken control of two dungeons, and already, the results were showing.
500 gold a day. A joke to top-ranked players. A fortune to someone starting from nothing.
And this? This was just two dungeons.
Two starter dungeons.
There were many more, untouched, waiting to be claimed.
How much gold when he controlled ten normal—even high level dungeons? A Thousand? Ten thousands per day?
This wasn't about gold. It was about control. Real estate. A kingdom built from code and numbers.
A trickle now—but soon, a flood.
Not nearly enough.
A small victory, but as he glanced around at the peeling wallpaper and the stale air of his tiny room, it wasn't enough. He wanted more. A better apartment. Better food. Clothes that didn't scream broke freelancer.
But at this rate, he'd be grinding forever just to climb out of mediocrity.
Expanding was the only way forward.
But expansion came with risks. If he moved too aggressively, the system might take notice. His control over the dungeons had to remain subtle, unassuming—an anomaly too small to trigger any red flags. He needed to be careful, methodical.
With a sigh, Adrian grabbed his worn-out jacket and stepped out of his apartment. The neon lights of the city buzzed overhead as he walked down the familiar streets toward the NetCafé 24, the place where his real life existed—not in reality, but in code and conquest.
Logging into Primordial Abyss, Adrian shed his real-world name like a second skin. Here, he was Raven.
The scent of stale coffee and energy drinks hit him as he entered, the low hum of dozens of high-end gaming rigs filling the air. He rented his usual booth, slipped on his headset, and logged in. Primordial Abyss greeted him with its dark, immersive world, the only place where he held true control.
As his vision adjusted to the game's interface, Raven exhaled slowly. The weight of reality melted away, replaced by the digital presence of his avatar. He flexed his fingers, feeling the phantom sensation of power returning to his grasp. The virtual air around him was thick with energy, a reminder that this world—unlike the one outside—was something he could dominate.
With a flick of his hand, his status screen materialized in front of him, glowing lines of data displaying his progression.
Before conquering the dungeons, he had been just another Level 1 player, no different from the rest. That changed the moment he took down his first boss. The system acknowledged him—with a surge of experience.
The Bone Tyrant had given him a massive boost, its sheer power making it a high-value target. Even the Goblin King added to his rise. And the passive experience—slow, steady—kept flowing, trickling in from his enslaved dungeons, ensuring he was always progressing, even when idle.
Now, he had reached Level 10.
Most players at this stage were still struggling through fetch quests, grinding rats and goblins, crawling toward every minor level-up for three days. But Raven had found a shortcut, carving his path through the system itself just by subjugating a dungeon boss once.
It was a strong start—but not nearly enough. If he wanted to control more, to claim dungeons without challenge, he needed to grow even stronger.
Checking the forums, he noticed a few scattered discussions among newbies.
"Did anyone else notice the Bone Tyrant moving before we attacked?"
"I swear the Goblin King's goblins were patrolling the cave. Did they always do that?"
"Lmao, y'all are just imagining things. Boss AI is scripted."
Raven's fingers tapped rhythmically. Not much. Yet. But these things could snowballed fast.
If too many people noticed the cracks in the system, someone would start looking deeper. He couldn't allow that.
The shadows stretched as Raven stepped into his domain. The air shifted, charged with unseen energy, whispering like something alive.
The Dungeon Control Room pulsed, its obsidian walls veined with shifting runes. In the center, the ethereal console hovered—waiting, listening.
He navigated through the menu, first selecting Bone Ruins.
[Dungeon Management]
Boss Level Adjustment: 10 (Locked)
Monster Respawn Rate: Standard
AI Behavior: Normal / Adaptive / Aggressive
Control Room Access Points: 1 (Active – Bone Ruins)
Dungeon Teleportation: ENABLED
Currently, the Bone Tyrant was set to Adaptive AI. Every battle made it smarter, forcing players to adjust strategies—something experienced guilds might notice. A potential red flag.
He couldn't afford that. Not yet.
With a simple command, Raven switched it to Normal. The shift was immediate—monsters would now behave predictably, just like any other dungeon. Players would assume they were following a standard script.
A small sacrifice for the sake of staying hidden.
One down.
He moved to the Goblin King's domain. The process was the same—the goblins had been responding too dynamically, even when not directly engaged in battle. He toggled the AI setting, returning them to a scripted response pattern. Their tasks remained, but now their movements wouldn't raise suspicion.
A final glance at the control panel confirmed everything was in place. Satisfied, he turned away from the console, stepping out of the shadows as the room faded behind him.
The adjustments were complete. Now, all that remained was his next conquest.
He adjusted the dungeons accordingly. The Bone Tyrant now stood idle—waiting for a trigger. Just another scripted boss. The Goblin King's patrols were called off, his minions assigned to work deeper in the caverns, mining for materials.
To outsiders, everything looked normal. Just another low-tier grind zone. But beneath the surface, his passive income continued.
Subtlety was key.
The starter zone had served its purpose. It was a stepping stone, nothing more. The real game lay beyond its borders—where the true power struggles began.
The next area promised more than just stronger monsters and bigger dungeons. It was a battlefield of ambition, where only the most cunning players thrived. Here, dungeons weren't just places to farm loot; they were assets, controlled and contested by those who understood their worth.
Raven knew this wouldn't be as easy as before. The enemies would be smarter, the competition fiercer. He could no longer rely on inexperienced players stumbling into his domain unprepared. Here, adventurers came armed with strategies, guild support, and the confidence of those who thought they had the system figured out.
But that was fine. He didn't plan on playing fair.
Jumping straight into a level 20 dungeon was out of the question. He needed a foothold first, something within reach.
After scanning the available dungeons, Raven's lips curled into a smirk. His eyes locked onto one name glowing in dull red text.
[Hollow Fang Den]
A Level 11–20 dungeon with a poor reputation. Most players avoided it—annoying AI, terrible loot, a pain to clear. But that's exactly what made it perfect.
The boss, the Duskrunner Alpha, was fast, evasive, and hard to pin down. Not worth the effort for casuals. But Raven didn't care about loot drops.
What he saw wasn't just potential—it was a perfect match.
The Duskrunner Alpha wasn't some random dungeon boss. Raven knew its patterns, its strengths, its quirks. In the beta, it had been his first true partner—a summon that moved with him like a shadow, fast and precise.
Most players hated the Hollow Fang Den—annoying AI, mediocre loot, and a boss that moved like smoke. But Raven didn't care about grind value. He saw something they didn't. Raven opens the Hollowfang Den discussion to see if the passive changed.
He smirked as there were no changes with Duskrunner's broken skill.
[Alpha's Wrath] (Passive – Stacking)
Type: Self-Buff
Effect: Continuously increases attack speed and damage the longer combat persists.
Note: Excels in extended battles, overwhelming persistent foes.
It was built for ambushes, attrition fights, and outmaneuvering enemies. Silent. Mobile. Deadly. Just like Raven himself.
This wasn't just a summon. The Duskrunner wasn't just fast—it got faster the longer it fought.
The perfect partner.
The others might chase flashy drops or popular builds. Raven? He was claiming what had always been his.
He cast Dungeon teleport, and materialized on a low ridge overlooking the Hollow Fang Den. The dungeon gate yawned beneath him, jagged and black like the open jaw of some sleeping predator. Since this dungeon haven't conquered yet by him, he only able to teleport to the main entry gate.
He crouched, eyes narrowing as movement caught his attention below.
He wasn't alone.
A group of players gathered near the entrance—five of them, checking gear, sharing potions, tightening armor straps. Their conversation drifted upward on the wind.
"We take the Alpha tonight?"
"Yeah. It's good for our guild's scheduled raid."
Raven's gaze settled on the leader—a swordsman with a steady stance and practiced calm. His name tag shimmered faintly:
[Ronan – Guild: Emberlight]
Mid-level gear. Not elites, but competent. A casual guild, or a desperate one trying to punch above their weight.
Raven's lips curled.
Perfect.
If he entered just a few minutes behind them, they'd clear the dungeon mobs for him. All he had to do was follow the blood trail.
And this time, he had something new.
He opened his skill list, eyes flicking to the latest addition from his level-up.
[Dungeon Stealth Walk] (Active Skill)
Effect: Grants complete invisibility to dungeon-based monsters and sensors.
Scaling: Duration increases with Intelligence.
Trigger: Activates automatically upon dungeon entry.
His smirk deepened.
A skill made for ghosts. Or gankers.
His hand hovered over the user interface, eyes locked on the timer.
"Let them soften it up," Raven murmured, adjusting his hood. "I'll take it from there."