N_D_L

Thane was born twice. Once in a world of steel and sirens, where a truck ended his life too early. And once more in a world that had no place for him.

Reincarnated into poverty, raised by a struggling family who barely acknowledged him, and ultimately abandoned at the age of five in the depths of a forgotten dungeon, Thane should have died again. Alone. Cold. Unwanted.

But the dungeon had other plans.

Awakened by hunger, fear, and a spark of defiance, Thane unlocks a power no one else remembers: The Law of Absolute Repetition. In a world where magic belongs to nobles and skill is inherited, Thane gains strength the only way he can—through pain, patience, and an unbreakable will. Every swing, every cast, every breath taken in defiance of death brings him closer to mastery.

He has no noble blood, no allies, and no one coming to save him.
But he has time.
And time is all he needs.

As the world above turns in ignorance, a nameless boy grows stronger in the dark—forgotten by the world, but destined to reshape it.

Chronicles of the Relentless

The safe zone's warmth vanished the moment they crossed the sigil.

Floor B2 began with a long descent—carved steps spiraling into the dark, with only Mira's staff-glow to light the way. The air thickened with humidity. The stone underfoot grew porous, speckled with veins of copper and quartz that pulsed with a faint red light.

Somewhere on the stairs, the echoes stopped working.

Sova snapped her fingers once. No sound.

Mira tried a detection chant. No pulse.

Even Seren's armor—normally a soft chorus of clinks and buckles—seemed dulled by the walls.

Thane walked behind them all, his hands tucked into his cloak. He wasn't afraid.

The first chamber opened like a wound in the stone—wide and ribbed with stalactites, floor slick with some kind of clear ooze. There were bones here. Not fresh, but not ancient. Mostly adventurers. Two still had gear—rusted, blood-stained, but recognizable.

Sova knelt beside one and retrieved a dagger.

"That's not a good sign," Mira said.

Seren gave a short nod. "Keep alert. We might not be the first ones in this place."

They slithered from holes in the walls—Crystal Leeches, each the size of a forearm, coated in gemlike armor. At first there were five. Then twenty.

Sova couldn't get clear lines of sight—every wall reflected her shots. Mira's magic took a full charge-up to even crack the leech shells. Seren waded into the swarm with blade drawn, but every kill came at the cost of a dozen new ones crawling toward her.

Thane lifted two fingers—barely a twitch—and cast Burning Chain so subtly the others didn't even notice.

The leech caught fire mid-air and burst before impact.

Mira blinked. Looked down. Confused.

By the time they cleared the nest, all three were coated in slime and grit. Seren's leg was bleeding from a dozen tiny bites. Sova had snapped one of her arrows trying to pry a leech off Mira's back.

The silence returned after the battle.

Just the faint hum of something beneath the floor.

It took them two more hours to find the exit sigil to B3.

They camped again—longer this time.

Mira was the first to speak while they rested.

"I don't think this is a normal dungeon."

Sova nodded. "It's too quiet. Even the monsters don't behave like they're supposed to."

Didn't say that on B2, he started to feel something.

A hum behind the dungeon's walls that echoed his fire back at him.

Later, while the others slept, he sat on a rock by the firelight, status screen open again.

Cast Firebolt into the air—just a silent flicker, burning a mark in the stone wall.

Grinding Silence