Daoist40

THIS BOOK IS MAINLY FOCUSED ON HINDU MYTHOLOGY BUT WE WILL ALSO DWELL INTO OTHER MYTHOLOGIES AS WE PROGRESS
IT IS A BLEND OF MYTHOLOGIES
AND DUNGEONS

HOPE YOU HAVE A GREAT READ


Year: 2035.

Ten years ago, the skies cracked.


Not with thunder, nor warplanes—

but with rifts.

These weren’t just visual anomalies. They were gateways—interdimensional portals that Earth’s scientists quickly termed “Dungeons.”

Dungeons or portals as the world now called them, appeared across the Earth without warning. Each one was a fracture between dimensions—some leading to mythological realms long forgotten, others to alien landscapes so hostile they devoured entire scouting teams.

At first, the world panicked, assuming them to be nuclear tests, alien invasions, or natural disasters. But these dungeons didn’t behave like anything known to physics. Satellite footage showed each portal surrounded by a zone of atmospheric distortion. Inside them? Entire landscapes alien to our Earth—some mythological, others monstrous and unknowable.


Some dungeons contained creatures straight out of ancient scripture—Nāgas from Vedic texts, harpies from Greco-Roman mythology, or obscure gods who had long since been forgotten by mankind. Other rifts revealed biomes more suited to nightmares: acidic jungles, ice worlds that bent gravity, or structures pulsing with intelligence.



In the first month alone, five major cities fell.
Beijing, Lagos, São Paulo, Istanbul, and Philadelphia—gone, overrun by creatures we didn’t understand, coming through dungeons we couldn’t close.


Then came the second anomaly. A global surge in human neural activity.

Scientists identified it as a quantum shift in consciousness. Spiritual leaders called it divine selection. Journalists labeled it “The Great Filter.” But the name that stuck was:
Awakening.

Roughly 20% of humanity developed access to an invisible “System”—a personal interface only they could see. It gave them abilities, status screens, and skills that turned ordinary people into weapons.

The rest of the world? Still human. Still fragile. Still dying.



Roughly 20% of the global population began to exhibit System access—an invisible interface only visible to the user. This System showed stats, combat abilities, class upgrades, and most importantly, potential.

It wasn’t random.
Those who Awakened were typically 18 or older, and many had undergone moments of extreme stress, trauma, or proximity to a dungeon. Some said the System chose warriors. Others claimed it selected reincarnated souls or bloodlines tied to forgotten mythologies.

Now, the world lives in a tense balance. Hunters ranked from F to SSS defend the Earth from dungeon incursions. And deep within this chaos…

In some cities, Awakened rule like kings. In others, governments remain intact, barely holding together.

Technology also evolved:
Mana-reactive alloys replaced steel.
Smart-glass visors sync with System interfaces.
Dungeon-gathered artifacts are now global trade commodities.

And deep in the shadows…
Some dungeons don’t close and breaks happen.
Some awakeners don’t follow the rules.
And some individuals… aren’t just chosen.

They’re remembered.

And in the midst of this fragile new era—
a man named Arvan will learn that the voice in his head…
is not madness.
It is a memory.
A throne. A war.
And a name: Rāvaṇa.

A storm begins to stir.

The Eleventh Head

THE SLEEPING MAW — TRIAL CHAMBER

The stone door groaned shut behind him. Silence swelled—oppressive, suffocating. A dry wind stirred the ancient dust, whispering secrets of a thousand deaths.

Arvan's breath fogged in the frigid air as he stood at the mouth of a black corridor. Jagged carvings lined the walls, glowing faintly with red glyphs.

You have entered a High-Rank Trial Dungeon.

Trial Designation: "The Maw of the King of Ten Heads."

Warning: External interference blocked. This trial is bound to your soul.

"Trial…?" Arvan muttered, voice shaking. "But I didn't sign up for—"

Before arvan could speak a tremor shook the stone beneath his boots. From the darkness, the ground split open.

Its skin was mottled gray, stretched tight over bones. Ten heads—fused together—whispered in maddened tongues. Its body was a patchwork of flesh and bronze.

Entity recognized: Guardian of the Forgotten Throne.

Arvan rolled sideways, barely dodging the mace-like limb it slammed down. The floor cracked under the blow. Panic rose in his throat.

Another swipe. This time it grazed his arm. Blood sprayed the glyph-covered floor.

Pain seared through him—blinding, raw.

—a voice. Deep. Ancient. And far too familiar.

The red glyphs pulsed violently. For a heartbeat, the world stuttered.

Primary Identity Override Triggered.

The system screen glitched. Text distorted Stats blurred behind layers of black censorship.

Only a single word pulsed in red:RĀVAṆA

A pulse of heat erupted from his chest. Arvan

His right hand moved instinctively. He conjured something. Not with magic. Not with logic.

A weapon formed—obsidian and gold, inscribed with forgotten mantras. A crescent-edged khanda, heavy and ancient. The Guardian hesitated.

Rāvaṇa. "One head… ten… it doesn't matter."

He stepped forward, every motion now smooth, calculated. Like muscle memory—only from another life.

The Guardian shrieked and charged again.

But Rāvaṇa blurred. His speed multiplied.

[System Log – ??? Skill Activated]

Unnamed Skill: "Moonlight of the Tenth Night."

A subtle arc—so fast, the sound followed a beat too late.

The Guardian's fused heads split in half.

Arvan stumbled, the weapon vanishing from his hand as fast as it appeared.

His breaths were ragged, cold sweat soaking his back.

And from the darkness, the corridor opened.

CHAPTER 19 – THE SLEEPING MAW — TRIAL CHAMBER