The final corridor leading to the boss chamber felt like the throat of a gigantic creature swallowing them alive.
The walls pulsed.
Red veins glowed along the stone, slowly writhing like worms crawling beneath the skin of the world.
Their footsteps echoed like hammers nailing a coffin shut.
No one spoke.
Only breathing.
And the smell of iron.
Kafka walked at the back, the logistics pack still hanging from his shoulders. But this time his eyes weren't as empty as usual. He looked at the floor, the walls, the ceiling.
As if he recognized the rhythm of the pulsing.
As if this place wasn't unfamiliar.
At the final corner before the massive door of the boss room, Rina was wrapping her reddened wrist. Mr. Rahmat stood beside her, checking his cards.
Kafka approached.
"The movement you did earlier… when you rotated your hips before the kick," he said quietly to Rina. "If you lower your center of gravity by just one more centimeter, the fire power will fuse better. Right now the energy is still leaking."
Rina raised her head, surprised.
Mr. Rahmat slowly turned.
Kafka noticed their stares.
He paused for a fraction of a second, then gave an awkward smile.
"Sorry. I… got too excited. Didn't realize I was talking nonsense."
Mr. Rahmat raised an eyebrow.
"You understand martial arts?"
Kafka lowered his head slightly.
"A little."
Rina narrowed her eyes, judging not by his words, but by the way he stood.
His stance was natural.
His shoulders relaxed.
His body never stiff.
He wasn't a beginner.
Wait, is he become a little more muscular?
Mr. Rahmat chuckled softly.
"No need to apologize. That advice was correct."
Rina nodded.
"Next time, just correct me. I don't mind."
Kafka simply gave a small smile.
But behind that smile, something trembled.
Like an echo from a past he could not remember.
The door to the boss chamber slowly opened.
And that light conversation drowned beneath the smell of blood older than sin.
[Boss Chamber – Throne of Liquid Blood]
The chamber was vast, like a cathedral submerged underwater.
The ceiling stretched high, filled with red veins pulsing like inverted roots hanging from above.
At the center of the room stood a throne made of bones and coagulated blood.
Upon it,
He sat.
The Blood King.
His body was tall and slender, crimson wings faintly glowing behind him. Something that was never meant to be given a name.
His skin was pale, like a corpse soaked too long in water.
His long black hair dripped red liquid, not water.
Around him stood a larger figure.
Armor forged from hardened blood.
Eyes burning dark crimson.
A black axe in his hands that beat like a heart.
The Blood Demon General.
The Blood King did not stand.
He simply stared.
And the entire chamber felt like a tightening artery.
The battle did not explode with sound.
But with a pull.
Blood from the floor rose like liquid mist, slipping through boots, clothes, tiny cuts on skin.
The first scream came from a Class-B soldier.
The blood entered.
Entered like poison.
More deadly than the poison of Antonio's lineage,
the legendary toxin of the noble Valaria De Conte family.
Antonio realized it instantly.
"Don't let the blood touch your wounds!" he shouted.
Too late.
What is this? This poison is ten. Shit no, twenty times stronger than my family's toxin!?
His mind spiraled.
A Class-B student convulsed as his veins blackened.
His body cracked from within.
He exploded into a rain of red.
Azuna froze the floor, trying to halt the flow.
Nadia summoned roots to absorb the liquid.
Yogi smashed his iron ball, creating a vortex of wind to push the blood away.
But the blood was alive.
It searched.
It chose.
It infected.
"Channel your mana through your entire bodies! Don't leave a single opening!" Antonio roared.
Gilbert was stunned.
In all the years conquering dungeons alongside Antonio, this was the first time he had seen the man who understood poison better than anyone, look like a child about to be devoured by a monster.
Or perhaps something worse.
One by one, the elite Class-B kingdom Soldiers collapsed.
Then the others demons came back from the shadow.
Gilbert held back waves of blood-soaked Minotaurs that kept emerging.
Antonio slaughtered small Chimeras trying to reach Elara.
But the casualties kept rising.
Screams became the permanent background.
Rina spun in the middle of the battlefield, flames sweeping outward, but vaporized blood turned into needle-like shards that shot back at her.
Her breathing grew ragged as she divided her mana between fighting and protecting her body from infection.
Ilham vanished into steam, striking and retreating, but even he began gasping.
Satrio slammed his axe into the ground, raising stone walls to protect the wounded.
Adam cut down everything in front of him.
But one by one, soldiers and students who lacked strong mana control,
They died.
And the room drank everything.
Arga had no time to worry about the others.
He dashed straight toward the Demon General.
"Arga now! Speed boost, Strength boost card!" Mr. Rahmat shouted and gaves Arga buffs.
His sword of light split the air like humanity's final prayer.
The blood axe struck.
The clash sounded like two concepts colliding, hope and curse.
Arga was pushed back, but he did not fall.
He attacked again.
"Sword Light of Judgment!"
Rapid strikes.
Precise.
Relentless.
The General blocked with blood hardened like steel.
Every wound Arga created stitched itself back together.
"Light… is annoying…" the General growled.
Arga did not answer.
He attacked harder.
Faster.
But the Blood King raised one finger.
The blood within the General ignited brighter.
The axe split Arga's shoulder.
The light flickered.
Arga dropped to one knee.
In the middle of that chaos, the Blood King turned his head.
His gaze stopped on one figure.
Kafka.
He stood still.
The bag still on his back.
But his face… was pale.
Not from fear.
From recognition.
It felt as if the two teams beside him were killing each other.
The blood on the floor did not attack him.
It moved away.
As if afraid.
The Blood King slowly sat upright from his throne.
Tears of blood streamed from his eyes.
He could not speak.
Yet he cried.
His gaze toward Kafka was not hatred.
Not anger.
But… loss.
Kafka clutched his chest.
He did not know why his heart felt cracked.
What is this feeling? They're demons… why do I pity them?
The Blood King remained seated.
Silent.
Eyes closed.
Arga lifted his sword.
Its white light split the darkness like a bright sun in the night.
"For anyone still breathing, listen to me!" Arga's voice thundered.
"Full formation. We cannot let anything leave this place. What's happening here must never happen to innocent people out there!"
The fire of battle reignited in the survivors.
No hesitation.
The General moved.
He smashed the floor.
A geyser of blood exploded from cracks in the stone.
Gilbert stepped forward first.
He slammed his two-meter shield into the ground.
"Holy Shield of Aurelis!"
The first impact shook his bones, but he did not retreat.
"Now!"
Yogi leapt.
His iron ball spun rapidly, roaring like a trapped storm.
"Wind Bear Smash!"
He smashed it forward like a volleyball spike.
The ball slammed into the General's head with a deafening explosion.
The blood armor cracked.
The Demon General roared and raised his axe
But before it fell,
Antonio appeared from the shadows.
Two venom-coated daggers danced through the cracks.
"Anton Venom!"
The legendary toxin entered the demon's bloodstream.
But the General's blood boiled and burned it away.
He laughed.
A sound like wet flesh being crushed.
Satrio charged forward.
Earth energy flowed from the floor into his axe, coating it in stone.
"Eat this! Earth Blow!"
He slammed the General's shoulder.
Bone snapped.
Rina entered from the left.
"Ignition Step."
A burst of flame propelled her forward.
"Blazing Palm Barrage!"
Palm strikes rained into the demon's ribs.
Flames burned from inside the armor.
Mr. Rahmat protected the wounded.
"Card Barrier!"
"Decoy Mirage!"
Illusions drew lesser demons away from the injured.
Then Mr. Rahmat found an opening.
"Ilham, now! Speed Buff Card!"
Ilham emerged from steaming mist.
His daggers sliced tendons and joints.
"This ain't over! Mist Cut!"
Every wound vaporized the blood before it could retaliate.
Azuna froze the floor around the General's legs.
"Glacius Wall!"
Ice crawled upward, restricting movement.
Nadia fired forest-element arrows.
"Nature Dart!"
Roots burst from the wounds, gripping muscle and bone.
Adam attacked from the front relentlessly.
"Thunder Lion Smash!"
Kafka and Elara pulled the wounded backward.
Elara chanted healing spells in the middle of the storm.
And Arga,
Arga was the axis.
He moved like light refusing to die.
Slash after slash burned and purified.
"Sword Light of Judgment, Falling Sky!"
His blade pierced the General's chest.
Light exploded from within.
The blood armor shattered.
The Blood Demon General roared,
Then split in two.
His body collapsed like a tower of flesh losing its foundation.
Silence fell.
Heavy breathing echoed.
They had done it.
Together.
Students.
Soldiers.
Everyone.
But that was only the prelude.
The throne pulsed.
Slowly.
Then faster.
The Blood King opened his eyes.
And the world changed.
No explosion.
No scream.
Just one breath from that creature,
And every drop of blood in the room answered.
Every demon knelt.
The blood inside the students' wounds began to move.
At first like a vibration.
Then like fingers clawing from beneath the skin.
And the massacre began.
The Blood Demon King began to walk.
Slowly.
Each step echoed through the chamber like a mournful sonata of death.
With a single flick of his finger,
Gilbert was hurled across the room. A blade of blood sliced through the air and severed his arm cleanly.
Antonio screamed as a razor-thin stream of blood carved across one of his eye.
Azuna forced ice into existence, chanting endlessly until the vessels in her throat burst. Her voice died before the spell did.
Mr. Rahmat leapt forward, his close-quarter combat flowing together with the cards in his hands.
But a tidal wave of blood slammed him into the stone wall.
He collapsed unconscious.
Kafka trembled.
If he released his power now, the overseers might believe he was defying the orders of Bishop Magnus.
The three elite overseers exchanged silent glances.
Then,
"KAFKA! NOW!"
The bag slipped from Kafka's shoulders and hit the floor.
He stepped forward.
Slowly.
The blood across the ground trembled in response.
Kafka raised his hand.
There was no explosion.
No dramatic surge of power.
Only recognition.
Two perfect crimson daggers of blood ignited in his hands.
For the first time,
The Blood King looked shocked.
He stepped back.
Crimson tears streamed down his face.
Kafka and Arga charged at the same time.
A two-versus-one battle against the Demon King had begun.
And yet the difference in power was obvious.
The king was far stronger.
But every time Kafka left an opening,
The Blood King hesitated.
Like a parent who could not bring themselves to harm their own child.
Arga and Kafka pressed their attack relentlessly.
The king's regeneration began to fail under the resonance between Arga's holy light and Kafka's blood techniques.
Behind them, the remaining students rose with what little strength they had left.
Ilham struck from the shadows.
Rina unleashed the last of her flames.
Yogi swung his iron ball until the metal cracked.
Nadia fired an arrow of roots that bound the king's legs.
Satrio smashed the ground, opening fissures that swallowed rivers of blood.
Adam continued slashing, ignoring his own wounds.
Half-conscious, Mr. Rahmat threw his final card to open a brief gap.
The pressure forced the Demon King to react.
Arga's light.
Rina's fire.
Azuna's ice.
Antonio's poison.
Satrio's earth.
Together they had wounded him deeply.
The king slowly raised both hands.
The entire chamber turned crimson.
Blood rose from the floor like a raging storm.
His body began to change.
Cracks spread across his skin, glowing with dark red light.
Thin wings of liquid blood unfolded from his back.
His eyes burned like two dying suns sinking into an ocean of crimson.
"Crimson Vengeance."
His ultimate form.
Kafka's eyes widened when the words appeared above the king.
"WATCH OUT! GET AWAY!"
But it was already too late.
Every wound the king received turned into strength.
Every death became fuel.
Ilham was the first to fall.
Blood erupted from both his hands.
Adam tried to stand,
But the veins in his legs burst from within.
Satrio screamed as the veins in his knees tore apart.
Nadia collapsed silently.
Yogi's iron ball slipped from his hands.
Rina lasted the longest.
Even as her kyokushin karate stance crumbled.
Her flames burned the blood invading her body.
But fire could not destroy something that had already become part of her.
She fell.
Only Elara remained.
Her healing light protected her for a moment longer.
But the blood devoured that light like termites eating wood.
She collapsed.
Seeing his friends dying around him,
Arga exploded with power.
His wounded body blazed with endless radiance.
"ANGELIC JUDGMENT!"
A suit of divine armor enveloped him.
At the same time,
Kafka trembled with rage and grief.
Two crimson horns emerged from his head.
His body became wrapped in blazing blood armor.
Arga moved first.
His sword tore through the air mercilessly.
The clash between him and the Demon King looked like two meteors-gold and crimson, colliding again and again.
Kafka stepped forward.
The blood in the air shuddered.
The Blood King froze.
His eyes widened.
Crimson tears fell once more.
He recognized something.
Inside Kafka.
Kafka raised his hand.
No chant.
No scream.
The blood that was about to pierce Arga froze in midair.
Then dropped to the ground.
The Blood King stepped back.
His hands trembled.
He tried to speak,
But no human words came out.
Yet his eyes were filled with recognition.
With grief.
A sorrow older than the dungeon itself.
The battle resumed.
But now it had reached another level entirely.
The pressure of their power sent demon corpses and shattered bodies flying across the chamber.
Only the strongest could remain standing.
Gilbert rose again, one arm missing.
Antonio stood with blood pouring from his remaining eye.
Azuna forced out one final wave of ice despite her destroyed throat.
Mr. Rahmat slip away and threw cards with shaking hands.
They attacked together.
The fallen students began to move again.
Not truly alive.
But alive enough to fight with the last fragments of their will.
The Blood King fell silent once more.
His gaze remained fixed on Kafka.
That moment of hesitation,
Arga saw it.
He leapt into the air.
His sword blazed with the last light he had left.
"ANGELIC FALLING SKY!"
The slash descended like divine judgment.
The explosion shook the entire chamber.
Arga's blade pierced the Blood King's chest.
Crimson Vengeance shattered.
The blood filling the room collapsed like rain.
Kafka walked forward.
The Blood King's body began to shrink.
His monstrous form faded.
Revealing a pale, half-human figure.
Tears ran down his face.
"Thank goodness…"
"You're safe…"
He embraced Kafka.
"Everyone… was worried about you…"
Kafka broke down crying.
He didn't know why.
The king turned his head slowly,
Toward Elara lying weakly on the ground.
"YOU… YOU ARE THE ONE WHO—"
A beam of light fell.
Arga struck before the sentence could finish.
Silence filled the chamber.
Then,
Arga heard it.
The voice in his head.
It had been whispering the entire time.
Kill.
Kill.
Kill all demons.
Arga looked at Kafka, who was crying uncontrollably.
He assumed Kafka was grieving for his fallen friends on their sides not the demons.
The voice whispered again.
There is still one demon left.
Kill the crying demon!
Kill him now!
Arga slowly sheathed his sword.
"Shut up… you damn bastard."
His voice was quiet.
Hoarse.
Then his body swayed.
Arga collapsed.
~To Be Continued ~