The blue light of the teleportation pillar vanished, replaced by an oppressive, suffocating darkness. Damon Silverstar’s boots hit the ground with a rigid thud. The air here was different from the damp caves of the A-Rank dungeon. It was dry, hot, and smelled overwhelmingly like old, dried blood. He slowly opened his eyes.
Above him, the sky was purple. There were no stars. Instead, a swollen moon hung low in the sky, shimmering with a sickening crimson light. It bathed the landscape in a hellish red filter. Damon looked around. He was standing in the middle of a corridor. The walls on either side were made of jagged, black obsidian stone, skewering at least a hundred feet into the air. The corridor stretched endlessly forward and backward, branching off into far, shadowy intersections.
A labyrinth.
The blue holographic system screen popped up in front of his face, the text glitching slightly before stabilizing.
[Main Scenario Commencing!]
[Title: The Blood Moon Labyrinth]
[Difficulty: S-Rank]
[Participant Count: 10,000 Awakened]
[Clear Conditions: Survive in the labyrinth for 72 hours, or locate and destroy the Labyrinth Core.]
[Reward: 5,000,000 Karma Points, random S-Rank Relic, large amount of EXP.]
[Failure Condition: Death.]
Ten thousand Awakened. The System had dragged hunters from all over the country into this hellhole. Most of them were probably C-Rank or B-Rank hunters who had just been sleeping in their beds. In an S-Rank scenario, ninety percent of them were just monster food.
Suddenly, a warm sensation shone from the midnight black coat draped over his shoulders.
The crimson chat box forcibly shoved the blue system window aside.
[The Goddess of Fate is scanning your surroundings.]
[Goddess of Fate]: A pathetic maze. The God of Magic designed this. He is trying to trap you in his little puzzle.
[Goddess of Fate]: Do not be afraid, my love. My coat will keep you warm. My eyes will guide you. Just walk forward and kill whatever blocks your path.
[Goddess of Fate has donated 100,000 Karma Points!]
"I'm not afraid," Damon muttered, his grip tightening as the weight of the Severance of Destiny formed in his right hand. The crystallized blood blade hummed, eager for violence. Before Damon could take his first step, a flash of blue light illuminated the corridor about fifty yards ahead of him.
The System was dropping more players into his sector. Five figures instantly appeared from the light. They were fully armed and armored, different from the panicked civilians the system sometimes dragged in. Judging by the matching silver and black insignias on their chest plates, they were a coordinated Guild team.
Damon narrowed his eyes, instantly suppressing his mana signature. It was a basic trick he had learned as a porter to avoid drawing monster aggro, but with his new A-Rank core, he could erase his presence. To anyone looking, he seemed like an ordinary, unawakened civilian.
"Form up! Shields front!" the leader of the group shouted. He was a tall, scarred man wielding a shield. A B-Rank Tank.
SNAP!
The rest of his party quickly snapped into a defensive formation. Two B-Rank Swordsmen covered the flanks, a C-Rank Archer knocked an arrow, and an A-Rank Mage stood in the center. The Mage was a stunningly beautiful woman with long black hair and a fitting combat dress.
"Relax, Goro," the female mage said, lowering her shining staff. "The spawn zone is clear. No immediate threats."
Goro, the Tank, grunted and lowered his shield. He looked around, his eyes darting the obsidian walls before landing on Damon. Damon stood perfectly still, his hands in his pockets, the crimson scythe hidden in his inventory. He just watched them with cold red eyes.
"Hey! You there!" Goro called out, marching toward Damon. The metal of his boots clanked loudly against the stone floor. "What Guild are you from? Display your rank badge!"
Damon didn't move. He just stared at the Tank like one looks at a noisy insect.
Goro sneered, stopping a few feet away. "No badge. No visible mana. Let me guess. You're one of those unlucky F-Rank trashes the system dragged out of bed to fill the body quota."
Goro looked back at his party and laughed. "Looks like we found our trap detector, boys."
It was a common tactic in unmapped dungeons. Strong Guilds would force weak, unaffiliated hunters to walk at the front of the formation to trigger hidden spikes, poison darts, or monster ambushes.
"Walk in front of us, kid," Goro commanded, pointing his sword down to the corridor. "Do as you're told, and maybe we'll let you hide behind my shield when the boss shows up."
"I work alone," Damon said, his voice was flat, devoid of any fear or emotion.
Goro’s face darkened. He took a threatening step forward, raising his gauntlet. "Listen here, you little..--"
"Goro, stop. Brute force won't make him cooperative," a sweet, melodic voice interrupted.
Sayuri, the A-Rank Mage, stepped out from behind the Tank. She pushed her long hair over her shoulder and gave Damon a dazzling smile. It was a smile she had used a thousand times to charm Guild Masters and sponsors.
[WARNING. The Goddess of Fate has detected a repulsive presence.]
[Goddess of Fate]: Who is this insect? Why is she looking at you like that?
[Goddess of Fate]: Pluck her eyes out. Pluck them out right now.
Damon ignored the scrolling red text. He just watched Sayuri approach.
"Hi there," Sayuri said gently, stepping uncomfortably close to Damon. Her perfume was sickly sweet, a sharp smell of blood in the air. "Don't mind Goro. He's just stressed. This is an S-Rank labyrinth, and we all need to stick together to survive."
She looked up at Damon through her eyelashes, her voice dropping to a low whisper. "You look so pale. Are you scared? Don't worry. If you help us scout, I promise I'll personally protect you. I'll make sure you get out of here alive."
She reached out her hand, aiming to gently place it on Damon’s chest, right over the lapel of his midnight black coat. It was a manipulative touch meant to secure his obedience.
Damon just watched her hand move in slow motion.
‘Idiots!’ Damon thought.
The moment Sayuri’s pale fingers brushed against the crimson threads of the Embrace of the Goddess of Fate, the System alarmed instantly.
WEE-WOO!
[Curse Triggered: The Jealous Guardian!]
[Target has touched the Host with manipulative/affectionate intent.]
[The Goddess of Fate is administering punishment.]
"Ah—" Sayuri’s sweet smile vanished. A horrific, gut-wrenching sizzle echoed through the corridor, like raw meat being thrown onto a hot grill.
"AHHHHHHHHH!" Sayuri unleashed an agonizing scream. She stumbled backward, clutching her right wrist. The hunters behind her gasped in horror.
Sayuri’s hand wasn't just burned. It was rotting in real time. The flesh turned a sickening, pitch black color, the necrosis spreading up her fingers and past her knuckles in seconds. The skin cracked and peeled, exposing dead muscle tissue underneath.
"My hand! My hand! Help me! Heal me!" Sayuri shrieked, falling to her knees on the stone floor. She cast her own healing magic over the rotting limb, bathing it in green light, but the necrosis devoured the mana. The rot was divine, mortal magic couldn't even slow it down.
"What did you do to her?!" Goro roared, his face spasming in rage. He drew his broadsword and pointed it at Damon’s throat. "You cursed her! You bastard, I'll kill you!"
Damon looked down at the screaming mage writhing on the floor.
"I didn't do anything," Damon stated. "She just touched something she shouldn't have."
[The Goddess of Fate is laughing.]
[Goddess of Fate]: Look at the filthy worm writhe. That is what happens when trash touches my property.
[Goddess of Fate]: I love you, Damon. I love you so much.
[Goddess of Fate has donated 500,000 Karma Points!]
"Kill him!" Goro ordered his men.
The two B-Rank swordsmen charged forward, their blades shimmering with blue mana, but before they could close the distance, the ground beneath their feet began to tremble.
THUMP! THUMP! THUMP!
The footsteps echoed from the darkness of the corridor ahead. A low growl reverberated off the obsidian walls, causing the loose pebbles on the ground to shake. Goro froze, his sword raised mid air. The two lunging swordsmen skidded to a halt, their eyes widening in terror as they looked past Damon into the shadows.
A pair of shiny, yellow eyes appeared in the dark. Then another pair, and another. Stepping out of the shadows was a pack of Blood Mane Lycans. They were A-Rank labyrinth monsters. They stood on two legs, eight feet tall, with muscles bulging beneath crimson-stained fur. Saliva dripped from their razor sharp jaws, and there were at least ten of them.
"L-Lycans..." the C-Rank archer stammered, dropping his bow in panic. "An entire pack! We... we can't fight that!"
HOWLL!!
The monsters didn't hesitate. Driven mad by the scent of Sayuri’s rotting flesh, the lead Lycan howled and launched itself forward with terrifying speed.
"Shield Wall!" Goro screamed, slamming his tower shield into the ground and bracing his shoulder against it.
The Lycan crashed into the Tank like a freight train. The force shattered Goro’s defensive skill instantly. The steel shield dented inward, and Goro was thrown backward like a ragdoll, coughing up blood as his ribs cracked under the pressure. The pack swarmed the hunters.
It was a massacre. The B-Rank swordsmen swung their blades, but their weapons couldn't even pierce the Lycans' thick body. One swordsman had his arm ripped clean off by a single bite. The archer was crushed beneath the weight of two beasts before he could even scream.
Sayuri dragged herself backward across the floor, sobbing uncontrollably, her useless hand leaving a trail of dead skin on the stone. Damon just watched. He stood still in the middle of the chaos. The Lycans ignored him. His A-Rank stealth, combined with the terrifying pressure of the Mythic coat, made him appear like a ghost to the monsters. They avoided him, focusing on the screaming hunters.
Goro, bleeding from his head, looked up at Damon. "Help... help us..." the Tank gurgled, reaching out a bloody hand. "P-Please..."
Damon looked down at the dying man. He remembered Killian. He remembered three years of being kicked and spat on by men like Goro. Damon reached out his right hand. Particles of crimson light gathered in his palm, crystallizing into the massive form of the Severance of Destiny. The scythe hummed, casting a bloody red glow over Damon’s face.
Goro’s eyes widened in brief hope. He thought Damon was summoning a weapon to save him.
Instead, Damon casually stepped over Goro’s bleeding body.
"I told you," Damon said, his voice cutting through the sounds of ripping flesh and screaming hunters. "I work alone."
Damon didn't look back. He gripped the scythe with both hands, his crimson eyes watching the pack of A-Rank Lycans feasting on the fallen hunters.
"System," Damon whispered. "Activate Skill: Void Step."
Damon instantly vanished into a blur of black shadows. He reappeared above the center of the Lycan pack, hovering in air against the backdrop of the Blood Moon.
The monsters looked up, their yellow eyes widening in sudden terror. Damon swung the crimson scythe downward in a sweeping arc. ‘Severance of Destiny.’
SLASHH!!
A horizontal crescent of pure crimson energy erupted from the blade. It expanded outward like a shockwave, passing through the bodies of the ten A-Rank Lycans without a single sound.
Damon landed softly on the ground, his coat withering behind him. He flicked the scythe, resting the long handle against his shoulder.
Behind him, the ten Lycans froze, petrified. A second later, their torsos slid cleanly off their lower halves, blood erupting like geysers into the dry labyrinth air.
[Target Eliminated: A-Rank Blood-Mane Lycan (x10)]
[Massive EXP gained!]
[You have Leveled Up!]
[You have Leveled Up!]
Damon ignored the blue notifications, stepping over the mangled corpses of the beasts and the dead hunters, walking deeper into the dark corridors of the labyrinth.
[The Goddess of Fate is trembling with excitement.]
[Goddess of Fate]: Yes. Walk over their corpses. Leave them to rot. You need no one but me.
[Goddess of Fate has donated 2,000,000 Karma Points!]
The S-Rank Scenario had just begun, and Damon Silverstar was already hunting.
Latest Chapter
Toll of Long Haul
The silence that followed the collapse of the throne room was not the clean, crisp quiet of an open moor; it was the heavy, suffocating stillness of a freight elevator stuck between floors with fifty bags of wet gravel balanced on the roof.The Void-Galleon drifted past the outer perimeter of the shattered sector, its hull humming with a low, bone-deep vibration that signaled every bulkhead was holding together by sheer stubbornness rather than structural integrity. The sky overhead had stopped spitting molten iron shrapnel, but the vacuum left in its wake was an endless, bruised violet that stretched out to infinity like an unwashed floor.[Synchronization: 93.4%][Level: 141][Warning: Core temperature stabilizing. Human baseline reserve at 9.2%.]Damon Silverstar remained at the forward helm, his right hand still resting on the scarred mahogany wheel where the dark violet edge of the Void-Reaper had fused half an inch into the grain. His midnight-indigo hair hung limp across his fo
Last Shift
The sound of the sky tearing apart did not end with a bang; it ended with a long, wet snap like a heavy canvas sail splitting from top to bottom under a rogue squall.The eighty-foot iron frame of the God of War did not fall backward into the courtyard. Instead, it stayed upright, its massive joints locked into a rigid, unnatural posture while a million tiny, hairline fractures raced across its crimson visor like spiderwebs over hot glass. The slaughter-mana that had fed its immortal muscles for millennia didn't bleed out in a red mist; it simply turned gray, evaporating into thin air with the dull, lifeless smell of damp concrete and old iron filings.[Synchronization: 91.2%] [Level: 140 -> 141]“The ledger... is closed?” The titan’s voice was no longer the thunder of a falling bridge. It was dry, thin, and raspy, like iron filings scraping against the bottom of an empty tin bucket. The glowing red fires behind his eye slits sputtered twice, threw out a brief puff of gray sulfur, and
Friction of the Anvil (2)
"He is trying to crush my needle, Damon!" Weaver screamed, her voice a shivering harmonic that caused the iron shrapnel above to change its frequency, turning the sky into a rain of red needles. She buried her face in the crook of his neck, her starlight breath hot and wet against his scarred skin. "The old iron giant wants to break the loom before we can finish the pattern! He wants to turn you back into the mud! Don't let his hammer find the center, my king! Use the default! Show him that the shadow has no bones that can be ground by his forge!"The God of War advanced, his massive visor flaring with a blind, orange fury that threw out clouds of sulfur smoke with every stride. He raised both hands together, interlocking his iron fingers to form a single, mountain-sized mallet that he prepared to bring down upon Damon’s head while he was pinned against the throne."Die in the dirt, porter!" the titan roared, his voice the sound of a hundred city gates being broken down by a ram.Damo
Friction of the Anvil (1)
The shattered vault of the throne room offered no shelter from the storm tearing through the upper layers of the sky. When the Greatsword of Final Carnage decomposed into generic grey dust, the brass dome overhead did not simply fracture; it folded inward like a crushed kettle, opening a vast, screaming window into a sky filled with a freezing vortex of molten iron shrapnel. Millions of white-hot splinters, each one the size of an anvil, spun through the dark purple vacuum, whistling with a pitch that could strip the flesh off a man's knuckles.The Void-Galleon took the full weight of the atmospheric collapse, its main timber frame buckled upward along the central keel line, the sound of the straining wood a constant, low shriek that vibrated through every cabin.[Synchronization: 89.0%][Level: 140]Damon Silverstar remained at the forward margin of the deck, his leather boots smoking as the stone platform beneath his feet continued to radiate a deep, volcanic heat. His midnight-indi
Rage of the Blood-Throne
Damon Silverstar stood at the absolute point of the prow, his leather boots melting slightly into the charred wood.[Synchronization: 89.0%][Level: 140]His hair, now a heavy, lightless midnight indigo, drifted in thick, separate locks that actively drank the red glare of the room, leaving small pockets of absolute vacuum in the air behind his shoulders. His right hand remained motionless, the black glass fingers fused so tightly around the silk handle of the Void-Reaper that the seam between his flesh and the weapon had vanished entirely. His left arm, the monolith of war-eater iron, pulsed with a blinding, mercury-silver pattern of light-breaker runes, radiating a cold, unyielding mass that kept the ship's frame from being crushed by the atmospheric weight of the throne.
Unbroken Vanguard (2)
Damon’s hand did not break. The war-eater iron of his arm did not split under the immense momentum of the general’s ultimate weapon. The silver-violet light-breaker runes on his skin flared with a binding luminescence, completely ignoring the slaughter-mana that poured from the blade. He stood on the broken basalt step, his boots locked into the stone, his left fingers clamped around the grey steel with a force that caused the rusted rivets on the general’s gauntlet to pop and fly into the air like gravel."The strike... has no remainder," the Sovereign of Slaughter spoke, its wet voice stuttering as its internal martial circuits failed to find the leverage to push Damon back an inch. The red glare behind its slitted visor wavered, the heavy executioner’s sword trembling in its grip. "The ledger of carnage states that the flesh must accept the cut when the weight of a
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