"If nothing unexpected happens, this must be the final BOSS of the Secret Realm, right?"
Although the tragic story of the fallen elves tugged faintly at his conscience, Lucas was a man of discipline—a career changer hardened by endless battles. He had long learned to put emotion aside. His focus rested entirely on the towering mass of flesh before him—the BOSS.
"If I kill this thing, will it drop the core sacred stone of the Secret Realm?" he muttered, eyes glinting with sharp anticipation as he tightened his grip on his dagger.
He knew the odds were abysmal. According to official records, the drop rate for a core sacred stone was less than 0.01 percent—far lower than any regular dungeon reward. But that tiny chance was what made it priceless.
Owning such a stone meant something extraordinary. Whoever possessed it didn't just conquer a realm—they gained control over the Secret Realm itself. Every monster respawn, every chest, every trickle of experience points became personal income forever.
It was a mine of infinite resources, a treasure that would never run dry.
"The higher the realm level, the richer the veins of reward it contains," Lucas whispered, his excitement rising. "If luck is on my side tonight, I'll be a man with a mine at home."
He pushed open the giant stone door with a deep boom.
The room beyond could not have been more different from the vibrant greenery outside. The air was cold, heavy, and foul. Every inch of the floor was carpeted with shifting flesh and blood, pulsating as though the entire hall itself were alive.
When the door cracked open, the fleshy carpet writhed, creeping toward him as if to flee—but the holy light spilling through the doorway seared its surface, forcing it back.
"So this is the source of the curse," Lucas said, his tone hard as steel. "Show me your health bar, and I'll kill you no matter what you are."
Without a second thought, he stepped inside. The seal on the doorway pulsed behind him but did nothing to hinder his entry.
At once, the air filled with inhuman screams. The noise was piercing—like metal tearing through bone—and for a moment even Lucas felt a cold sweat bead along his neck.
The meat-like carpet suddenly gathered, twisting and compressing into a single mass. From its depths rose a monstrous orb of flesh, dripping black liquid that hissed wherever it struck the ground. Tentacles whipped from its surface, each one glistening with rot.
The stench was unbearable, thick enough to make breathing painful. It was the smell of corruption itself.
"Disgusting thing," Lucas growled. He could feel its gaze even without eyes—a pressure in his chest, a malicious will watching him like prey.
He unfurled a detection scroll and cast it into the air.
> Name: Unknown Source of the Curse of Flesh
Level: ???
Health: ???
Attack: ???
Physical Defense: ???
Magic Defense: ???
Skills: ???
Every stat line was a question mark.
"Tch. So you're too high level to scan, huh?" Lucas frowned. "Figures. Guess I'll just have to find your limits the hard way."
He took a steady breath. Retreat was impossible. Once combat began in a Secret Realm, the system locked you inside until one side fell.
"Well then," he whispered, dagger raised. "Time to gamble my life."
He lunged.
A forest of tentacles erupted from the monster, black as ink, stabbing toward him like living spears. They filled the hall, leaving nowhere to run.
But Lucas's instincts flared. With a flick of his wrist, he activated Shadow Stealth—his body melting into the air, vanishing just as the tentacles crashed where he'd stood.
From the void behind the beast, a cold voice whispered, "Netherworld Assassination."
His dagger, wrapped in darkness, pierced deep into the flesh core.
The monster let out a scream that shook the walls. Black liquid splattered across the floor.
Then, in retaliation, it convulsed violently and exhaled a wave of black mist that blanketed the room.
Lucas coughed and glanced down. His arm was changing — small sarcomas blooming beneath his skin, pulsing like they had lives of their own.
"Damn it… a curse effect!"
His HUD blinked crimson, displaying a new icon: [Curse of Flesh] – Degrades Health and Body Integrity Over Time.
The vision of the cursed elves flashed through his mind. Their twisted bodies. Their agony. His stomach turned.
No way was he ending up like them.
Without hesitation, Lucas activated his Tier-2 Talent — Shura Blood Fury!
Blood-red mist erupted from his body, devouring the black mist that clung to him. His eyes burned crimson, his muscles tightened, and the curse melted away under the heat of his power.
"Let's see how you handle this."
God-Killing Blade!
Delusion-Breaking Eye!
His three awakened talents merged into one perfect state of wrath. Every debuff cleansed, every damage boost stacked.
Now, only violence remained.
Lucas charged head-on, slashing with everything he had.
No curse could touch him now. No control skill could stop him.
Every hit that landed stole life from the monster and fed it back to him.
"Output! Output! And output again!" he shouted, unleashing a storm of skills in one continuous chain:
Night Blade Assault! Netherworld Assassination! Kiss of Death! Instant Shadow Strike! Hidden Serpent Bite! Silent Killing! Serpent's Fangs! Limb-Breaking Blade!
Each attack landed with precision, each follow-up linking seamlessly into the next.
His jewelry reduced skill cooldowns to 60 percent, allowing a near-endless rotation. Even when his skills were cooling, his basic strikes hit hard enough to shake the room.
He was a whirlwind of dark energy, cutting through tentacles faster than they could regrow.
The flesh BOSS lashed out in panic, flailing and shrieking, but Lucas was already there, slipping between blows, draining its life with every counter.
The battle raged on for minutes that felt like hours. The entire hall shook, black liquid splattering the walls and hissing as it evaporated in the heat of his power.
Within ninety seconds of pure fury, Lucas was invincible.
Finally, the monstrous mass shuddered, its tentacles curling in on themselves. A long, hollow scream ripped through the air before the creature collapsed with a thud that rattled his bones.
It twitched once, twice — then lay still.
The Source of the Curse of Flesh was dead.
The thick odor of rot grew stronger as its flesh began to decay, melting into a black mist that dissipated slowly into nothing.
Lucas stood there, chest heaving, dagger still raised. He blinked away the sweat stinging his eyes.
"Is it… dead for real?"
He cautiously nudged the corpse with his boot. No movement. No response. The damage numbers on his HUD stayed flat.
"Guess so." He let out a tired laugh, then sank down on one knee.
His extreme burst mode had ended; the side effects hit like a wave of lead. Every muscle ached. Even his fingers felt heavy.
"Damn, you were one hell of a fight," he muttered, looking at the gooey remains. "If I had to guess, that was millions of damage. And you still lasted that long."
He exhaled and wiped the blood from his mouth. "Secret Realm final BOSS indeed. Worthy of the title."
Then his eyes lit up again. The tiredness vanished instantly.
"Now then… let's see if you drop something good."
He watched eagerly as the corpse slowly crumbled. Usually, defeated monsters disintegrated into dust or light fragments to reveal loot.
A faint glow began to shine from within the decaying mass.
Lucas held his breath.
The light grew brighter, burning through the black mist until a small crystal hovered above the ground. It was clear, pulsing with a soft white luminescence that illuminated the entire hall.
His heart pounded. Could it be—?
The Core Sacred Stone!
He stepped forward and reached out, but hesitated for a moment. Such a stone was not only valuable—it was dangerous. Legends said each core contained a fragment of the realm's original curse, and those unworthy of it could be devoured from within.
But Lucas was no ordinary adventurer. He had his own talents and the will to match them.
He took a deep breath and grasped the crystal. It was cold to the touch, so cold that it burned.
A pulse raced through him. For a moment his vision flashed white, and he saw images—glimpses of the Secret Realm's birth, of the curse's origin, of a dark entity trapped within a mirror-like world.
Then the images vanished.
Lucas staggered back, breathing hard. The stone lay quiet in his hand, its light now gentle and obedient.
He had done it. He had claimed the core of the Secret Realm.
A system notification flashed before him:
> [Congratulations! You have defeated the Final Boss of the Secret Realm.]
[Core Sacred Stone Acquired – Ownership of the Realm Granted.]
[Exp + 3,000,000 | Gold + 250,000 | Skill Cooldown Reduction + 5%.]
He grinned. "That's what I'm talking about!"
Outside the hall, the dark fog began to lift. The once-cursed forests shimmered with green light again, the cries of corruption fading into the distance. The Secret Realm was healing under his new ownership.
Lucas looked around the quiet ruins and smiled faintly. "Not bad for a day's work. Now I've got my own realm to manage and a mine that'll never run dry."
He sheathed his dagger and turned toward the exit. Behind him, the last remnants of the flesh monster turned to dust, leaving only silence.
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