DUNGEON SLAVE
CHAPTER 02 – TRIAL OF A SLAVE
Darkness clung to Axcel like wet cloth.
He could still hear the echoes of laughter, the scrape of chains fading into nothing. When his eyes adjusted, he realized the void around him had softened no longer a prison of shadow, but a tunnel of faint blue light stretching endlessly forward. The ground pulsed faintly under his boots, alive with mana.
"Where… am I?" he muttered, voice rasped and dry.
> [Welcome, Dungeon Slave.]
[You have been chosen.]
[Level 1.]
The message floated in front of him, quiet but absolute. He waved his hand through it; the letters rippled like water.
"Chosen for what?" he said, but no one answered.
He started walking. Every step echoed, swallowed instantly by the dark. The air grew warmer, humming with mana so thick it almost buzzed against his skin. Then light.
A distant glimmer that widened, brightened, until the tunnel spat him out into open space.
He froze.
A town lay before him, carved in silver and stone. Tall spires rose into an eternal twilight sky, their tips glowing with floating runes. Roads paved with white crystal curved between gardens of luminous flowers. Everything shimmered with soft blue mana, alive and breathing.
"...What is this place?" Axcel whispered. He could feel power here raw, ancient, intoxicating. The mana density was beyond anything Earth had ever known. Every breath felt like inhaling liquid lightning.
"You have awoken, Slave."
The voice slid through the air, smooth, melodic, and terrifyingly calm.
Axcel spun, sword half-drawn.
A woman stood behind him.
She was tall, draped in a robe of deep violet trimmed with gold. A staff of black crystal rested in her hand, its tip pulsing like a heartbeat. Her hair, long and silver, caught the light like liquid moonlight. Eyes of bright amethyst regarded him with amused detachment. Her beauty was unreal soft lips curved in quiet superiority, skin pale as porcelain, figure generous and flawless, the robe doing little to hide the shape beneath.
For a second, Axcel forgot to breathe. His eyes darted then he caught himself, snapping his gaze back up. "Who… who the hell are you?"
The woman smiled faintly. "I am Hebana. The overseer of this domain." She tilted her head. "And you, Axcel Haven, are a Dungeon Slave."
His stomach twisted. "What did you just call me?"
"Dungeon Slave," she repeated, as though it were the most natural thing in the world. "Bound to this system by fate. Your world is far away now sealed beyond reach. You cannot return."
Her words struck like blades.
"No way… I can't go back? My team Earth everything?"
She gave a slow, pitying nod. "Gone. At least to you. You were chosen by the Dungeon Core when your soul refused to fade. The system took hold. Now, you exist here in the realm between realms."
Axcel's fists tightened. "So I'm trapped?"
"In a sense." She turned, motioning for him to follow as she began walking down a glowing street. "But not hopeless. This place, Narvana, sits at the heart of seven dungeons. Each one a fragment of the ancient chaos that shattered the worlds. To break your chains to return you must conquer all seven."
He followed her, still numb, eyes scanning the impossible beauty around him. Mana flowed like wind through the city, lifting petals, illuminating sigils carved into every stone.
"Conquer… seven dungeons?" he said. "Alone? That's suicide."
Hebana glanced back, amusement flickering in her eyes. "Of course it is. In your current state, even stepping inside one would tear you apart."
"That's reassuring," Axcel muttered.
She laughed softly, the sound low and musical. "You misunderstand, Slave. You will not remain weak forever. The system chose you for a reason."
He frowned. "Stop calling me that. I have a name."
"Oh, I know your name," she said, smirking. "But the system sees only its mark. Dungeon Slave that is your bond. And that bond grants power unlike any mortal's."
He hesitated. "Power?"
She stopped at the base of a grand staircase leading to a crystal plaza. "The potential to become both Dungeon Master and Mage Master an immortal ruler of this realm. But before that, you must be tested."
Her staff struck the ground. The air rippled.
Figures appeared one after another surrounding them in a half-circle.
All women.
Each radiated mana like a storm. Robes of varying colors fluttered, blades and staffs gleaming. Their beauty was overwhelming different shapes, heights, faces but all unnervingly perfect. For a second, Axcel's thoughts scattered, his mind betraying him with sheer disbelief.
"Okay…" he said slowly. "Am I dead, or did I fall into some weird dream?"
Hebana's smile widened. "This realm holds only women, Dungeon Slave. You are… unique here."
His brain blanked. "Wait, only women?"
"Indeed." She raised her staff again. "And they will judge your worth."
The air shimmered, and the plaza transformed into an arena of pale stone ringed by floating runes. Wind howled as mana surged through the air, humming like music.
From among the gathered mages, one stepped forward.
She removed her cloak and the world seemed to pause.
Her hair, black as midnight, cascaded to her waist, straight and silken. Her eyes were silver-grey, sharp and proud. Her skin was fair, almost luminescent beneath the mana lights. Every curve, every line of her body spoke of power balanced with grace.
Axcel's breath caught. "She's… unreal."
"This is Helena," Hebana announced. "The Trial."
Helena's gaze locked on him, calm yet piercing. "So this is the chosen slave?" Her tone carried the faintest hint of mockery. "He doesn't look like much."
Axcel blinked, defensive instinct flaring. "You could've led with a 'hello.'"
She smirked. "If you can't handle a little arrogance, you won't last a second here."
He exhaled slowly, lifting his sword. "Fine. Let's see if your magic's as sharp as your tongue."
Hebana floated back, eyes gleaming. "Begin."
The world exploded into light.
Helena moved first, faster than thought. Circles of silver magic flared around her, releasing a storm of arcane bolts. Axcel darted sideways, the spells detonating where he'd stood. Stone shattered, dust spiraling. He rushed in, sword glowing faintly with dark mana the same energy that once fueled his blade back on Earth.
Her hand snapped forward. A chain of light lashed out, wrapping around his wrist. She yanked; he stumbled. Another spell followed a burst of frost that exploded beneath his feet, sending shards flying.
He gritted his teeth. Long-range caster. Keeps her distance. Fast, precise.
Axcel kicked off the ground, sliding behind a pillar as more bolts tore through the air. His mana pulsed through his veins, raw and sluggish but alive. He whispered under his breath, drawing energy into the blade until it thrummed with heat.
He leapt out, slashing downward. A crescent of dark energy ripped through the floor toward Helena. She raised a glowing barrier shattered on impact but she barely flinched. With a flick of her wrist, spears of ice erupted in response.
He deflected two, rolled past a third, closing the gap by inches.
Helena's lips curled. "Predictable."
She raised both hands. The air condensed into a massive orb of crackling light. When it fired, the blast swallowed the arena in white brilliance.
The explosion threw Axcel backward. His sword flew from his grasp, embedding in the far wall. His arm burned, the skin along his forearm splitting under the mana pressure.
He gasped, vision swimming. Helena stood amidst the smoke, utterly composed, black hair glinting.
"You fight like a beast," she said. "Wild. Unrefined."
Axcel spat blood, pushing himself up. "Yeah? At least I'm still standing."
Her eyes narrowed. Another circle appeared at her feet, runes rotating. The temperature dropped. Frost spread outward in perfect symmetry.
He grinned through the pain. "Good. Keep showing off."
She launched another volley of spears. Axcel dashed left, then right, letting the attacks herd him exactly where he wanted. He wasn't stronger not yet but he'd trained too long in impossible odds to fight stupidly.
As she prepared the final strike, he sprinted straight toward her.
Her eyes widened slightly. "Idiot"
At the last second, he rolled under her spell, grabbed his fallen sword, and slammed his mana into the blade. The energy ignited, black fire spiraling around the edge. He swung upward, not at her body but at the spell itself.
The blast detonated mid-air, scattering mana in a burst of light and sound. The shockwave hit Helena full-force, throwing her off balance. Axcel rose, closing the gap in an instant.
Steel met air. His blade stopped just an inch from her throat.
For a long moment, silence filled the arena broken only by the hum of dying magic.
Helena stared at him, eyes wide. Then, slowly, a smile crept across her lips.
Helena's smile deepened, the cold arrogance in her eyes softening into something more curious. "You actually managed to turn my own spell against me," she said quietly. "No one's done that before."
Axcel, chest heaving, lowered his sword slightly. His arm trembled from exhaustion, his clothes torn, skin streaked with ash and blood. "Guess I'm full of surprises."
The arena shimmered, the light of their battle still crackling in the air like fading thunder. Hebana floated above them, her gaze keen and unreadable. Around her, the other women murmured among themselves some amused, some impressed, others clearly displeased that a mere outsider had lasted this long.
Helena glanced down at the edge of his sword, still glowing faintly with black flame, then met his eyes. "You're reckless," she said. "But… strategic. You wanted me close from the start, didn't you?"
Axcel allowed himself a small grin. "You caught on late."
For a heartbeat, their eyes locked. Then, she chuckled a low, velvety sound that stirred something in his chest. "Then you've passed."
Before he could ask what she meant, the magic circle beneath their feet dissolved. The arena's walls of light collapsed, replaced by the gentle twilight glow of Narvana's plaza. The floating runes dimmed, and the air grew still.
The other women stepped back, some bowing lightly, others crossing their arms in silent acknowledgment.
Hebana descended gracefully, the hem of her violet robes whispering against the marble. Her amethyst eyes gleamed as she studied Axcel, who still stood, shoulders squared despite the trembling in his legs.
"Well done, Dungeon Slave," she said at last. "You have survived the Trial."
Axcel sheathed his sword, exhaling shakily. "Barely."
"Survival is the point," Hebana replied, amusement curling at the edge of her lips. "It's not strength alone that the dungeons demand. It's adaptability. You've shown both."
Helena stepped closer, her voice calm now. "You fight like someone who refuses to die. That's what kept you alive."
Axcel turned toward her. Up close, he realized just how flawless she was the way her hair framed her pale face like silken shadow, the faint shimmer in her eyes that seemed to hold galaxies, the elegant curve of her lips. Every detail felt almost unreal. She was beauty sculpted from divinity, powerful and impossible to ignore.
He caught himself staring again and quickly looked away. "Guess I just don't like losing."
She smirked. "You'll have to get used to more than losing here."
Hebana raised her staff, and the plaza responded the ground lighting with runes that spiraled outward like constellations. The very air trembled with magic.
> [TRIAL COMPLETE.]
[NEW TITLE: SURVIVOR.]
[REWARD: SYSTEM AWAKENING UNLOCKED.]
The blue text materialized before Axcel, humming softly. The moment it appeared, warmth flooded through his veins. His heartbeat steadied; the pain in his arm ebbed away.
> [LEVEL UP × 10]
[Current Level: 10]
[Mana Capacity + 450%]
[Ability Unlocked – Full Count]
He staggered slightly as the rush of power hit him. His sword pulsed once, dark mana wrapping around his arm before fading into his skin. He could feel it the system, the power, the strange bond between himself and the dungeon itself.
Helena watched silently, lips parted in faint surprise. Hebana smiled knowingly. "There it is. The mark of synchronization."
Axcel flexed his hand, still feeling the phantom hum beneath his skin. "Full Count?"
"The ability to balance," Hebana explained. "Every time your enemy's mana surpasses yours, your body adapts equalizing, redirecting, counting it back. A defensive evolution system. Rare even among the chosen."
"So… the harder I'm pushed…"
"The stronger you become," Hebana finished. "But it comes with a cost. You can't rely on it recklessly, or it will devour your essence entirely."
Axcel nodded slowly, absorbing every word. His gaze flicked to Helena again; she was staring at him with an expression he couldn't quite read half challenge, half intrigue.
When their eyes met, she looked away first.
Hebana's staff struck the marble once more, and the air shimmered. The other women stepped aside, forming a wide circle around the two of them. At the center of that space, a new symbol appeared a seven-pointed sigil etched in pure light.
"Your true journey begins now," Hebana said. "Seven dungeons surround Narvana, each older than time itself. Each ruled by a guardian who once defied the gods. To break your chains to become more than a slave you must conquer them all."
Her eyes glowed faintly. "The first one awaits."
The sigil pulsed, revealing a vision of a massive gate at the city's edge a titanic door of obsidian, engraved with living runes that shifted like breathing flesh. From it emanated a mana pressure so heavy that even Axcel's newfound strength felt small against it.
A cold wind rolled through the plaza.
The other mages bowed their heads as the gate flickered in the distance, its heartbeat echoing faintly through the air.
Helena stepped beside Axcel, her tone quieter now. "That's the Gate of Ruin. The weakest of the seven… and still powerful enough to erase armies."
Axcel clenched his fists. "Sounds like a great place to start."
She gave him a sideways glance. "You really don't know when to stop, do you?"
He shrugged, faint grin tugging at his lips. "If I did, I'd be dead already."
Hebana's voice carried through the stillness. "Helena, you'll accompany him to the threshold. Observe, but do not intervene."
Helena hesitated, then bowed slightly. "As you command."
The light around them began to fade, the plaza returning to its tranquil twilight. The other mages dispersed, whispering among themselves. Some looked at Axcel with respect. Others with jealousy.
He turned back toward Hebana. "So this is it?"
"This is it," she said softly. "The Dungeon Slave's path begins here. Fail, and your soul will scatter into the mana streams. Succeed… and you may one day stand as master of realms."
He looked down at his hands the faint black veins of power still visible beneath his skin, the promise of something vast pulsing there.
"Then I'll win," he said simply. "Whatever it takes."
Hebana's smile was slow, knowing, almost proud. "Good. Then step forward."
The world seemed to tilt. The plaza blurred into mist, the sky fracturing into blue shards of mana. The next moment, Axcel and Helena stood before the Gate of Ruin its colossal form rising like a mountain, pulsing with the energy of something ancient and awake.
Helena looked at him, her silver-grey eyes luminous in the gate's glow. "Are you ready?"
Axcel rested a hand on the hilt of his sword, the weight of the world pressing around him. The air thrummed, alive with power and destiny.
He met her gaze, a faint smile forming despite the fear he felt clawing at his chest.
"I'm ready," he said.
The gate began to open.
And the light swallowed them whole.
TO BE CONTINUED...