The dungeon swallowed him without warning.
There was no rupture in the sky, no siren, no ripple of mana. One moment Lunaria stood upon the edge of the city, watching the horizon for the next breach, and the next the world inverted.
Space folded.
Light vanished.
Sound stretched into a hollow echo.
And then—impact.
Stone shattered beneath his feet as Lunaria landed within a vast cavern of obsidian and bone. The air was thick, heavy with ancient mana that tasted of dust, decay, and something older than time itself. His silver hair floated slowly before settling, the strands catching faint violet light emitted by glowing veins in the cavern walls.
The system reacted instantly.
[Warning. Spatial Displacement Detected.]
[Dungeon Classification: Unknown.]
[Designation: Forgotten Abyss.]
[Exit Path: Unavailable.]
[Threat Level: City Annihilation-Class.]
The cavern extended in all directions, an endless cathedral of darkness. Pillars rose like petrified giants. Rivers of dim light pulsed beneath translucent stone floors. The air hummed, alive, aware.
Lunaria exhaled.
He did not panic.
He did not search for an exit.
He lifted his sword.
From the shadows, movement began.
At first, they emerged slowly.
One.
Ten.
Hundreds.
Then thousands.
They were not beasts, nor demons, nor constructs. They were warriors—figures clad in fractured armor of abyssal steel, each radiating pressure equal to an S-ranked hunter. Their eyes burned with cold purpose. Their blades shimmered with chaos.
An army.
A forgotten army.
They stepped forward as one.
The dungeon breathed.
The ground trembled.
Lunaria stood alone.
The system's voice lowered, almost reverent.
[S-Rank Hostiles Detected.]
[Estimated Count: Exceeding 100,000.]
[Recommended Action: Impossible.]
Lunaria removed the ribbon.
The soft band slipped from his wrist and drifted into the darkness.
His hair fell.
Moonlight silver cascaded down his back, flowing freely as the air sharpened around him. His presence changed—not louder, not heavier, but infinitely more absolute.
The first wave charged.
The cavern became a storm.
Blades howled.
Mana erupted.
Reality bent.
Lunaria moved.
He did not strike first.
He vanished.
A ripple of distortion passed through the front line.
Then bodies fell.
Not cut in half.
Not shattered.
Simply—ended.
He flowed between them like breath between heartbeats. Every step rewrote space. Every motion became a line of erasure. His sword did not swing—it traced inevitability.
The army adapted.
Ranks shifted.
Formations changed.
Wings unfolded.
Spells ignited.
Gravity anchors locked.
A thousand blades descended.
Lunaria turned.
The cavern brightened.
His movement became rhythm.
A dance no eye could follow.
A symphony no mind could process.
Each strike carried refinement beyond technique. Every arc harmonized abyssal logic with chaos flow. The dungeon itself recoiled.
The system surged.
[Experience Overflow.]
[Level Increased: 120 → 150 → 200.]
[Adaptive Growth Accelerating.]
The warriors did not stop.
They kept coming.
Wave after wave.
A hundred fell.
A thousand followed.
Ten thousand vanished.
Lunaria did not tire.
Time lost meaning.
The cavern became a battlefield of endless motion—silver arcs against black tides. He moved through dimensions, through layers of reality, through the dungeon's own consciousness.
The army evolved.
New forms emerged.
Colossi formed from fused warriors.
Blades became storms.
Spells became catastrophes.
The dungeon itself began to intervene—walls shifted, gravity inverted, space looped.
Lunaria adapted faster.
He learned.
Not through thought.
Through motion.
He stepped on collapsing air.
Cut through spells before they formed.
Moved before time caught up.
The system pulsed relentlessly.
[Level Increased: 250.]
[Level Increased: 300.]
[Warning. Power Scaling Exceeding System Architecture.]
The warriors began to hesitate.
Not from fear.
From recognition.
They had guarded this abyss for millennia.
They had slaughtered invaders across eras.
They had erased kings, gods, civilizations.
But this—
This was not conquest.
This was inevitability.
Lunaria advanced.
Each step erased thousands.
His sword glowed with layered radiance—abyssal depth intertwined with chaos clarity. He was no longer merely cutting.
He was rewriting.
The dungeon screamed.
A central spire emerged—a throne of void crystal, crowned by an entity formed from the fused will of the abyss. Its presence eclipsed the army.
A god of forgetting.
It spoke without sound.
The cavern collapsed inward.
Lunaria stepped forward.
The system spoke, strained.
[Entity-Class Sovereign Detected.]
[Level Recommendation: Undefined.]
[Your Current Level: 360.]
The god struck.
Not with force.
With erasure.
Entire segments of existence vanished.
Lunaria moved through the void.
His blade met absence.
The collision birthed light.
A single line traced across the god's form.
The abyss fractured.
The entity screamed.
Lunaria advanced again.
The system surged.
[Level Increased: 380.]
The god unleashed its memory.
Eras collapsed.
Worlds echoed.
Civilizations died again and again.
Lunaria walked through history and cut it.
One step.
One strike.
One truth.
The throne shattered.
The god unraveled.
The army ceased.
Silence reclaimed the abyss.
The system's voice trembled.
[Level Increased: 400.]
[Dungeon Core Integrity Failing.]
[Warning. Forgotten Abyss Collapse Imminent.]
Lunaria stood amidst infinite ruin, silver hair flowing in the settling dark. The dungeon's heart cracked above him, releasing a blinding pillar of light.
Far above, in the real world, the city shook.
A shadow formed in the sky.
A gate larger than any before.
The Forgotten Abyss was rising.
And Lunaria was still inside.