The throw slammed Rein into the stone wall with an explosive crack. Dust and shattered rock rained down, swallowing the chamber in a choking haze.

  Kellen, still struggling to stabilize the screaming black book, glanced up—expecting to see a broken body at the base of the rubble.

  He watched the dust settle with cold, detached certainty. No human ribcage was designed to survive that kind of structural collapse; by all rights, Rein should have been …nothing more than a broken heap of meat and bone at the base of the wall.

  For a brief moment, Rein’s body remained pinned against the fractured wall.

  Then it slid down.

  Kellen froze.

  A faint glow clung to the air around Rein—a thin, trembling barrier, still intact.

  “Magic Armor…?” Kellen muttered, disbelief leaking through his voice.

  “Quiet Casting…” He fell silent for a beat, irritation tightening his expression. “Didn’t use it during the Ranking Matches. So you hid it. Of course you did. Always hoarding your trump cards until they rot in your hand, Rein.”

  Rein pushed himself upright.

  His body shook—not with fear, but with the aftershock. He’d layered the defensive spell together with Haste earlier, the moment he stepped deliberately into the shadows.

  He wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth with his thumb, expression cold.

  [LIZ: Magic Armor integrity down to 58%. Some of the impact penetrated—internal damage detected, but not critical. For now.]

  “Next project,” Rein muttered, “is rebuilding this useless defensive structure from scratch.”

  [LIZ: Assuming you survive this junk.]

  The thoughts were Rhys’s—precise, clinical.

  But the pounding heart in his chest, the tension coiled through his muscles, the heat in his throat—that was Rein. The part of him that didn't care about logic, only about hitting back.

  He clenched his fist, then relaxed it, forcing his breathing steady.

  A sharp tearing sound ripped through the air.

  The chain came again.

  It lashed toward him like a steel serpent, fast enough to shear a body in half. The air screamed under the compression, the strike flirting with a sonic boom. Even with Haste, evasion was impossible.

  Rein didn’t dodge.

  He raised his right hand.

  CLANG.

  The impact detonated in a shriek of metal. The chain rebounded violently, smashing into the stone wall behind Kellen and blasting shards of rock across the platform. He ducked instinctively, then looked up—eyes wide.

  Rein hadn’t moved.

  Hovering over his outstretched palm was a circular mana shield—barely a foot wide. A mere third the size of a standard shield. Smooth. Uncracked. The glyphs within it rotated with flawless precision.

  The smirk on Kellen’s face didn't just fade; it curdled. “Impossible. You're cheating again. Aren't you?”

  The Chain Reaper roared.

  It yanked its chain back and unleashed a frenzy of strikes from every angle, the chamber filling with overlapping impacts and showers of sparks.

  Rein’s eyes burned blue.

  Mana Vision flared. His pupils dilated as the small shield moved—alive—it didn’t just block; it parried with surgical twitches, redirecting the chain’s kinetic energy into the floor just before impact.

  Carbyne Magic Shield (Modified).

  Mana compressed to near-singular density, its motion guided by LIZ—calculating vectors, angles, and recoil in real time.

  Rein advanced.

  Step by step.

  Through the storm of impacts and screeching metal, glowing blue glyphs spun around the backs of his hands.

  Thirty feet.

  He brought his left hand up, bracing his right wrist like a gun barrel. Nine micro-magic rings spiraled from his left fingertips, snapping into alignment at the tip of his right index finger.

  “Shotgun.”

  The word was barely a whisper.

  The explosion was not.

  Nine compressed magic missiles—each reduced to a one-centimeter sphere—detonated from his fingertip at supersonic speed. The Chain Reaper staggered, its massive frame hurled backward under the impact.

  “Reload.”

  The rings cycled.

  Another blast thundered through the hall.

  The creature was thrown back ten more feet—its chain arm shredded, torn apart in a spray of blackened mana and fragments of flesh.

  Rein didn’t stop.

  He closed the distance and fired again at mid-range.

  The monster collapsed, crashing onto its back. Dark mana poured from dozens of impact wounds, staining the stone beneath it.

  “…Finally,” Rein said flatly.

  He stopped in front of the fallen creature and tilted his head slightly—eyes lifting toward the platform above.

  Kellen’s face twisted into a warped grin.

  “Not yet! You think this is enough to—Wil—”

  BOOM.

  Rein fired point-blank.

  The Chain Reaper’s head detonated into wet fragments. Corrupted mana and blood splattered the floor, the stench flooding the chamber.

  Rein lowered his hand slowly and looked up.

  “What were you saying?”

  “You’re ruining the prose, Rein! This was supposed to be a slow burn—a tragic crescendo—not this brute-force butchery!”

  Kellen screamed, fury contorting his face. He turned fully toward Rein, the shrieking black book floating behind him. “I was being generous! I was going to close the curtain for you as the true hero—and you just keep trying to tear down my stage!”

  “One more step and I’ll drag you—and every pathetic side character outside—down into—”

  BANG.

  A violet flash snapped from Rein’s fingertip.

  “Pit Viper.”

  The compressed mana round tore through the air and punched cleanly into Kellen’s right thigh. The impact ripped him off his feet, hurling him down from the platform.

  “AAGH—! Are you seriously not listening to a damn word I’m saying?!”

  Kellen screamed, clutching the ruined leg, sweat pouring down his face as he looked up.

  Rein stood over him.

  His gaze was empty.

  “I left your shitty script behind a long time ago.”

  The chamber groaned—the sound of a dimension coming apart.

  Rein reached out and seized The Ekhosar, its black cover writhing and shrieking in his grasp.

  The moment Rein’s fingers closed around the black book, cold surged through his arm.

  Not the chill of stone or air—this was something deeper. A violent resonance that throbbed through bone, …as if the book were a knot of unstable mass and energy—something capable of tearing the dimension apart simply by existing.

  [04:58… 04:57…]

  This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  The dark-red timer in the corner of his vision blinked faster, tighter—like the heartbeat of a machine about to stall.

  Cold sweat beaded along his hairline. His jaw locked without him noticing.

  Of course. The perfect horror trope ending:

  hand the protagonist a magical thermonuclear nuke and expect him to defuse it in five minutes.

  Rein looked down at the black cover in his hand, then at Kellen—bleeding on the floor below. The silence of the control chamber began to warp, filled by the groan of twisted mana. Static crawled across the air like invisible sparks.

  “All right, LIZ…” Rein drew a deep breath, forcing his mind into a narrow, ruthless focus.

  “Let’s disarm this bootleg Necronomicon.”

  …

  …

  Boris had barely escaped the skeleton swarm. But luck, it seemed, was a finite resource—and he had just run out.

  He stepped wrong—on something hidden, mechanical—and the floor dropped out from under him.

  The world snapped sideways.

  His heavier frame vanished into a dark shaft, slid hard down a steep stone chute, and crashed onto freezing rock in a rough, bruising roll.

  He lay there for half a breath, teeth clenched, lungs burning.

  When he pushed himself up, the space around him came into view.

  A bridge.

  An ancient stone bridge stretching so far he couldn’t see its end—suspended over nothing. Darkness on both sides, and darkness below. A bottomless pit that swallowed light.

  Boris checked himself quickly. The earlier wounds from the undead were screaming now, but nothing felt broken. He could still move.

  Then something bright flared at the far left edge of the bridge—tiny at first, then closing at an impossible speed.

  Flare.

  His eyes narrowed—and the runner behind it resolved into a familiar figure.

  Mira.

  She looked wrecked. Scraped raw, dirt and blood smeared across her skin. Her ankle was crudely wrapped with torn cloth, and she was running like the last breath of her life depended on it.

  “Mira—! You—”

  He didn’t get the chance to finish.

  She blew past him like a gust of wind, her scream flinging itself back over her shoulder.

  “BORIS! RUNNNNN!”

  Boris froze for a fraction of a second.

  Then he turned.

  Behind her, the Flare’s fading light caught the shape of something huge and wrong—an amber-eyed mass of muscle and fur moving on all fours, claws scraping stone in a shriek that made his teeth ache.

  A lycan.

  “Oh, you’ve gotta be kidding me—!”

  Boris whipped around and ran.

  Heavy footfalls hammered close behind them. Too close. Close enough that the beast’s breath might as well have been on his neck.

  He forced speed into his legs until pain turned to white noise. Two strides behind Mira—only two—but somehow she kept pulling ahead, as if she’d grown wings.

  Wait. That—

  Did she cast Haste and leave me to die? That cheating little—

  He wanted to curse her out properly, but he could barely spare the air to breathe, let alone shout.

  And he couldn’t cast it himself.

  His mana was running thin—dangerously thin, close to depletion. He’d been saving the last scrap for the moment his life truly depended on it.

  Then the dungeon roared.

  A deep, violent boom echoed from somewhere far below—followed by a quake that slammed through the bridge like a giant’s fist.

  Boris’s legs buckled. He hit the stone hard.

  Mira stumbled. Even the lycan faltered, claws skittering as it fought for balance.

  The shaking lasted an eternity.

  When it finally eased, dust and rock poured from above. Some chunks hit the bridge and cracked it open. Others fell—silently—into the abyss.

  The lycan’s head snapped around, confused for a heartbeat.

  Then it turned back.

  Its lips peeled back, saliva stringing between its teeth. It raised one clawed foot, ready to leap—

  CRASH.

  A massive slab of stone dropped from the ceiling at full speed.

  It obliterated the lycan.

  Stone and fur vanished under the impact, and the entire section of bridge beneath it shattered—collapsing into the pit in a single, horrifying blink.

  Boris, barely twenty feet away, stared.

  “Holy—”

  …

  Mira stood frozen too, face slack with shock.

  Relief didn’t even last three seconds.

  The bridge began to die.

  A tremor ran through it, then another—cracks spiderwebbing outward, as if the structure were being erased from behind them.

  The path they’d come from started collapsing piece by piece, falling into darkness in a chain reaction that accelerated with every breath.

  “Up!” Mira yanked Boris by the arm, hauling him to his feet. Up close he saw how bad she really looked—mud, blood, bruises, raw scratches. Her eyes were blown wide, fixed on a survival instinct that had long since burned away her fear.

  “If you’ve got enough mana left to cast Haste,” she rasped, “now’s the time to burn your last card, Boris—unless you want to become trash at the bottom of that pit!”

  “Where the hell do we run?!” he yelled back, already knowing she didn’t have an answer.

  The bridge answered instead.

  A sharp crack split the stone beneath their feet.

  “Okay,” Boris gasped, “anywhere—but not here!”

  He detonated the last of his mana into his legs.

  “Haste.”

  They launched forward.

  The stone they’d been standing on collapsed the instant they left it—dropping into the abyss like it had never existed.

  And the collapse behind them sped up again, chasing them.

  “Move!” Mira shouted, her voice torn raw. Her injured ankle tried to betray her—but she forced it down with brute enhancement and speed magic layered together, wringing power from her body without caring what it would cost later.

  The far end of the bridge was still nearly a thousand feet away.

  A strange green light glowed there, low and unnatural, staining the stone like a warning.

  They didn’t have the luxury to question it.

  As they sprinted, Boris noticed something that made his stomach twist.

  Some of the falling debris didn’t just drop.

  It fell to a certain depth—and then vanished.

  BOOM.

  Another boulder crashed down ahead of them, obliterating the bridge—leaving a gap nearly twenty feet wide.

  Behind them, the bridge was still collapsing.

  No retreat.

  Mira’s eyes sharpened.

  She made a decision.

  She cast Levitate—not on herself, but into the air above the void, shaping the spell into a trembling step.

  It was a basic wind spell meant to support a wounded body. Without ground beneath it, it would destabilize and fail fast.

  It's not even close to Rein's version.

  Just one heartbeat, Mira snarled inwardly. That’s all I need.

  She sprinted into empty space.

  Her foot kissed the wavering glyph—one flicker of resistance—just enough to redirect her momentum.

  And she rolled onto the far side of the bridge, barely catching herself before she slid into the pit.

  Boris jumped after her.

  And the moment his foot hit the same fading wind glyph—

  It shattered.

  The spell collapsed under his weight and the impact, breaking apart like glass—

  and Boris’s body dropped.

  Boris felt the air vanish beneath his feet.

  His stomach dropped straight to his ankles as his body tipped forward—then plunged into the black void below.

  “Shit—!”

  For one raw second, death reached up with open hands.

  Then—

  His boots slammed into something solid.

  Not stone.

  But air—compressed so hard it might as well have been a wall.

  He jolted, knees buckling as the invisible platform caught him mid-drop.

  “Levitate!”

  Above, Mira—down on one knee, chest heaving—had already thrown another magic cycle into place, her voice tearing out of her like a last breath.

  The spell held—just long enough.

  Boris kicked off the tiny cyclone of force like a sprung trap, launching himself sideways—back toward the bridge—then crashed onto stone in a graceless sprawl.

  He lay there for a heartbeat, gulping air so hard his lungs felt ready to burst.

  “…You owe me,” Mira rasped, giving him a thin, dust-smeared smile.

  “Yeah, yeah,” Boris wheezed, half-laughing through it. “If we live, I’ll buy you lunch for a whole month. I swear.”

  He shoved himself up and grabbed her arm, hauling her upright with him. They held eye contact for a split second—

  Then both snapped their gaze forward.

  The green glow at the far end was close now. Too close to stop.

  Behind them, the bridge was still dying—stone splitting, collapsing, the sound of it chasing them like teeth.

  They ran.

  They ran on whatever was left.

  Warm blood seeped through the cloth binding Mira’s ankle, streaking the stone behind her, but she didn’t even look down.

  Less than fifty feet to the glowing zone—and Mira’s Haste hit its limit.

  The spell cut out mid-stride.

  Her small body folded, slamming to her knees as pain detonated through every muscle like a thousand needles.

  But she wasn’t left behind.

  Boris’s thick arm hooked under her, yanking her up. He took her weight onto his shoulder and forced his legs to move, teeth clenched so hard his jaw screamed.

  Step after step, dragging both of them toward the light.

  The last section of bridge behind them collapsed with a roar—

  And they jumped.

  They hit the green surface and sprawled without caring what it was. It rippled beneath them, alive in a way stone had no right to be.

  Silence swallowed everything else—so unnatural it felt like the dungeon was holding its breath.

  Their panting bounced back and forth in that quiet.

  Then Boris let out a laugh.

  A cracked, breathless laugh—like he’d finally gone insane.

  “…What are you laughing at?” Mira asked without turning her head. She felt like her body might tear itself apart if she moved.

  Boris coughed, still grinning through the pain. “I’m just thinking… if Rein’s still stuck in here, and we actually make it out… you’ll have a whole stack of horror stories to dump on him.”

  He laughed again, almost choking on it.

  “Just imagining his dumb, shocked face—”

  “Oh, shut up,” Mira muttered, trying to roll her head toward him. “I’m not as dramatic as you think.”

  But her words died in her throat.

  The space where Boris had been—was empty.

  Gone.

  No voice. Not even the scrape of movement.

  “Wha— Boris? Where are you—?”

  She didn’t get to finish.

  Something cold and wrong crawled through her body.

  Mira stared at her hands. At her arms.

  They were dissolving.

  Breaking apart into pale green motes—soft, shimmering dust—lifting upward like ash caught in a silent wind.

  The sense of weight in her limbs faded. Sensation thinned into nothing, replaced by a terrifying lightness—The connection between her mind and her limbs just… severed—her very existence leaking into the green void like ink in water.

  Then the green beneath her flared—

  A sudden, brilliant pulse—

  And it swallowed her whole.

  Leaving nothing behind but the deep, echoing groan of a dungeon collapsing into oblivion.

  These entries expand the lore and mechanics introduced in this chapter.

  Completely optional—read only if you enjoy diving deeper into the system.

  Quiet Casting (Update)

  A technique allowing a mage to cast spells without vocal incantation or visible glyph activation. Rein was revealed to have kept this hidden during prior Ranking Matches, using it strategically only during life-threatening encounters.

  Special Note: Master-level technique requiring high mana control.

  Carbyne Magic Shield (Modified)

  A precision-engineered, miniaturized version of the standard Carbyne Magic Shield. Rein’s version is one-third the normal size but can parry, redirect, and absorb kinetic force with superior efficiency, acting like a floating shield. The modified shield is controlled in real-time by LIZ's trajectory calculations.

  Trait: Highly compact, mana-efficient, AI-assisted defense.

  Shotgun

  A close-range spell technique where nine micro-magic missiles are compressed into one-centimeter spheres and fired simultaneously from the caster's fingertip. Highly destructive at short range.

  Style: Mana Gunslinger / Multi-Launch System.

  Note: Mana rings spin up like a revolver chamber to allow "reloading."

  Chain Reaper

  A massive cursed creature wielding a living chain weapon. Possesses incredible strength and speed, capable of attacking from all directions simultaneously. Rein disables and ultimately destroys it using advanced magic and precision attacks.

  Ekhosar Def’vor (Update)

  The cursed black book that acts as the core of the dungeon collapse and Kellen’s script-driven reality. Its mana signature is unstable and potentially apocalyptic, described as a "magical thermonuclear bomb." When Rein grabs it, a timer initiates — implying imminent collapse or critical magical overload.

  Magical thermonuclear bomb.

  Rein compares the Ekhosar to a nuke, emphasizing the scale of danger it represents—not in raw explosive power, but in its chaotic, unstable magical nature.