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AND
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The echo of steel boots against marble thundered through the castle halls. Damien dashed forward, twin daggers gleaming under the pale light of chandeliers that swung from cracked ceilings. The entire corridor ahead of him came alive with motion — dozens of armored knights rising from their kneeling positions, eyes burning with an ethereal blue glow within hollow helms.
The first wave came without hesitation — sword-bearing knights rushed him from both sides. Damien's eyes sharpened, Mind's Eye activating with a soft pulse in his temples. Time seemed to stretch. He slipped between two slashes, parried a third, and twisted low, his blade flashing once — the knight's helmet flew clean off, crashing into the marble with a metallic clang.
Before the body hit the ground, a halberd came sweeping from his right. Damien spun on instinct, using Quicksilver to slide along the polished floor, the blade missing him by inches. He reappeared behind the attacker, planting a dagger between the gaps in its armor. The hollow suit staggered before collapsing into lifeless fragments.
But there was no pause. A squad of spear knights formed a wall across the corridor, their weapons lowering in unison. "Tch…" Damien exhaled sharply, eyes scanning for an opening. The moment they lunged, he dashed forward, weaving between thrusts that cracked the marble. He used one spear as a foothold, leaping high and flipping over them — daggers slashing down as he landed, severing several neck joints cleanly.
Behind him, more footsteps echoed — heavier, slower. He turned to see three hulking figures clad in darker armor wielding maces the size of tree trunks. The ground trembled with every step they took.
"Alright… now we're talking," Damien muttered, cracking his neck.
He rushed one of them, ducking under a swing that shattered a nearby pillar. His daggers sparked as they met the knight's gauntlet — then he drove his knee into its chest, forcing it back. The second came from behind, mace raised high. Damien turned with lightning speed, BloodLust flaring in his veins — his aura burned crimson for an instant. The power surged, his reflexes doubling as he used the first knight's body as leverage, springing up and driving both daggers into the second knight's helmet.
The explosion of force sent fragments scattering like shrapnel.
But the corridor was endless — the deeper he ran, the more of them emerged. Archers lined balconies overhead, their crossbows firing bolts of glowing blue energy. Damien zigzagged through the storm, the air singing around him. He hurled one dagger — it ricocheted off a wall, slicing through two archers before returning to his grasp.
Each kill released faint motes of light that drifted into his skin — energy, experience, whatever this place was made of, it was feeding him power. But his breathing grew heavier; the constant motion, the relentless stream of enemies — it was like the castle itself was alive and testing him.
At one point, he found himself surrounded in a grand hallway where crimson carpets were drenched in dust and ash. Eight knights advanced in perfect formation, their weapons diverse — spears, halberds, greatswords, maces. Their coordination was unnervingly perfect, as if they shared one mind.
"Fine," Damien said under his breath, sliding one foot back and lowering his stance. "Let's see how long that mind lasts."
The floor cracked beneath him as he charged.
The clash was deafening — his movements blurred, daggers striking faster than sight. Sparks erupted with every contact. He ducked under a halberd, parried a mace, then spun to drive a kick into a knight's chest, sending it flying into another. He caught a sword mid-swing, twisted it free, and impaled its owner before hurling the weapon like a spear through another's visor.
As the last of them fell, the echo of clattering armor filled the hall — a metallic rain marking his victory.
Damien straightened, panting lightly. Sweat trickled down his jaw, his daggers gleaming faintly in the dim light. Ahead of him, at the far end of the blood-stained corridor, stood a massive double door — ancient, black, and carved with divine patterns that pulsed faintly like a heartbeat.
He exhaled, wiping a bit of dust off his face."So… that's where the boss is, huh?"
The torches along the wall flared one by one as if answering his challenge.Damien tightened his grip on his blades, eyes fixed forward.
"Alright then… let's see what kind of nightmare waits behind that door."
...
As soon as Damien's foot crossed the threshold of the grand hall, the atmosphere changed. The air grew heavy, the marble beneath his boots gleamed with a dark reflection, and then—his System pulsed violently.
For the first time since Welf, a mission window appeared before his eyes.
[Main Quest: Inheritance of the Shadow Monarch
Objective: Defeat the Former Marshal, Igris
Failure Condition: Death]
Damien's eyes widened. Inheritance? Former Marshal? His instincts screamed danger.
He slowly lifted his gaze toward the far end of the hall—where an empty throne loomed in shadow. Before it, kneeling like a guardian of the dead, was a towering figure clad in blood-red armor. A dark mist poured out from every gap in the plates, and two burning eyes of crimson light stared back at him through the helmet's slit.
The knight—no, the shadow—rose. His movements were smooth, deliberate, ancient. He gripped a massive greatsword with one hand, pointing its edge directly at Damien.
"So… you're my test, huh?" Damien muttered, tightening his stance, daggers flashing into his hands. "Bring it—"
He didn't even finish the sentence.
In an instant, Igris vanished and reappeared above him—his blade descending like a divine judgment. Damien barely managed to cross-guard with his daggers. The impact cracked the floor beneath his feet, and before he could recover, Igris's armored boot slammed into his chin.
The blow launched him across the hall like a ragdoll. His back smashed into the marble wall with a thunderous crack, spiderweb fractures spreading behind him. Blood trickled from the corner of his mouth as he slumped, vision swimming, seeing two… three versions of his opponent.
Through blurred eyes, Damien saw Igris advancing slowly—each step echoing like a funeral bell, sword dragging sparks against the marble floor.
"…Right," Damien muttered, spitting blood and forcing himself to stand. His aura flared, all his skills activating instantly "This… isn't going to be easy."
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If you Like this story! Check out my other story's ! Sukuna in DC! and Dragon Slayer in Marvel!
AND
If you wish to read more or simply support me just because ? than check out my patreon at
"https://www.patreon.com/Riadooo"
You can Get Access to 3 More Chapters OR 7 More Chapters if you want !