Derrick advanced through the dungeon's shadowed corridors, the air thick with silence.
According to my novels, this could be a dungeon break, he thought, scanning the empty passageways. But there are no monsters. No signs of life. Strange.
Irene walked beside him, her heels clicking softly against the stone. She stopped abruptly, pointing at faint symbols etched into the wall.
"There's something written here."
Derrick joined her. The markings glowed faintly, ancient and intricate.
"Rune language," he said.
"I can decipher it."
She pulled out her phone, scanning the symbols. Her fingers flew across the screen, piecing together fragments. Derrick watched, patient as ever.
Three minutes ticked by.
"Let me try," he said.
Irene glanced up, a flash of jealousy in her eyes. "You never took exploration classes back in university. Fine—go ahead."
He studied the runes for mere seconds.
"It says Mana."
Irene stared. If anything his intelligence is always beyond genius. But he's never seen runes before… or has he? He skipped those courses entirely. I need answers.
"Derrick… have you deciphered runes before? Or even seen one?"
"No."
She exhaled, the shock settling into quiet resignation. At this rate, nothing he does should surprise me anymore.
"What does mana mean?" she asked.
"Magical power."
He moved deeper into the dungeon. Irene followed, her mind racing.
Something's off, Derrick thought. Even in a break, there should be monsters.This place is dead quiet.
They emerged into a vast, chamber-like throne room of obsidian and bone.
At its center loomed a gigantic throne.
Two hours later.
Jane's eyes fluttered open. Strength surged back into her limbs like a tide.
She pushed free of the rubble, dust cascading from her torn clothes.
The city lay in ruins.
Screams echoed in the distance, awakened humans clashing with monsters under a clearing sky. She walked, taking it in. Bodies littered the streets—human and monstrous. Some people glowed with newfound power, wielding scavenged weapons against the horde.
Her company building stood gutted, windows shattered, walls cracked.
Her car, miraculously intact, waited in the lot.
She slid behind the wheel and drove home through avenues of death, the road a graveyard of corpses.
Two hours earlier.
That's a Kijin, Derrick thought as they entered the throne room.
The creature lounged on its massive throne, back turned; fifteen meters of crimson muscle, curved red horns like scythes. Humanoid, yet unmistakably monstrous.
"Oh? Insects smart enough to find the root cause at last."
The voice boomed, rattling the walls. The throne swiveled slowly, revealing burning coal eyes.
"Look who it is," the Kijin rumbled. "The exiled vampire princess, Irene."
Irene tensed.
"Who are you?" Derrick asked, voice steady.
"I am Kaijn. And you, mortal?"
Derrick said nothing.
Kaijn leaned forward, the obsidian throne groaning. "Too handsome for a human. And the princess doesn't keep weak company. Humans aren't ready to face me yet. So… who are you?"
Silence.
Irene laughed—a sharp, mocking sound.
Kaijn's eyes flashed. The air grew heavy. "I, Kaijn, ask who you are—and you dare ignore me?"
Derrick remained unmoved, his expression one of cold assessment.
Kaijn's will surged. Irene felt the mana gather—a crushing, invisible force that clawed for Derrick's throat. Kill the boy. Shatter her mind. Then end her.
Nothing.
The force broke against Derrick like a wave against a cliff. It did not touch him. It did not even seem to exist where he stood.
Derrick raised a hand.
Kaijn shot upward, pinned against the ceiling, limbs splayed.
Black aura blades erupted from the floor—lightless, razor-edged, humming with oblivion.
Aura blades from the novels, Derrick noted. But these are different. Sharper. Darker.
"How…" Kaijn rasped, voice trembling. "How can you have this much power?"
Irene watched, wide-eyed. He's not just fighting a monarch… he's toying with one.
She had felt it—the surge of Kaijn's mana, coiling into invisible force. A telekinetic strike that should have crushed Derrick's throat. Yet it broke against him like a wave against a cliff, leaving no trace of its passage.
And Derrick's retaliation… there was no mana at all. No gathering of energy, no magical signature. Just will made manifest. The Kijin didn't fly upward—he was plucked. As if by a mind that commanded reality itself.
One requires magic, she realized, a cold understanding dawning. The other requires only thought.
Derrick stepped forward. "Where is the origin of the fog?"
Kaijn spat defiance. "What makes you think I'll—"
Derrick released him—just enough. Kaijn hovered inches above the blades.
"Why should I tell you? I'd rather—"
Derrick let go.
Kaijn fell.
The blades claimed him. No scream. Just silence.
Normal blades can't kill a Kijin, Irene thought, staring at the corpse. No magic signature. Derrick… what did you just do?
Derrick turned to the ceiling, eyes closing. Clairvoyance swept the room. Heightened senses flared.
Found you.
He walked to an empty corner and clenched his fist.
A gigantic, invisible globe shattered, fragments raining unseen.
"Did we just clear it?" Irene asked, excitement breaking her shock.
"Yes."
They left the throne room together.
Ten minutes after Jane arrived home.
Kate stepped out of the emergency room and glanced through the window.
The dark fog was gone.
She walked outside. The hospital grounds were scarred—craters, debris—but the building stood untouched.
Why was the hospital spared?
"Ma'am—" a nurse began.
"Return the patients to their wards," Kate said gently. "It's over."
The nurse nodded and hurried off.
Kate exhaled, tilting her face to the clear sky.
Six months later.
Derrick sat in the family house living room, TV murmuring the news.
"The global apocalypse six months ago reshaped everything. Dungeons spawn worldwide now. Fail to clear one in six days, and it breaks—monsters pour out.
"The Hunters Association has established ranks for the awakened: S at the peak, F at the bottom. Guilds form rapidly.
"Yesterday, Williams Thompson, the S-rank Guildmaster of the world's second-largest Raid Guild, alongside his S- rank Vice Guildmaster, Natasha Ash, cleared an A+ dungeon. Rewards come from treasure chests or monster weapons. Refining monster corpses yields equipment; mana crystals provide clean energy for civilization…"
Derrick listened without expression.
Jane slept upstairs. Kate cooked lunch in the kitchen.
"Food's ready," she called.
Derrick rose and took the seat across from her.
"Derrick," Kate said, smiling warmly as she ate, "let's hang out after this. What do you say?"
"Alright."
They finished in comfortable silence.
Afterward, they went to their rooms.
Derrick opened his wardrobe—rows of black clothes already there. Didn't need to bring any from home.
In her room, Kate stood before the mirror, cheeks pink. We're going on a date.
Minutes later, Derrick descended: black shirt, trousers, tailored coat, shoes. Perfect shadow.
Kate followed in cream-top, skirt, heels. Auburn hair loose, gray eyes bright, graceful curves wrapped in soft light.
Would you look at him, she thought, smiling. The most handsome man I've ever seen.
They left Jane sleeping and drove away in Kate's car.
The restaurant welcomed them like royalty.
Heads turned. Whispers followed.
A new waitress approached Derrick's table, menu trembling. "Does he always look like that?" she whispered to her colleague.
"Always," the veteran replied.
"Model? Celebrity?"
"No. Too cold."
"But only the super-rich come here… and her—she could be famous."
"Yeah," the veteran said. "Seems so."
"Sir, what would you… love to… I mean order?" the new waitress stammered, blushing profusely.
"This." Derrick pointed, voice cool and even.
"And you, ma'am?"
Kate glowered briefly, then softened. "Same as him."
The waitress fled.
"Derrick," Kate said once alone, "don't you think it's time you worked?"
"Worked?"
"I know you love solitude. Serenity. But adventure once in a while… work can give you that. Vacations after."
"What kind of work?"
"You could be a hunter. Your personality fits solo perfectly."
"You mean the fog six months ago?" he asked.
"I hate saving the world," he said flatly. "It's stressful. Inefficient."
Kate reached across, taking his hand. "Solo doesn't mean hero. You choose what you ignore, what you take. No guilds. Heightened privacy. Most avoid it—regulars join guilds for perks, mercenaries contract for freedom. But you, Derrick… you'd be perfect."
She smiled, warm and reassuring.
The waitress returned with spicy chicken and pizza.
"You always eat this?" Kate asked.
"Often."
The next day.
Jane cornered Kate in the kitchen. "Where were you yesterday? I woke up and you were just—gone."
Kate grinned. "If I told you Derrick came by while you slept…"
"He did?" Jane flushed crimson.
"Yeah. We went out to eat. Fancy restaurant."
Jane stormed upstairs. "Fine. Whatever."
Derrick dressed—black on black—and headed to the Hunters Association.
High-end phone out, he filled the online application form as he walked. Earbuds in. World muted.
The association hall buzzed. His presence cut through like a blade. Female hunters whispered, stared.
He took a verification form from an unawakened clerk and sat.
A woman dropped beside him—22, confident. "You're 24? Makes you my senior. I'm Ava."
"Derrick."
"Solo hunter?" she asked, eyeing the form.
"Yes."
She launched into an explanation—guilds, mercenaries, regulars, association hunters, ranks from S (kings) to F (trash), tiers like A+, lifespan boosts.
Derrick listened, filling the form.
Her turn came. She left with a smile.
His turn.
He handed the form to the registrar.
"Solo, huh," the man muttered. "Platform. Hand on the orb. Release your aura."
Derrick placed his palm.
Pure black aura poured out—thick, lightless, absolute.
The registrar checked the screen.
"What! S+ rank?!"
The hall went dead silent.
Derrick collected his ID and walked out.
He found a dungeon portal nearby.
Low-ranked, he thought.
And stepped inside.
Inside the dungeon.
"Mike, Ian—protect our healer!" Amy called, sword flashing against the kobold king.
"Amy, we need backup!" Mike shouted from the rear, shielding Eva while fending off the swarm with Ian. "I can't hold the line and guard her forever!"
She's facing the king, Derrick observed from the shadows. Those two are holding the entire army.
He approached Eva. "Hi."
She turned—and froze. He's… so cool.
"Which rank is this dungeon?"
"Uh… D-rank," she stammered. "Are you the reinforcement—from the association or Brave Guild?"
"No."
He picked up a dropped sword. Blunt, he noted. Novels weren't kidding.
He stepped forward, swinging. The blade moved like an extension of his arm—masterful, fluid.
Amy ignited her sword with "Lesser Dragon's Breath," slashing through the king's shield and bisecting it. She dropped to one knee, panting, leaning on her weapon. Finally.
Efficient skill, Derrick thought.
He mimicked it—flames erupting along his blade. One slash: twenty-two kobolds down.
Not enough.
He pushed further, unconsciously upgrading to "Greater Dragon's Breath." Hundreds fell in a single arc.
Amy stared. That's my unique skill. How did he copy it? And upgrade it?
She rose, joining Mike and Ian, who watched in stunned silence.
"He lived by the sword," Ian murmured. "Proficiency like that…"
"Who is he?" Amy asked.
"Don't know," Eva said. "At least he's a hunter."
Derrick's sword shattered mid-swing. He retreated a step, facing the snarling horde.
Time for hands.
He dashed in, fists blurring. Thousands of kobolds exploded under the impacts.
"Now he's bare-handed against a mega colony," Amy whispered.
"Reckless for an S- rank," Ian said. "Or… solo hunter?"
"Solos are rare—maybe a thousand worldwide," Mike added. "Insane proficiency, introvert, wealthy. Look at him—all black, high-end everything."
"Kobolds E- rank alone," Eva noted. "Colony E+. Mega colony C-."
"What rank is he?" Amy asked. "Hunters max two ranks up with extreme training. S-rank to S+ is theoretical—near impossible."
"No S+ exists," Ian said. "This… this is beyond."
Derrick finished the last kobold and approached.
"Rank of these monsters?" he asked Eva.
"Kobolds E-."
"Colony?"
"E+."
"Mega colony?"
"D+, maybe C- with this size."
"Dungeon rank?"
"D-rank."
Obvious questions, they thought.
"No weapon?" Ian asked.
"Don't know where to buy."
"What?!"
"Just registered today."
"What the hell?!"
"Ever wielded a sword before?"
"No."
Super rookie, they concluded silently.
"Something's off," Derrick said.
"Back to the exit," Mike urged.
They turned.
Derrick didn't follow.
Amy examined the portal. "This isn't a dungeon. It's a gate."
"What's a gate?" Eva asked.
"Subtler. Unrankable officially. Minimum B+ from what I've seen." Ian answered. "This could be S-… or S."
Irene stepped out of the elevator into the hushed luxury of the fifth floor. The corridor smelled faintly of polished wood and old money. An elderly woman from a lower floor smiled as they shared the ride earlier.
"You live high up, young lady. Must be renting?"
"I bought it," Irene replied, a note of pride slipping through her calm.
The woman nodded approvingly. "Wise for your age."
The doors closed. Irene walked to her apartment, key turning with a soft click.
Inside, space unfolded—high ceilings, color-shifting lights bathing the rooms in subtle amber. High-end chairs in every corner: sitting room, dining, bedroom, guest. A massive smart TV dominated one wall, flanked by sound systems that could fill a concert hall. Everything screamed wealth earned the hard way.
She dropped her red handbag onto a chair and sank into another, the leather cool against her skin.
The silence pressed in.
If only Mother hadn't gone into hibernation… 199 years now.
Her fingers traced the armrest. The Elders turned corrupt the moment she was gone. They rule the vampires in her absence. The throne rejects anyone but the chosen royal progenitor—if not for that, they'd have claimed it long ago.
Anger rose like bile. They tried to kill her. Failed. Realized a true progenitor is untouchable. So they sealed her in a coffin, hid it where no one can find. Then framed me for treason. Rebellion. Exiled me to bury the secret.
She drew a nail across her palm. Blood welled—dark, rich. With a thought, it lifted, swirling into intricate patterns in the air. The motion soothed her, anguish bleeding out with every twist of crimson.
After a time, the blood settled back into her skin. She stopped, gaze falling to the ring on her left hand.
Four years ago. Sunscreen every day, weakened by light. Derrick gave me this. "Wear it," he said. "No more worry."
It worked. Perfectly.
I know Lily's disappearance pained him. But I'm here. Always here.
She smiled at the ring, warm and private.
Derrick… my love.
Inside the gate.
Derrick trekked mile after mile, cutting down anything that crossed his path. Monsters fell without ceremony—claws, fangs, spells. Nothing slowed him.
He crested a hill and stopped.
Below sprawled an empire: medieval spires, stone walls, banners snapping in the wind. Dragons and dragonoids moved through the streets—some in full beast form, others humanoid with elegant horns or longer, curved ones.
Dragons can hide their horns. Dragonoids can't. Novels paying off again.
He leaped from the 300-meter drop, landing light as a shadow.
The city was alive with forges and markets, the air thick with smoke and mana. Guards in scaled armor eyed him but said nothing.
Where's the boss?
Clairvoyance flared.
Found you.
A voice drifted from the side—smooth, ancient, feminine.
"An aura of pure black."
Derrick turned. A woman stood there: tall, elegant, human-like but unmistakably draconic. Beauty that felt timeless.
"So what of it?" he replied, cold.
She smiled. "No human could wield pure black. In four thousand years, I've never seen an entity with your aura… or your allure."
"Who are you?"
"Viseris."
"What does my aura mean?"
"Your essence. Who you truly are. Black is oblivion. Death. The source of all." Her eyes gleamed. "Oh entity, you must grow stronger. What brings you here?"
Oh entity? Cliché.
"To kill a boss monster," he said flatly.
She inclined her head and vanished into the crowd.
Derrick moved on.
The imperial palace loomed—gold and crimson, guarded by dragonoids in full armor.
"State your business," one barked.
"Let me pass."
True telepathy brushed their minds. Their eyes glazed.
"You may enter."
Hypnotizing dragonoids takes this much mental energy. Dragons would be worse. And psychic abilities don't use mana.
He stepped inside.
Voices echoed from a side chamber.
"That abomination princess got what she deserved—dragon and demon blood, stirring rebellion. Shameless."
Not my concern.
The king's chamber was vast, silent. The Dragon King slept on a bed of gold and jewels, massive even in human form.
Asleep. Easier.
Derrick extended a hand. Chronokinesis flowed—time accelerating decay.
Not strong enough. More energy.
He strained, pouring mental power into the ability. Minutes passed.
The king crumbled to ash.
Derrick swept the remains aside, pocketed several gold bars with psychomnesis, and attempted psiportation.
Mental energy critically low.
He materialized in the royal prison instead.
Dammit. Head's splitting.
Cells lined the walls. A weak voice called from one.
"Who's there?"
Night vision activated. He approached.
Lily. Chained, starved, barely conscious.
That's the princess they mentioned. Not my business.
But he punched through the iron bars anyway. Lifted her fragile form.
Hasn't eaten in weeks. Too weak to open her eyes.
He slung her over his back.
One gamble left. Teleport both of us out.
Psiportation flared.
They appeared on the hill outside—mental strength nearly gone. Severe fatigue crashed over him like a wave.
He adjusted Lily on his back and ran. Full speed. Wind whipped past.
Mana in the air stirred her. Lily's eyes fluttered open.
She was pressed against a body of ethereal strength—chiseled, powerful. A clean, frost-kissed scent enveloped her.
Familiar.
Derrick…
Hope, long dead, ignited.
She gripped him tighter.
I thought I'd never see you again.
One minute of blinding speed.
They reached the gate exit. The other hunters were gone.
Derrick stepped through. The portal collapsed behind him.
He carried Lily straight to the family house.
One hour earlier.
"Do you think that hunter will beat the boss?" Eva asked, voice small.
"Better hope so," Mike said. "That's our only way out. And this is a Gate—time stretches worse here. One hour inside is five outside. A regular dungeon's only one to three."
They waited twenty more minutes.
"Try the exit again," Amy said.
They did.
And stepped into daylight.
"We're out," Ian breathed. "Dungeons vanish after two hours cleared. Gates stay open until the clearer leaves."
They scattered, minds reeling.
Derrick arrived home, Lily limp in his arms. He laid her on the sofa and left without a word.
Jane watched from the dining room, frozen.
Kate came downstairs. Stopped dead.
"Who is—wait. Lily?"
"Lily!" Jane exclaimed, rushing over.
"It's her," Jane confirmed as Lily stirred.
Kate fetched lunch from the kitchen.
Lily woke fully at the name "Derrick."
"Where is he?" she whispered.
Jane sat beside her. "He brought you here. Then left."
Lily's eyes filled. "He's still mad. My naivety… I hurt him so much."
She sobbed.
Kate set the plate down, hand on her back. "He's gone. But you're here now."
"Yeah," Jane snapped, voice rising. "Look at what your naivete did! Do you even know how much pain you caused him?"
She stormed off.
Lily cried harder. "She's right. She's so right."
Kate patted her gently.
"I'm mad too," Kate admitted softly. "But it'll be alright."