A low voice laced with mischief broke the stillness…
"Hey, seeker!"
"Hm?"
"Wanna play?"
***
Lucifer once again stood before the dungeon’s beginnings. The grand structure loomed with an almost hypnotic allure, a fusion of stark beauty and latent menace. Its facade, hewn from pristine white marble, embraced the sun's warm light in all of its glory. Towering pillars of blackstone framed the entrance, their surfaces polished to an obsidian sheen that caught the faintest glimmers of light, each subtle reflection hinting at the darkness within—a structure so precise and harmonious it seemed to pulse with a life of its own—a quiet heartbeat against the noisy world.
He waited, still and silent, letting the grandeur of the place wash over him. For once, he found himself able to appreciate beauty in its purest form, free from the chatter of others, unburdened by the weight of expectation.
Alone, truly alone, he allowed himself this fleeting moment of peace.
The entrance itself was a spectacle of understated elegance, a grand doorway draped in a rich, cascading crimson cloth. The fabric, fine and gleaming, seemed almost alive, its deep red hue catching the light with a warmth that promised welcome. There were no heavy doors to swing open, no locks or bolts to undo—just the fluid ease of passing through the material’s soft embrace, as though the very air invited entry.
The curtains moved slightly, as if the breeze toyed with them, and eventually parted, revealing a harrowing sight: two men staggering forward, their forms broken and battered. They were draped in bloodstains. Bruises marred their skin like dark constellations, and their breaths came in shallow, uneven gasps.
One of them was barely clinging to life, his arm hung limply around the other’s neck, a desperate lifeline as his legs dragged weakly across the ground.
And his other arm?
There wasn’t one.
Where it should have been, there was only a jagged stump, torn and brutalized.
Lucifer’s gaze shifted lazily toward them, his amber eyes narrowing ever so slightly in a moment of recognition. His expression carried a detached curiosity, as though it's only natural for moths to burn when closing in too much against merciless fires.
He hummed, a low, thoughtful "Hm?"
The men, their voices trembling under the weight of exhaustion, pleaded for his assistance. "Can you... call for help?" one rasped, poiting towards his waist with his gaze.
With a nonchalant nod, Lucifer slipped a hand into the wounded man’s pocket, extracting a battered smartphone. His fingers, unnervingly steady, dialed the emergency line with a deliberate calm. As the device hummed its signal, his gaze returned to them, his voice smooth yet careless.
"What happened to you two?" he asked, the words a curious melody rather than a demand.
They exchanged a glance, their faces pale and drawn, before one managed to speak, his words halting and laced with fear. "Inside Floor 0... The usual dormant boss had awakened!"
"Hm? The Meteorite Wannabe, uh- bird thingy, right?"
The speaking man seemed confused for a moment, but didn't gave it too much thgouht. He corrected Luke instead. "N-no... The boss of floor 0 is a Kerbearus. And it's awfully active right now."
Lucifer’s lips curved faintly—whether in amusement or calculation, it was impossible to tell, but a murmur had escaped him.
"Oya? More money?"
And so, Lucifer waltzed through the curtains, with no grace whatsoever, as the men were carried inside the ambulance. He stepped forward, the red cloth parting around him like the gates of hell itself.
He had no intention of lingering; time was a luxury after all. His curiosity tugged him forward, eager to discover what other monstrosities awaited him deeper within. Perhaps one of those TERRODACTYLS Kai had mentioned when they first crossed paths.
A smile crept across Lucifer’s face, and with it, tendrils of black, molten flesh unfurled around him like serpents, pulsating with a sickening rhythm as he glided through the barren expanse of Floor 1. The surroundings were unremarkable, a mere functional hallway meant to serve as a bridge to the real spectacle. There were a few scattered decorative plants, an orange tree here and there, a mere distraction, not worthy of a second glance.
No, they—the monsters—were the true marvels. Each one of them was a grotesque tapestry of terror, but it was the shimmering gemstone nestled in their chests that truly caught Lucifer’s eye. These jewels, pulsating with eerie life, seemed to serve as the very core of these creatures, their hearts in the most literal sense. The larger the threat, the more radiant and immense the gemstone, as if each one contained the raw energy of a small star, capable of powering entire mansions with an effortless surge of power for years to come—at least this much he studied at the library.
He chuckled darkly. "Solar panels—who?" A sadistic grin tugging at his lips. The idea of relying on something as mundane as sunlight seemed laughable in the presence of such living batteries.
Kerbearus—as its name suggests—is a grotesque aberration, a beast that mimics the form of a bear but lacks the mastery to control its magic shape. The result is a malformed chimera: a three-headed creature with one head where it rightfully belongs, and two grotesque extras jutting out from each shoulder.
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Its patchwork frame exudes raw, untamed power, bristling with the chaotic energy of failed magic. While its form may lack elegance or precision, the beast is no less deadly. A low-tier chimera in classification, perhaps—but more than sufficient to crush weaklings or catch unprepared warriors off guard. Each step it takes reverberates with a primal threat, a reminder that any and all imperfections will result in death while inside dungeons.
Lucifer stepped onto Floor 0, his boots touching the ground as the narrow, sterile halls gave way to an astonishing transformation. The space around him seemed to dissolve—walls and ceilings vanishing to be replaced by the infinite stretch of a clear, blue sky. The air was crisp, tinged with the faint scent of ozone and decay, and the vastness seemed to swallow him whole. But it wasn’t the sky that demanded his attention—it was the grotesque scene unfolding before his eyes.
The beast was feasting ravenously, its gnarled claws dug deep into the torso of a fallen man, flesh tearing with each sickening rip. The stench of blood was sharp, the beast’s feral growls drowning out the distant sound of the wind.
image [https://i.imgur.com/KHZlnz8.jpeg]
Lucifer watched, his gaze calm, as the brutal image settled into his mind. "So, those two guys were actually a party of three, huh?" he murmured, his voice barely more than a breath. There was no anger in his words, only cold curiosity—an observer watching the inevitable play out.
Without so much as a sound, he blitzed beneath the abomination’s gaping maw, his movements swift and precise, like a shadow cutting through the air. His hands remained coolly tucked in his pockets as he drove his forehead into the creature’s chin with an explosive impact. The sickening crack of bone echoed through the air as the force of the blow sent the creature rocketing into the sky.
For a long, suspended moment, the beast hung in the air, like a ragdoll caught in a cruel wind. Time seemed to stretch, it felt as if the very heavens themselves had claimed it.
After a full minute a brutal thud reached the ground, the beast slammed back to the earth, landing on its back with a resonant crack that split the silence. It let out a roar—a shrill, horrific sound that tore through the air, so powerful and ear-piercing that it would have rivaled the roar of the limousine-lizards of the outside world.
It's response was nothing more than pure, animalistic fear—its very essence seemed to quiver, its soul, if such a thing existed, swallowed by the abyss of terror. Desperately, it turned its back on Lucifer, its instincts urging it to flee, to escape whatever nightmarish force had just crushed it into submission. But it was already too late.
Lucifer’s tendrils, slick and black as tar, were already coiling around the creature’s leg in an unbreakable grip.
The beast thrashed in a futile attempt to escape, its legs broke from the sheer pressure of its jump. A failed attempt to ascend, as though the sky could offer sanctuary, even temporary. But Lucifer, with a sadistic, almost playful smirk, yanked it back down to earth with a single, effortless tug. The creature crashed into the ground once again, with bone-shattering force, a cruel, mocking joke in Lucifer’s twisted sense of humor.
The grin that spread across his face was sickening, a dark reflection of the pain he inflicted, his eyes glinting with cold amusement.
He raised his hands, and with a slow, deliberate motion, he’d morphed and stretched them, twisting into two immense, jagged blades—gleaming and impossibly sharp, the edges humming with a malevolent energy.
“Here, money-money-money," he murmured, as though calling a stray cat.
The creature, its fear-driven instincts flickering with a final surge of desperation, twisted its grotesque heads to face Lucifer. In an instant, it jabbed its claw into the ground, ripping a ball of stone from the boulder it had landed on, throwing it at Luke like a guided missile. He was surprised for a moment, eyes widened in curiosity, but never a shred of fear or worry had been showcased—he was simply impressed that the creature caught him off-guard. Lucifer didn't dodge, he took the boulder full-on.
His head was torn away from his body, a clean and brutal strike that would have been the end of any normal adversary.
However, he wasn't normal... His form began to shift and writhe, his body regenerating in a grotesque display of raw power. The missing head reappeared, reforming from the abyss of his own flesh, as though it had never been severed. He didn’t even flinch, let alone acknowledge the attack—his expression remained eerily calm, his lips curling into that same twisted smile.
With a fluid, almost casual grace, Lucifer continued to close the distance between them once more. His eyes, molten and unblinking, never left the creature as he moved forward, each step purposefully slow, as though he were savoring the moment.
His voice was a low murmur, just barely audible, but it carried an eerie sense of inevitability. "Money, money, money..." he whispered, the chant slipping from his lips like a dangerous lullaby. The words hung in the air, thick with a sense of dread, as he approached his prey with the calm assurance of one who knew the outcome was already decided.
The butchering was swift and merciless. His hands moved with a chilling precision, the giant blades carving through the creature’s flesh as though it were little more than paper. Blood splattered in the air, staining the ground beneath him, but it didn’t faze him. He was methodical, disassembling the beast with an eerie calm, each incision an act of cold dissection. The creature’s body jerked with each brutal strike, but its soul had already fled long before, leaving behind only a hollow shell to be abused.
Finally, after tearing through layers of muscle and sinew, Lucifer’s fingers brushed against something solid—a lump, something more than mere organ or bone. He paused, his molten gaze narrowing with curiosity. With a careful, almost tender touch, he wrapped the heart-shaped gem in a blanket of liquid darkness.
He yanked it from the creature’s chest with a sickening snap, the fleshy remnants of the beast’s insides spilling out as the jewel was freed from its prison.
Lucifer, inspected the gem with cold satisfaction, his smile flickering like the briefest flash of cruel amusement.
"You would've lived longer if you didn’t eat that human, y’know?" he mused, his voice a whisper of mockery. "Nah, I'm kidding! I would've looked for a reason to gain these money anyway, lol!" The creature, now a lifeless shell, couldn’t hear him—it had lost its soul long before the last breath had left its body. Yet Lucifer spoke to it anyway, as if the dead could still understand the weight of his words.
"Next landmark... Level 10 of the dungeon," Lucifer murmured, his voice low, tinged with a hint of eagerness. He said as his form began to shift. His body melted away into the shadows, dissolving into a singular, fluid tendril of molten flesh. It writhed and twisted, taking the shape of a serpent—a black snake of fog, its inky form undulating with an almost hypnotic grace. It's tip became a net that carefully enveloped the core, making sure it won't get damaged during his travel.
The shadowy tendril slithered across the walls, defying the laws of gravity with an ease that mocked the very concept of physics. It moved swiftly, silent and deliberate, leaving nothing behind but the faintest sense of unease in its wake.
With his new form, Lucifer surged through the dungeon at an impossible speed, a blur of shadow and molten tendrils. Time was irrelevant, and space was his plaything. In a mere blitz, the 10th level of the dungeon came into view, the cold stone of its halls standing like silent witnesses to his passage.
His goal was simple and singular—check if the Ruinous Golem was still where he left it. He didn’t need to engage with the pitiful creatures that called this place home. They were nothing more than fleeting distractions in his path. Cleaning up his murder scenes was laughable, a waste of time. After all, dungeons weren’t meant for anything other than chaos and carnage.
He didn't enter a labyrinth of mystery —he simply walked into a slaughterhouse where corpses pay.
But instead of mindless destruction, it was the right death that gave out the right cash!