The goblin leader raised his bow, knocking an arrow with a ragged, damp cloth wrapped around its tip. Riven squinted, watching as another goblin ran up with a lit torch—the kind that usually hung on the dungeon walls—and carefully held the flame to the arrowhead, setting it alight.

The flames crackled to life, casting an eerie glow over the goblin’s sneering face.

Riven’s eyes widened. ‘Is this bastard trying to light me on fire again?!’

He tensed, preparing to dodge. The memory of that humiliating moment in the gathering room—when the goblins had shoved him into the fire pit—still stung his pride. But as he watched the goblin leader slowly raise the bow, it became clear that the arrow wasn’t aimed directly at him.

Instead, the goblin tilted the bow higher, aiming above the heads of everyone in the room.

Riven’s gaze followed the path of the arrow as it sailed through the air in a graceful arc, trailing fire like a comet across the darkened hallway. The flickering orange light illuminated the battlefield below, glinting off shattered bones, broken weapons, and pools of blood. For a brief moment, the radiance of the fire was almost mesmerizing, a beacon of destruction in the chaos.

The arrow shot right over Riven’s head, narrowly missing him by inches, and soared toward the back of the hallway. His eyes tracked it, puzzled, as it disappeared behind him into the darkness.

He turned back to the goblin leader, brow furrowed. “...Uh… okay?”

The goblin leader simply stood there, a smug smile spreading across his face. His beady eyes were practically gleaming with confidence.

Suspicion prickled down Riven’s spine. What’s he so happy about? He turned his head, scanning the battlefield for any hint of a trap. His skeletal forces were still hammering the goblins, pushing them steadily back toward the portal room.

The goblins, for all their initial bravado, were now being driven into the open chamber where they would lose the advantage of narrow corridors. Soon, his superior numbers would force them to scatter and spread out, making his victory all but certain.

Yet… the goblin leader didn’t seem worried at all. If anything, he looked more confident now.

Then Riven heard it—a deep, guttural yell that echoed down the hall behind him, rumbling through the walls like a distant thunderclap.

He froze, slowly turning around, dread pooling in his stomach. And then he saw it—the reason for the goblin leader’s smug satisfaction.

At the far end of the hallway, where the flaming arrow had landed, two massive figures emerged from the shadows, lumbering forward with heavy, earth-shaking footsteps. They were goblins, but… grotesquely enlarged. Each one stood nearly twice as tall as a regular goblin, with thick, scarred skin and muscular arms that bulged with unnatural strength. Their eyes were glazed over, dull and unfocused, and they carried massive clubs fashioned from dungeon debris, wrapped with jagged metal shards that glinted in the torchlight.

Riven’s heart skipped a beat. Brutes. Goblin brutes. Not the weak, mewling creatures he’d been dealing with, but enhanced, mutated goblins designed purely for destruction.

Riven’s eyes widened as he took in the sight of the two hulking goblin brutes advancing toward him.

‘Of course’, he thought, a bitter understanding dawning on him.

Goblins didn’t normally mutate into these monstrous forms unless they’d absorbed an extraordinary amount of mana—usually by killing adventurers and siphoning their magical essence.

It was rare, almost unheard of, since creatures of the dungeon were discouraged from keeping mana for themselves. The whole purpose of the labyrinth was to harvest that mana for the dungeon itself.

But these traitors clearly didn’t care about the rules or the balance of the labyrinth. They’d been prowling his halls in secret, ambushing his "guests" and growing fat with stolen power. The thought made Riven’s blood boil. Not only had they stolen from him, but they’d dared to evolve, to defy him in his own dungeon.

The brutes surged forward, bashing through the small guard of skeletons Riven had stationed at his rear, their crude clubs swinging in devastating arcs. The skeletons were utterly helpless against them; with each swing of the brutes’ massive weapons, another skeleton was shattered, fragments of bone scattering across the hallway.

“You thieves!” Riven roared, his voice thick with fury. “You’re no better than those filthy humans!”

The brutes grunted in response, their lips curling into grotesque smiles as they demolished his rear guard with gleeful brutality. Riven’s rage spiked when he realized that two of the shattered skeletons had been the “generals” he’d appointed mere moments ago.

‘My generals!’ he thought with a pang of indignation. ‘They were supposed be pillars of my forces!’

He clenched his fists, his mana shield flaring brighter around him. The brutes, apparently confident now that they had him surrounded, slowed their advance, circling him with malicious glee. One of them swung its massive, makeshift club, the jagged wood streaking toward Riven with enough force to break stone.

Riven didn’t flinch. He stood completely still, eyes cold and unyielding, watching as the brute’s club hurtled toward him. His mana shield shimmered in front of him like a wall of molten red.

The impact was immediate—and one-sided. The moment the club struck his mana barrier, it shattered into a thousand splinters, exploding into jagged fragments that rained down around them. The brute holding it blinked, staring dumbly at the broken handle in its hand, clearly unprepared for this turn of events.

Riven met the brute’s gaze, his expression calm and deadly, his red eyes gleaming with a promise of retribution. Inside, though, his emotions churned like a storm.

‘This wretched creature… this insubordinate little rat just tried to kill me?’ The audacity, the sheer insolence of it all, was almost too much to bear.

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His fingers trembled with fury as he raised his hand, and raw mana crackled into life around it, pooling into a blazing orb of energy. The red light intensified, bathing the entire hallway in a sinister glow. The walls shivered under the pressure, fine cracks spiderwebbing outward from his hand. Even the brutes, who had moments ago been so confident, took a hesitant step back, their eyes widening in fear.

For a moment, everything was still. The goblin forces paused, the clattering of bones and growling of goblins fading into an unnatural silence as the entire battlefield seemed to hold its breath.

And then Riven unleashed the spell.

This… was the truth of power in a dungeon. Demons always held the top.

A devastating wave of red mana exploded from his hand, ripping through the hallway with the force of a tidal wave.

The stone walls groaned under the pressure, large chunks breaking off and tumbling to the floor, cracks spidering across every surface. The bones of his fallen skeletons were reduced to fine dust, swept up in the surge of energy, and even the brutes were thrown backward, slamming against the far walls with bone-cracking force.

When the light finally dimmed, the hallway was silent once more. The floor was littered with debris, the walls scarred and broken. Dust hung in the air, filtering down like ash after a volcanic eruption. Riven, panting slightly, lowered his hand, feeling the drain from such a powerful spell but reveling in the satisfaction it brought.

The brute that had tried to strike him was lying against the wall, its grotesque form twisted and charred, barely moving. The other brute, though injured, struggled to its feet, wobbling unsteadily, its glazed eyes filled with fear as it looked at him.

Riven’s lips curled into a wicked smile.

“So,” he said softly, his voice carrying through the silence, “still eager to defy your dungeon master?”

The remaining brute let out a low, fearful whimper, its earlier bravado completely gone. Even the goblin leader, who had been so smug moments before, was now staring at Riven with a mix of shock and terror, his mouth slightly open as he struggled to process the devastation he’d just witnessed.

Riven took a step forward, letting his mana flare again, the red glow casting his silhouette in sharp, menacing relief.

“You thought you could take my dungeon from me?” he growled. “You thought you could absorb my mana, steal my resources, and mutate yourselves without consequence?”

The brute let out a strangled cry, half turning as if to flee, but it was too slow. Riven pointed his finger, summoning a shard of concentrated mana, and sent it shooting forward in a streak of red light. It struck the brute squarely in the chest, piercing through it with a sizzling burst. The creature staggered, its eyes going wide with one last look of horror before it crumpled to the floor, lifeless.

The battlefield fell silent once more, the goblins and skeletons alike frozen in place, watching with wide eyes.

Riven turned his gaze on the goblin leader, who was now visibly trembling, his earlier defiance thoroughly extinguished.

“Your little rebellion is over,” Riven said coldly, his voice echoing in the quiet.

“You and your pathetic followers will obey my commands. My patience has run thin. You have beat me, set me on fire, and embarrassed me!” his tone grew louder as he spoke.

He let the threat hang in the air, the weight of his words settling heavily over the remaining goblins. They exchanged fearful glances, their confidence shattered. The goblin leader swallowed, his shoulders sagging as he realized the futility of any further resistance.

Riven walked through the portal room, the crowd of creatures parting to let him pass. They watched him with wide, fearful eyes, their earlier defiance snuffed out in the wake of his power. Ahead, the caped leader of the rebellion—the one who had dared to organize this mutiny—sagged in defeat, his shoulders slumped, but his eyes still burned with a spark of resistance.

Riven stopped in front of him, looking down with a mixture of contempt and curiosity. He had one final question, something he needed to know before he delivered his judgment.

"Before I end you," he said, his voice cold and steady, "tell me. Why did you do this?"

The goblin leader raised his head, and for a brief moment, the defiance in his eyes flared, bright and unyielding. He bared his teeth, and with a guttural snarl, he spat, "GREH!"

Riven’s eye twitched.

‘…’

‘God damn it, I still don’t understand them!’ , he thought in frustration.

This infuriating language barrier had been a thorn in his side since day one. He’d have to figure out a way to translate their gibberish eventually, but at this moment, he’d had enough.

Without another word, he extended a finger, summoning a shard of concentrated mana to its tip. The red energy coalesced into a solid, gleaming point, pulsing with raw power. He aimed it directly at the goblin leader’s chest, and with a flick of his wrist, sent it straight through him.

The goblin leader’s eyes widened in shock as the mana shard pierced his heart, leaving a smoking, gaping hole in his chest. His body crumpled to the ground like a puppet with its strings cut, the defiance in his gaze snuffed out in an instant.

Silence fell over the room as the remaining goblins stared at their fallen leader, their faces etched with shock and terror. Some clutched their weapons, others looked at each other in horror, but all wore the same look of dawning realization. Their rebellion had failed. Their leader was gone.

Riven looked around at the pitiful creatures, feeling a mixture of exhaustion and disappointment.

‘What a waste’, he thought, his shoulders sagging slightly.

His earlier spell had drained him, and the thought of summoning individual projectiles to eliminate each remaining goblin was less than appealing. But he had an idea. Now that the rebellious leader was gone, perhaps his influence over the goblins was gone as well. Without the leader’s interference, Riven might finally be able to remove the goblins directly from the dungeon roster.

He pulled the tablet from his waistband, tapping to open to the second floor’s management screen. His finger hovered over the goblin entry for the second floor.

‘Let’s see if you can defy this’, he thought.

As he clicked on the goblin creatures, preparing to remove them, he noticed something odd. The goblins in the room seemed to realize what he was doing. Their faces shifted from fear to… sadness?

They dropped their weapons, and one by one, their shoulders began to shake, low, pitiful whimpers filling the air. Some even raised their hands to their faces, wiping away tears that trickled down their rough green cheeks.

Riven froze, watching as the goblins—these creatures who had just tried to overthrow him—began to weep openly. The sight was so unexpected that he didn’t know how to react. He had expected anger, maybe even hatred, but this… this was different. This was resignation. Defeat. A loss of purpose.

‘They know I’m about to remove them’, he realized. ‘They know what’s coming.’

For a fleeting moment, he felt a pang of sympathy. Losing one’s purpose was… hard. He, too, knew what it felt like to be cast adrift, to feel uncertain and powerless. And as much as he despised these rebellious goblins, he could see a bit of that same fear in their eyes.

‘But’, he reminded himself firmly, ‘that doesn’t forgive their disobedience.’

He steeled himself, his finger hovering over the [Remove] button. They had brought this on themselves. If they hadn’t rebelled, if they hadn’t tried to undermine his rule, perhaps things could have been different.

Well… not really. This was the plan all along.

‘My rule is supposed to be absolute!’ he reconfirmed.

With a firm resolve, he tapped the button.

The moment he did, the goblins’ forms began to flicker and fade. They looked down at themselves, their faces filled with a sorrowful acceptance, and one by one, they started to dematerialize. Their bodies dissolved into shimmering particles, each fragment of their essence swirling briefly in the air before drifting back into the ether of the dungeon.

As the last of the goblins vanished, Riven felt the mana flow back into him, returning to the dungeon’s reserves. The tablet’s display showed a small increase in available mana, the remnants of the goblins’ existence now reinvested into the labyrinth itself.

He lowered the tablet, standing in the portal room, silence settling around him like a heavy shroud. Skeletons, with their empty gazes stood motionless around him.

‘It’s done’, he thought.

The rebellion was crushed. Order had been restored. And yet, despite his victory, he felt… hollow. It wasn’t the triumph he’d imagined.