As John took his third step, the hallway shimmered, the distorted reflections flickering like failing holograms, their warped images dissolving into static. Then, with no sound or warning, he was gone. In his place, a single, iridescent crow feather drifted gently to the floor, landing with a soft tick against the cold stone. In the same instant, John found himself standing in the familiar, if somewhat sterile, space of his safe room on the 10th floor. The transition was jarring, a disorienting shift as if he'd been ripped from one reality and thrust into another, the echoes of the hallway's hum still ringing in his ears. A searing pain shot through his left hand, as if a brand of ice were being burned into his flesh, the cold intensifying before fading to a dull throb. He looked down and saw the silver number etched there, the '10' smoothly morphing into a '20', the metallic sheen remaining unchanged. A notification, stark and clear, materialized in his vision, the words glowing with a soft, ethereal light:

Title Unlocked: Silver Heart, Forged through unwavering resolve in the face of illusion. Where others falter, your spirit remains unblemished. No golden heart here; that metal is far too soft.

“Jinn, what’s going on? How did I suddenly jump to the 20th floor?” John asked, his voice laced with confusion. “Ah, yes,” the voice echoed, a hint of amusement dancing in its tone. “That’s the nature of our little wager, John. You opted for the… scenic route, shall we say. Others form parties, tackling each floor as a group, facing waves of enemies, intricate traps, the whole shebang. But you… you’re taking the express lane.” “Express lane?” John repeated, raising an eyebrow. “Sounds… efficient.” “Efficient, indeed,” Jinn replied. “Since you’re braving this dungeon solo, I’ve streamlined the process. You only need to overcome the floor’s guardian to advance. Think of it as a… boss rush. A far more direct approach, but don’t mistake it for being easier. You face the full force of each floor’s challenge, without the support of allies to share the burden.”

“So, if I teamed up with someone…” John began. “You’d face the standard gauntlet,” Jinn interrupted. “The hordes of lesser creatures, the intricate traps, the mind-bending puzzles. A different kind of challenge, certainly—perhaps less intense in individual encounters, but far more… protracted. And, of course, you’d forfeit the unique rewards reserved for those who brave these depths alone.” “The silver completions… and the titles,” John realized, the pieces clicking into place. “Precisely,” Jinn confirmed. “Each set of ten floors conquered solo unlocks a title, a mark of distinction earned through individual skill and unwavering resolve. It’s a path fraught with greater peril, John, but the spoils… they are commensurately grand. I assure you; I am being entirely impartial.” John nodded slowly, absorbing Jinn’s words. “So, the express lane it is. Harder, but… expedient.” “Indeed,” Jinn’s voice echoed, a subtle shift in its timbre, a resonance that John couldn’t quite decipher. “And now, the… analysis of your recent… performance. Here comes the data for your next ten levels.”

Before John could even frame a question, a wave of pure sensation crashed over him. It wasn't pain, not precisely, but a disorienting surge that bypassed his normal senses entirely. He smelled a thousand different scents—from blooming jasmine to decaying flesh—all at once, each vying for dominance. His vision fractured into flashes of impossible colors, swirling patterns that defied description. A cacophony of whispers, too rapid and fragmented to decipher, echoed not just in his ears, but seemed to vibrate within the very core of his being. His skin tingled, burned, and froze in rapid succession, as if he were being subjected to extreme temperature fluctuations in the span of a heartbeat. It was as if his entire existence was being compressed and expanded simultaneously, bombarded with raw data that his mind simply couldn't contain. Then, as abruptly as it began, the sensory torrent ceased, leaving him adrift in absolute, silent darkness.

When John awoke, the lingering weight of the previous trials had vanished, replaced by an unexpected sense of crystalline clarity. It was as if a veil of fog had been swept away from his mind, leaving him feeling strangely… unburdened, almost weightless. The "Silver Heart" title resonated softly within him, a quiet affirmation of his resilience. His eyes, when he opened them, held a new intensity, a cold focus that hadn't been there before, like polished steel. He had a new understanding, a new perspective on this… game. It wasn't merely about survival, about navigating traps and defeating monsters; it was a crucible, a trial by fire designed to forge something new within him. Well then, let the forging begin, he thought, a steely resolve solidifying within him, his jaw setting with grim determination. I will not yield.

A new thought struck him, a chilling realization that sent a shiver down his spine. He understood now: when a challenger fell within these walls, they didn't simply vanish. Their essence was absorbed by the dungeon, twisted and corrupted, becoming fuel for the very creatures he faced. The cores… they weren't mere trophies, collectibles to be hoarded. They were fragments of lost souls, echoes of shattered ambitions, remnants of those who had failed the dungeon's trials. They will make me stronger, he thought, his gaze hardening with grim resolve. I will not share their fate. He accessed his inventory, the familiar interface shimmering briefly before him, and retrieved a beast core. It pulsed with a faint, inner light, significantly larger and more potent than any he had consumed before. It felt warm to the touch. Without hesitation, he swallowed it. A surge of raw energy erupted within him, a searing heat that coursed through his veins like molten metal, pushing against the very limits of his physical form. He felt his bones ache, his muscles tense, his very being straining to contain the influx of power. It is time, he thought, clenching his fists, the knuckles whitening. Time to shatter this bottleneck. Time to forge these bones anew.

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John could feel the raw energy surging into his bones, a sensation that began as a subtle warmth before escalating into an unbearable itch, deep within the marrow. It was a maddening tickle, as if microscopic insects were crawling beneath his skin, gnawing at the very structure of his being. John gritted his teeth, his entire focus narrowed to a single point: control. He was tempted to unleash the full force of the core’s power at once, to bathe his entire body in its raw energy. But he knew better. He had learned through countless hours of rigorous training that true mastery came not from brute force, but from precise, deliberate application. One bone at a time. He began with his hands, visualizing the energy flowing into his palms, then up his wrists, each bone absorbing the power like a sponge soaking up water. The itching intensified, a burning sensation now accompanying it, but he held firm, maintaining absolute focus. Once his hands felt saturated, he shifted his attention to his feet, then his legs, then his arms, meticulously channeling the energy, ensuring that each bone received its due.

The energy surged into his bones, beginning as a pleasant warmth before intensifying into an almost unbearable itch, burrowing deep into the marrow. It was like a thousand tiny needles prickling his bones from the inside out, a maddening tickle that threatened to drive him to distraction. John gritted his teeth, his jaw clenched tight, his entire being focused on maintaining control. He fought the urge to simply unleash the raw power coursing through him, knowing that such a reckless approach would be disastrous. He had learned through hard-won experience that true mastery lay not in brute force, but in precise, deliberate application. One bone at a time, he reminded himself, his internal mantra echoing in his mind.

He began with his hands, visualizing the energy flowing into his palms, then up his wrists, meticulously guiding the power through each bone, feeling it being absorbed like water into parched earth. The itching intensified, morphing into a burning sensation that radiated outward from his bones, but he held firm, his focus unwavering. Once his hands felt saturated, humming with newfound energy, he shifted his attention to his feet, then his legs, then his arms, systematically channeling the core’s power throughout his body. The process with his ribs was less intense, the initial itching subsiding quickly, as if his body was adapting to the influx of energy. Or perhaps, he mused, he was simply growing accustomed to the discomfort. When he finally began working on his spine, however, the process became agonizingly slow, each vertebra a separate challenge, demanding every ounce of his concentration. Time seemed to stretch and distort, each moment an eternity. He almost lost his focus, the burning sensation threatening to overwhelm him, but with a fierce surge of willpower, he regained control, pushing through the pain. Almost lost it there, he thought, a bead of sweat trickling down his temple. Now… now it’s time for my head.

He felt the wellspring of energy within him begin to dwindle, the burning sensation fading to a dull ache. He knew he was nearing his limit. With a swift motion, he retrieved another beast core from his inventory, but without looking, he inadvertently grasped one significantly larger than the last—almost twice its size. As he swallowed it, a torrent of raw power erupted, engulfing his headfirst, a blinding flash of emerald light momentarily illuminating the safe room. He instinctively activated Time-Chi, slowing his perception of the overwhelming influx. The combination proved surprisingly effective; the slowed perception allowed him to meticulously guide the energy, mitigating the risk of losing control. The process, though still intense, became far more manageable. He systematically channeled the power through the rest of his body, the itching and burning now a familiar, if still unpleasant, sensation.

When the last vestiges of the core’s energy had been absorbed, a profound shift occurred. His bones seemed to compress, becoming denser, more compact. A subtle, emerald sheen emanated from within them, visible just beneath his skin. But that wasn’t all. The excess energy, instead of dissipating, began to flow towards his internal organs, a powerful current surging through his veins. A wave of nausea washed over him, followed by a sharp, stabbing pain in his chest. He steeled his mind, focusing on maintaining absolute control. This must be a controlled assimilation, he thought, his breath catching in his throat. I cannot let this power consume me; I will not let this power consume me!