It had to be him. There was no mistaking it—this was my Bloodzerker.

His name, his class, his lineage, his achievements, all up to the exact floors he’d conquered. It matched perfectly.

So, it was all real. Every move I’d made in the game, every choice, every action had consequences here, in this world. That meant… all the sins I’d committed as in-game characters, those were real, too.

I’d stolen. I’d framed. I’d coerced. And the worst—I’d killed.

“What… what have I done?”

"Quite the sight, isn't it?"

“Huh?”

I was pulled from my spiraling thoughts by a voice nearby. Startled, I turned to see a man standing behind me, his gaze fixed on the statue with a kind of reverence. He was strikingly handsome, dressed in luxurious armor that shimmered in shades of silver and light blue, with a silver sword at his side as though ready for battle. His skin was pale, almost ethereal, a contrast to his semi-short white hair and piercing blue eyes, which looked as if they could see straight through me.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.” he said, his voice smooth and controlled.

“It’s just that… whenever I see Sir Valerian’s statue, I get quite emotional. I look up to him quite alot.”

“I… see.”

It didn’t take much to realize this guy idolized Valerian—idolized me. Or at least, the character I’d created. Maybe it was because he thought of Valerian as a valiant hero, a noble who defied expectations and overcame impossible challenges.

“Do you mind if I ask you a question?” I ventured, trying to keep my tone casual.

“Of course, ask away.” He gave me a warm smile, friendly and open.

“I’m from the slums, so I’m not familiar with many of the tales about these individuals. Could you tell me about him?” I gestured towards the statue, eager to hear how my character’s story had twisted over time.

“You haven’t heard of Sir Valerian? That’s rare.” he replied, clearly surprised. “His story is celebrated by everyone, both nobles and those in the slums. He’s an icon!”

Generations? My head spun. A day had passed since I’d logged out as Valerian on the 100th floor, so how could his story have been passed down through generations?

“Well, I don’t blame you if stories are hard to come by in the slums. I’m more than happy to share what’s common knowledge about Sir Valerian.” he said, clearly excited.

“Thank you,” I nodded, trying to maintain my ignorance while curiosity buzzed in my mind.

“To appreciate his story fully, you have to understand the history of the Steelheart lineage.”

Ah, yes. That “noble” family that had tried to sideline me for not meeting their precious standards. I smirked internally, curious to see just how much he’d know of the truth.

“The Steelheart family built its reputation on the hard work of many generations, noble by their status as dungeon delvers. They amassed wealth and influence through generations of dungeon expeditions, each ancestor teaching the next. They became one of the few noble families established purely through skill and bravery.”

Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.

True enough. Every noble family here had some kind of origin story, each shaped by its founders’ ambitions. The Steelhearts prided themselves on their generational training, passing down combat skills with a fierce dedication. They were a well-known name for dungeon delving—one of the few built entirely on earned prestige.

“However, over the past few generations, the Steelhearts saw their influence wane. Any guesses why?” he asked, probably assuming I didn’t know.

But I did. It was because most adventurers hit a wall in the dungeon, an infamous point known as the Barrier of Limits, a hurdle that had broken the ambitions of countless dungeon delvers.

“No idea. Why?” I feigned ignorance.

“That’s because they reached a point most adventurers can’t surpass, known as the Barrier of Limits.”

Yep, thought so.

“This barrier was like a ceiling, halting progress for generations. And with it, the Steelhearts lost their strength. They were stuck, unable to produce anyone who could overcome this challenge. That is, until hope was born.”

Hope? They’d treated my character like a curse, an outcast because of his choices. What hope?

“Due to their declining power, the Steelhearts took drastic measures. That was when they initiated what they called ‘Project Genesis.’”

“Project Genesis?”

“Yes. It was a plan to mass-produce heirs. The head of the Steelhearts could no longer bear watching his family fall from grace, so he invited numerous concubines into his home, fathering children en masse, hoping one would be the destined for greatness.”

Oh, I thought, so the old man was quite the character, hiding his vices under the guise of ‘saving the family legacy.’

“And as you’ve probably guessed, that project worked. Several children displayed potential, and from a young age, they trained for combat. They were prepared from birth to become adventurers and had their acquisition ceremonies carefully planned.”

“Many showed great promise, but none could compare to Sir Valerian.”

Of course not. They’d tried to erase me from their ranks, to downplay my achievements, but they couldn’t do it for long. My strength and influence grew beyond their reach, and there was nothing they could do to hold me back.

“Valerian loved his family deeply.” he continued, “and he always pushed himself to honor the Steelheart name. He was a humble man, never taking praise, always crediting his family for his success.”

Wait, what? This guy was making it sound like the Steelhearts had cheered me on from the start. They’d hated Valerian, thought his skills were worthless, and assumed I’d chosen the Blood Mage class just to spite them. Sure, a few family members had supported me enough to give me a decent start, but this… this was practically propaganda.

“Sir Valerian is inspiring to so many.” he continued. “Though he was noble, his first skill was seen as useless. But his family never gave up on him. They encouraged him, advised him, even helped him adopt the Blood Mage class, knowing the risks it posed to their reputation.”

What a load of… They’d disowned Valerian in every sense but the legal one, hoping I’d fail so they could be rid of him. They’d wanted him gone, and this “support” he described was nowhere to be found.

“Yet, despite those risks, Valerian rose to greatness, achieving what no one else could—the title of ‘100th Floor Witness.’ It was an honor the Steelhearts say they’re proud to carry. He’s a legend to nobles and slum-dwellers alike, even a century later.”

“A… a hundred years?” The words felt foreign in my mouth.

“Yes, it’s been 100 years since Sir Valerian’s feats.” he nodded, his face lit with admiration.

My heart stilled. A hundred years had passed since that last run? One day in my world, but here… an entire century.

If a hundred years had passed here, had that same time gone by on Earth?

“Ah, there you are!”

“Ow, ow! Stop pulling my ear! Please, Clementine!”

“Then stop wandering off, Marcus! You always come here during the dungeon openings, ogling this statue of that savage. Now get back to the group! The dungeon is about to open!”

“Okay, okay, I’m going, just let go!”

“Friend, I have to run! But i had fun talking to you!” he called out to me. “Ouch, Clementine, not the other ear!”

I stood there, watching him get dragged away. Quite the character. Should’ve asked his name…

Just then, a voice rang out over the square. “Attention, everyone! The dungeon is opening soon! Clear the center unless you’d like to be flattened by the energy release!”

I snapped out of my thoughts. The dungeon was opening, and suddenly, a question echoed in my mind.

Did I make the right choice?

The odds weren’t looking good. I had no armor, no weapons. I didn’t know how to fight, not really, and facing the creatures down there… well, my chances weren’t great. But there was no other option. There was no other way to clear my debt, not with the government breathing down my neck.

“The dungeon has opened! Everyone, make your way in before it closes!”