Among myths was the third circle of hell, linked to gluttony and referred to as a place where an infinite amount of food was available, only in a sludgy, putrid state.

In the current world, it was the stupid mistake of a greedy delver who wanted to remove everything from the dungeon, including many corpses. Around seventy, all in a state of decay that wouldn’t make it surprising if the air itself decided to rot.

Then, when magic is thrown into the mix…

Let it be said that some of the greatest discoveries were made on an incident. Terrible things were done thanks to them, but they were great nonetheless. A legend to be mentioned was the study of gravity, which started when Newton got hit on the head by a falling apple. Leading to innumerable research, ballistic being but one of the domains benefiting from this.

Another prime example was gunpowder, a failed experiment in the research for an elixir of life. But a success as an elixir of death.

As Stephen Veil entered the anteroom of the dungeon, he was first confronted with the ripe and overwhelming scent of death. It blasted him like a punch in the guts, forcing him to throw up and let go of the sledge he was pushing. Then, while kneeling on the floor, the wet rag he had prepared completely useless in dampening the smell, he heard the most horrifying yell ever.

It was like a mix of static noise over the radio while someone was screeching in anger. With an echo dialled up dozens of times.

Stephen didn’t have the time to cover his ears before it was too late. He could already feel the warm sensation of blood flowing out from his ears, eyes, and nose. The sudden sound, or rather the vocal assault, was enough for him to keel over, falling head first into his vomit.

Eventually, he did wake up, albeit from pain. Only to faint once more, in a horrid cry of pain as he tried to move. He didn’t even have the time to figure from where came the pain, overwhelmed as he was. It took a nightmarish amount of repeats until Stephen could stay immobile upon waking up.

For the first time, he could look into what happened. While the pain was still here, it wasn’t enough that he was forced to collapse because of it. The most vivid source came from his hands like someone was trying to rip them apart. The other came from his head. Despite the general lack of noise, Stephen felt as if his head was in a vice, not unlike when he entered the anteroom.

He didn’t open his eyes until a few minutes later, having trouble assessing his new reality.

Apparently, the system wasn’t as benevolent as he thought since the promised free access turned into a massive trap. Once he did, though, he quickly became frightened over his situation.

Many silhouettes were kneeling towards him, the skin on their back covered in scars and blood. From their position, Stephen guessed he was placed higher than the floor.

Shadows from each of the beings in front of him were projected in his direction, the only visible light source being two blue will-o'-the-wisps on either side of the massive stone door before him. It looked the same as the one that led from the safe room to the dungeon. Or the one he had seen while delving into the topmost cave. He believed he was elsewhere since the room's atmosphere felt nothing alike.

Assessing the source of his pain was a completely different fright. He had been crucified. The wooden stake in his hands clearly explained the pain he felt. As for the pain around his head, he now could tell something was keeping him straight, as the slightest movement would trigger unbearable pain. Not quite enough to cause him to faint, but close.

“Have you awakened Ô, Patron?” Behind him, a melodic yet raspy voice interrupted his observations. If that wasn’t enough, frosty hands slithered on his back and neck, startling him into trying to move his head. The cry he let out was muted, his voice lost in the innumerable episodes he had before.

While he was still shaking and catching his breath from his ordeal, someone else was enjoying their role. To Stephen, the laughter sounded ghastly.

“You have! How delightful, we’ve all been awaiting you ~” She sounded genuinely happy. To Stephen, it was maybe the creepiest detail in all of this.

He was still reeling from the pain, but knowing his tormentor was happy to see him survive whatever had been done to him was terrifying.

“.ea… .e. .. .o.” ("Please, let me go") Trying to talk was futile, his throat burning in pain from overuse. To his captor, it wasn’t a barrier.

“Why would I do that? It took us so much effort to assemble all of this. We cannot let it go to waste! No, my dear, you need to stay.” Her voice was coming from beside his left ear, a weird, musky smell of jasmine filling his nose. For an instant, one of her hands grasped his jaw, allowing Stephen to glimpse her dainty pale fingers, their tips smeared in blood despite how unthreatening they looked.

Then suddenly, she was gone, not before digging into his back with her hands and leaving bloody gashes.

“Do you know how surprised I was when I woke up? At first, I admit it was in a bad way. I might even have been scared. But then I smelled the gift you had for me, and…!

I’ve rarely been left speechless. I couldn’t believe my luck.” Stephen could hear the woman moving around, even though it was only thanks to her voice, her steps staying silent. He hadn’t made any gift. Surely he could let her know she got the wrong person?

“N-h-ot me.”

“Of course you would not, darling. I suppose you are my lucky charm, then? It seems a given that I should be grateful.

After all, I would have died, for good, if you had not found me. So!” If only he could move his head, he would have seen who was that mad woman. But no, she stayed just outside of his sight. Enough that he could glimpse a few strands of hair flowing on his rightmost side. But not an inch further. Not enough to identify her.

Stolen story; please report.

“What better way than to use this new chance to make a return gift? I hope the result will not disappoint!” By now, she had come back behind him, and despite Stephen expecting it, the freezing feeling of her hands touching him was still as startling as before.

Unable to identify her, he took the next option, identifying the beings before him.

[Peon – Lv 3-4]

At some point in the middle of his queries, a sharp pain erupted on his back, the demented woman somehow deciding he wasn’t suffering enough. Despite having seen her pale fingers, devoid of claws or extended nails, Stephen still felt as if daggers were cutting into him. By then, the warmth from his blood was almost a relief compared to the agony.

His only means to focus away from the pain was to keep up with his observations.

[Warrior – Lv 4-5]

Identify reached Lv 2!

You can now get insight into an entity based on visual hints

While it should have been good news to level up his skill, using it once more on the weird humanoids proved anything but.

[Undead - Hyanura Peon – Lv 3-4]

[Undead - Hyanura Warrior – Lv 4-5]

Sometimes, ignorance was bliss. He was damned.

While Stephen didn’t know what Hyanuras were supposed to be, he could emit a guess by now, one that made some sort of sense. One that would also very likely seal his fate.

“[…overly long gibberish incantation… ], be moulded anew, Ô Patron of Suffering!”

At the same time a screen appeared, Stephen felt his blood boiling, leaving and filling his body simultaneously. It was an unsettling feeling, both painful and invigorating. The stakes piercing his hands went away during this period, while the thing binding his head seemed to have merged with his skull.

After a dozen seconds, while the magic affecting Stephen faded, he felt himself come down to ground level. By then, he could finally observe the system’s prompts.

You’ve earned a Title!

Patron of Suffering:

You understand pain like no other. You’re a beacon for suffering souls to rally around.

It also becomes easier to inflict pain on others.

The harsher your suffering, the brighter the flame of your existence.

→ Unhealed wounds increase health regeneration

You’ve earned a Title!

Earth’s Martyr:

It’s a harsh way to learn this, but technically, you died. You’re even the first human to be killed by an otherworldly enemy.

(Space incidents don’t count.)

Increase all stats proportionally to your reputation on Earth.

Ironically, the titles were terrific. And with undead being a thing, it might not be that hard to benefit from titles requiring death.

Now that he was free to look around and his body wasn’t feeling atrocious, Stephen wanted to turn towards the woman responsible for all of this. He was dreading to learn if his guesses were correct.

All around, the undead were kneeling toward him. He could see, as he had feared at some point but refused to acknowledge, that he was in the same safe room linking his basement to the rest of the dungeon. His misconception came from how the lights were all gone. The only sources left were the portal and the two floating lights by the stone door on the opposite side. The cage built for the lamia had been dismantled and used to create the cross where he had been crucified. The rest of the materials and the sledges that previously held the corpse were also gone. Instead, rudimentary weapons had been made. Even the facilities he had bought before entering were present, all visible on the right side of the portal.

Then, in the spot behind him, right in front of the gateway leading to his home, he saw her. Her silhouette was lighted by the blueish light from the portal behind her, casting a long shadow barely reaching Stephen. Unlike when he first saw her, this time, her skin was white, even translucent. The newly dubbed Patron could see the blue glowing through her arms, where her body was thinner.

The more striking still were her eyes. Before, they were like a pair of sparkling gems in a troubled sea. Only the clouds roaming the sky could now be seen, as iris and pupil had turned ghastly white.

Her tail, meanwhile, hadn’t changed much. It still was a vibrant variation of greens, only this time, the colours were paler and tainted with blues.

She was the only one who wasn’t kneeling in some fashion. On her side, even the two other lamia were coiled on their tails and bowing, an arm on their back and the other to their chest.

“Welcome back~ We have so much to learn from each other!”

Her words weren’t reassuring in the least. Nor was identifying her or the others whose physique differed from the previous Hyanuras.

[Lyseasis – Slithering Banshee – Priestess of Death – Lv 10 – Elite]

[Undead – Hyanura Guardian – Lv 6 – Elite]

[Undead – Lamia Guardian – Lv 7 – Elite]

“Follow me, friend. Let me show you how to share your pain with your kin.”

As Stephen was still reeling from what he just learned, he saw the lamia move toward the portal. The same lamia he had initially saved, then left too long in a room full of corpses and magic. In a dungeon whose rules he knew nothing of.

Now, unknowingly, he had found a way to raise the dead. Only they didn’t obey him. His home was about to get invaded, eighty-some undead marching towards Earth. All much stronger than any human on Earth. And he was expected to contribute.