Michael arrived at the entrance of the A rank dungeon and stopped for a moment, taking it in.
The B rank dungeon had been too easy.
So he had gone looking for something more worthy of his time — and found the only A rank dungeon within the jurisdiction of Iron City.
An undead dungeon.
Home to one of the most infamous boss monsters in the region.
The Dullahan.
A headless undead knight of terrifying skill, mounted on a horse just as dangerous as the rider.
What made the dungeon particularly brutal wasn’t just the boss — it was the structure of the place itself.
It functioned like a survival dungeon, though not completely.
Unranked beasts would continue to spawn without pause until the boss monster was slain, wearing down any party foolish enough to drag out the fight.
And the Dullahan itself was no easy finish.
It had taken the combined effort of Jermaine and Reynold — an S rank — to clear it even once.
And it could only be challenged once every two months, given the sheer amount of resources a successful run demanded.
Well.
That was them.
Michael was a different matter entirely.
He was difficult to kill, and lately he had been looking for something to push him — something that might force him to actually try.
In his past life, battle had never felt like anything worth enjoying.
But here, in this body, with these abilities?
He was slowly beginning to understand why some people lived for the fight.
“Alright, buddy.
This one won’t be as easy as the last,” Michael told his pet with a quiet smile, giving the wolf a brief glance.
“Show me what you’ve got.”
He exhaled once and walked into the dungeon.
The world changed the moment he crossed the threshold.
The space that opened up before him was vast — a graveyard the size of an entire city, stretching in every direction further than it had any right to.
Headstones jutted from the earth in uneven rows, cracked and leaning, disappearing into a grey haze in the distance.
The air was wrong.
Heavy, thick with something that sat at the back of the throat — the unmistakable essence of death, soaked into every particle of the atmosphere.
And there, far across the dungeon, seated atop an undead horse with a stillness that radiated authority, was the Dullahan.
Even from a distance, the presence it carried was impossible to ignore.
Regal.
Patient.
Waiting.
“I hope you’ll actually make me go all out,” Michael murmured, extending one hand to his side.
Void Slayer appeared in his grip immediately.
The sword hummed against his palm — a low, eager vibration, as if the blade itself could sense what was coming and wanted it.
Then the ground broke.
All around them, the earth cracked and split, and from beneath the surface they came — clawing their way upward with rotting hands and grinding bone.
Skeleton soldiers.
Zombies.
Skeleton mages.
Skeleton knights.
The lowest among them were C rank, and they covered every inch of the dungeon like a tide with no shore.
“Now this,” Michael said, looking out across the horde with something close to satisfaction, “is worthy of an A rank dungeon.”
He let the feeling rise in his chest.
“Let’s run riot!”
His eyes bled crimson.
His skin drained pale.
Fangs pressed past his lips.
He moved.
He hit the nearest skeleton at full stride, and Void Slayer split it clean in two before it had time to raise a weapon. Visit g.com for the full chapter.
A C rank undead had no business surviving a swing from him.
He didn’t slow down.
An undead troll loomed ahead, massive and roaring, swinging a club the size of a small tree directly at him.
Michael caught the club with one hand.
With the other, he drove his fingers into the troll’s eye socket — then swung Void Slayer and separated the head from the shoulders in one motion.
It stayed dead.
Normally, killing an undead required a weapon blessed with divine energy — without it, they simply reformed.
But Void Slayer was a divine weapon.
Michael didn’t need to think twice about it.
He leapt into the air and swung — once, twice, several more times in rapid succession — the blade carving wide arcs through the dungeon space above the horde.
The special ability of Void Slayer activated without effort: any strike could reach a target within a fifty-metre radius regardless of physical distance.
What looked like wild, reckless swinging from above was anything but.
Undead collapsed across a wide stretch of the dungeon simultaneously, dropped where they stood.
He landed, cut another in two on the way down, and kept moving.
The notifications came in a steady stream.
[Congratulations!
You have slain a B rank undead.]
[You have gained 8 years worth of lifespan.]
[Congratulations!
You have slain a C rank undead.]
[You have gained 6 years worth of lifespan.]
The numbers kept climbing, and Michael fell into the rhythm of it — focused, fluid, almost meditative.
His twin-headed wolf was keeping pace.
The two heads had split entirely, each forming its own body, operating as a pair with perfect coordination.
Frost moved through the horde, freezing undead mid-lunge and leaving sculptures of shattered bone in its wake.
Flame followed close behind, burning what remained to ash.
Together, the three of them carved through the dungeon with an efficiency that would have made even Jermaine pause.
Then Michael’s senses screamed.
Not a nudge.
A full warning — sharp and immediate, every instinct firing at once.
He swung Void Slayer to his left without thinking.
Steel met steel.
The Dullahan’s strike landed against his blade with a force that shuddered up both arms, and even with the block, Michael was driven backwards several steps before he managed to drag the tip of Void Slayer into the ground and use it as an anchor.
He steadied himself, breathing hard.
“How did you—”
He had been tracking the Dullahan the entire time.
Not constantly, not obsessively, but enough — a background awareness running alongside the slaughter.
He had taken his eyes off it for only a moment.
One moment.
And it had crossed the entire dungeon and reached him.
That speed wasn’t normal.
That speed was something else entirely.
The Dullahan didn’t respond.
It had no head to speak with.
The undead horse beneath it neighed — low and hollow — and then they moved again.
Michael confirmed it this time, watching carefully.
Instant.
The Dullahan had covered the distance in an instant.
The great sword rose into the air and came down.
Boom.
Michael caught it on Void Slayer, both hands locked on the hilt, every muscle in his body braced against the impact.
The force drove his feet into the earth, the ground cracking beneath his boots. Follow the newest chapters on g.com.
“Urgh—”
He pushed back, pouring everything into his arms, and finally — finally — managed to knock the great sword aside.
Then the horse moved.
Both forehooves came up and drove into Michael’s chest like battering rams, launching him backwards through the air.
Boom.
He hit a gravestone hard enough to obliterate it, the stone crumbling around him as he dropped to the ground.
Pain radiated through his chest in slow, deep waves.
He spat blood that had pooled behind his teeth.
“Reynold.
That scheming bastard,” Michael muttered through gritted teeth.
He pressed Void Slayer into the earth and used it to push himself upright.
The pieces were falling into place now, and they weren’t flattering.
The information Reynold had submitted to the king on this dungeon, accurate in its broad strokes, technically truthful had quietly omitted something critical.
The Dullahan wasn’t the only boss monster.
“The horse,” Michael muttered, staring at the undead animal.
“The horse is also an A rank boss.”
Two boss monsters.
One dungeon.
Every trace of lightness left his expression.
He had underestimated it.
His knowledge, the advantage he had walked in with so confidently, had failed him, and that failure had nearly cost him more than a few cracked ribs.
There was no room left to play.
Now he could only rely on what he actually was.
“Let’s do this properly,” Michael said quietly, looking at the Dullahan and its horse.
He closed his eyes.
He reached inward, past the noise of the battle, past the pain still echoing through his chest, until he found it.
His sword heart.
“Beat.”
Something shifted.
His blood , always present, always moving, seemed to wake up.
Not just flowing.
Responding.
Eager.
It wanted the fight.
It wanted to be part of it.
Michael let the feeling build without forcing it, guiding it slowly, until the blood began to move of its own accord — rising through his right arm, wrapping itself along the length of Void Slayer in a thin, dark sheath.
His hair deepened to red.
Void Slayer vibrated in his grip, fast and continuous, like a held breath waiting to be released.
“Don’t disappoint me,” Michael said calmly, eyes opening.
“I’ve paid a high price to enjoy this rematch.”
He moved.
Like a flash cutting through dead air — straight toward the Dullahan and its undead horse, nothing held back.
Dear readers, Sorry for the long wait.
I’ve kept you waiting long enough.
But the wait is officially over!
From this chapter onward, the story kicks into high gear.
Expect intense action, powerful enemies, shocking twists, and an MC who is about to become more OP than ever.
The real adventure begins now.
Buckle up and enjoy!