Congratulations! You've been bestowed a Title!Title Name: Champion
Description [Identification Lvl.10]:
Title’s Bestowed Enhancements:
***
Carrying Dungeon Master 07, no, carrying Vittorio, on my back, I trudged through the dungeon's corridors, the weight of him pressing down on me.
The path out of the guardian’s chamber felt like a completely different journey than the one that had brought us here. The silence was oppressive, not the companionable quiet we’d often shared on our expeditions, but a hollow, lonely kind of silence, like the dungeon itself was mourning.
I glanced to my left, at his face, his cheek resting on my shoulder. He looked peaceful in a way that twisted the knife in my gut even deeper. Even now, after everything, it felt as though he was still trying to make me feel alright. Bitterly, I averted my gaze, unable to face him any longer.
Something in the corridor behind me caught my attention. I stopped and slowly spun around, my eyes narrowing as I took in the sight. The large corridor behind me was gradually darkening, as if the lights were being switched off, one by one. Of course, there were no actual light bulbs here. The entire domain was illuminated by the blue crystal ores, the that clustered randomly along the walls. Throughout our entire expedition, neither Dungeon Master 07 nor I had ever had to worry about a source of light. The manacyte had always provided it, their glow constant and unwavering. But now, those very crystals seemed to be losing their power, their light dimming as if something was draining the life from them.
I had a pretty clear idea of what was causing this strange phenomenon. I was. Or to be exact what I did.
"Mph," I sneered unapologetically, the sound echoing off the cold, stone walls. "Surprised I didn’t get another ‘KinSlayer’ title for that."
That would have really topped this day. Though it could be argued that this champion title is a sort of "Kinslayer" title
With a dismissive shake of my head, I turned back and continued my way up. What would Dungeon Master 07 have thought of what I did?
No doubt, he'd disapprove of how rashly I acted. Of course, he would. But I had no regrets. Why should I? Sure, the thing I killed might’ve been a Dungeon Core, like what I used to be, something my kin would have considered brethren. But that was it. Just a brethren, nothing more.
It wasn’t some soul summoned from another world. Even if it were, would I have cared? I wouldn't know. It might’ve had intellect, even sapience, but what made it any better than any random native of this world? Absolutely nothing.
So, regret? None. The closest thing I felt to regret right now was the prospect of the awkward explanation I'd have to the faith’s officialsassuming I ever got the chance to explain at all.
The more I thought about everything that had happened, especially the last part, the more certain I became. Even if that thing had been a summoned soul from another world, just like us, would that have been reason enough for me to change my mind about their fate? I did not have an answer to that question, but now I know my answer. No. I would not have changed my mind.
That certainty brought another thought into focus. We, the Dungeon Masters, should stop looking for allies. We do not need them. They only get in the way.
I knew this line of thinking bordered on blasphemy against our savior, but I could not help it. I had to ask the question, something I am sure many of us have asked at one point. Why did Mighty K.R.U.L. entrust authority to people who clearly did not deserve it? There must be some unfathomable logic behind that decision, or so I have always believed. I still cling to that idea. But even while holding on, I reached a new resolution. It grew out of my original goal of reclaiming the authorities from the traitorous reincarnates. Now my goal is bigger. I will retrieve the authorities from all reincarnates.
Fuck them all.
And just like our initial resolution to retrieve them from the bad batch of reincarnates, I’m mentally prepared to retrieve all the authority by any means necessary.
With my mind set on this new personal goal, I continued toward the entrance, the silence of the seemingly concrete corridor pressing in on me. I was about a third of the way through when a sound from ahead broke the oppressive quiet, a commotion, the unmistakable noise of people heading in my direction.
I stood there, watching as the source of the commotion emerged from ahead.
My heart sank as two figures came into view, dressed similarly to how they had been the last time I saw them, though now, their attire was a little more refined. The moment one of them caught sight of me, he called out a name I had long since discarded.
"Faye!"
My blood ran cold. The sound of that name was like a sharp thorn digging into my skin. As they approached, I instinctively took a step back, the weight of Vittorio on my back growing heavier with each passing second.
Glaring at them both with a fury that barely concealed my dread, I demanded, "What are you doing here?"
"What are we doing here? We came for you, obviously," the first man replied.
"Milady, this is..." Justaff began, his gaze shifting to the lifeless form of Vittorio. "This is that Divine Emissary. Faye, what happened here?"
The more I heard that name, the more it grated on my nerves. I couldn’t bear it any longer. "I am not Faye," I snapped, the words coming out harsher than intended. "My name is Arianna. And as for what happened here, it’s none of your business."
The man's expression darkened, his features hardening into something far less friendly. He frowned deeply, the shift in his demeanor almost palpable. "Here you go again with your—" He reached out toward me, but I cut him off sharply.
"Don’t touch me!" I barked, activating the power that surged through my eyes. The petrification effect restrained him just enough to grant me the chance to back off a few steps, his expression turning from surprise to displeasure as he fought off the effect. Dispelling it as he activated an apparently new skill of his.
The sensation washed over me like a wave of discomfort, making my skin crawl. It wasn’t the first time someone had used Appraisal on me, but it never ceased to infuriate me. A surge of anger welled up inside, a deep, burning rage that threatened to consume me entirely. But a quick glance at Justaff anchored me, keeping me from losing control entirely.
"This dungeon belongs to the Byg'm?k faith and those upholding its authority," I declared, forcing my voice to remain steady. "You two have no authority that enables your presence here."
His face twisted in anger, clearly on the verge of lashing out, but Justaff intervened, stepping forward with a pleading tone. "Milady, come on, we can’t just leave like this. Not after all we’ve been through. Clearly, something happened to you that changed you, but try to understand our perspective. We don’t know what it is that makes you treat us like this, but whatever it is, I think we deserve at least a better explanation."
Despite my growing fury, his words gave me pause. I wanted to brush him off, to send them away, but his sincerity was undeniable. Yet, the anger inside me was too deep, too raw. I shook my head, resolute.
"I have nothing else to say. Leave. Go back where you came from. Forget about this place. Forget about me, whoever you mistakenly think I am."
"Go back where we came from!? Forget who we wrongly think you are!?" The first man’s voice dripped with sarcasm. His gaze shifted to the staff I was carrying, and with the same mocking tone, he added, "You’re Arianna now, huh. Is that it?"
"Yes," I replied flatly, my eyes narrowing at him.
"And you’re colluding with the faith now? Let me guess, they’re your new family now, huh? Him and that boy, Leo?" His tone was biting, each word like a dagger aimed straight at my heart. His gaze fell on Vittorio in a way that made my blood boil, the glass of my restraint teetering on the edge, ready to shatter.
"What are you glaring at me like that for—?" He started to ask, but I cut him off with a snarl.
"Where did you hear that name from?" My mind raced, trying to piece together how he could possibly know about Leo. But as I searched for an answer, a realization hit me like a sledgehammer: Did it even matter where he heard it? The answer was no.
Staring at him as he continued to rant, my thoughts became increasingly distant, drowned out by the murmur of my heart. From the moment those men had come to our peaceful little house in the middle of nowhere, appraising me like I was nothing more than a piece of merchandise, I had hated this family.
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I hated this family, and I had always dreamed of the day I would burn them down for what they did to me. But reason had strangled that desire silent, for I believed that doing so would make me no better than that one lunatic.
I still think that, but this time, screw it, I just don’t care anymore.
The man halted mid-rant, his brow furrowing as he clutched at his gut as if searching for a wound that wasn’t there. I had hexed him with memories I’d harvested from Vittorio, under his own suggestion. In that moment, I felt a twisted gratitude toward him for making me take on this task, this so-called gift. Though I knew this was far from what he had intended for his final moments.
As the breach in the man’s mind opened, I cast the ability again along with several other curses, this time flooding his consciousness with all the most terrible memories I’d harvested thus far. I held nothing back. Experiencing so many horrific memories at once, he gasped for air as if he were drowning, clawed at his flesh as if he were on fire, and screamed as if someone were actively torturing him. It was all in his head, but the pain was real to him, making it look like he was experiencing an intense traumatic episode.
"Fran," Justaff, utterly confused, called out, "what’s happening?"
His distraction gave me time to gently lay Vittorio’s body to the side. Once I did, I closed in on Justaff and the man, conjuring a sword and swinging it down at the vulnerable figure. But before the blade could thrust into his chest, Justaff, who had been watching me approach, suddenly drew his own weapon and knocked my sword out of my hand, forcing me into an immediate withdrawal.
"WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!" he barked, his voice resonating with a power and authority I had never heard from him before.
"What does it look like I was doing? I was trying to kill him, that's what I was doing," I replied, my voice steady and devoid of hesitation.
Justaff's face twisted with confusion and anger, an anger so fierce it was almost tangible. "Killing your own father? Have you gone insane?"
"Insane, huh?" A bitter laugh escaped me, a sound that felt foreign, almost otherworldly. "Maybe I am. I'm not sure myself. But one thing's for sure: this feels... liberating."
No more restrictions, no more attempts at justifying anything, no more excuses.
As Dungeon Master 07 suggested, I would rid myself of these people who had been thorns in my side for nearly a century. This wasn’t about revenge, revenge had slipped through my grasp decades ago. This was about amputating a cancer that had been eating away at me for far too long.
With that thought, I summoned another sword, its cold "steel" gleaming in the dim light. My target was clear, but Justaff stood in my way. With a fluid motion, I unleashed the floating swords. Justaff’s reflexes were sharp, honed from years of training. With a swift swing, he blocked the first projectile, his eyes widening in surprise at the force behind it.
He shifted his stance in an instant, his body moving like a seasoned warrior. The second sword came flying, but he blocked it as well, though not without being pushed back. His expression betrayed his shock, both at how much stronger I had become and at how willing I was to carry out what I had announced. Watching me summon more swords, each one aimed directly at the man he was protecting, he moved quickly to regain control over his emotions.
"As you can see, I am no longer that little girl who needed your protection, I have evolved beyond you," I said, my voice calm but resolute. "But despite that, I have very pleasant memories of you, Justaff. Of our training times. Even though I hate your kind just as much as I hate the masters your kind serve, I do not wish to kill you, so I will grant you... mercy. Leave. Leave this dungeon, forget about this cursed family, go and live the rest of your life."
Justaff's expression hardened as he asked, "And what am I supposed to do with the rest of my life?"
"I don’t know," I answered honestly. "Perhaps you can start a family. You haven’t yet, have you?"
He looked at me with a mixture of disbelief and sadness. "What are you saying? I already have a family."
"Who? Them?" I asked, a grimace forming on my lips.
"Yes," he replied firmly. "I might not be a Highbreed, but I consider the Wei? family my family. I’ve served them for as long as I can remember. They’re not just people I serve; they are my family."
His words struck a chord, but not one that resonated with sympathy.
"What’s that expression, milady?" he asked, noticing the look on my face. "Are you pitying me for thinking that?"
I shook my head slowly. "No, I don’t pity you for that. I pity you for harboring those feelings for a family that will soon be nothing but history."
We exchanged a silent, but sharp, stare. The fondness we once shared slowly withered in the face of what was about to happen. I felt no hesitation. I pointed toward him, unleashing a storm of swords.
In an instant, Justaff’s sword flashed, blocking and deflecting the incoming blades.
In a blink, Justaff was on me. His speed was staggering as he slipped past my defenses, driving his sword deep into my chest.
Pain exploded through me. But it was nothing compared to what followed.
Seven additional strikes were simultaneously felt. His hand gripped my shoulder, forcing the blade deeper as he whispered, "I’m sorry, Milady... I had to stop you."
I clenched my teeth, the pain unbearable, but I forced myself to look up at him, locking eyes. "Justaff…" I whispered. "That was my line."
A loud moan echoed from behind Justaff, filled with despair so potent it made him turn around in alarm. He saw his "Lord" falling to his knees, not because of the memories I had hexed him with, but because of the injuries that were now manifesting on his body. "What? That's—" Justaff recognized the injuries as the he inflicted me, but did so too late.
As he turned back to me, "Common sense, Justaff," I whispered," losing sight of your enemy is the same as losing the fight itself. You taught me that yourself," I added, smiling through the pain as I reached out to him, activating the ability that I had just unlocked, an ability that allowed me to pass the full, no, even enhanced effect of his earlier assault back onto him.
With [Blood Oath], I transferred the full burden of his deadly attack onto his master. Then, using [Echo of Agony], I reflected his attack back at him, making him suffer the same pain I had did not endure alone.
Justaff’s expression turned deathly pale as he looked down at his chest, where he must have felt his sword strike. But there was nothing there, only the wound mirrored on him. Confused, his face contorted with dread, and as he stared at me, I could see fear creeping into his expression.
He tried to withdraw his sword, but I held it firmly. I would not let this become a contest of strength. Using my ice, I forced him to let go of the blade still lodged deep in my chest. It practically exploded against his face, making him stumble back and collapse to the ground. I took a few steps, breath ragged, and then gripped the blade with both hands to pull it free. Pain seared through me, my vision swimming in red, and a muffled scream escaped before I finally managed to pull it out.
Fortunately enough, the pain I felt wasn’t one that lingered long. In fact, the moment the sword was out, the pain ceased for me. No trace of the injury remained, except for the tear in my clothes where the sword had pierced through. I held the sword, feeling its weight, before using my cryomorphic abilities. Ice crept over the blade, freezing it solid before I effortlessly shattered it into a thousand pieces.
Walking past the bleeding and frostbitten Justaff, I made my way to the collapsed man he was trying to protect, the one I had once called father. His face brought me back to the day I first opened my eyes in this incarnation.
I wondered what the reaction of the girl I was back then would be to this sight. The answer was clear, the same as my current one. Unrestrained by strength, condition, or so-called logic, a smile curled at the corner of my lips as I severed the connection between us through [Blood Oath]. The injuries I had passed onto him were now truly his, no longer shared with him carrying most of the burden.
As I stared down at him, I activated the harvest sub-ability of [Legacy of Agony], then I summoned a Cursed sword, ready to end this once and for all. But before I could strike, I heard Justaff’s voice, weak but desperate.
"Wait!" he pleaded, lying in his own blood. "We’ll leave... We’ll leave. Let him go. Think of your little brother, your sisters. They deserve a father. Let him go, I promise... I’ll make sure he forgets about you, Fay—no, Arianna, you have my word."
Kneeling atop Father, "you finally got the name right," I smiling, glancing at Justaff before looking back at the man. "Unfortunately, that is not an option anymore."
Holding it with both hands, I drove the sword into him, feeling no remorse, no hesitation. When that wasn’t enough to kill him, I let go of my cursed sword and summoned another, driving it into him as well, just as I did with the next ones.
The fear of unlocking the title Patricide didn’t even cross my mind, after all, there was no such thing in this world. There was only [Kinslayer], and that title was already mine, whether I wanted it or not. Without a second thought, I summoned swords upon another until finally, it was done. The experience and memories harvested, I stood up and stepped back, my task complete.
I made my way over to Justaff, who looked up at me with pain and confusion in his eyes. "Why?! What could he have done to deserve all that?"
I stood there in silence, contemplating his question. Finally, I answered, "There’s no point in me explaining. You wouldn’t understand."
Justaff sneered, his face twisted in disbelief. "You bet I wouldn’t. How could I? Why would a daughter do something like that to her father, especially after all he did for you?"
"Sounds very ungrateful of me, doesn’t it?"
"That’s beyond that," he spat out, his voice laced with anger.
"I guess you’re right," I admitted, my voice void of emotion. "I’m an ingrate. That’s just how it is."
I knelt beside him, retrieving something from my wand holster. It was the wand formerly known as Wanda, a tool that had served me well. I placed it beside him, my gaze softening slightly.
"I get things I don’t deserve. I use them until they break," I said quietly. "That 's just how it is."
This applied to everything, the families I was born into, the love they gave me, the bonds we shared. They were all things I acquired and used until, eventually, they broke. But I never felt particularly bad about it. It was to be expected when wielding an authority like Greed and Resurgence.
That authority grants me the right to a vessel of flesh and bone, an identity, a family, one I intend to use to its limits until, like this wand, it outlives its purpose and I discard it for something more convenient.
That will likely be the fate of this vessel as well, someday.
"I rarely ever take the time to properly thank those who give me anything, so consider what I’m about to say an honor. I looked at him one last time, as the little girl he trained since the tender age of seven. "I’m sure this isn’t how you imagined I’d grown up but thanks for giving me that wand. Misfortune, it was a very useful tool."
"What’s that supposed to be?!"
"Me doing an introspection and trying to be less ungrateful. It's an unique and poignant moment for me, just so you'd know."
"Tch! just finish me off already," he muttered, his voice weak but defiant.
"I was thinking the same," I grimaced, before glancing one last time at the bald, bearded old warrior saying, "Goodbye, Justaff."
***
The sky was a deep orange outside, the color of dusk.
As I emerged from the dungeon, the entire domain collapsed behind me, disappearing as if it had never existed. Watching this, I felt no pity, no sense of loss. The dungeon was gone, and with it, any sign that it had ever been there.
Adjusting Vittorio on my back, I remarked, "So this is what happens when the Dungeon Core is killed, huh? Kind of tragic… or not," I mumbled, a flicker of concern crossing my mind. Though, to be honest, it was more than just a flicker.
"What a burden you left me with, Dungeon Master 07," I lamented, adjusting my fallen comrade on my back. "How am I supposed to explain this mess?"
He had plans for me, but too many deviations were thrown in my way, too fast, too early. Among them was the fact that I had acquired that damn title, somehow managed to make the dungeon disappear completely, and did what I did to these two.
With the dungeon gone, so was the issue of explaining what happened to him and Justaff. So I guess I am off the hook when it comes to that. But how the hell was I supposed to explain that I managed to pull that off when, for thousands of years, all the church and even the empire had been capable of doing against dungeons was containing them, by making sure people stay far away from them? What should I do? I wanted an answer to those questions, but I was too damn tired to think about their answers. Deciding that this was a worry for another day, I made my way toward civilization.
I think I deserved a good bath, a good dinner, and a good rest.