The Layer 2 Vampire stepped into the torchlight.
It was no swarm drone.
Height: 2.1 meters.
Armor: bone-white plate, etched with runes that bled shadow.
Eyes: molten gold, vertical pupils.
Aura: a pressure that made the air viscous, like moving through syrup.
Power Estimate: City-block level, minimum. One mistake = death.
Behind it, dozens more emerged—taller, leaner, armored in the same bone-white, each radiating killing intent. Not endless, but elite.
I could feel Ocean's regional sense mapping their blood—thicker, older, laced with something darker than hemoglobin.
My Saiyan Physiology screamed: Legendary Super Saiyan could erase them in seconds. One transformation—1,000× base power, Broly's wrath—and the dungeon would be a crater.
But I held back.
Not out of fear.
Out of calculation.
The Vampire Dungeon Ticket had warned: "No return until the Heart is claimed or the Ticket burns."
This wasn't a gauntlet of power—it was a forge. Every layer would escalate. Legendary Super Saiyan was a trump card, but burning it here would leave me defenseless against whatever waited at the core. I needed options. Something beyond brute force.
Transform stirred in my soul—my oldest ability, the shapeshifting relic from the Gacha's dawn. I could become a tiger, a bear, a shark—living beings only, no borrowed powers.
Useless here. But as the lead vampire smiled, revealing a single fang like a curved dagger, a whisper—not Oceanus, not All Fiction—slithered into my mind:
"Sacrifice the obsolete. Claim the eternal."
The voice was necromantic, cold as the void between stars. My Transform ability flickered, its essence unraveling like thread from a spool.
I felt it die—not destroyed, but offered. A trade. The dungeon demanded balance, just like the universe had demanded the Dimensional Blade. I clenched my fist.
"Fine," I muttered. "Take it."
Transform burned away, a silent pyre in my soul. In its place, Necromancy ignited—a black-green flame that licked my veins, cold and hungry.
Knowledge flooded me:
Raise the dead (physical or spiritual).
Command undead (permanent loyalty).
Soul-binding (possess corpses).
Death essence manipulation (drain life, create wraiths, curse).
No limits—only the user's will and the dungeon's "fuel" (blood, death, sacrifice).
The lead vampire lunged.
__________________
The Awakening & First Summon
Its claw carved the air where my head had been—Saiyan speed let me dodge by a hair. I countered with an Ocean tendril, 10 meters of pressurized blood-ki whipping toward its throat.
The vampire parried with its forearm, bone-plate cracking but holding, gold eyes narrowing. "Human," it hissed, voice layered with a thousand screams. "You reek of death's bargain."
The other vampires fanned out—30 elites, forming a kill-circle. I was surrounded. Legendary Super Saiyan roared in my blood, green lightning crackling at the edges of my aura. But I crushed it. Not yet.
Instead, I slammed both palms to the blood-crusted floor.
"Necromancy: Soul Recall."
The dungeon answered.
Black-green sigils erupted beneath me, spreading like frost. The crystallized blood statues of Layer 1 vampires shattered, their essence sucked into the sigils.
But I didn't raise them. I reached beyond—through the veil, into the Ghost Dungeon, where two souls still writhed in spectral torment.
Denki Kaminari.
Yuga Aoyama.
Their betrayal, their purge, my lie to Class 1-A—it all flashed in a heartbeat. I'd sent them to hell. Now, I'd pull them back.
"By my will and the dungeon's debt—return."
The sigils flared. Two ghostly forms materialized—translucent, flickering, but solidifying.
Denki's spiky hair crackled with phantom electricity, eyes wide with confusion and rage.
Aoyama's sparkle was dim, naval laser a faint glow, his pose frozen mid-dramatic flourish.
"Midoriya?!" Denki's voice echoed, layered with static. "You—you killed us!"
"I did," I said, voice steady. "And now you serve me. Permanently."
Aoyama's ghost gasped, hand to chest. "Mon dieu! This is—!"
"Soul-Bind."
Black-green chains erupted from the sigils, wrapping their spectral forms. They screamed—Denki's electricity lashing uselessly, Aoyama's laser fizzling—but the chains sank into their essence, branding my will into their souls.
Their eyes dulled, then sharpened with unnatural loyalty.
"Master," they intoned in unison, voices hollow but obedient.
The lead vampire snarled. "Abomination."
I pointed at two random Layer 2 vampires—tall, twin-bladed, gold eyes blazing. "Possess."
Denki and Aoyama's ghosts blurred, streaking like comets. They slammed into their targets, bodies convulsing as the vampires' souls were shoved aside.
The possessed vampires straightened, eyes now glowing electric yellow and naval-laser pink.
"Orders, Master?" Denki's vessel asked, voice crackling from the vampire's throat.
"Kill the rest."
__________________
The Battle: Necromancy vs. Layer 2 Elites
The possessed vampires moved.
Denki-Vamp: Electricity surged through bone-plate, short-circuiting runes.
He blitzed three elites, claws sparking with 1.3 million volts, frying them from inside. "Whey-hey! Zap's back, baby!"
Aoyama-Vamp: Naval laser fired—a concentrated beam that punched through two vampires' chests, cauterizing wounds instantly. "Twinkle on, darlings!"
I didn't idle. Ocean tendrils lashed out—20 meters, blood-ki blades slicing through bone-plate. A vampire parried with twin daggers, but I drained its blood mid-clash—
Necromancy: Life Siphon. Its body withered, essence flowing into me, healing micro-wounds. Saiyan Zenkai stacked.
The lead vampire roared, shadow aura exploding—a 15-meter dome of darkness that ate light. Inside, my Ocean sense was blinded.
I felt claws—three strikes, one slashing my side, blood spraying. Pain flared, but Necromancy countered: I raised the withered vampire as a skeletal thrall, commanding it to tackle the leader. Bone met bone-plate—crack.
Denki-Vamp breached the dome, electricity illuminating the dark, disrupting the shadow. "Found ya!"
He grappled the leader, volts surging. The vampire screamed, plate melting, but regenerated, fang sinking into Denki-Vamp's shoulder.
I intervened—Ocean maelstrom, a 360-degree blood-ki vortex that shredded five elites closing in.
Aoyama-Vamp fired a laser barrage, pinning four vampires to the wall, beams piercing skulls. "Magnifique!"
But a vampire blinked behind him—teleport?—claws raking his back. The possession held, but the vessel was damaged.
I soul-bound a fallen elite, raising it as a wraith-shield, intercepting the next strike.
Twenty minutes in, the battlefield was chaos:
12 elites dead, raised as undead thralls under my command.
Denki-Vamp and Aoyama-Vamp holding the flanks, electricity and lasers carving paths.
Lead vampire bleeding shadow-ichor, one arm severed, but adapting—its aura growing denser.
I was winning, but not fast enough. The dungeon fed on death—new vampires spawning from blood pools, stronger. I needed a finisher.
Necromancy: Death Curse.
I slammed my palm to the floor again. Black-green sigils spread, crawling up every vampire's legs. Their movements slowed, flesh necrotizing, bone-plate cracking.
The lead vampire roared, shadow aura flaring to purge the curse, but I siphoned its blood mid-roar—Ocean + Necromancy synergy. Its aura collapsed.
"Now."
Denki-Vamp and Aoyama-Vamp blitzed, electricity and laser converging on the leader's chest.
I followed—Saiyan speed + Ocean tendril spear. The spear pierced, blood-ki exploding inside its heart. The vampire convulsed, gold eyes dimming.
"Human… the Heart… will devour…"
It crumbled to ash.
The remaining vampires—8 elites—froze as the dungeon trembled. The staircase to Layer 3 materialized, deeper, colder. My undead army stood ready:
12 skeletal thralls.
Denki-Vamp and Aoyama-Vamp, vessels damaged but loyal.
Necromancy at full awakening, hungering for more.
I wiped blood from my face, Senzu Bean #32 → 31. The Legendary Super Saiyan urge had quieted—unneeded. Necromancy was my new edge.
Denki's ghost flickered in his vessel's eyes. "Master… we're really stuck with you?"
"Forever," I said. "Now move. The Heart's waiting."
The dungeon's laughter echoed below.
Layer 3 awaited.
__________________
The air grew frigid as we descended, torches guttering to blue flames. Whispers echoed—not words, but intent: hunger, eternity, dominion.
Denki-Vamp's vessel hissed, "Master... it's watching." Aoyama-Vamp posed dramatically, laser flickering. "Oui—the air tastes of forbidden eyes."
Layer 3 opened into the Abyssal Throne Room—a vast cavern, ceiling lost in stalactite fangs, floor a mosaic of petrified blood. Central throne: obsidian carved with screaming faces, occupied by Gasper Vladi.
He was wrong.
Appearance: Effeminate, platinum blond bob-cut framing a delicate face, pinkish-violet eyes glowing with Balor's malice. Cross-dressing Kuoh Academy uniform torn to vampire nobility—black cape over white blouse, thigh-highs, gloves hiding claw-tips. Pale skin veined black, fangs peeking from plush lips.
Aura: Time itself warped around him—air shimmering, dust frozen mid-fall. Sacred Gear: Forbidden Balor View at 100% control—Evil Eye of Balor, stopping anything in his field of vision. Longer gaze = longer freeze; range city-wide via bats; darkness sub-space devourer; Balor's consciousness sealed within, granting time-stop on unseen via shadows.
Power: Longinus-tier. City-mountain level. Immortal vampire lord, regeneration godlike.
Flanking him: 50 Layer 3 Vampires—noble strains, armored in living shadow, eyes gold-slit, claws wreathed in time-distort haze. Gasper's elites, each mini-Balor echoes.
"Intruder," Gasper lisped, voice dual—boyish cute laced with Balor's thunder. His eyes opened fully—pink-violet irises swirling with clockwork gears. Forbidden Balor View activated.
Time stopped.
___________________
The Onslaught: Time-Stop Hell
The world froze. My thralls halted mid-step, skeletons locked. Denki-Vamp's electricity arced immobile; Aoyama-Vamp's laser beam hung mid-air. Dust particles suspended.
But I moved.
Necromancy granted time-stop resistance—death transcended time. Saiyan ki flared green, burning through the stasis like afterimages.
Gasper's eyes widened fractionally—surprise in frozen eternity.
The 50 elites unfroze, lunging in Balor-accelerated blurs. Claws slashed—shadow-time blades, cutting space.
I dodged with Saiyan speed, green aura trailing, but one grazed my shoulder—wound aging instantly, flesh withering to bone.
Pain roared; Ocean tendrils lashed—15 blood-ki whips, slicing two elites to mist. They reformed—Balor regen, shadows knitting.
Gasper giggled from the throne, eyes narrowing—time-stop intensified. Half the elites froze me mid-tendril—my right arm locked, blood-ki solid.
"Playtime," he cooed, Balor's rumble underscoring. A bat swarm erupted from his cape—hundreds, eyes glowing pink-violet, extending the gaze.
Time-stop spread—city-wide potential, but here cavern-spanning.
Ocean surged to 68%—regional sense piercing stasis, mapping bats' blood.
I pulled—bat blood exploding inward, swarm convulsing. But elites pressed: 10 on me, claws raining. I tanked with Saiyan durability, fists blurring—one punch shattering three, bone-plate exploding.
Necromancy: Raise—shards reforming as mini-skeletons, clawing their killers.
Denki-Vamp broke free—electricity disrupting time-field. "Whey—take this!" 1.3 million volts arced, frying five elites, shadows sizzling.
Aoyama-Vamp posed: "Twinkle!" Laser barrage pierced four hearts. Thralls swarmed—skeletal wave clashing claws.
Gasper stood, cape billowing shadows. "Boring." Forbidden Balor View: Beast Emperor—darkness exploded, town-engulfing void devouring light/sound/matter.
Mini-monsters spawned—twisted eyes freezing thralls mid-charge. My mini-skeletons dissolved; Denki-Vamp staggered, volts absorbed.
Ocean to 70%—primordial counter. I summoned 30-meter maelstrom, blood-ki vortex outside the darkness, sucking void-tendrils in.
Gasper blinked—Balor's consciousness stirring: "You... resist?"
Elites adapted—20 left, teleporting via shadows, claws phasing time-slashes. One bisected my left thrall group; another aged Denki-Vamp's arm to dust.
I roared, Saiyan flight blasting upward, Ocean spears raining—dozens impaling, but regen laughed.
Necromancy: Death Curse—sigils on floor, crawling up elites' legs. Flesh necrotized, shadows fraying. Gasper's eyes flared—time-stop on the curse, halting it. "Mine."
Ocean 72%—blood mastery. I siphoned his blood—Balor veins bulging black under pale skin. He gasped, darkness flickering. "Stop—!"
Elites faltered—15 down, raised as thralls.
Denki-Vamp zapped three; Aoyama lasered four. Gasper snarled, Bat Projection—thousands swarming, eyes time-locking my movements. Bats latched—freezing limbs.
Necromancy: Soul Siphon—I pulled bat souls, essence fueling me, swarm dropping like stones.
Ocean 75%—torrent fusion. 50-meter blood-tsunami crashed, infused Necromancy—undead blood drowning elites, shadows dissolving in crimson tide.
Gasper leaped from throne—100% Balor control—eyes gears spinning, selective time-stop on my heart. Chest seized—Saiyan ki burned through, but lag hit. He blurred, claws raking my chest—wound aging to fatal. Vision dimmed.
Ocean 78%—desperation. Regional pull yanked his blood outward—Balor veins rupturing, darkness hemorrhaging. Gasper screamed, Balor roaring: "Impudent human!"
Final clash: I tackled, Saiyan strength pinning him, Ocean tendrils coiling throat/eyes. Necromancy: Soul-Bind—chains sank into his undead essence. "Serve me."
He thrashed—time-stop pulse freezing my arms—but vampire = undead. Necromancy dominated. Balor's consciousness wailed, eyes dimming pink-violet. Gasper slumped, bound eternal—servant now, Forbidden Balor View mine to command via him.
Layer 3 cleared. Ocean locked at 80% city-wide sense, Balor-blood synergy. Gasper knelt: "Master..."