Cold stone pressed against Red Itu's back.
It was not just cold—it was lifeless, as if the dungeon itself had decided to reject him. His breathing came out uneven, every inhale burning his lungs, every exhale tasting of blood.
His sword lay inches away.
So close.
Yet his fingers trembled, refusing to obey.
Above him stood the Great Wolf King.
Its massive body filled the boss chamber, iron-like fur glistening under the dim dungeon light. Its crimson eyes stared down at Red with absolute certainty—certainty of victory, certainty of death.
The Wolf King slowly raised its paw.
The pressure alone crushed Red's chest.
*This is it…*
His thoughts scattered.
Fear threatened to swallow him whole.
Then—
a memory surfaced.
A small wooden house.
A warm fire.
An old woman smiling gently.
"Red, eat more. You're too thin."
"…Grandma."
Something inside Red snapped.
"No," he whispered. "I won't die here."
With a broken groan, Red dragged his body forward. His fingers brushed the hilt of his sword, pain exploding through his arm as bone grated against bone.
But instead of lifting the blade—
Red let it fall.
The Wolf King paused.
Red pressed his blood-soaked palm against the dungeon floor.
His lips trembled.
Then he spoke.
Not a spell taught by the Church.
Not a prayer to the so-called Human God.
But words whispered in forbidden ruins, written in blood, erased from history.
"—Hear me."
The dungeon shook.
"Hey… King of the Netherworld."
The air thickened.
"Hey… ruler of souls, devourer of spirits."
Cracks spread across the stone walls like spiderwebs.
"Please… save my life."
The Wolf King roared and lunged.
Red screamed, forcing the final words out—
"In return, I offer you the body and soul of this Wolf King!"
Time froze.
"And the soul of K."
Silence.
Absolute silence.
Then—
Reality collapsed.
A pressure descended that crushed existence itself.
The dungeon floor shattered as if made of glass. Pillars snapped. The ceiling split open, revealing a sky that should not exist beneath the earth.
The world turned red.
A **crimson moon** rose, vast and merciless.
Thunder rolled—not white, not blue—but black and scarlet, shaking the land like a heartbeat of hell.
A massive gate tore open in the sky.
From it poured darkness so dense it swallowed light.
And from that darkness—
He stepped forth.
Tall. Regal. Absolute.
Black wings unfurled behind him, stretching endlessly. A crown of abyssal flame hovered above his head. His presence alone bent the dungeon into submission.
The **Great King of the Netherworld—Lucifero**.
Behind him marched an army beyond counting.
Demons in black armor. Archmages carved with runes of damnation. Beasts born from nightmare itself.
Their combined aura crushed the air.
The Wolf King whimpered.
Outside the dungeon—
The world fell to its knees.
Citizens collapsed in the streets, screaming as their legs gave out.
Holy Knights vomited blood, their holy barriers shattering like glass.
Royal Knights dropped their weapons, trembling.
Church bells cracked and fell silent.
Only one man remained standing.
The **Head Priest of the Church**.
His ancient eyes reflected the crimson sky.
"…So," he whispered, gripping his staff, "the Crimson Seed has awakened."
Back in the dungeon—
Lucifero's gaze fell upon Red.
"…Interesting," he said calmly.
His voice alone felt heavier than mountains.
The Wolf King tried to flee.
Lucifero raised one finger.
No chant.
No gesture.
The Wolf King's existence vanished.
Not destroyed.
Not killed.
**Erased.**
Its body, soul, and even the concept of its existence were wiped from reality.
The dungeon fell silent.
Red collapsed forward, shaking violently.
Lucifero turned his gaze back to him.
Demonic mages stepped forward, their hands glowing with infernal light.
Bones snapped back into place.
Torn flesh regenerated.
Blood returned to veins.
Red screamed as life was forced back into him.
He collapsed again—alive.
Lucifero crouched before him.
"You may call upon my four Great Generals," he said.
Red lifted his head weakly.
"If your life is threatened," Lucifero continued, "offer the soul of a powerful creature… or one thousand humans."
Red's eyes widened.
"They will fight for you."
Lucifero smiled faintly.
"Even if they fall, their souls return to the Netherworld with the same power."
He stood.
"Survive, Crimson One."
The gate closed.
The pressure vanished.
The sky returned to normal.
The dungeon became… ordinary.
Red stood slowly.
"…I lived."
He staggered toward the exit.
---
Red emerged from the dungeon.
Blood-stained. Exhausted. Alive.
Outside—
Twenty figures stood before his home.
Holy Knights.
Royal Knights of the Italian Kingdom.
White armor gleaming.
At the doorway—
His grandmother stood frozen.
Confused.
Afraid.
Red's heart stopped.
"…Grandma."
His sword slipped from his fingers and clattered to the ground.
Far away—
The Church smiled.
The hunt had already begun.