The atmosphere within the Great Throne Hall was no longer merely heavy; it was stagnant, as if time itself had decided to stop out of respect for the entity seated upon the black obsidian.
Red sat perfectly still. Without flesh, he had no need to fidget. Without lungs, he had no need for the rhythmic rise and fall of a chest. He was a statue of ivory bone, draped in the heavy silence of the abyss. His skeletal fingers, long and tapering to sharp points, rested on the armrests of the Cursed Throne. The obsidian pulsed beneath his touch, a dark heartbeat that synchronized with the flickering crimson flames in his eye sockets.
Before him, the landscape was one of absolute, terrifying devotion.
Lucifero, the King of the Netherworld—a being whose name was a curse in the world above—was a humbled servant. He knelt with his forehead nearly touching the cold stone, his six massive wings fanned out like a shroud of midnight. Behind him, the Four Great Generals stood like pillars of doom, and beyond them, the legion. Tens of thousands of demonic entities, from high-tier vampires to abyssal knights, remained in a state of frozen submission.
The collective mana of the room was so dense it manifested as a physical fog, swirling around the base of the throne. To any mortal, this room would be a death sentence; the sheer pressure would liquefy their internal organs in seconds. But to Red, it felt like home. It felt like the only place in existence that didn't want to lie to him.
Lucifero finally broke the silence. His voice didn't just fill the room; it resonated within the very marrow of Red's bones.
"My lord… you have awakened, but you are a king without his scepter. Before you set foot outside these hallowed halls to claim your evolution, there is a fundamental necessity. A bridge that must be built."
Red's skull tilted slightly, the bone-on-bone sound echoing like a crack of a whip. "Speak, Lucifero."
"A Familiar Contract," the demon king proposed. "As you are now, you carry the Crimson Seed, but you do not yet possess the tether to command the denizens of this realm by instinct alone. By forming a Primal Contract with me, you do not simply gain a servant. You gain the keys to the Netherworld. Once the seal is set, my life, my generals, my armies, and the very shadows of this realm will be extensions of your own will. They will move when you think, and die when you command."
Red looked out over the sea of monsters. He had spent his life fighting these creatures to protect a kingdom that eventually fed him to the flames. The irony was a bitter pill he didn't have a throat to swallow.
"And why would a King of the Netherworld offer his neck to a skeleton?" Red asked, his voice a metallic rasp.
"Because," Lucifero replied, looking up with eyes that held the vacuum of space, "you are the vessel of the Seed. Without you, the Netherworld is a body without a head. We have waited eons for the one the Human God rejected. We do not follow you out of pity, my lord. We follow you because you are the only one who can lead us to the gates of Heaven to tear them down."
Red fell silent. He looked at his hands—white, cold, and clean. Then, a memory surfaced. Not a memory of war or betrayal, but a memory of warmth. A memory of a small, wagging tail and the feel of fur beneath his once-fleshy palms.
"What about my Cuttey?"
The question was sudden, jarring the formal atmosphere of the hall. Red's voice held a tremor of something he shouldn't have been able to feel anymore: grief.
Lucifero's expression softened, though it remained shadowed by the grim reality of their realm. "The wolf that stayed by your side until the flames took you both?"
"Yes," Red hissed, the crimson flames in his eyes flaring. "Where is he?"
Lucifero closed his eyes for a moment, sensing the ley lines of the afterlife. "He is dead, my lord. The Holy Flames of the Human God do not just burn the skin; they attempt to erase the record of the soul. He perished in the same moment you did."
The throne room groaned. The obsidian floor beneath Red's feet began to spiderweb with cracks. A localized tremor shook the hall as Red's killing intent leaked out like pressurized steam. The four generals tensed, feeling the raw, unrefined power of the Crimson Seed reacting to Red's sorrow.
"…Dead?" Red whispered. The word sounded like the grinding of tectonic plates.
"However," Lucifero added quickly, sensing the impending explosion of mana, "his soul was not erased. Because his bond with you was forged in blood and genuine love, his spirit followed your trail into the abyss. He did not pass into the cycle of reincarnation. He is here, wandering the outskirts of the Netherworld, a lost phantom searching for his master."
Red's skeletal hand gripped the armrest so hard the stone turned to powder. "Retrieve him. Now."
"It is not so simple to bring back the dead, even for us," Lucifero explained. "A soul without a vessel will dissipate if brought into the physical world. I can retrieve him, but I must bind him to a new, stronger form. A vessel worthy of the companion of the Vampire God."
"Do it," Red commanded. Then, his thoughts turned to the only other light in his previous life. "And… my grandmother? Can you bring her back too?"
The air in the room grew cold—not the cold of the undead, but the cold of a final goodbye. Lucifero bowed his head lower.
"I cannot, my lord. Her soul was pure—untouched by the malice or the Seed. When she passed, she was claimed by the higher planes. She resides in the Light. To pull her back would be to desecrate her peace, and even the King of the Netherworld cannot breach the Golden Gates without a full-scale war. She is beyond the reach of the dark."
Red leaned back into the throne. The news was a hollow ache. He realized then that he truly was alone in the dark, save for his loyal beast. His grandmother was in the light—the same light that had burned him alive. The thought filled him with a paradoxical mix of relief that she was safe and a renewed, burning hatred for the heavens.
"I see," Red said softly. "Then leave her in her peace. She deserves the heaven she believed in. But Cuttey… Cuttey belongs with me. Bring him back."
Lucifero stood and turned to the Four Generals. He gestured to the Lady General—a being of lethal beauty known as Lilith. "Lady Lilith, find the strongest beast in the First Circle. A Fenrir-bloodline if possible. Bring it here alive, but broken."
Lilith bowed, her violet eyes flashing, and dissolved into a cloud of raven feathers.
The wait felt like hours, though time in the Netherworld was a fluid thing. Red sat in contemplation, his mind replaying the betrayal of the Hero Party over and over. Every time he saw their faces in his mind, his mana spiked.
Finally, Lilith returned. She didn't walk; she drifted, dragging the massive, limp form of a High-Ranked Shadow Wolf behind her. The beast was the size of a carriage, its fur the color of a moonless night. Its eyes were glazed, its spine severed by a surgical strike that left it alive but paralyzed.
"The vessel is prepared," Lucifero announced.
He began to draw. Not with ink, but with his own blood, which flowed from his palm and hovered in the air, forming a complex, three-dimensional geometric seal around the wolf.
"O gates of the Netherworld!" Lucifero's voice took on a ritualistic chant. "Hear the call of blood and bond! By the authority of the Crimson Seed and the mandate of the Abyss, I call upon the wandering spirit! Follow the scent of your master! Return to the world of the living!"
A spectral howling began to echo through the hall. It didn't come from any one direction; it came from the air itself. A faint, blue-white light emerged from the floor, trembling and flickering like a candle in a storm.
Red stood up. His presence pulled at the light. "Cuttey… come here!"
The spectral light surged forward, diving into the Shadow Wolf's body. For a heartbeat, there was silence. Then, the wolf's body began to change. Its muscles tore and reformed, growing denser. Its fur turned from grey-black to a deep, abyssal velvet. Most importantly, its eyes snapped open. They were no longer the yellow of a wild beast, but the same burning, vengeful crimson as Red's.
The wolf stood. It shook its fur, a low growl vibrating in its chest that sounded like rolling thunder. It walked past the generals, past Lucifero, and stopped at the base of the throne.
It let out a soft whine, nuzzling its massive head against Red's skeletal knee.
"...Master." The word wasn't spoken, but transmitted through a soul-link.
Red's hand—all bone and no skin—rested on the wolf's head. "Welcome back, partner. They won't kill us a second time."
Lucifero watched the reunion with a grim satisfaction. "Now, my lord. The Familiar Ritual. We must bind your authority so that you may begin your ascent."
The entire hall began to glow. Lucifero bit his thumb and pressed it against Red's forehead—the center of his skull. At the same time, the thousands of soldiers in the hall began a rhythmic chant, their weapons striking the floor in unison. *Boom. Boom. Boom.*
"I, Lucifero, King of the Netherworld, pledge my eternal loyalty to Red, the Sovereign of the Crimson Seed. My power is your power. My shadows are your shadows. Until the heavens fall and the void consumes all, I am yours."
A massive magic circle, miles wide, erupted beneath the entire dungeon. Blood-red lightning arched from the ceiling, striking the generals and flowing into Red. The sheer influx of information and power would have shattered a human mind. Red saw the memories of the Netherworld, the maps of the hidden layers, and the names of every soldier pledged to him.
When the light faded, a mark had appeared on Red's sternum—a glowing red sigil of a crown entwined with thorns.
"The contract is complete," Lucifero whispered, bowing so low his wings brushed the floor. "You are the Master of the Abyss."
Red looked at his body. He felt the connection—thousands of threads of mana linking him to the army. He could feel their hunger, their loyalty, and their readiness for war. But he looked at his own status window.
**Current State: Skeleton (Tier 0)**
He was a king with an army of gods, but his own body was still a fragile shell.
"I need equipment," Red stated. "I will not hunt looking like a common grave-robber's find."
Lucifero snapped his fingers. From the treasury of the Netherworld, items began to materialize, floating in the air like offerings to a deity.
"First, the **Armor of the Abyssal Sovereign**," Lucifero presented. A set of interlocking black plates, etched with runes that seemed to move. "It is crafted from the scales of a Void Dragon. It nullifies 90% of physical impact and breathes with your mana, repairing itself as you fight."
Red stepped into the armor. It shrunk to fit his skeletal frame perfectly, the plates clicking into place with a satisfying heaviness.
"Next, the **Soul-Eater Blade**." A long, straight double-edged sword appeared. The metal was translucent, like dark glass, with a core of pulsing red ore. "It does not just cut the flesh; it severs the connection between the soul and the body. Every kill you make with this will feed your mana pool."
Red gripped the hilt. He felt a surge of predatory joy.
"And finally," Lucifero held out a ring and a pair of boots. "The **Ring of Mana Amplification** and the **Striders of the Void**. One will allow you to cast spells beyond your current tier; the other will allow you to walk on air as if it were solid ground."
Fully equipped, Red looked like a dark god of war. The black armor contrasted sharply with his white bone, and the crimson glow of his eyes was now channeled through a terrifying helm.
"Now leave," Red commanded. "I need to grow. I will not have my subordinates fighting my battles while I am weak."
Lucifero smiled—a rare, prideful expression. "As you command, my Sovereign. We shall wait in the shadows of your soul."
With a shimmer of purple light, the army, the generals, and the King vanished. The Great Hall returned to its tomb-like silence, leaving only Red and the massive black wolf.
"Cuttey," Red said. "Teleport us to the First Floor. We start with the basics."
A flash of light later, the obsidian throne was replaced by the damp, moss-covered stone of the dungeon's entrance. This was the 'Newbie Zone' for human adventurers—a place of slimes and weak goblins.
Red saw them immediately. Seven Slimes—bloated, translucent green spheres of acidic jelly—bounced aimlessly near a fountain.
In his past life, Red would have used a sword to dispatch them. Now, he felt the mana of the Netherworld pulsing in his ribs. He raised a skeletal hand, his fingers crackling with dark energy.
"**Fire Arrow.**"
But it wasn't the orange flame of a human mage. Because of his nature, the spell mutated. Seven bolts of black-purple fire shot from his fingertips. They didn't just pierce the slimes; they incinerated them instantly, leaving nothing but charred cores on the floor.
A surge of energy hit Red. It was a dark, intoxicating hunger.
"Eat," Red told Cuttey.
The wolf lunged, devouring the cores in a single crunch. Red felt the mana transfer through their bond.
[ **System Notification** ]
* **Slimes Defeated:** 7/7
* **Mana Absorbed:** +700
* **Current Evolution Progress:** 700 / 5,000
* **Monster Cores Collected:** 7 / 10
* **Kill Count:** 7 / 100
Red looked deeper into the dark tunnels of the first floor. He could hear the chattering of goblins and the skittering of giant spiders. To them, he was a monster. To the humans who would eventually come here, he was a target.
But to Red, they were all just fuel.
"The journey to the Vampire God is paved with the bones of my enemies," Red murmured, his voice echoing through the damp corridor. "Let's see how many I can break tonight."
He stepped into the shadows, his cape billowing behind him, the black wolf at his side. The dungeon, once a place of trial for heroes, had just become a slaughterhouse for a god in the making.