A few days had passed since everything changed.
Not enough time for the world to forget. Not enough time for me to fully adjust. Just enough time for things to settle into a new shape one that felt unfamiliar no matter how many times I told myself this was expected.
I was driving.
The motion was steady, controlled, the road stretching forward without interruption. It should have felt normal. Familiar. But even something as simple as driving carried a different weight now.
Eira was with me.
She stayed close, quiet, present. Not watching the road. Not distracted. Just there, like she always was. Her presence had become part of the background of my thoughts, something I noticed only when I tried not to.
The first clear sign that fame had begun to change my life came without warning.
A billboard.
Large. Public. Impossible to ignore.
My image wasn't exaggerated or stylized, but it didn't need to be. Seeing myself displayed like that frozen in a moment meant for others to interpret felt strange in a way I couldn't immediately define. It wasn't pride. It wasn't discomfort.
It was different.
That was the only word that fit.
Inside, the attention didn't excite me or overwhelm me. It didn't scare me either. It simply shifted something, like my sense of position in the world had been nudged slightly out of alignment.
The system reacted.
Not loudly, not urgently but clearly. Its awareness sharpened, acknowledging the attention the same way it acknowledged threats or opportunities. Fame, to it, was just another variable.
Leo was the first to approach me because of it.
There was no tension in his presence this time. No testing glance. No hesitation. When he spoke, it was with respect direct and unforced. The way someone spoke when they believed you had already proven something.
Nothing about the situation felt dangerous.
Not yet.
But that didn't mean it was harmless.
As we talked, one decision became clear, forming without resistance.
I would link up with Leo.
Not out of obligation.
Not because of fame.
But because the next step forward wasn't meant to be taken alone at least not this time.
And with that choice, Chapter 9 truly began.
Leo didn't waste time easing into the conversation.
He took me straight to the point an SS-rank dungeon.
Not a rumor.
Not a possibility.
A confirmed location.
The words alone carried weight. SS-rank wasn't just dangerous it was extreme. The kind of place that erased teams without warning, where even preparation didn't guarantee survival. Going there wasn't a challenge. It was a gamble.
This wasn't an official mission.
No guild announcement.
No public approval.
It was private quietly arranged, deliberately kept off the record. That alone said more than any warning could. Whatever waited inside that dungeon wasn't something the public was ready to hear about.
The scale of the mission was clear.
SS-rank.
No margin for error.
Leo wanted me involved because of my power.
He didn't try to dress it up as teamwork or compatibility. He said it plainly, without flattery. Strength mattered more than titles in a place like that, and he believed I had enough of it to make a difference.
I didn't sense anything hidden behind the offer.
No hesitation in his voice.
No double meaning in his words.
If there were secrets tied to the dungeon itself, they weren't coming from him.
Eira reacted immediately.
She was excited.
Not cautious.
Not hesitant.
Danger energized her. The idea of stepping into something that extreme didn't unsettle her it drew her in. Her attention sharpened, her presence tightening like she was already preparing for what lay ahead.
The system analyzed the mission at once.
Information moved quickly beneath the surface, processing risk, scale, and unknown variables. It didn't object. It didn't approve outright. It simply acknowledged the danger as real.
The reward was implied rather than detailed.
But it was clear it would be great.
Resources.
Value.
Something worth risking more than a single mission.
The risk, however, stood out just as clearly.
SS-rank meant nothing was guaranteed not survival, not control, not even retreat.
Before agreeing, I set one condition.
We would share resources fifty-fifty.
No hidden claims.
No last-minute adjustments.
Equal stakes. Equal reward.
Leo didn't argue.
That alone told me he understood the seriousness of what he was asking and what he was offering in return.
The mission wasn't just about power anymore.
It was about trust.
Preparation began at my apartment.
Not a base.
Not a facility.
Just the place I returned to when the world stopped watching at least for a moment.
The quiet there felt different now, heavier than it used to be, like the walls themselves understood what kind of danger I was getting ready to face.
It was just me and Eira.
No Leo.
No team.
I preferred it that way. This wasn't about coordination or planning speeches. It was about readiness.
The first thing I focused on was my weapons.
Not upgrades.
Not replacements.
Just checking what I already had balance, condition, response. Each movement felt familiar, grounding. Whatever waited inside an SS-rank dungeon wouldn't care about preparation rituals or confidence. It would care about whether I could strike when it mattered.
Eira took part in the preparation though not in the way I expected.
At first, she appeared wearing a bikini.
It caught my attention for a second.
Not because of desire, but because it was unexpected out of place against the seriousness of what we were about to do.
The moment passed quickly. She didn't linger in it, didn't make anything of it. It was just Eira being Eira unconcerned with human norms unless they served a purpose.
She adjusted soon after, shifting focus back to the task at hand.
The system didn't warn me about anything specific.
No alerts.
No highlighted threats.
That silence didn't mean safety. It just meant there were no variables it considered worth interrupting me over yet.
Nothing about the dungeon information worried me.
Not because it was harmless but because worrying wouldn't change what it was. SS-rank meant unknowns by default. Accepting that was part of the preparation.
I felt confident.
Not reckless.
Not inflated.
Just certain of what I could do and what I was willing to face.
No one doubted the mission.
There were no voices telling me to slow down or reconsider. No hesitation crept in. No memory surfaced to remind me of failure.
Nothing interrupted the focus.
The stakes were clear without needing a reminder.
And the decision that finalized my commitment didn't come from strategy or reward.
It came from intent.
To defeat the monster.
Whatever waited inside that dungeon whatever power or presence ruled it I wasn't preparing to survive.
I was preparing to win.
The SS-rank dungeon was located out of town.
Far enough that the noise of the city couldn't reach it. Far enough that whatever happened there wouldn't draw attention unless someone wanted it to.
The land around it felt abandoned, stripped of anything unnecessary, as if even nature had learned to give the place space.
The entrance looked like a massive cave.
Not a crack in the ground or a glowing gate like lower-rank dungeons this one had a door. Heavy. Carved into stone.
Solid in a way that made it feel permanent, like it had been there long before anyone decided to name it a dungeon.
Leo was already there.
He didn't speak much when we arrived. Words felt unnecessary in front of something like this. His posture was steady, alert, carrying the quiet seriousness of someone who knew this wasn't a mission you joked about.
The atmosphere was intense.
Not just dangerous oppressive. The air pressed down subtly, not enough to slow movement, but enough to make every breath feel intentional. This wasn't a place that tolerated mistakes.
Eira reacted the moment we stepped closer.
Her attention sharpened. Her presence tightened. She stayed closer than before, not out of fear, but readiness. This dungeon demanded awareness, and she responded to that demand instinctively.
The system remained silent.
No warnings.
No countdown.
That silence felt heavier than any alert. It meant whatever waited inside was beyond simple evaluation or that the system was choosing not to interfere yet.
As the door opened, the first thing I sensed was a dark aura.
It rolled out slowly, thick and cold, carrying weight rather than force. It didn't rush to meet us. It simply existed, filling the space with the certainty that something powerful lived beyond the threshold.
Then came the smell.
Old.
Stagnant.
Unmistakably dangerous.
Not the scent of decay alone, but of dominance of something that had ruled this place long enough to leave its mark on the air itself.
Before moving forward, I suppressed my feelings.
Not erased.
Not denied.
Just pushed aside. Emotion would only interfere with clarity, and clarity was the only thing that mattered now.
The moment that marked my true entry wasn't stepping inside.
It was opening the gate.
The sound of stone shifting echoed through the cave, slow and deliberate, sealing the choice I had already made.
There was no turning back.
The moment the gate fully opened, a powerful smell hit us.
It wasn't subtle. It rolled out of the dungeon in a heavy wave, thick and overwhelming, carrying something ancient and dominant.
The air itself felt different the instant it touched my skin, like the dungeon was announcing its presence before anything else revealed itself.
The dungeon didn't stay quiet.
Almost immediately, movement followed.
Wolves and dragons emerged from the darkness not charging, not retreating, but revealing themselves with a confidence that felt deliberate.
They didn't rush to attack. They let themselves be seen, as if to remind us whose territory we had stepped into.
The first true threat was the dragon.
Its presence alone separated it from the rest. Bigger. Heavier. Its silhouette filled the space behind it, wings partially unfurled, eyes fixed forward with intelligence rather than instinct. This wasn't a beast reacting out of hunger.
It was assessing.
Leo was shocked.
Not frozen but clearly caught off guard. His posture shifted instantly, tension tightening through his frame as he adjusted to the reality of what stood before us. SS-rank wasn't theoretical anymore. It was right there, breathing, watching.
Eira reacted differently.
She was happy.
Not reckless joy something sharper. A thrill at the danger, a readiness that surfaced the moment a real threat appeared. Her attention locked onto the dragon without hesitation, energy rising as if she had been waiting for something like this.
The system finally spoke.
Not with urgency.
Not with emotion.
Just acknowledgment.
That alone confirmed what we already knew this wasn't a test. It was a confrontation.
What made this first contact feel different from every dungeon before wasn't just the enemies.
It was the atmosphere.
The dungeon didn't feel hostile in a chaotic way. It felt controlled. Structured. Like the creatures inside weren't simply defending territory, but operating within a hierarchy that understood strength.
The dragons targeted me.
Not by chance.
Not by proximity.
Their focus narrowed deliberately, eyes tracking my movements even before I acted. Whatever ruled this place knew who the real threat was or at least, who it needed to eliminate first.
No mistake happened.
No hesitation broke the moment.
Nothing slipped out of control.
Because there was no unnecessary movement. No panic. No wasted action.
The situation stabilized not through force, but readiness.
The first contact had passed.
And it was clear this dungeon wasn't going to ease us in.
The monster made the first move.
There was no warning, no buildup meant to intimidate. The decision was instant, decisive proof that this dungeon did not reward hesitation. The dragon's presence shifted, and the air reacted before I fully registered the motion.
Fire came first.
Not a scattered burst or a probing strike, but a direct release compressed heat tearing through the space between us. The flames weren't wild. They were controlled, shaped with intent, aimed to overwhelm rather than scare.
I countered instinctively.
There was no time to think, no room for doubt. My body responded before my thoughts caught up, movement flowing cleanly as I redirected the force meant to consume me. The impact rippled outward, heat washing past instead of through me.
Leo engaged immediately.
The moment the clash began, he moved no hesitation, no second guessing. His position shifted to cut off the dragon's advance, his presence anchoring the battlefield even as the pressure intensified.
Whatever shock he'd felt earlier was gone. This was familiar territory now.
Eira stayed in sync with me.
Not following, not leading moving alongside. Her timing matched mine, her reactions aligned without instruction. It wasn't coordination built through training. It was something more instinctive, as if she sensed my intent before I fully committed to it.
The system intervened.
Not with commands shouted over the chaos, but with subtle guidance adjustments, awareness sharpened just enough to keep my movements precise. It didn't take control. It supported it.
The most dangerous part of the battlefield quickly became the dragon's side.
The space near its wings and core radiated threat, heat and pressure stacking together until every step felt like it carried consequence. Getting too close meant risking more than impact it meant being caught in a zone where strength alone wouldn't save you.
The heat hit first.
Not burning, not pain pressure. The kind that tested endurance, that pressed against muscle and bone alike, demanding constant resistance. Every breath carried warmth, every movement required intent.
One emotion threatened to interfere.
Love.
Not weakness distraction.
The awareness of Eira's presence, of her closeness, tugged at focus in a way no enemy attack could. It was subtle, dangerous precisely because it wasn't fear.
What kept me grounded wasn't calm.
It was anger.
Focused. Controlled.
A force that cut through hesitation and narrowed the world to action alone.
The clash had begun.
And there would be no easy way out of it.
The dragon changed tactics.
The shift was subtle at first not a retreat, not a reckless charge. Its movements became sharper, more deliberate, as if it had finished testing us and decided the next phase required something stronger.
Lightning followed.
Not scattered strikes, but focused arcs tearing through the air with speed that left little room to react. The heat from before hadn't faded, but now it mixed with raw energy, cracking against stone and forcing constant adjustment.
Leo struggled.
Not in the sense of losing control but pushing against a ceiling he hadn't expected to hit so quickly. His movements tightened, effort becoming visible as he adapted on the fly, forcing himself to keep pace with the dragon's escalation.
Eira took a risk.
She moved closer than before, positioning herself where timing mattered more than distance. It wasn't reckless it was calculated but it left no margin for error. One misstep would have meant direct impact.
The system increased its involvement.
Guidance sharpened. Awareness narrowed. The world reduced itself to angles, timing, and pressure. It didn't command. It reinforced pushing precision where instinct alone might falter.
The strain hit my mind first.
Not fatigue.
Not fear.
Mental pressure the constant calculation, the awareness that one lapse would cascade into failure. Holding control took effort, and that effort stacked with every exchange.
No mistake happened.
Not because the danger wasn't there but because everything slowed just enough to avoid it. Focus held. Timing stayed intact. The system's guidance, my intent, and the rhythm of the fight aligned without fracture.
The dragon was surprised.
Its reactions slowed by a fraction, its movements no longer completely dominant. Resistance had been expected but not sustained at this level. Not this long.
And through all of it, one thought stayed clear.
Greatness.
Not as ambition.
Not as pride.
But as certainty.
This fight wasn't nearing its end.
It was proving something.
The fight didn't slow down.
It continued escalating.
Every exchange carried more weight than the last, pressure stacking until the space itself felt unstable. There was no rhythm anymore only force answering force, intent colliding with intent in a struggle that refused to settle.
The atmosphere began to change.
Not visually at first, but in density. The air thickened, heavy and charged, making every breath feel deliberate. Sound warped slightly, as if the dungeon itself was reacting to the sustained clash, unable to remain neutral any longer.
Leo was almost hit.
The moment came fast a miscalculation born from exhaustion, not lack of skill. The dragon's movement shifted, lightning cutting across space with lethal precision. Leo was a fraction too slow.
I intervened.
There was no thought behind it. No plan. My body moved on instinct, positioning myself between him and the strike before the danger fully registered. The impact grazed past instead of through, close enough to remind us how narrow the margin had become.
Eira faced danger almost immediately after.
She was surrounded wolves closing in from multiple angles, their movements coordinated, relentless. It wasn't a single attack that threatened her, but accumulation.
Pressure from every side, designed to overwhelm.
I rescued her.
Not with hesitation.
Not with restraint.
I cut through the space between us, breaking the formation before it could collapse in on her. The moment she was clear, my focus snapped back to the battlefield without pause.
The system intervened more forcefully.
Guidance sharpened beyond suggestion. Awareness narrowed until distraction ceased to exist. Every movement became intentional, every response precise.
It didn't override me but it pushed harder, reinforcing control where emotion threatened to interfere.
The price came quickly.
My emotions began to slip.
Not vanish but destabilize. The constant threat, the proximity of danger to those beside me, eroded restraint layer by layer. Focus became harder to maintain as instinct pushed against discipline.
Rage surfaced.
Hot. Immediate.
A force that demanded release.
For a moment, it almost took control.
Anger surged sharp, consuming the urge to end everything in front of me without hesitation or mercy. It pressed against reason, threatening to fracture the careful balance I'd maintained throughout the fight.
The decision that defined the moment wasn't restraint.
It was direction.
I didn't suppress the anger.
I aimed it.
All of it rage, intent, resolve funneled into a single purpose. Not survival. Not reaction.
Greatness.
That resolve didn't end the fight.
But it pushed it toward its conclusion.
The balance shifted because of my strength.
Not suddenly.
Not explosively.
It was the accumulation of everything before the endurance, the control, the refusal to break even as pressure mounted.
Each movement carried more weight now, not because the dragon weakened entirely, but because I no longer hesitated.
The dragon made a desperate move.
Its attacks became wider, less calculated. Lightning and force overlapped, power bleeding into motion without the same precision as before.
Desperation didn't make it weaker but it made it predictable.
Leo pushed forward.
He didn't retreat or reposition. He attacked, pressing into the opening created by the dragon's loss of control. It wasn't reckless it was decisive. He understood this was the moment to apply pressure, even if it didn't end the fight.
Eira moved the same way Leo did.
Not copying, not following orders mirroring intent. She stayed aligned with the flow of battle, reinforcing pressure where it mattered, maintaining momentum rather than chasing advantage.
The system issued instructions.
Short. Clear.
Focused on timing and positioning rather than force.
It didn't promise victory.
It didn't signal an end.
Just guidance to keep the advantage from slipping away.
No part of the dragon was fully vulnerable yet.
That truth became clear quickly.
This fight wasn't ending here.
The realization settled not as doubt, but certainty. The main presence of this dungeon hadn't revealed itself yet. What we were facing now was resistance, not the core threat. The true monster still waited.
Anger dominated me.
Not blind rage but pressure refined into intent. It fueled movement, sharpened strikes, and kept hesitation at bay. Everything else fell away under its weight.
Nothing stopped me.
No fear.
No doubt.
Only the drive to continue.
My anger pushed forward not to finish the fight, but to carve a path through it. To force the dungeon to respond. To make whatever ruled this place take notice.
The dragon's fate wasn't sealed.
But the direction of the battle was.
And whatever waited deeper inside the dungeon had just been challenged.
The battle didn't stop.
It continued.
Not with another clash, not with louder attacks but with a pressure that didn't belong to any fight we were already in.
The moment stretched, movement slowing as if the dungeon itself had taken a breath.
Then the aura appeared.
It wasn't a shape.
Not yet.
It was presence dense, absolute, impossible to ignore. It rolled through the space without sound, without force, yet everything responded to it instinctively.
The dungeon froze.
Not figuratively.
Literally.
The air locked in place. Dust hung motionless. Even the echoes of battle vanished, swallowed by a silence that felt deliberate. It wasn't suppression. It was acknowledgment.
The dragons and wolves disappeared.
Not fleeing.
Not dying.
They simply ceased to be there, erased from the battlefield as if they had never been the true defenders of this place. Whatever had arrived had no use for them anymore.
Leo became afraid.
Not panic something deeper. His posture stiffened, breath tightening as understanding settled in.
This wasn't an enemy you measured by size or speed. This was something that redefined the scale of the dungeon itself.
Eira was shocked.
For the first time since entering, her confidence fractured. Her grip tightened, attention snapping fully forward, instinct screaming louder than reason. Whatever stood beyond that aura wasn't just dangerous it was wrong.
The system acknowledged it.
One confirmation.
Nothing more.
No analysis. No breakdown. Just recognition that something greater had entered the field of awareness.
Anger surged through me.
Not because of fear.
Not because of uncertainty.
But because I understood what this meant.
Something big was coming.
Something that wasn't revealed yet but already controlled everything around it. A presence that demanded confrontation, not avoidance. A threshold that couldn't be crossed without paying a price.
I clenched my focus, steadying myself.
If this was what waited deeper inside the dungeon, then there was only one path forward.
To defeat it.
To get stronger.
And as the aura deepened, the last thought that cut through the silence was simple
What kind of monster is this?