The stone-cold tiles of the final room welcomed the Architect back to the world of the living.

  His body lay flat as he rolled over onto his back, his gaze fixed on the ceiling of his final room.

  “Was it always this low…?”

  He designed his dungeon himself, every tile, every pillar, every door.

  This wasn’t it.

  The ceiling was low and square rather than arched, with no supporting pillars. The room was significantly smaller, and everywhere his eyes landed, he could see cracks, crevices, and dust.

  “No dungeon of mine…”

  He sat upright, cracking his neck and stretching his legs.

  It felt like he slept for ages. A feeling he knew and had experienced several times, yet this time was different.

  He clutched his head with both hands, his fingers digging into his skull as a sudden, throbbing headache made his mind spin.

  He could feel the heat rising from his head to his neck as a whirlwind of information flashed before his eyes.

  Memories.

  Everything he had experienced, from his first dungeon iteration to the last.

  Every encounter with adventurers he had, each dialogue and fight was as vivid as if he had just lived them.

  He stumbled as he got himself standing on two feet.

  He wasn’t lying.

  The challenger’s words echoed on the walls of his mind.

  Am I not a dungeon boss anymore?

  Even his clothes had changed; instead of the white and golden mythical robe, he now wore plain gray garments, perfectly fitted yet basic in materials.

  Despite concentrating as much as he could, he couldn’t even assemble his staff or cube anymore, something that had always been so natural, now so foreign.

  The Architect turned to the nearest wall, extending his hand toward the rough, damaged structure.

  After focusing for a moment, the stone engraved itself, making way for words and numbers.

  At least I can still do that…

  [ Dungeon Rank: F ]

  [ Core: Symbiotic ]

  [ Mana Storage: 0/1000 ]

  [ Monster Population: 0 ]

  [ Floors: 1 ]

  Rank F? That’s several ranks behind what it should be. And what’s this core?

  His eyes snapped to the right as even more words engraved themselves into the stone wall unexpectedly.

  [ Name: ____ ]

  [ Class: Dungeon Master ]

  [ Class: Architect ]

  [ Level: 1 ]

  [ Points to allocate: 1 ]

  “What’s this?…”

  He approached, running his hands along the coarse surface.

  There was no doubt in his mind that the challenger had been telling the truth.

  But why?

  “I can do anything I want, now…”

  His mind then pondered for a moment. He approached his personal profile to the right, and softly grazed the [ Name ] field with the tip of his fingers.

  “Lucian.”

  His new name engraved itself, filling the blank.

  The moment it did, even more engravings appeared to the right, this time much larger and more majestic.

  It looked like giant trees with arching branches.

  Each of them had several circular holes with lines connecting them to others.

  He looked above the carved trees, reading their titles.

  [ Dungeon Master ] | [ Architect ]

  Two skill trees, he could sense it through the tip of his fingers as he ran his fingers across the structure: he could apply his one available point at the bottom-most hole of each tree.

  Each possessed many skills; yet only the lower ones had titles and descriptions, while the higher branches were all still unreadable.

  Lucian nodded as he read them quickly, rubbing his chin with a serious look on his face.

  On one hand, the Architect skills look more practical for combat, yet some of them seem to require the dungeon to be further ahead. I’ve never actually had to increase a dungeon’s rank before; it’s always been at S…

  Stolen story; please report.

  The first skill in the architect branch allowed linking the dungeon’s mana to Lucian’s.

  He had been the final boss of his own dungeon for ages, and his dungeon always had roughly ten times his own mana.

  “Getting that first skill will increase my mana exponentially, but I need to get the first skill in the Dungeon Master tree to get mana generation up and running.”

  He brushed his finger against the starting point of the Dungeon Master skill tree; he could feel some of his mana dripping from the tip of his finger.

  The hole filled up, and a soft blue light emanated from it while his profile to the right changed in real time.

  [ Points to allocate: 0 ]

  On the left, the dungeon’s mana storage had changed.

  [ Mana Storage: 1/1000 ]

  “Slow…”

  Hopefully, by the time I get the mana link ability, it’ll be completely filled.

  Lucian turned around, the engravings turning back into the rugged stone wall it had previously been.

  He headed toward the only doors in the room. They were much smaller than he liked, made of old, battered wood.

  Once before them, he took a deep breath and laid both hands on them, then, with his entire body, pushed.

  He blocked his eyes with his right arm almost instantly, letting out a small gasp as he took a few steps back.

  It hurt.

  The sunlight was so bright it felt like it burned through his eyes. He took several steps back into the shadows while trying to divert his gaze to gradually get used to it.

  Beyond the door was everything he dreamed of: freedom.

  Once his golden eyes adjusted to the sunlight, he finally crossed the entrance.

  He stepped onto soft soil for the first time, his feet welcoming the soft cushion of the dirt beneath.

  The air he inhaled was unlike anything he had before; the humid, damp smell of his dungeon was gone. He could smell the dirt, the leaves, and the tree bark. It almost felt as if he could even smell the sun itself.

  He kept walking forward while glancing around.

  The dungeon was on the rocky side of a mountain situated in the middle of a forest, its wildlife seemingly flourishing as insects and animals ran around almost carelessly.

  He advanced through the forest, making sure to mentally map the path he took as he observed the nature expanding around him.

  Rabbits grazed as he approached a small clearing, unbothered by his presence. Even as he got closer and leaned down to gently pat their heads, they didn’t run away. They were slightly startled at most.

  It happened quickly; all he heard was the quick rustling of leaves as a fox ran out of a bush, rushing toward the rabbit.

  It ran away as fast as it could, the fox quickly on its tail, a chase that barely lasted a few seconds before Lucian heard the noise suddenly stop further away.

  Lucian stood upright, ready to keep going, yet stood still for a few seconds.

  “Blood?…” he whispered.

  The rabbit?

  He could smell it distinctively, the struggling smell of something dying.

  “It’s too strong for a rabbit…”

  He slowly turned around, trying to find the direction it came from, his eyes dissecting the space between the trees as he looked for anything out of the ordinary.

  One unsure step after another, he headed toward where it smelled strongest, letting his nose lead the way.

  After several minutes, the trees started to appear further apart, until he walked out into a larger clearing.

  Lucian instinctively held his breath as he stood still, staring at it.

  It was breathtaking.

  Flowers covered every inch of that clearing, the colors of each flowing from the brightest pink to the darkest red.

  When he finally breathed in was the moment their intoxicating fragrance overtook his senses.

  He had never smelled something that felt so subtle, yet so good.

  Despite it all, in the middle of that flower field lay the reason his nose brought him there.

  A sunken area where a body lay flat in a puddle of blood that had covered the surrounding flowers.

  Lucian took a final deep breath, making his way through the field as he approached what lay there. Each step made the person appear more distinct, confirming his initial thoughts.

  It’s not human.

  Its body was female, and looked human in every way. He stood over her, his cold, yet calm gaze taking every detail in.

  Her eyes slowly moved from the distance she had been staring at, to softly look at Lucian.

  She remained expressionless, yet her eyes spoke volumes.

  “What are you?” asked Lucian.

  Her eyes remained on his, unable to even move a finger.

  Her upper lip slowly pulled up, revealing her white teeth.

  “A vampire?”

  She didn’t answer, letting her lip drop.

  She wore a torn outfit made of dark leather, with several daggers hanging at her waist. Each hole in her clothes revealed a bloody wound.

  That sort of damage I can’t repair.

  Lucian crouched to her side, her tired eyes following him down.

  “Do you still want to live?” he asked quietly.

  She couldn’t answer, but he saw the slight hesitation in her gaze give way to a subtle request.

  He leaned forward, grabbing her arm and wrapping it around his shoulder. With both feet planted in the ground, he pushed as hard as he could, lifting her up to her feet.

  It was a more challenging feat than it seemed, reflected by the fact that he was now a level 1 entity in a level 1 body.

  Her body was unable to support herself, making it harder for him to hold onto her.

  Her head rested on his shoulder, tilted up so her eyes could still look into his.

  “Try to stand up,” he whispered.

  Her gaze didn’t move, yet he could feel her weight shifting.

  She was trying her best to stand by herself, Lucian letting go of her arm while careful to monitor her stability.

  He grabbed two of the daggers at her waist, carefully handing her one of them while he kept the other one.

  She didn’t hold it with any real firmness, the dagger loosely dangling from the tips of her fingers.

  Lucian took several steps back, facing her as she unsteadily stood there with resolve in her gaze.

  He pointed the dagger he held toward her, his golden eyes reflecting the sun as he felt its rays caress his body amid the flower field.

  “Let me see how much you truly want to live,—”

  In a split second, the dagger softly slid down her fingers until she held it by the tip.

  She gracefully caught it and spun it around with minimal movement, raising her hand only as much as needed.

  With one elegant yet rapid motion, she threw it his way before he could fully process it.

  He heard the air split as it headed straight for his head.

  Lucian barely had time to panic, instinctively raising his arm to block its trajectory.

  The sharp pain hit him before he even realized the dagger was lodged in his left arm.

  He lowered it, taking the dagger out with his other hand.

  With one dagger in each hand, his concentration was now fully committed.

  He approached, the girl’s hand going toward another dagger at her waist.

  He sprinted, trying to close the distance as quickly as he could.

  Another whistling sound was heard through the flower field as the next dagger grazed Lucian’s cheek.

  He barely had time to react, only realizing how close to death he had been once the dagger had already gone by him.

  His grip on the daggers only got firmer as he was finally in range.

  She was going for another dagger, her hand already on its handle.

  In one swift motion, he planted both daggers in her heart.

  Her gaze was still stuck on his, despite her eyes slowly losing the life that remained.

  He caught her in his arms as she fell forward, holding onto her tightly.

  “Don’t worry, I could feel it, your passion.”

  From the tip of her fingers, a soft purple flame quietly spread over her body.

  Until the very last moment, her eyes remained on his.