Tales of the Endless Empire

Chapter 479: Luminous Dungeon

Welcome to the Luminous DungeonKill more than ten parties, and you will be rewarded with one additional Silver Crown

Everyone inside the dungeon will be informed of your arrival

That had been a close call.

Stuck inside the wardrobe, there had been no way out once Ethan and Eric entered the room. Thalion had expected strong individuals at the door based on their blood—but the fact that it were two Chosen had come as a surprise.

Furthermore, this Ethan seemed to have something similar to his title, judging by how quickly he sensed him.

That was a problem—for multiple reasons.

The only reason Ethan hadn’t immediately recognized Thalion had to be his evolution, which must have altered his aura—or whatever it was Ethan was tracking.

That meant the moment Ethan saw him in person, he would connect the dots instantly.

So Thalion would have to leave the city and stay as far away from that guy as possible.

Because if it came to it, he wasn’t even sure Eric could protect his friends from Ethan—and that Chosen would definitely go the extra mile to kill them if he found out.

If not personally, then through his people.

At least now, he didn’t have to think about secretly helping in the war against the elves anymore.

That idea was completely off the table.

Better to travel the world, grow stronger, and deal with incursions or similar threats.

In the coming war, there was only one faction that didn’t want him dead—the orcs. And even that might have changed after what happened in the system event.

Seeing how that massive orc had fought… yeah, not someone Thalion would ever feel comfortable around.

There also wasn’t much to gain from joining any faction.

The only real benefit would be access to off-world teleportation.

If Thalion hadn’t won the treasure hunt—and hadn’t had all those bad experiences with the blessed and the Chosen—he might have considered it.

Now?

Not a chance.

He could think about his next steps after finishing his job as a dungeon boss.

No way Ethan would still be waiting for him in that house.

The dungeon itself was a massive hall, with a black throne standing in the center.

Other than that, it was just empty space.

No traps. No environmental advantages.

Nothing.

So Thalion decided to reshape the battlefield himself.

He shifted into his wyvern form. The chamber was large enough for him to even fly a bit, and he immediately activated his domain.

Even then, it didn’t completely fill the space.

Rime slowly spread across the white marble tiles, while lightning crackled through the air.

It didn’t take long.

A notification appeared as the first party entered.

He had to admit—that was convenient.

They arrived inside a protective dome, which was unfortunate. Thalion had hoped to spawn-kill them, but the system had clearly thought of that already.

Thalion’s maw curled slightly in amusement as he saw who had entered.

Five males.

They looked like sheepmen.

They had the heads and fur of sheep—but the muscles of orcs.

Their leader wore a necklace made of teeth and rode a massive black wolf.

The rest carried crude weapons—hammers and maces.

Weapons that wouldn’t do shit against Thalion.

They didn’t seem to have noticed him yet.

The leader appeared to be giving some kind of speech—probably about how they would defeat the final boss.

Yeah.

That wasn’t going to happen.

Thalion began to slowly circle the outer edge of the chamber, pushing more power into his domain.

The snowstorm thickened, turning the battlefield into near-total whiteout conditions.

Combined with the constant lightning strikes slamming into the ground, it should be nearly impossible for them to spot him.

His plan was simple:

One clean attack.

End it immediately.

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

The sheep warriors’ expressions shifted drastically once they truly saw the storm raging around them.

Even the wolf didn’t look so confident anymore.

A few seconds later, the protective barrier vanished.

The group instantly scattered, diving aside as a massive lightning bolt slammed into the ground where they had stood—detonating with a deafening crash.

“What kind of boss is this? I thought it was one from the new universe?” A group member shouted.

The fact that they were confused and unable to see Thalion circling at the far end of the chamber was pretty neat.

The air around him began to vibrate as he started charging his breath attack.

He could’ve just unleashed it—but charging felt so much better.

Eagly would’ve turned into a feathery explosion trying to use something like this.

For the wyvern?

Not even close to the limit.

The sheep warriors’ heads snapped toward him as they sensed the gathering power—but for three of the five, that realization came far too late.

Thalion unleashed his breath.

By sweeping his head, he managed to hit three of the fuckers—which didn’t seem to appreciate his attack nearly as much as he did.

A direct hit simply disintegrated their bodies, while those caught near the blast froze solid.

The survivors stood there in shock, staring at what was left of their comrades.

Standing still in a storm filled with lightning was a bad idea.

One of them was struck by a bolt with a deafening crack.

That finally spooked the wolf.

It took off like a cannonball, with its rider barely managing to hold on.

The sheep warrior’s horns began to glow as he activated some kind of boosting skill.

Thalion appreciated the extra light—it made chasing them easier.

Not that he had trouble seeing in the storm—but light always helped.

His claws elongated with raw power as he activated his new claw skill.

Twice, the panicked wolf managed to dodge.

The third time—

Both wolf and rider were torn apart.

A system notification confirmed the elimination of the first party.

It seemed he wasn’t allowed to keep loot—bodies and equipment were immediately teleported away.

Maybe he could bypass that by eating them—but the sheep warriors didn’t exactly spark his appetite.

Still, the thought of food reminded him of something else.

Staying in wyvern form here didn’t really help him progress.

His human form—or the Eclipsari—would be far more effective.

Both allowed him to feed.

And the Eclipsari, especially, would benefit from their suffering.

The next party looked far more confident.

They wore intricate golden armor.

Still sheep warriors—but now their fur was so bright yellow they looked like some weird crossbreed with Pikachu.

All of them clearly had a strong light affinity.

When they stepped out of the protective dome—

They entered pure darkness.

Their light skills flared immediately, pushing the shadows back slightly—but the Eclipsari’s domain was far too strong, far too absolute.

Thalion barely had to exert any effort to maintain it.

Seeing—and feeling—the panic spreading among them gave him an idea.

There was a timer running, but he didn’t need to rush.

Ten parties were enough for the extra reward.

Everything beyond that was optional.

So why not take his time?

Break them slowly.

Turn them into darkness piece by piece.

And while doing that, think about New Earth and his next move.

That plan lasted exactly one group.

The screaming was unbearable.

Thinking became impossible.

Thalion actually tried to make it work—forming earplugs out of darkness—but his senses were simply too sharp.

Also… since he was partially insect-like, figuring out where exactly his ears were wasn’t as straightforward as it should’ve been.

So that failed too.

Instead, he tried a different approach—

Silence them.

He went for their vocal cords.

That turned out to be messy.

Either they died instantly—or they healed fast enough to keep screaming.

Which, somehow, made it even worse.

Louder. Shriller. More annoying.

That was the point where Thalion gave up on subtlety.

Plan abandoned and back to slaughter.

Some parties died ridiculously fast—barely lasting a minute.

Which allowed Thalion to abuse another mechanic of being a dungeon boss:

The boosted experience gain.

Thirty-two hours was a long time.

And if groups kept dropping like this, he would gain a massive amount of levels.

Not his fault they were weak. His job was clear.

Those sheepfolk better not be planning a war—or have one at their doorstep—because they were missing quite a number of warriors.

<--

This was Korkurus’s great day.

Their early D-grade faction had waited a long time for an opportunity to rise far beyond their current power. The new universe was their path to providence.

After a bloody war against two other early D-grade sects, they had finally secured an incursion into the new world. And if that wasn’t good enough, they had ended up close to the Chosen of Solarion—one of the great light gods.

So far, the only valuable asset in their territory had been the Luminous Dungeon—but now things had taken a turn for the better.

If they proved themselves worthy and supported Solarion’s Chosen, they would be rewarded.

Even a relatively weak blessing from a god like Solarion would have cascading effects.

With a satisfied smile, Korkurus set down the feather he had used to write orders to his commanders and took a sip of his aged milk.

Then, with a gentle smile, he opened the golden door of his office and made his way toward the incursion pillar, where the next batch of his finest warriors was waiting.

It was his duty to prepare them for battle—to ensure they made a strong impression.

He had already done this eight times.

And it never got old.

Everyone he passed on the way down wore wide smiles.

But the closer he got to the incursion pillar, the more the mood shifted.

Korkurus couldn’t make heads or tails of why everyone looked so miserable.

A spark of anger ignited within him when he noticed that most of the fighters were missing.

Didn’t they understand how important today was?

“Kunkurus, where are your warriors?” he demanded, looking at the commander standing before the incursion pillar with barely thirty men—far from enough.

Especially not for their arrangement with the Chosen.

“We… had a bit of an issue with the dungeon. Many thought it would be a good idea to run it for a few extra levels,” Kunkurus said, his expression downcast.

“Yeah, that’s understandable—but it should be easy to clear the dungeon in time. How do you even mess that up? Are those idiots showing up at the last moment before our moment of glory?” Korkurus snapped, his two small horns glowing faintly as his anger rose.

“No… they all entered at the right time. But most of them died,” Kunkurus muttered, bowing his head.

Korkurus stood there, stunned.

They died?

How could they die in dungeon?

They had full information about every floor. Every boss.

No one had died there in years.

“How is that even possible? Did they all get drunk before entering, or what?!” Korkurus roared, his voice echoing as the commander flinched.

“No, no, it wasn’t like that. They were fully prepared. It was… one of those events. A dungeon boss from another world was summoned as the final boss…”

Kunkurus looked like he was about to break down completely.

Now Korkurus was genuinely confused.

He had experienced such an event himself.

Back then, it had just been an elite warrior from another sect. Killing her granted additional rewards.

He even tortured the final boss for information.

Usually, you just fulfilled the minimum requirements, took the bonus rewards, and left.

No one wanted to linger too long—because if too many died, the sect would send an elite group to clear the dungeon.

Even talented fighters acting as the final boss rarely stood a chance against a coordinated team.

Korkurus had been the only survivor of his group back then.

He had mourned his fallen companions—but the rewards had been immense.

That power boost had led to his successful D-grade evolution.

And ultimately, to his current position as leader of the sect.

“Kunkurus… do you think I’m stupid?” Korkurus said slowly, his voice dropping.

“I know how this works. I know how strong a final boss can be. Are you seriously telling me that most of our available fighters died to a single dungeon boss?”

His anger was rising again—but then, suddenly, his demeanor shifted.

No.

This had to be a joke.

Some kind of stupid prank.

“Alright… alright, I get it. You can stop now. It was funny—but this is the wrong time for jokes,” Korkurus said, smiling as he spread his arms, turning away dismissively.

Around him, everyone stared.

As if he had just lost his mind.

Because what kind of leader reacts like that…

…after hearing that a large part of his forces had been slaughtered for nothing?