Soulless Soul

Chapter 31: The Unforeseen

It’s been a month since Sky first heard the hollow, echoing voice chime welcoming him to the dungeon realm. Time blurred in this place. There were no suns or moons to mark the passage of hours, only the grueling rhythm of survival. Right now, lying flat on the hard ground behind a cluster of jagged, oversized rocks, Sky was just trying to keep his breathing silent. His muscles ached, and his uniform was caked in grime and dried sweat. He pressed his back against the stone, pulling his knees slightly toward his chest to minimize his profile.

The structure of this trial was supposed to be straightforward. The historical records of the Royal Rumble were clear: participants had four distinct dungeons to clear. For decades, the format never wavered. First came the standard gauntlet—floors one through four. These were the preliminary trials, meant to weed out the weak, test baseline compatibility, and force the new generation of awakened to adapt or die. Once those four floors were conquered, the survivors would proceed to the main event.

Thankfully, former awakened had come to this place before and thoroughly documented floors one through four. Their journals, logs, and strategies were studied like holy text by rookies looking for an edge. They knew the spawn patterns, the terrain anomalies, and the boss mechanics. But those veterans didn’t even know about floor 1-5. It simply hadn’t existed during their runs. It was an anomaly, an unmapped sector that suddenly showed up during our time. It rewrote the rules without warning, transforming a dangerous but calculated trial into an unpredictable death trap.

Curses.

Sky opened his eyes and immediately rolled to his left, coughing violently as his lungs filled with damp, moldy air. The sudden movement sent a sharp spike of pain through his ribs. The ground beneath him wasn’t a comfortable mattress in a safe house; it was cold, moss-covered cobblestone that seemed to actively leech the warmth straight out of his body. He pushed himself up onto his elbows, blinking away the static in his vision, and took in his surroundings.

The environment was suffocatingly grand yet deeply unsettling. Towering, subterranean trees with thick, twisted trunks broke through the stone flooring, their roots weaving like massive serpents across the ground. Instead of normal foliage, they sprouted bioluminescent blue leaves that cast an eerie, ethereal glow over everything. The light flickered rhythmically, mimicking a slow, dying pulse. Far above, the canopy disappeared into a ceiling entirely shrouded in perpetual, churning fog. It felt less like a cave and more like a graveyard for things that never belonged under the sun.

A digital, semi-translucent interface hovered silently in the corner of his peripheral vision, glowing with a soft, pale hue. It felt incredibly invasive, a constant reminder that his life was currently being quantified by an unfeeling system. He focused his gaze on the text, letting the lines expand into full view.

Name: Skies.

Title: —

Rank: White.

Class: Common.

HP: 5/5.

Armor: 5/5.

Energy: 100/100.

Soul Gems: 100.

Sky stared at the numbers, a bitter taste rising in his throat. God damnit, this is still too low to do anything with it. A mere five points of health meant there was zero room for error. A single clean strike from a high-tier monster, or even a lucky shot from a minor one, could instantly end his run permanently. His armor value offered a sliver of comfort, but it was just as fragile. He scrolled down further to inspect the traits he had managed to scrape together.

Passive Attribute: [Dragon Heart], [Danger Sense]

Active Attribute: [Clones], [Dark Blade]

Soul: Soulless Soul.

Curse: [Imperfect]

The attributes were powerful on paper, but his current rank severely limited their true potential. [Dragon Heart] hummed deep within his chest, a faint, rhythmic warmth that kept his energy stable, while [Danger Sense] acted as a subtle prickling at the back of his neck, warning him of immediate threats. Yet, the presence of his curse, [Imperfect], hung over him like a shadow, reminding him of his limitations.

Clang.

A heavy piece of cold iron materialized directly into his right hand, the sudden weight pulling his arm down for a split second before he stabilized his stance. It was a long, single-edged sword with a vibrant, glowing red hilt that pulsed in opposition to the blue light of the forest.

A weapon manifested in his hands—a sword called a Blood Blade, which he had bought with almost all his hard-earned gems. It had been a massive gamble, stripping his savings down to a bare minimum, but it was a necessary sacrifice. Because of this sword, he was able to learn and understand the active attribute [Dark Blade]. By spending a significant portion of his soul gems directly on the weapon’s compatibility matrix, he was able to enhance it, binding the dark energy of the attribute to the physical edge of the iron blade. The investment made the sword an extension of his own body, turning his meager offensive capabilities into something formidable.

"Back in the meat grinder," Sky whispered, shifting his grip on the hilt. The leather wrapping on the handle was coarse against his palms, a grounding sensation amidst the madness.

Suddenly, a loud, ping echoed sharply through the forest corridor. The sound was high-pitched and mechanical, cutting through the heavy silence of the cavern like a blade.

The heavy stone archway behind him slammed shut with a grinding, deafening crunch, sending a shower of dust and small pebbles cascading over his shoulders. There was no going back. Almost instantly, red, glowing runes flared to life along the cavern walls, casting harsh, jagged shadows across the mossy floor. The dungeon had locked him in. The trial had officially begun.

From the thick, tangled brush of the subterranean forest, small, hideous creatures began to crawl out into the open. They emerged from the shadows like verminous insects. They were Goblins, their skin a sickly olive green, covered in warts and scars from internal squabbles. Their eyes glowed with a mindless, feral hunger, fixed entirely on Sky. Three of them carried crude wooden spears, the tips carved to jagged points and stained with old blood. Two others stayed in the back, their twisted hands gripping heavily rusted pistols that looked like they might misfire at any second.

Bang! Bang!

The goblin riflemen fired without warning. In the cramped, enclosed space of the dungeon grid, the sound of the gunpowder exploding was deafening. The bullets moved with terrifying speed, cutting through the damp fog.

Fortunately, Sky wasn’t completely blind to the attack. Traced by faint red lines courtesy of the trajectory predictor, the paths of the oncoming projectiles painted themselves across his vision a fraction of a second before impact. His [Danger Sense] flared wildly, the prickling sensation at the back of his neck turning into a burning alarm.

Sky threw his weight backward, his boots skidding across the slippery cobblestone. The first bullet grazed the edge of his leather tunic, leaving a scorched trail in the fabric but missing his flesh. The second round slammed directly into the stone rock he had been leaning against just moments before, shattering the top edge into a cloud of sharp debris. He could feel the shockwave of the air pressure brush past his cheek.

The three spear-wielding goblins screeched in unison, a piercing, grating sound that echoed off the cavern walls. Spurred on by the opening shots, they lunged forward, their spindly legs moving with surprising agility across the uneven terrain. The distance between them was closing fast. Sky tightened his grip on the Blood Blade, the crimson hilt flaring brightly as he prepared to activate [Dark Blade]. He was cornered and outgunned, but the meat grinder didn’t care about fairness—and neither did he.

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