Seated on the obsidian throne, Lin said nothing.
He didn't need to speak.
The room reacted to his mere presence.
Lines of light slowly etched themselves across the walls, as if the dungeon, sentient, was adapting to him. To his desires. To his thoughts.
He inhaled.
And with that breath, the chamber changed.
Tiles rose silently, forming pedestals. A translucent mist settled around the throne, like a curtain guarding against intrusion. An invisible eye opened in the ceiling's shadow, observing every speck of dust.
This was no longer just a room.
It was a key. An intention.
A kingdom.
His kingdom.
And yet... he didn't smile.
His thoughts drifted elsewhere. To the outside world. To that cold gaze that had crushed him. To that searing feeling of powerlessness.
He closed his eyes.
A memory resurfaced, unbidden.
It had rained hard that day.
He was still young. Younger than he was now. Hair soaked, hands dirty, kneeling before a small ruined monument he had restored himself. A sort of forgotten mausoleum, hidden deep within an abandoned industrial district. A place no GPS had ever registered.
He had skipped school that day.
Not out of rebellion. Out of necessity.
He had to see that place.
Had to understand it.
An old woman had guided him there. Or maybe she was a dream. He no longer remembered clearly. Just one thing she had said before vanishing:
"What has been erased leaves a stronger imprint than what still shines."
He had placed his hands on the damp stone of the mausoleum.
And something within him... began to resonate.
The whole world suddenly felt too loud, too fast, too shallow. Yet here, in this damp silence, he finally felt something real. Authentic.
He wanted to understand why these ruins made him feel... alive.
Why, in the face of the ephemeral, he felt like he truly existed.
That day, he swore never to build for glory.
But for those who seek.
For those who dig.
He opened his eyes.
And in the stillness of the chamber, his voice rose.
— It's time.
With a snap of his fingers, the dungeon's global map appeared. Each room glowed like a luminous vein. He brushed his finger over one—the entrance hall. A menu popped up:
Room 1 – Ruined Camp
➤ Popularity: High➤ Difficulty: Controlled➤ Data Collected: 93%➤ Intruders' Level: 18–27➤ Reputation: "Deceptively simple"
Lin frowned.
Then he activated his new ability.
✴️ Mandate of the Monarch – Local Rewrite
The room began to hum gently.
He altered the ley lines. Concealed certain mechanics. Added shifting puzzles. Camouflaged a second exit, accessible only through a nearly imperceptible clue: one stone slightly warmer than the others.
When it was done, he exhaled deeply.
— And this is just the beginning.
He then shifted to Room 2.
Status: Incident Detected
He clicked. An image appeared.
Bloodstains. A collapsed body. The other group members, wounded but victorious. One of them, on his knees, looking back as if trying to understand what had just happened.
Lin remained silent, eyes locked on the young man's sacrifice.
A pure choice. Human. Noble, in a world that seldom rewarded virtue.
He closed the menu.
Then, guided by a sudden impulse, he materialized a commemorative plaque in Room 2.
Small. Discreet. Marked with a single symbol: a broken arrow.
He didn't know their names.
But he honored their passage.
Something shifted in the air. An invisible pressure.
A presence.
Lin stood up.
A chill ran down his spine.
He was no longer alone.
A magic circle had just opened in a deeper room, near the dungeon's core.
Someone had just forced a teleportation.
Someone important.
He sensed the signature. An overwhelming power, far above average.
Not Nebula. But another.
From the Top 50.
Maybe even... the Top 10.
A slow smile spread across Lin's lips.
— So… I'm being tested this early?
He snapped his fingers. A room split.
A corridor sealed itself.
And at the center of the labyrinth, a silent voice echoed—carrying with it the pure intent of a faceless monarch:
"Welcome to my riddle.I hope you know how to play."