Dungeon King: The Hidden Ruler-Chapter 74: [The Heir of Thornspine 8] Attack of the Sentinels

Scatter," Raven commanded, stepping forward. "Now."

The team broke formation without hesitation—Root-Soul to the rear left, Seneschal drifting to center, Duskrunner darting to the edge.

Ostreva raised her arms slowly, vines coiling from the sleeves like living tendrils.

Raven calculated fast.

Regal Bloom was down—for now. That left her two other tools.

Scent of Trespass—brutal in the wrong hands. After five seconds, the marked target erupted in a poison nova, infecting anyone nearby. Lethal if the team stayed too close.

Crimson Thornlash—still dangerous, but focused. A single-target bleed, heavy damage, but manageable. One member could tank it while others repositioned or countered.

If he had to choose between a team wipe and a flesh wound, the choice was obvious.

Raven’s mind ran cold. This wasn’t just combat anymore—it was study. She watched everything. Every formation shift, every pause between spells, every recoil in response to her attacks. And she adapted. Fast.

He needed to analyze her.

But the only way to study something this reactive... was to make it react too fast to control itself.

"I can’t give her time to think," he muttered. "I have to overload her judgment loop."

The plan wasn’t to win with strength. It was to bury her under questions before she could find the answers. freēwēbηovel.c૦m

"Root-Soul," he snapped, "Summon the Sentinel. Make it go berserk—no hesitation, no pattern. Let her feel cornered."

She raised her staff high. Bark peeled from the wood like skin from a fruit, and with a twisting crack, a Spitgrowth Sentinel surged up from the floor.

It took form—bristling thorns, spiked arms, an angular stance. This one was a Berserker.

"Let her see it," Raven added. "Let her think it’s dangerous."

Root-Soul didn’t need to ask how. She stepped aside deliberately, giving the Sentinel clear room to advance. It let out a screeching, vine-warped roar and charged directly toward Ostreva.

The Matriarch’s gaze didn’t follow Raven or Duskrunner. It locked, instead, on the new threat.

"Ah... a distraction with backbone. Let’s test your structural limits."

Vines coiled under her robes. One arm raised.

Scent of Trespass – cast on the Sentinel.

The mark flared green across its chest. The timer began.

Raven clenched his jaw. Now watch... see what she does next.

Two threats remained outside her core field—Crimson Thornlash and Scent of Trespass. Raven focused on her stance.

She didn’t ready both at once. No, this was surgical.

When casting Scent of Trespass, she stood unnaturally still—arms low, gaze sharp as scalpels. Like she was selecting a variable in a controlled study. No flair, no aggression. Just indexing.

But Crimson Thornlash—that was different. He had mapped this out during this fight. Her posture turned predatory. One foot forward. Arms coiled higher. A breath drawn like tension before a lunge. It wasn’t analysis. It was execution.

One marked. One hunted. He filed the pattern away.

The Sentinel bellowed and lunged again, claws raking across Ostreva’s plated bark. Her stance shifted—not defensive, but analytical. She studied its range, its commitment, the tilt of its head.

She didn’t cast Crimson Thornlash.

She waited. Observed. Watched how the creature moved. Her arms low.

Then, at the final second—

Scent of Trespass.

Raven’s eyes narrowed. There it was—the pattern.

She watched. Always watched. Her posture during Scent of Trespass was controlled—still, calculating, no wasted motion.

She treats it like a test. A variable.

But the other skill—Crimson Thornlash—that was different. Fluid. Precise. She moved like a predator then, not a researcher. That was when she struck to kill.

In that split second, the flood of thought run in Raven’s mind. She thinks she’s observing us. But what happens when we flood her back?

He spoke, sharp and low. "Root-Soul. Again."

She blinked. "Another?"

"Now. Again. No pause. No hesitation. Push her. I want her reactive."

Root-Soul didn’t hesitate this time.

The second Sentinel clawed upward—angrier, wilder. No chant. No formation. Just motion. Raven didn’t want balance—he wanted chaos. Something that would break her rhythm.

It shrieked—different voice, same form—and hurled itself forward.

Ostreva shifted again. Her foot slid forward. Arms raised, bark-armored fingers curling tighter.

Crimson Thornlash.

Raven saw it—the stance, the coiled precision.

Ostreva shifted. Foot forward. Arms coiling. There it is.

He moved.

"Now," he hissed.

Her vine-blades unfurled mid-air, striking with blinding speed—

Raven cast Phantom Bind—the Dominion Chain flared out, spiraling toward Ostreva’s legs just as her strike reached the Sentinel.

The chain caught.

Ostreva’s blades landed—crashing into the Sentinel’s torso, impaling it with explosive bleed thorns. The Berserker shrieked and convulsed.

And at that same instant—Raven appeared behind her.

He plunged his twin daggers deep into the back of her bark-plated ribs, driving them in with a savage twist.

The Matriarch staggered.

Duskrunner burst from the mist—leaping high, catching Raven in mid-air by the arm with its powerful jaw, then tossing him sideways into a waiting shadow.

He vanished.

The Sentinel collapsed.

Ostreva turned—not in pain. But in interest.

Her eyes didn’t narrow. They widened—curious, calculating. Not rage. Recognition. Like she’d just discovered a new variable she hadn’t accounted for.

"A reaction test. How novel."

The floor beneath them twitched—barely, but enough. A few tiles cracked near the arena’s edge. Overhead, vines slackened, then abruptly tensed, pulling tighter around the ruined supports. Dust trembled in the stagnant light, and the fog along the floor thickened for just a moment before recoiling like a breath drawn back.

Like a mind under pressure, bracing against a wrong answer.

"Keep the tempo," Raven barked. "Don’t let her think."

Root-Soul responded immediately—raising her staff once more.

A third Sentinel erupted from the ground, glowing faintly green.

This one had curved tendrils like arms, and a blooming pod in its chest—a Healer type.

"Send it in," Raven ordered.

The Healer Sentinel surged toward Ostreva—faster than expected, vines lashing forward while its pod pulsed with luminous energy. Each strike it took triggered a self-healing burst, green light flaring at its feet.

It withstood the first blows. Then a second. The third it couldn’t survive—but it had done its job.

Ostreva prepared another strike.

Her left foot slid forward—weight pivoting.

"Duskrunner, now!" Raven shouted.

The wolf-beast leapt, claws raking forward in a burst of motion. It collided with Ostreva’s side just as she wound up another attack, sending her staggering back a step.

The Matriarch hissed—not in pain, but calculation.

"The rat bites back!" Her voice was hissed, and her smile was gone. "Let’s escalate the trial—see what fractures first."

Her bark-plated arms rose.

Roots spiraled violently around her—Regal Bloom was activating.

A chill swept through the chamber.

Raven’s eyes widened.

No voice. No circles. No protection from Eldryn.

The realization hit like thunder:

She’s not outside of the boss room anymore.

Someone else is in the dungeon.

"Seneschal! Root Trial—NOW!"

The knight’s mace slammed into the floor. Thorn lattice exploded upward—roots weaving into jagged bars, locking around Ostreva’s legs.

"Cast Rite of the Root! Strip her wards!"

Seneschal obeyed without pause. A second pulse surged through the roots—debuffing her armor while mending the team’s wounds.

Raven’s eyes in his mask glowed—10 stacks. Resonant State triggered.

His form blurred into shadow.

Duskrunner darted in first, snapping at Ostreva’s heel.

Raven blinked behind her.

He cast Phantom Bind again—chains wrapping her torso, pulling her off balance.

Then he struck.

Twin daggers. Both deep. Both critical.

[Boss HP: 7% – Abyssal Pact Available]

[Warning: Pact Stability Fluctuating...]

Ostreva reeled.

She hissed, voice trembling—not with fear, but fury. "You think pain equals progress? You think breaking one root bends the whole garden? No—this isn’t failure. It’s premature data collection."

Raven’s chain lashed again—dominion power surging.

He cast Abyssal Pact.

[Subjugation Initiated – Resistance 94%]

He gritted his teeth. She’s fighting it.

Raven’s grip tightened on the Dominion Chain. His arms shook—not just from fatigue, but from the sheer resistance pressing back through the link. The pact wasn’t just numbers or system code. It was will against will. Control versus ego.

Ostreva’s presence clawed at his mind like vines inside a skull, whispering equations, pain metrics, surgical coldness.

She wasn’t screaming.

She was studying him.

And still resisting.

If the pact snapped now, she wouldn’t fight them.

She’d dissect them.

But the chain held. The pact sigil flared beneath her.

Even for speedrunners, it would take minutes to reach the final boss room—longer for anyone playing normally.

But that doesn it matter, the dungeon is not reset yet since the final boss is not subjugated or defeated yet.

If they enter now... it’s over.

The light dimmed unnaturally. Not flickering—compressing. Like the space itself tightened around her bark-wrapped form.

Raven grunted, forcing the last ounce of will into the pact. "Everyone," he said, voice sharp and low, "hide in the corners. Now."

He didn’t wait to see if they obeyed. Ostreva’s bark-plated limbs twitched violently. The pact had seconds left—and if someone entered this chamber mid-bind, the result would be catastrophic.

[Subjugation Complete – Lady Ostreva Bound]

She fell to her knees, eyes wide, hands twitching.

The whisper choir stopped.

The air didn’t clear. It hung heavy—like a held breath waiting to collapse. The dungeon wasn’t done. Waiting for another element of surprise.

This is not yet. Not the end he wanted yet. Not a checkmate yet.

Raven quickly pulls up his control screen and pushes a button as his final move, and quickly closes it.

Now Raven has put the pieces all across the chess board already.

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