Dungeon King: The Hidden Ruler-Chapter 87: [Three Faces of the Blade 5] Before the Gate Opens

The corridor leading to the dungeon’s heart was no safe passage. If anything, it was a secondary trial—the Velkarin version of attrition warfare. A test to drain your last resources before you reached what mattered most.

Raven moved quickly, Duskrunner just behind him, their boots and claws skimming across scorched alloy.

The corridor curled in arcs, floor warped with old detonation scars. Red glyphs flickered weakly underfoot like dying veins. Pipes hissed from the ceiling where containment seals had broken. Faint groans echoed through the structure, as if something still breathed in the walls.

Some still dripped glowing coolant in slow rivulets, leaving slick trails across the alloy floor. The acrid smell bit at the back of Raven’s throat—chemical, synthetic, and old. Like the dungeon itself was bleeding out.

Ahead, motion.

A metal shriek.

[Enemy Detected – Arc Welder Unit x5]

Five quadrupeds scuttled out from broken panels along the wall. Small, fast, armed with flickering plasma claws.

Their legs clattered—sharp, arrhythmic, like claws tapping out a warning. Each step hissed steam from rear vents, a low stuttering exhale that mingled with the burnt ozone stench already thick in the corridor.

"Contact," Raven muttered.

The Arc Welders screeched as they launched. Their plasma claws sparked against the walls, leaving glowing scratches like neon scars. One of them let out a high-pitched whirr as its legs misfired.

He jumped first, swinging his chain upward to catch the beam above. It anchored, pulling him into an arc. From mid-air, he hurled the chain downward—the dagger end stabbed into the lead unit’s back, piercing but not killing. He followed with a Phantom Bind, blinking behind it and driving the blade deeper, crushing its core.

Duskrunner leapt into the left flank, intercepting two of the quadrupeds. His jaws clamped down hard on the first unit, sparks erupting as one limb flew across the corridor. With a powerful lunge, he hurled the disabled bot into the air and dove forward toward the second.

Raven swung his chain, the dagger edge slicing clean through the airborne unit mid-arc.

A fourth unit lunged. Raven caught it mid-air, slamming it into the wall with a chain yank.

The last hesitated. Big mistake.

Duskrunner lunged and split it down the center.

"More?" Duskrunner growled.

"Always," Raven answered, already moving.

They didn’t get far.

Another hiss. More units—larger this time.

The panels didn’t break this time—they parted. Neatly. Silently. The swarm units rolled out in synchronized lines, each one twitching with low magnetic hums. Their joints hissed as they aligned, like gas leaks ready to ignite.

[Enemy Detected – Gravimetric Drone Cluster x3]

Three silver drones drifted down from recessed ceiling slots. Smooth spheres with orbiting rings that pulsed with distortion. Their hum wasn’t loud, but it vibrated through Raven’s ribs. ƒгeewёbnovel.com

The recessed slots hissed open with a click-pop of mag-locks disengaging. The air changed—charged with static. Even Duskrunner paused, lowering his stance. These weren’t drones meant to scout. These were meant to displace and control.

Their descent was soundless at first, then accompanied by the clicking spin of internal gyros. Blue rings rotated around their cores like orbiting blades, whirring with distorted, digitized chirps.

"Careful," he muttered. "Those things throw."

A pulse launched. The floor beneath Raven rippled—he jumped just in time to avoid being slammed into the wall. Duskrunner dashed wide, growling.

The drones hovered in a triangular pattern. One banked hard, pushing Raven toward the corridor edge.

He flung a mine beneath it. The explosion knocked it off axis but didn’t destroy it.

"Can’t brute it," Duskrunner growled.

"Then break its rhythm."

Raven feinted left, drawing two pulses. Duskrunner vanished into a flicker and reappeared behind one drone. Claws dug in—sparks flew.

The second drone sent a concussive wave that knocked Raven off his feet.

He rolled with it, flipped back up, and yanked his chain. The dagger-tip buried into the drone’s casing and dragged it down.

Duskrunner tackled the last. Together they slammed it into the wall hard enough to leave a crater.

One last ripple. One last pulse.

And then silence.

Ahead, the corridor buzzed with a deeper threat.

A haze shimmered just above the floor. Mana burn. No mobs—just a breach.

Unstable core residue had leaked from the wall seam and arced across the floor, creating a glowing field of disruptive mana. The air here was different—heavier. It shimmered with latent force that made Raven’s skin prickle and the air in his lungs feel thinner.

There was no alternate route.

Raven pulled a vial from his belt, uncorked it with his thumb. Drank. The potion burned his throat, sharp and bitter, like drinking fire lined with metal. He choked down a cough and pressed forward.

The mana field surged just ahead—unpredictable pulses of arc light dancing from floor panel to ceiling conduit.

He waited. Timed the flicker. Then dashed forward.

Halfway through, the surge twisted early. A low bolt struck his leg mid-step—sending shock through muscle and bone.

Raven dropped to one knee, breath escaping in a harsh hiss. He scrambled the last few meters, rolling clear of the burn.

Duskrunner didn’t speak. Just shadow-shifted cleanly behind him.

Raven stayed crouched for a moment, one hand pressed to the floor, the other clenched in pain.

"Next time, we go around," Duskrunner muttered.

"There was no ’around,’ wolf," Raven said, breathless. He stood up, slower than usual.

The corridor ahead sloped into shadow. A long stretch of silence.

Raven’s steps slowed. The air smelled charged—like copper and crushed stone.

Old arc lights blinked along the ceiling like twitching eyelids.

Something was waiting. Not just the final boss. One last test.

His grip tightened. "Don’t get cocky."

Duskrunner’s answer was a soft growl that echoed too far for comfort.

A final obstacle.

Heavy footsteps.

From a broken gate emerged a towering unit. Its plating was pristine compared to the wreckage they’d seen.

[Enemy Detected – Shieldbind Herald]

A bipedal construct, seven feet tall, arms crackling with projected barrier runes. Its chest shimmered with a shifting arc barrier, guarding all frontal approaches.

Raven stopped.

"This one’s not built to fall fast."

"Then we flank faster."

Raven broke left. Duskrunner went right.

The Herald stepped forward, swinging its weight into a horizontal shield bash that cratered the wall.

Raven feinted—drew its focus. Duskrunner charged from the rear.

The construct twisted, too late.

Raven blinked behind it with Phantom Bind, dragging his chain low across its ankle. It turned—stumbled—

"Front," Raven said.

"Back," Duskrunner growled.

The chain yanked. The wolf struck. Raven followed.

For a half-second, the Shieldbind Herald hung in the air, caught in the chain’s pull—vulnerable, suspended like a target on a wire.

Then they struck.

Raven came in from the front, his dagger a silver flash in the dim light, slicing through the arc barrier with a single precise stroke. Metal split.

At that same moment, Duskrunner struck from behind, claws dragging a vicious arc across the Herald’s backplate. The force of both impacts twisted the construct in mid-air.

The three figures crossed. The Herald suspended between them—Raven and Duskrunner landed in each other’s place.

The Herald dropped with a heavy crash, sparks trailing from its core.

Its fingers twitched once—then fell limp.

Barrier glyphs across its chest flickered, then guttered out like dying embers.

One optical sensor stayed dimly lit for a beat longer than it should have, as if the machine refused to accept its own failure.

[Unit Neutralized]

The hallway ahead pulsed faintly.

The floor vibrated under Raven’s boots—a faint, rhythmic tremor pulsing from the chamber ahead. Dust motes hung in the air like suspended ash. The atmosphere thickened with residual heat and lingering magic. Every step now felt like entering something older than the dungeon itself.

The last sparks faded.

Dust settled around the broken body of the Herald.

Ahead stood the final gate—massive, arching, and half-collapsed, but with no actual door to block entry. Just open shadow and cold silence beyond.

He crouched low, one hand steadying his weight against the wall. No voices. No spells. Only the faint hum of distant mana and the occasional echo—metal on stone.

He crept forward.

Peeking past the jagged edge of the gate, he saw it: the boss chamber.

Huge. Dim. Breathing.

The room didn’t open directly into the arena floor. First, there was an interior landing—a kind of narrow narrow upper walkway carved from aged alloy, half-lined with low crates and maintenance clutter. Tools, scrap, and reinforced shipping boxes long since fused to the floor.

Raven slid inside quietly, back against the crate wall. He motioned with two fingers.

"Hide in the shadow," he whispered.

Duskrunner disappeared into the dark beside him, phasing into the deeper edges where the light didn’t reach.

From here, Raven could see the layout clearly. At the far end of the porch, a staircase descended—wide, ceremonial, flanked by inactive floodlights—leading to the main floor.

The central chamber below was enormous and circular, built like a half-buried coliseum. Hollow. Waiting.

The boss was supposed to be below.

But it wasn’t.

Instead, what remained was a shattered machine—a massive bipedal construct of brass and bone-like alloy, its six arms splayed out like a broken insect. Smoke still leaked from fractured plates along its spine, pooling faintly in the dark hollow of the chamber. That is what’s left of the final boss, Ashlord Arvax, the Trial Engine of Velkarin Axis.

The boss had already been killed. Still in cooldown.

Raven’s eyes narrowed.

Movement drew his attention to the left edge of the arena.

There—standing near a smoldering coolant pipe—was someone he recognized immediately.

That foul-mouthed streamer.

NekoNekoNyan.

Bright armor, oversized cat-themed shoulder decals, and that same cocky body language she always had on stream. She looked relaxed, chatting with someone just out of view—probably another guild member hidden behind the debris pile near the arena wall.

Raven exhaled slowly and stepped back into the shadows of the upper porch. He tucked himself between two heavy crates, keeping the angle sharp. Then reached into his side pouch and tapped his player interface—keeping the projection low to avoid light spill.

He opened the submenu.

He tapped into [Record Mode > SIlent Mode]. A quiet chirp confirmed drone activation—no flash, no light

A drone materialized just above his shoulder—small, silent, and built for stealth documentation. Its eye opened with a soft blue glow.

Raven pressed Record and killed his interface instantly, snuffing out the holographic light.

He shifted forward on one knee and edged closer to the lip of the stairwell.

The camera tracked his motion automatically—already recording the scene below.

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