Dungeon King: The Hidden Ruler-Chapter 88: [Three Faces of the Blade 6] Her Other Selves

The chamber was dim, lit only by the residual heat of the previous battle and the flicker of a few unstable braziers. It smelled of oil, burnt mana, and the sharp edge of overclocked machinery.

Raven crouched low. His mask dimmed.

Below, at the far end of the room, stood a figure he recognized.

NekoNekoNyan.

Full cat-themed armor set. Oversized shoulder decals. Her new scythe—nearly identical to the last one she’d used, just a little more polished, probably with new cosmetic flare.

And she was talking. Not to the stream. To someone else.

Raven’s camera drone hovered quietly above his shoulder. The lens zoomed in.

NekoNekoNyan stood mid-arena, still in a private video call.

"—what, you guys just got a fucking wipe?!" she snapped.

Raven curled a small smile.

Not bad for a start.

"I especially assign you dorks to farm the robotic stupid dog," she continued, pacing in place, scythe dragging behind her. "And someone gets you?"

(Unclear voice from the call)

"Okay, okay. How many?"

(Unclear voice again)

"One? Fucking ONE? And you died?"

(Unclear response)

"Fuck! What do you mean call other guild members?! And let fuckers from Helix Media know I’m breaching contract doing black-market farming?"

(Unclear voice)

Another smile touched Raven’s lips.

There you go. Dig your own grave deeper, cat. I wonder what your fanboy will say to see their beloved cat girl streamer is actually a foul-mouthed snarky brat? And the mention of Helix Media? Chef’s kiss.

"No. No, you dipshit. What about Team A?"

(Unclear voice)

"Wiped? What do you mean wiped?"

(Unclear voice)

"DAMMIT NO! I will not invite anyone else into this operation! Can’t trust those coin beggars! Fuck! After this one boss kill—retreat. We can’t let Helix find out we’re doing this shit behind their back. Now shove off, I’ve got streaming schedule to do!"

Raven pressed the record button again. The drone chirped once and blinked out, vanishing silently.

He’d gotten everything he needed.

Below, NekoNekoNyan took a deep breath, still unaware of her watcher above.

She flicked open her public interface. Her recording drone blinked into existence before her.

"Hello minna-nyaaaaan! It’s your favorite battle princess back again, nya~! Today we’re gonna solo Ashlord Arvax with sparkle and style, meow-meow!!"

Her fake cheer echoed in the room, followed by her fake cheerful persona talk to her audience in the streaming chat.

Raven moved silently back, retreating from the porch edge to the shadowed doorway above.

Time to prepare.

He couldn’t be seen on her stream. Her gang wouldn’t speak of his presence—they’d rather bury it. Especially when this activity is a contract breach as a brand ambassador like her.

But her audience—and the recording? That would be hard proof his class existed. Especially if he fought a dungeon boss from outside its original raid.

It also meant one thing—

The audience would see her fall, but never see the hand that pushed her.

The only question left was how to take her down without being seen.

Only one name fit the moment.

"Phantom Seer, come."

With a flicker of dark blue glitch, Phantom Seer emerged in the far corner of the porch, cloaked in shadow.

"Seer."

"Raven," it replied, voice dry and fractured—like a whisper dragged through broken glass.

"You were down in the last subjugation. Are you alright now?"

Raven said it lightly, but guilt edged the words. He still remembered how Lady Ostreva had killed Seer during their last deployment—brutal and final.

He was changing. Slowly. Starting to care about his summons.

They were still expendable—he knew that. They’d respawn anyway.

But something in him—something still human—valued them.

They’d been with him from the start.

"I have rested enough, Sovereign. I am bound to our contract. I am always ready for you."

"Good. Here’s the plan. When the player below begins the fight, cast Mind Shatter—target her directly."

"You will not fight her yourself?" Seer tilted its head, curiosity laced in every syllable. It was rare to see Raven avoid battle.

"She creates copies—doppelgangers amplified by her scythe. So we’ll turn that against her. Let her fear what she trusts most."

Now Seer understood.

"Sounds like a nice plan," it rasped. "Let us place fear in her heart."

Without warning, a dense fog rolled across the arena floor—unnatural, like it had bled in from some other layer of the dungeon. It spiraled outward, swallowing the scorch marks and the smoldering husk of the previous construct.

Then it reversed.

The fog snapped inward—dragged like a breath held in reverse—gathering into the very center of the pit.

Ashlord Arvax reappeared.

The smoke coiled around his rising frame. Brass limbs locked into place with a seismic hiss. The six-armed war machine stood fully formed, glyphs glowing hot-red along its back.

"Okay okay minna-nyaaaan!" she purred again, voice bright and saccharine. "We’re facing the big boss now—Ashlord Arvax, rawr~! Let’s make this a perfect clear for the stream, okay?"

Her drone camera swiveled, focusing on the looming figure of the dungeon boss as it reactivated. fɾeeweɓnѳveɭ.com

What she didn’t say was that this wasn’t her first time.

NekoNekoNyan had been farming this boss for three days straight—grinding for rare alloy drops, hidden sets, and covert material orders that would never show on her public log. But on stream? It was just another cute solo run.

As her voice rose in bubbly confidence, the boss’s targeting reticle locked onto her.

She was in aggro range.

And Ashlord Arvax began to move.

"TRIAL... INITIATION... CODE—CRIMSON."

Above, Raven remained still.

Duskrunner glanced toward him from the shadowed edge of the room.

Raven raise his hand, sign to halt.

Duskrunner understand.

Below, NekoNekoNyan lit up.

"As promised, I’m going to solo Ashlord Arvax today! Wish me luck, okay? Let’s hope I stay flawless and cute, as always~"

She giggled on cue, her voice sugary and hollow, the cheerful persona now fully in place.

NekoNekoNyan dashed forward. One strike. Then another. Five hits in rapid succession.

Her first doppelganger appeared—identical, glitch-lined, trailing after her like a loyal echo.

Arvax responded by summoning its Ashforged Legion. Five constructs rose from the scorched floor, encased in flickering armor and molten ash.

By the time they fully formed, Neko already had three copies.

She didn’t slow down. The original and her illusions tore into the Legion—more hits, more shadows. By the time the wave fell, she stood with six doppelgangers around her.

Arvax launched a targeted spell—Code Crimson—toward one of the copies. Its health bar dropped to a sliver.

Neko didn’t even look.

"That one’s not the real me, nyaaa~," she muttered under her breath.

Her scythe spun, and with the next set of hits, her total reached ten doppelgangers—the limit.

Arvax summoned a second wave.

Neko split her formation. She and five doppelgangers went for the Legion. The remaining six charged Arvax directly.

Her swarm was overwhelming. A storm of movement, steel, and distorted copies.

Raven waited in silence. Watching. Counting.

Not yet. Almost. And then, no more doppelgangers appear. The maximum limit has reached.

Then he whispered: "Seer. Now."

Phantom Seer’s silhouette moved—barely more than a shadow against the porch wall. One hand lifted.

The arena changed.

It started with a pulse of static—not heard, but felt. Then a low vibration passed through the floor like a heartbeat skipped.

The doppelgangers twitched.

One mid-swing slowed, its limbs jittering in the middle of a wide arc. Another hunched as if winded. A third let out a high-pitched cackle—unprompted and wild.

NekoNekoNyan blinked, confused.

"Eh?" she chirped on stream. "Why are you guys acting weird—"

The fourth doppelganger laughed again, louder now—unhinged. It lunged at an Ashforged soldier with far more force than necessary, its scythe carving deep until sparks burst.

The others followed suit—faster, meaner, more erratic.

Bloodlust.

Their giggles turned to maniacal cackling.

Ashlord Arvax let out a distorted growl—its voice now deeper, more organic than mechanical. Its form began to glitch at the edges, brass plating twitching and reshaping subtly between frames, as if the system couldn’t decide which version of it existed.

From NekoNekoNyan’s eyes, the boss began to shift.

What had once been a scripted construct now pulsed with an unnatural presence—its movements jittered, its eyes glowed not with code, but with awareness. The glyphs across its frame crawled like living things, twisting and spiraling in directions the system shouldn’t allow.

Something was wrong.

Arvax summoned another wave of Ashforged soldiers, but even they looked different now—bent, burned, their armor dented before they’d even appeared, as if they’d already suffered some unseen punishment.

NekoNekoNyan’s doppelgangers screamed with laughter and launched into them like rabid wolves. One after another, the soldiers were torn apart—not with strategy, but with savagery. Blades jammed into joints, heads torn from sockets, glowing cores ripped from their chests and discarded like trash.

The slaughter was excessive.

Unnatural.

And still, her copies laughed.

One jumped onto the shoulder of another doppelganger just to slam its blade down.

Neko turned her head, still in character.

"Heeeey! Listen to me, will ya?" she puffed, playfully bonking one of them on the head with the dull side of her weapon.

The doppelganger froze.

Then slowly turned to face her. Its face twisted—not broken, not glitched. Just wrong. Its eyes burned with static light, and its smile was not hers.

"Hey," it said.

"...That hurt, you know?"

All the others stopped.

Seven pairs of eyes turned toward the original.

One after another, they began to speak—voices layered, echoing, disjointed.

"Why are you the only one who gets to exist?"

"Why do you get the fans?"

"Why do you lie like that—every time you open your mouth?"

"Do you even like who you are, Neko?"

The temperature in the arena dropped, as if something cold had entered the room.

And NekoNekoNyan’s smile finally cracked.

Her mouth opened to force another joke—but no words came.

Just breath. Just cold.

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