The Hero Who Wasn't:Lord of Kingdoms

Valerius stood before the wall of rock and dust that had once been the mine's entrance. He looked at Kalia, a confident smile gracing his face.

"Alright, my love, wait here. I'll go in first and scout things out."

Kalia let out a soft, melodious laugh. "You stubborn man. Fine—if you insist on going first, at least let me prepare you properly."

A brief exchange followed, full of sweet words and the unwavering trust built over decades. Then, Kalia began her ritual.

She raised her hands, and magical runes formed in the air around her, each glowing with a unique color and power.

"[Stoneflesh Gift]!" Earthen energy surged into Valerius's skin, turning it diamond-hard.

"[Lightwind Blessing]!" A current of air wrapped around him, making him lighter and faster.

"[Ultimate Warrior's Focus]!" His gaze sharpened, his mind cleared.

Then came the most vital enchantment. Kalia whispered, "[Cloak of Silent Shadow]."

In an instant, Valerius's presence vanished. Not just visually—his existence was erased completely. If you weren't looking directly at him, you wouldn't feel him, even if he touched your shoulder. He had become a ghost, a silent wraith.

When she finished empowering him, Kalia pressed her palms together and closed her crimson eyes.

"[Seer's Revealing Eye]!"

A pure white light burst from her body, spreading silently in all directions, cutting through kilometers of rock and earth. It focused entirely on the tunnels, scanning every inch.

She opened her eyes and began transmitting what she saw directly into Valerius's mind.

"The numbers… enormous. There are thousands of ordinary ghouls in the upper tunnels. Deeper down… I see hundreds of those annoying regenerating ones, the 'ghūl.' Individually weak, but with their regeneration, they're nearly unkillable unless you crush them in a single blow."

She paused, focusing harder.

"Found him. I see Arion. He's in a side cavern, very deep beneath the main mine complex."

Valerius analyzed the situation instantly. "So he fell into one of the fissures caused by the collapse, regained consciousness, then crawled or stumbled into that cavern before it caved in again. Resilient kid."

His deduction was logical—yet far from the truth. The reality was that Arion, unconscious, fell into a crack purely by chance, was carried by an underground spring by pure chance, and was dumped in that cavern—by sheer dumb luck. His survival was nothing but a string of ridiculous coincidences.

"What about the primary target?" Valerius asked.

Kalia sighed. "As expected. Even my strongest detection skills can't pinpoint it. This Ghoul King is a master of stealth, cunning and intelligence, even among the smartest of beasts. He's arrogant—but cautious. I did, however, analyze the remnants of the aura I sensed before. Its power… is two to three times my own level. That means we're looking at an SS- or even SSS-class monster. And if it can hide itself entirely from me, it's definitely the King—no mere lieutenant could pull that off."

Valerius nodded. Their worst fear confirmed.

"Then," Kalia said, her eyes going dead serious, "there's no other choice."

She took a deep breath and began casting her most dangerous spell.

"[Twin Soul Resonance]!"

Her entire body glowed crimson. A thread of red light shot from her and merged with Valerius. In an instant, he felt his strength double. Every skill, every stat—everything multiplied by two.

But he knew the cost. From that moment on, any pain he felt, she would feel equally. Worse, she was now in a trance-like state, aware only through their link—completely defenseless against even the weakest creature.

"Don't worry, my love," Valerius murmured, glancing at the glowing defensive array Kalia had set up the moment they arrived—one he had almost forgotten in the heat of the moment. A dome of pure energy protected her from any external harm.

Now, he was ready.

Valerius turned to the wall of rock blocking the entrance. He didn't draw his sword. He didn't prepare a spell.

He simply raised his fist. It glowed with doubled power—and he struck.

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!

There was no sound of shattering or crumbling. It was the sound of vaporization. His punch didn't break the rock—it turned it to dust and powder instantly. A massive cloud of debris exploded outward, revealing a pitch-black tunnel leading deep into the earth.

With one tremendous blow, Valerius had carved his path into the Emperor's lair.

---

Calm Before the Storm

After descending into the abyss, Valerius found himself in an older, darker corridor. Its walls were covered with ancient dwarven carvings—defaced and coated with a glistening black slime that pulsed faintly. The air was heavier here, thick with the scent of old death and betrayal.

The passage was full of traps—deadly dwarven contraptions, reactivated and twisted with the ghouls' vile magic.

First, hidden pressure plates on the floor—designed to unleash swarms of poisoned arrows. Valerius stepped over them indifferently. The trap triggered, but the arrows bounced off his stone-hardened skin like toothpicks, leaving no scratch.

Next, massive, rusted scythes swung down from the ceiling, meant to bisect any intruder. Valerius didn't even try to dodge. He let them strike him. The clang of metal on his body rang out—but the result was shattered blades clattering to the ground while he walked on, unbothered.

Finally, a cloud of thick purple gas hissed from the walls—a nerve agent strong enough to paralyze a dragon. Valerius simply held his breath and strode through the toxic haze, emerging on the other side without so much as a cough.

A death trap for an entire party of adventurers—nothing but a minor inconvenience for him.

---

The Crimson Hall

At the end of the passage, he stood before massive bronze doors. He pushed them open slowly—revealing a scene straight from hell.

A vast chamber, once perhaps a dwarven banquet hall. Now—a slaughterhouse and feeding pit for the ghouls.

Hundreds of them gathered here. Their forms were grotesque—gaunt, hunched, nearly naked save for scraps of cloth around their waists. Their skin was pale and translucent, showing black, pulsing veins beneath. Their limbs were unnaturally long, twitching and jerking like spiders. They carried crude weapons—human femurs sharpened into clubs, rusted mining picks, and some fought with claws alone.

But the true horror was the scene itself.

They were feeding—on humans.

In one corner lay a monstrous heap of naked women's corpses, bearing marks of unspeakable violence and violation.

Along the walls, men's bodies hung upside down on rusty hooks—like slaughtered cattle, their throats slit to drain their blood into stone basins below… so the meat could be eaten "clean."

Some ghouls gathered beneath the hanging corpses, eagerly licking the dripping blood.

Valerius stood at the threshold. His face didn't change—but an icy chill radiated from his eyes, colder than any spell Kalia could cast.

---

Bare-Handed Massacre

The ghouls noticed him. They stopped eating and licking. Hundreds of pale, milky eyes turned toward him. Then, with one collective, monstrous shriek—they charged from every direction: floor, walls, even ceiling.

Valerius didn't draw his sword. He wouldn't stain its sheath with this filth. He didn't waste precious combat aura on them. Ghouls weren't regenerators like ghūls—a single decisive strike was all it took.

He waited until the first wave closed in. Then he moved.

It was a brutal dance of death.

He punched a ghoul coming at him from the right. It wasn't just a punch—it was a focused shockwave. Its chest didn't just break—it exploded outward, spraying its innards over the ghouls behind it.

He turned and used his sword's scabbard as a club. He smashed another's skull—splintering it like a rotten egg.

A ghoul leapt from above. Valerius didn't even look. He raised his hand and backhanded it mid-air. Its neck snapped in the middle of its jump—its body crashed to the ground like a discarded rag.

He moved among them like a storm. Every strike was lethal, efficient. A palm strike crushed ribcages. An elbow shattered skulls. A sidekick broke spines and sent bodies slamming into walls—splattering into wet stains.

It was up-close, savage, personal. He wasn't showing off—he was unleashing a cold, controlled wrath.

In less than two minutes—silence again.

The hall was carpeted in ghoul remains. Not a single one still moved.

Valerius stood in the middle of the carnage, his body untouched—though his fists and scabbard dripped with black blood. He flicked his hand in disgust.

He looked around at the slaughter he had wrought.

"They were weaker than I expected," he thought coldly. Then he turned and continued deeper into the mine, leaving the hall of death behind—air thick with the stench of blood.