The Hidden Monster of House Vale

The distant cave echoed with the murmur of voices, its walls slick with moisture and age. Torches flickered along the rocky surface, casting dancing shadows across the gathered figures. Seven realm masters sat in a semicircle, their expressions ranging from contemplative to frustrated. Before them, the bandit leader and his surviving men knelt in submission, their heads bowed, their spirits broken.

Halfred, the red-haired leader of this faction, leaned forward, his dark eyes scanning his companions. His mid-thirties had been kind to him—he looked young, almost boyish, but there was a hardness in his gaze that spoke of years of struggle and survival.

"It seems we've found other realm masters," he said, his voice calm but edged with tension. "They saved that village, Long Creek. All of our bandits are dead."

Marian, a girl with fiery red hair that matched her brother's, spoke up. Her voice was sharp, impatient. "Brother, maybe it's time we attack them as soon as possible and move toward the Heart of the Death Pit. Every day we wait, the competition grows fiercer."

Ashdan, a blue-haired man with a calculating expression, shook his head. "They're realm masters too—peak Spirit Forge, just like us. What if we planned before attacking? They're unknown to us. Rushing in blindly is how people die."

Halfred remained silent, his mind churning. They had been trapped in this dungeon since the beginning of the month, when the Ancient Breach had first opened. He had been confident then—peak Spirit Forge realm masters, a well-coordinated team. What could possibly stop them?

But then the other realm masters had started arriving. And now, with this new group of seven, there were three factions of peak Spirit Forge masters roaming the same limited space. The complexity of the situation grew with each passing day.

His goal was simple: reach the Heart of the Death Pit. But to do that, he needed the Black Heart Key, and after more than fifteen days of searching, he was no closer to finding it. The competition was fierce, and the stakes were higher than ever.

He had to protect his sister. He had to save his family. They had come from a different country—Faldale—far from the lands of Valtheria where Lucien and the others originated. And now they were trapped in this nightmare with two other factions who had no reason to cooperate.

Fighting between peak Spirit Forge realm masters was destructive. The terrain became messy, and resources were limited. Astral energy didn't regenerate naturally in this place—there were no ambient energies, no cultivation resources to draw upon. Every battle drained them, and recovery was slow, agonizingly slow. Going all out was a death sentence in more ways than one.

"We can't just sit around," Katelle said, his silver hair gleaming in the torchlight. "They're new here. They haven't figured out this dungeon like we have. We can either kill them as soon as possible... or befriend them and kill them later."

Halfred considered the suggestion. It was ruthless, but practical. Still, something held him back. Instinct, perhaps. Or maybe it was the memory of the countless battles he had fought and the countless friends he had lost.

Before he could respond, something flew through the cave entrance. It landed with a wet thud in the center of the group—a head. The head of the bandit they had sent to attack Long Creek.

Halfred's eyes narrowed. "Are they already here?"

Rosra, a girl with crimson hair that cascaded down her back like a waterfall of blood, jumped to her feet. "They found us!"

"Come out, you bastards!" a voice boomed from outside. "We are here to make you pay for your crimes."

Quindic's voice echoed through the cave, and Halfred's team scrambled into defensive positions. Arrows—dozens of them—streaked into the cave, but these were peak Spirit Forge masters. Simple projectiles wouldn't be enough to kill them.

They surged outside, weapons drawn, and found themselves facing a group of seven realm masters. A woman with black hair and a voluptuous figure stood at the head of the group, her golden eyes cold and assessing.

"So you're the realm masters who've been leading the bandits," Gwenra said, her voice carrying an edge of steel.

"It's probably them," Katelle said, his hand resting on his weapon. "They're the ones who killed our men in the village."

"Yeah, we did," Quindic growled, stepping forward. "So what are you going to do about it? You sent those people to kill innocent mortals. I can only imagine how 'manly' you must feel, taking such actions."

"How dare you talk to our leader like that, you muscle head!" Kelie snapped, her voice sharp with indignation. She had a crush on Halfred—everyone knew it—and she wasn't about to let some foreign brute insult him.

Marian stepped forward, her hand on her sword. "How dare you speak to my brother like that! Give us your orders, brother. Let's finish this competition before it even begins."

Halfred's mind raced. He could see the variables, calculate the outcomes. If they fought now and won—even if they won—they would be injured. Peak Spirit Forge battles were brutal, and the third faction would undoubtedly take advantage of their weakened state. A costly victory would be no victory at all.

He thought of the third faction—those mysterious, terrifying masters who used their own teammates as meat shields. There were three factions now: his, this new group, and that demonic faction. If he made a mistake, his entire team would die.

We need to negotiate, he decided. Emotions are the worst enemies of a realm master. I can't let my pride get in the way of survival.

"I want to negotiate with your leader," Halfred said, his voice calm and steady. He turned to Gwenra. "And it might be you, right?"

Gwenra's expression flickered with surprise, quickly masked. "What kind of negotiations? Is it not true that you attacked an innocent village?"

"It's true," Halfred admitted. "But we did it to extract resources. We were looking for things like realm master corpses—anything that might contain resources. As you've probably realized by now, there are no natural resources for realm masters here. No ambient astral energy. Nothing."

"So what does that have to do with anything?" Gwenra asked.

"We could trade," Halfred said, spreading his hands in a gesture of openness. "You're new here. I assume you have resources with you. If you give us some, we'll exchange information we've gathered over the past half month."

Gwenra considered this, her golden eyes unreadable. The offer was tempting. Information was valuable—more valuable than resources, in many ways. And if they could avoid a costly battle...

"We can take the information after killing you," Quindic growled.

"Stop, Quindic," Gwenra commanded. "Don't interfere in the negotiations." She turned back to Halfred. "Deal."

She reached into her spatial ring and pulled out a small pouch. Seven Astral Marrow Pills—valuable resources that could restore physical energy and astral reserves, though they couldn't heal soul injuries. She tossed the pouch to the ground between them.

"That's yours if the information is worth seven Astral Marrow Pills."

Halfred nodded. "Don't worry. It's worth it."

"Then talk," Gwenra said, her voice cold. "And do it out here. I'm not stepping into your cave."

Halfred did not mind.

They began exchanging information.

Halfred explained everything.

The existence of the third faction.

The location of the Heart of Death Pit.

The monsters surrounding it.

The Black Heart Key.

The lack of resources.

Everyone listened carefully.

"The third faction," he said, his voice dropping, "is... different. When we first encountered them, their leader used one of his own teammates as a flesh shield. And the teammate didn't even seem to mind. None of them seemed to have control over their own bodies. It's like some kind of skill—or perhaps a curse."

Gwenra's expression darkened. "What else?"

"There are monsters roaming the areas near the Heart of the Death Pit. Powerful ones. We've lost two scouts to them already. And the Heart of the Death Pit is locked—it requires a Black Heart Key. We haven't found it yet."

Halfred paused, letting the information sink in. "There are three factions now, and we're all at a stalemate. Even if you defeat us, the third faction will quickly move in, knowing you've expended resources. And with no way to recover astral energy quickly... you'll be sitting ducks."

"What do you know about that other faction?" Gwenra asked, her voice intense.

Halfred shuddered. "They're not like us. They're something else. I can't explain it—it's like they have no will of their own. They move as one, fight as one, die as one. It's unnatural."

Quindic's fist clenched. "So the only way to break this stalemate is for two factions to join forces."

"Exactly," Halfred said. "And since we're the only two factions with some semblance of humanity left..."

"And where do these 'demonic' faction reside?" a voice cut in.

"They're just outside the Heart of the Death Pit," Halfred said.

"So unless we defeat them, we can never enter the Heart," Isalyn said, her voice grim.

"Yeah," Marian confirmed. "They're guarding the entrance."

Perie, the blonde trap-master, stepped forward, his expression disgusted. "But still—attacking villages just to find resources? That's... disgusting."

Marian's eyes flared. "We did what we had to do to survive! What if those mortals had hidden treasures—realm master artifacts—without even knowing it? As realm masters, you know mortals have no value in our eyes. So why do you care?"

"SHUT UP!" Quindic's voice thundered across the clearing. "You can live your life properly because mortals are the ones running your society! How dare you say such things! They may not be equal to us, but they're useful—they're important!"

Lucien watched the exchange, a faint smile playing on his lips. So this brute actually has a soft spot for mortals. Interesting. He's just a nice guy underneath all that muscle.

"It's not time to worry about mortals," Gwenra said, cutting through the tension. "Our priority is dealing with the demonic faction. That's where our focus needs to be."

Halfred nodded. "Then maybe we should work together. That's the only way to defeat them and enter the Heart."

Gwenra extended her hand. "Agreed."

They shook, and the alliance was sealed.

Gwenra and her team decided to use Halfred's camp as their temporary base.

The atmosphere slowly changed.

The hostility disappeared.

Some members began talking.

Some remained silent.

Some still watched each other carefully.

But at least they were no longer enemies.

Lucien approached Quindic.

The two had no hostility anymore.

"Why do you care so much about mortals?" Lucien asked.

Quindic looked up, surprised by the question. Then he laughed, a deep, rumbling sound. "When I was born, I had no astral energy. My parents—my birth parents, I mean—threw me away. They couldn't bear the shame of a worthless child."

Lucien said nothing, simply listened.

"A family of mortal farmers raised me," Quindic continued. "They didn't care that I had no power. They loved me like their own. I grew up seeing the injustices mortals faced—the cruelty, the exploitation. And then, one day, my astral energy awakened."

He smiled, a bittersweet expression. "After that, the royal family bestowed the title of Baron on me. A few years later, I became a Viscount, because a realm master without a noble title is almost unheard of. But I never forgot where I came from. And I never forgot the people who raised me."

"Wow," Lucien said, genuinely impressed. "I never thought there was such a story behind this steel body."

Quindic laughed again. "You can never judge a book by its cover, as they say."

"Hey!" A voice interrupted them. Perie bounded over, his youthful face alight with excitement. "Can I join you guys? Everyone else is so depressed—you two seem like more fun."

Lucien gestured to the space beside him. "By all means."

They talked for hours, the conversation flowing easily. Perie was a natural storyteller, and his tales of traps and tricks kept them laughing late into the night.

After a while, Rosra joined them. She had crimson hair, bright eyes, and a shy smile that barely masked her curiosity. Lucien noticed the way she kept glancing at him, her cheeks flushing when their eyes met.

Interesting, he thought. She's been watching me all evening.

The night wore on, and one by one, the group dispersed to their tents. Lucien lay in his bedroll, his eyes closed, but his mind was churning.

Everyone was asleep.

He sat up.

His mind started working.

Plans.

Possibilities.

Ways to gain the greatest advantage.

A sinister smile slowly appeared on his face.

"Oh... this is interesting."

His eyes shined.

"This might actually solve my problem."

Suddenly, a notification appeared.

The system.

Even though Lucien had ignored it and entered this dungeon on his own, it was still giving him missions.

"Interesting..."

He looked at the list.

[Abyssal Body Core]

[Claim Rosra]

[The Heart of the Undying Death God]

[Unknown]

Lucien stared.

"The first one has no information."

He looked at the second.

"Claim Rosra?"

He tilted his head.

"Why does the system want me to claim a woman?"

He shrugged.

"It does not matter. I only care about the rewards."

His eyes moved to the third mission.

"The Heart of the Undying Death God..."

A smile appeared.

"That must be related to this dungeon."

The final mission remained unknown.

"A secret mission?"

Lucien laughed quietly.

"If my actions align with whatever the system wants, maybe I can complete everything."

The night remained silent.

Then Lucien suddenly looked around.

"Wait."

His Divine Inspection activated.

His vision pierced through the darkness.

He examined everyone.

Their bodies.

Their energy.

Their hidden secrets.

And then...

He found something.

His smile grew.

"Oh..."

His expression became excited.

"Now this is interesting."

The moonlight entered through the cave opening, illuminating his face.

Half of him looked kind.

The other half looked dangerous.

A strange smile appeared.

"I found you."

"My Abyssal Body Core Physique."

Author Note:

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