Chapter 33: Another world inside/ Competition
The couple sprinted forward. Five kilometers of cracked earth and withered trees vanished beneath their feet in the span of a single breath as if earth had shrunk under their feet. One moment they were at the forest’s edge; the next, they stood where the green had died.
What had once been a beautiful forest—a place of tall oaks, dappled sunlight, and a well-maintained road winding through like a gentle ribbon—had become something else entirely. The trees stood there skeletal, their branches clawing at a sky choked with heavy clouds hanging above. No birds sang. No insects buzzed like normal forest should. No living soul stirred for miles. The silence was not peaceful; it was the silence of a tomb, ominous even.
The air itself felt wrong. Dry. Suffocating. Each breath scraped the throat like sandpaper. Above, the sun was a pale ghost behind the gray ceiling, and the mana concentration hung so thick it warped the edges of vision—reality bending like heat rising off summer asphalt. Shadows stretched where no light should cast them. The ground beneath their boots was brittle, cracking with each step as if the earth itself had given up.
The couple exchanged a single glance. No words passed. None were needed.
They proceeded, moving deeper, toward the heart of the desolation. Ahead, an invisible barrier shimmered faintly—a dome of translucent energy erected by the guild to keep the curious and the foolish at bay.
The couple raised their black adventurer cards. The barrier recognized the symbols, parting like a curtain drawn aside, and they stepped through without resistance. No guards stood nearby. None were required. The barrier was enough, this was not a environment the weak willed should stay close to.
Before them, at the center of the dead forest, the portal waited.
It was a spiraling mass of energy—a vertical vortex of deep crimson and shadow, turning slowly like a wound in the fabric of the world itself. Edges of raw mana flickered with lightning that never struck, and a low hum vibrated through the ground, felt more in the chest than heard by the ears. The air around it shimmered faintly, and the temperature dropped by several degrees. This was the entrance to the Red-level dungeon.
Their first dungeon exploration was about to truly begin.
Monsters inside should tremble. The calamity couple was about to make an entrance.
They stepped forward together, shoulder to shoulder, and crossed the threshold into the unknown.
Immediately, they experienced a small discomfort—a fleeting lurch in the gut, like the moment before falling asleep. Their sights were momentarily blocked by a swirl of crimson and black. Then, as quickly as it came, it vanished.
When they opened their eyes again, they were in another world.
They stood on a floating mass of earth, its edges crumbling into an abyss of endless void below. The sky above was no sky at all—just a churning sea of bruised purple and blood-red clouds, lit by no sun, yet glowing with an oppressive, unnatural light. Before them stretched a giant continent, once whole, now fragmented into countless floating islands, each suspended in the heavy air like broken shards of a shattered mirror.
The mana here was so abundant it felt like breathing liquid fire. The air was suffocating—thick, electric, pressing against the skin like an invisible weight. Without even taking a single step, without exploring a single cave or crossing a single bridge, the couple could feel it in their bones: this place was dangerous. Deadly. A graveyard waiting to happen.
For normal people, the pressure alone would have been enough to buckle knees and quicken hearts. But not this couple.
Look at them. Their eyes were not wide with fear. They were shining—like children who had just found the most wonderful toy beneath a winter tree. They could not wait. They wanted to slaughter everything inside.
For Lilith, the primordial demoness, this was understandable. Her race was born for slaughter. Battle maniacs flowed through their veins like blood. But Gabriel? He was an archangel—the highest level of the angel race. By all rights, he should have loathed fighting. He should have turned away from bloodshed. And yet, there he stood, eager as any demon, his eyes burning with the same hunger.
Some would say he was more fit to be a demon. Some would whisper he should change his name to Lucifer instead.
The couple exchanged a look. And smiled.
Before them, so many floating islands stretched into the hazy distance. Each one, they knew, was probably filled with powerful monsters—beasts born of corrupted mana, guardians of this broken realm. The hunt would be fun. They should take their time exploring it. Savor every kill.
"Let’s have a little competition," Lilith suddenly declared, her red eyes gleaming like embers, her lips curving upward into a dangerous smile. "The one who kills more monsters wins. And the loser has to listen to anything the winner says for one whole week. What do you say, babe? Ready to go?"
Gabriel met her enthusiasm with his own, his voice calm but edged with excitement. "Why not? I would have proposed the same thing. This way, it will be more fun."
Lilith beamed—a dazzling smile that could have lit up the darkest abyss. She immediately concentrated, weaving mana between her palms until two golden bracelets materialized, glowing with soft light. She fastened one around her own wrist, then reached over and clasped the other onto Gabriel’s. The bracelets would act as receptors, registering every monster killed, keeping count with perfect accuracy. At the end, the one with the higher number would win. The bracelets would last until they had cleansed this place of every last beast.
They exchanged a long, passionate kiss—a promise, a taunt, a blessing all in one. Then they pulled back, wished each other good luck, and the atmosphere between them shifted. The warmth remained, but beneath it, something sharper surfaced. Each vowed to win.
Six pairs of beautiful white wings erupted from Gabriel’s back—pristine, radiant, each feather laced with countless golden, mysterious runes that pulsed with ancient power. He shot toward the sky like a lance of light, streaking across the void toward another island, his form growing smaller until he vanished among the floating rocks.
Lilith watched him go. Her eyes followed the beautiful shape of her man until he disappeared completely, and in that gaze was love—deep, boundless, eternal. Then her expression returned to normal. Focused.
Her body changed.
She became more mature—her curves sharper, her presence heavier. The small pair of horns on her forehead grew longer, curving upward like a crown of shadow. Her expression turned menacing, regal, terrible. Two pairs of tattered dragon wings unfurled from her back, their membranes torn but impossibly strong. A thick dragon tail emerged behind her, ending in a heart-shaped tip that swayed lazily. Her hair elongated, flowing past her waist, shimmering from gray into silver. An illusionary crimson armor in the form of a robe wrapped around her body—ethereal yet solid, burning like slow fire. Sharp, dangerous claws extended from her fingertips, each one capable of tearing through steel.
She was back in her true form. Her lips curved upward dangerously.
She floated lazily in the air, spreading her almost bottomless mana like a net across the entire floating island beneath her. In an instant, she sensed them—countless powerful presences, stirring from their lairs, heading her way. Monsters. Prey.
She raised one hand high.
An ominous bastard sword materialized from thin air, its blade dark as dried blood, its edge humming with hunger. Crimson lightning bolted down from the churning sky, striking the sword and coursing along her arm, and she laughed.
"Hehehehe! Let the massacre begin!"
Dun~ Dun~
Suddenly, from the other side of the forest, heavy footsteps could be heard. Soon, the owners of those footsteps appeared: two monsters with bulging muscles, height reaching almost three meters, gray skins crisscrossed with countless scars. Each had a single big eye and a growing ivory horn on its forehead.
Her first impression upon seeing them was: they look like a mixture between an oni from Japanese folklore and a cyclops. In this world, they were called mutated cyclops.
They wore crude armor made of countless bones and wielded sharp bastard swords made of stone. The moment they saw her, despite feeling the overwhelming difference in strength, they still attacked—driven by instinct.
A quick judgment—she could see right through them. These monsters should be around Life Rank 10 or 11 at best.
Her body disappeared and reappeared behind them before they even knew it. Just as they were about to turn around, their bodies fell into countless pieces. They had been slashed countless times, yet they never saw it coming.
"Weak! Too weak!!" she complained, eyeing the monsters converging on her with the smile of a hungry predator. Only someone like her would consider monster with life rank 10/11 of strength as weak after dispatching them so easily, it was borderline absurd. It made one wonder how strong she, no they really are.
