Read Monarch of the Scythe: The Godslayer’s Rise :: The Birth of a Dungeon Lord

The hour before dawn was always the coldest. Lee Siujin stirred beneath the thin blanket that smelled of stale detergent and damp concrete. For the first time in longer than he could remember, he felt no hesitation about leaving this place behind. The room was still dark, except for the faint blue glow that never truly left his vision—the Monarch System’s quiet presence, patiently waiting for his command. He sat up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes, and exhaled a slow, measured breath. A part of him felt as if he had never fully returned from the dungeon. It was as if the gate he had opened between worlds had left something behind, invisible but undeniable. Something that was now part of him. He dressed in silence, pulling on the same black work pants and gray sweater he had worn to carry crates for the hunter association. In another life, this uniform had been a symbol of subservience. Now, it was just clothing—nothing more. He retrieved the cheap combat knife he had used as a courier, its blade still stained with dried monster blood, and slipped it into the sheath at his hip. The act felt symbolic in some way he couldn’t quite name. A reminder that no tool was unworthy if wielded by the right hand. He straightened, feeling the floorboards creak beneath his boots, and called up the system interface.

[Monarch System — Core Summary] Level: 2 HP: 135/135 Mana: 200/200 Strength: 14 Agility: 16 Sense: 15 Endurance: 13 Intelligence: 17

Inventory: Infinite Capacity Active Skills: Ruler of Death — Capture and bind souls into Undead. The power of the bound is determined by the soul’s completeness and purity. Gate of the Monarch — Open a rift to the Dominion and summon Undead. Range and volume scale with level. Monarch’s Insight — Observe the detailed status of any being, unless their power exceeds your perception by more than two ranks. Unique Passive: Soul Devourer — Consume knowledge, partial memories, and raw strength from absorbed souls.

He studied the list in the dim glow. Every skill felt like an extension of his will—tools to carve his path forward. The new Quest remained highlighted at the top of his vision, a promise of what lay ahead.

[Quest: Establish a Monarch’s Base]

Claim three dungeon chambers.

Raise at least ten Undead Minions to Rank D.

Acquire five Soul Marbles (C-Rank or higher). Reward: Title – Dungeon Lord, 1 Random Skill.

He exhaled, feeling something tighten in his chest. It wasn’t dread. It was anticipation, a hunger he no longer had any desire to deny. Today, he would begin to build the domain the gods would one day regret allowing him to claim.

Outside, the city remained half-asleep, its towers shrouded in a haze of winter fog. He left the apartment without a backward glance, moving through alleys still wet from the night’s rain. The damp air tasted of rust and stale exhaust. As he approached the building that housed the association’s small dungeon gate, he checked the hour—still early enough that no patrols would notice him slip inside.

The hall was empty when he entered, lit only by a row of overhead fixtures that cast anemic white pools along the concrete floor. At the far end, the gate pulsed behind its transparent barrier—a swirling oval of darkness edged in blue fire. Last night, he had used the system’s unique authority to claim it. This morning, it waited for him as if it had always been his. He crossed to the control panel, laying his palm on the surface. For any ordinary hunter, entry required registering their guild and declaring intent. But the Monarch System overrode it all. A brief hum rose under his skin, and the barrier vanished. Cold air spilled out across the floor in a low fog.

Siujin stepped through the threshold without hesitation. The world flickered, the transition as smooth as the closing of a door. When he opened his eyes, he stood once more in the heart of the dungeon he had claimed in blood. The cavernous hall stretched out around him, stone walls veined with faint luminescence. Far above, the ceiling vanished into darkness. The air smelled of damp moss and something older—like the breath of ancient bones.

He lifted a hand, willing the Gate of the Monarch to answer his call. Space rippled in front of him, and a black rift split the air. Three figures emerged, one by one, their blue flames burning in empty sockets. Jin-Bok stood at the front, the battered shield now whole, reinforced by the energies of the soul marble he had consumed. Daesik and Hwan flanked him, weapons in hand. He studied them carefully, noting the subtle changes in posture and proportion. Every battle, every absorbed fragment of a soul, would sculpt them closer to something worthy of command.

“You,” he said quietly, voice carrying in the hush. “Scout ahead. Mark anything that moves.”

Jin-Bok nodded, the motion smooth now—almost human. Without hesitation, the three Undead strode into the darkness, their footfalls muffled on the stone. A moment later, the system’s awareness filled the gap. He could feel their positions, each heartbeat a pinprick of cold light in his mind.

He followed at a measured pace, keeping a hand on the hilt of his knife. The corridors beyond the central hall twisted like the coils of some buried serpent. The deeper chambers were sealed by runes etched into the very walls—glyphs that glimmered with faint, shifting color. As he approached the first doorway, he lifted his hand, willing the Monarch’s Insight to open fully. A second, translucent layer unfolded across his vision, translating the glyphs into language.

[Lesser God’s Seal — Dormant Shrine] Purpose: Channel offerings to Bellenus, God of Radiant Harvest. Status: Abandoned. Ward strength degraded by 72%. Subversion Available: Yes.

The knowledge slipped into his mind like a blade into water—cool, frictionless, inevitable. The glyphs were nothing but a vestige of a pantheon that had turned their eyes away from this place. Here, in the dark, their authority meant nothing.

He reached out, fingers grazing the cold stone. A shiver crawled up his arm as the rune’s light flickered and died. The door rumbled in its frame and began to swing open.

Beyond lay a chamber that looked half-eaten by time. Statues of wheat and sunbursts leaned broken against the walls, their surfaces mottled with moss. A raised platform occupied the far side, crowned by an altar carved of white stone. And at the foot of the altar, a nest of shapes shifted restlessly in the gloom—dozens of sleek, lupine forms, fur the color of ash. Their eyes glowed amber as they lifted their heads in unison.

[Dungeon Beast — Ash Wolves] Rank: C Behavior: Pack predators. Coordinated attacks.

He felt the flicker of calculation—the system measuring odds of success, estimating the mana he would expend to bind them if he wished. But he was not here to bargain. He was here to claim.

“Advance,” he whispered, though his voice held no uncertainty. “Leave none alive.”

His Undead surged forward, weapons raised. The first wolf lunged, jaws wide, only to meet Jin-Bok’s shield in a resounding impact that sent dust spiraling across the chamber. Daesik ducked to one side, spear thrusting low to sever tendons. Hwan disappeared into the shadows near the altar, a flickering silhouette. The pack responded in a blur of muscle and fang, but the Undead held their line with inhuman discipline.

Siujin moved behind them, knife drawn, heart steady. One wolf broke free of the melee, claws skittering on the stones as it charged. He waited until it closed the last meter, then pivoted, blade arcing in a clean line across the side of its neck. The beast staggered, howling as blood sprayed the wall. He stepped aside, letting its momentum carry it past, and drove the blade into the base of its skull.

As the final wolf collapsed under Hwan’s knives, the chamber fell still. The altar glistened with dark streaks of blood. Siujin lowered his weapon and extended his senses. Three flickering presences lingered among the corpses—souls not yet dispersed.

He closed his eyes and called upon Ruler of Death. The air thickened, the torches dimming as a cold pressure pressed outward from his heart. Threads of darkness rose from the bodies, swirling into his palm as he shaped their essences. One by one, the motes compressed, forming small, pulsing orbs—soul marbles, dense with the power of C-rank monsters.

When he opened his eyes, he saw the chamber differently. Not as a tomb, but as the first hall of something greater. A stronghold. A birthplace for his future.

[Notification: Quest Progress] Dungeon Chamber Claimed: 1/3 Soul Marbles Acquired: 3/5

A slow breath escaped him. He felt the enormity of what he was doing—how each step was carrying him further from the life he had once known. And yet, there was no part of him that wished to turn back.

He approached the altar and laid a hand on the cold stone. A final glyph pulsed weakly, embedded at its center. When he pressed his will into it, the glyph crumbled to dust. A deeper tremor ran through the walls. At the rear of the shrine, a hidden passage unsealed itself, the door splitting along a seam he hadn’t noticed. A cold draft spilled outward, heavy with ancient air.

Beyond lay a chamber unlike any he had seen: a wide vault supported by pillars of black crystal, walls etched with shifting patterns of light. At the far end, a single throne rose from a dais, carved of obsidian shot through with veins of silver. The system spoke without words, imprinting certainty into his mind:

[Hidden Throne Room — Monarch’s Claim Available]

He stepped forward, crossing the threshold. As he did, a warmth spread across his skin—an unseen tide that felt like the dungeon itself acknowledging him. The throne waited, untouched by the passage of centuries. He reached out and set his hand upon its armrest.

[Notification: Dungeon Claimed] Title Earned: Dungeon Lord Reward Acquired: Random Skill — Gravekeeper’s Dominion

He exhaled, chest rising with something that was not quite relief and not quite triumph. He had taken the first step toward building the fortress he would one day use to drag the gods from their heights. And as he stood in that chamber of obsidian and silent promise, Lee Siujin understood that the path he walked would end in a war no god could ignore.