Chapter 110

Chapter 110: Chapter 110

When he finally killed the Corruption Beast, he had ten seconds to focus entirely on healing before the next enemy arrived. His Regeneration worked at maximum output, the wound rapidly closing, abdominal muscles reconnecting, skin sealing over.

[HP: 2134/4100... 2623/4100...]

In the crushing depths underwater, he felt his bones starting to crack from water pressure. His eyes were bulging. His eardrums ruptured.

[HP: 2847/4100]

[Pressure damage: Severe]

[HP: 2623/4100]

His Regeneration fought against physics itself, reinforcing bone structure even as pressure tried to collapse it, healing ruptured vessels even as new ones burst, keeping his organs intact under immense compression.

He survived through sheer regenerative stubbornness.

In the hurricane winds, he was thrown off a platform and fell for what felt like forever. He crashed into the platform below with bone-shattering force.

[HP: 1456/4100]

[Both legs broken]

[Right arm shattered]

[Spinal damage]

[Concussion: Severe]

Satou lay there, unable to move, as his Regeneration went into emergency overdrive. Bones realigned with audible cracks. Swelling in his brain subsided. Vertebrae fused back together.

[HP: 1567/4100... 1734/4100... 1923/4100...]

Three minutes later, he could stand. Five minutes later, he could fight.

But he survived. Barely.

[Floor Thirty Complete]

[+8000 EXP]

[Level Up! Level 24 → Level 26]

[Checkpoint Reached: Rest Period Extended to 48 Hours]

The rest chamber appeared, and Satou collapsed into it. He still had all his healing potions ,his Regeneration had made them unnecessary so far.

His Regeneration had evolved significantly through constant use. It was no longer just healing wounds , it was adapting his body, making him more resistant to repeated damage, learning from each injury to better handle the next.

He could now devour living creatures mid-combat, though it was risky. He could devour environmental hazards like poison or fire. Each floor added more to his arsenal.

But the floors were getting harder. Much harder.

Floor Thirty had been labeled a checkpoint. Which meant Floors Thirty-One through Fifty would be even worse.

Satou spent his rest period not sleeping, but training. Practicing combinations of his abilities. Learning to use Perfect Counter more effectively. Pushing his Fire Manipulation and Earth Manipulation

to work together.

He also discovered something interesting: some of his abilities were starting to merge. His various enhanced senses, Enhanced Hearing, Echolocation, Tremor Sense, Trap Detection were beginning to function as one unified danger sense. His combat skills Master Swordsmanship, Pack Tactics, Tactical Thinking were synergizing into a comprehensive fighting style.

The dungeon’s design is brilliant, Satou realized. It’s not just making me stronger. It’s teaching me to integrate everything into a cohesive whole.

When his forty-eight hours ended, he stood at the doorway to Floor Thirty-One.

"Halfway point next," he muttered. "Twenty floors to go until Floor Fifty. Then fifty more after that."

He descended.

Floors Thirty-One through Forty tested every single ability he’d gained.

Floor Thirty-One had Memory Eaters that showed him everyone he’d failed to save. He watched the elder goblin die again and again. Watched settlers from other goblin villages being executed. Watched Lyra crying as his corpse was brought back from Richard Clay’s arena.

The Memory Eaters fed on his guilt, his fear, his regrets. They were nearly impossible to kill because every swing of his sword felt like he was abandoning the people who needed him.

He cleared the floor by accepting the memories. By acknowledging his failures without letting them paralyze him. By understanding that the only way to honor those who’d died was to survive, to grow stronger, to make their sacrifices mean something.

Floor Thirty-Five had Time Wraiths that aged him decades with every touch. His hair turned gray. His muscles atrophied. He felt his bones becoming brittle, his joints aching with arthritis that came from years that hadn’t actually passed.

He had to devour them one by one, stealing back the years they’d taken. The process was agonizing—his body rapidly shifting between old and young, aging and de-aging in heartbeats.

Floor Thirty-Eight was pure madness.

The walls whispered. The floor screamed. Reality bent and twisted. He saw colors that didn’t exist. Heard sounds from impossible directions. His sense of self began to fracture—was he Satou the goblin, or was he still the human he’d been in his previous life? Was any of this real?

The Madness Spawn that inhabited the floor were barely physical. They were living thoughts, nightmare made manifest. Fighting them required maintaining his sanity while his brain tried to tear itself apart.

His Mental Fortitude ability was the only thing that saved him. He built a fortress in his mind around one core truth: I am Satou. I am here to protect my people. Nothing else matters.

Floor Forty was a war.

A massive battlefield filled with hundreds of soldiers, all fighting each other. And Satou in the middle of it.

[Corrupted Legion - Level 30] x247

Two hundred and forty-seven enemies. All at once.

Satou stood there, staring at the army, and started laughing. It was either laugh or go insane from the impossibility of it.

"Fine," he said to the dungeon. "Let’s see what I can do."

He activated every ability simultaneously.

Earth Manipulation to create walls, trenches, barriers. Fire Manipulation to ignite soldiers by the dozens. Shadow Step to move through their ranks like a ghost. Berserker Rage to push past exhaustion. Predator’s Gaze to sow fear. Poison Generation to coat his blade with toxins. Perfect Counter to deflect attacks he couldn’t dodge.

And he devoured as he fought.

Not after enemies died, but during combat. His shadow extended like living darkness, consuming soldiers even as others struck at him. Each devoured enemy made him stronger, faster, more dangerous.

The fight lasted four hours. By the end, Satou was standing in a field of corpses, his body more wound than flesh, held together only by stubborn refusal to die.

His Regeneration ability having grown stronger instantly recovered his wounds.

[Floor Forty Complete]

[+15,000 EXP]

[Level Up! Level 26 → Level 30]

The mass devouring gave him an avalanche of abilities, many of them redundant or minor. But a few stood out:

[War Tactics (Advanced) Acquired]

[Blood Frenzy (Moderate) Acquired - Grow stronger as you take damage]

[Survivor’s Will (Unique) Acquired - Refuse to die even from fatal wounds for short period]

That last one caught his attention. Survivor’s Will

was listed as Unique, not something that could be gained normally. The dungeon had recognized something in him—his absolute refusal to give up—and made it into an actual ability.

Floor Forty-Five was when Satou encountered his first true nightmare.

The chamber was beautiful. A perfect recreation of his settlement. His home.

And standing in the center, surrounded by corpses, was Richard Clay.

[Nightmare Manifestation: Richard Clay - Level 35]

Not the real Richard Clay. A manifestation of Satou’s fear of him. But it had his abilities. His experience. His power.

Everything Richard touched decayed. The ground crumbled beneath his feet. The air around him turned stale and dead.

Satou watched in horror as the nightmare-Clay walked through the settlement, touching homes that dissolved into dust. Touching settlers who screamed as their flesh rotted from their bones.

Then Clay turned toward him and smiled.

"You can’t beat me, little goblin," the nightmare said in a voice like grinding bones. "You’re going to die in six days. Your settlement will fall. Everyone you care about will suffer because you were too weak."

Satou’s hand tightened on his sword. "You’re not real."

"Does it matter?" Clay laughed. "Real or not, you know I’m right. You know you’re going to lose."

The nightmare-Clay charged, his decay-coated hands reaching for Satou.

What followed was the most terrifying fight of Satou’s life. Every attack he landed meant nothing—Clay’s decay immediately corrupted the wounds, preventing healing. Every near-miss left decayed patches on Satou’s skin that spread like cancer.

He couldn’t use Earth Manipulation—the stone decayed before it could form. He couldn’t touch Clay directly—that would mean instant death. His Fire Manipulation slowed the decay but didn’t stop it.

He had to fight perfectly. No mistakes. No hits taken. Against an opponent faster and more experienced than him.

He used Shadow Step to stay at range. Used Stone Spit as a distraction, not expecting the projectiles to hit but to force Clay to dodge. Used Fire Manipulation to create walls of flame between them.

And he used Phase Step at crucial moments, his body becoming intangible for brief seconds—just long enough for Clay’s decay touch to pass through without effect.

The fight lasted two hours. Satou’s entire body was covered in small patches of decay that he had to burn away with fire between each engagement. He used three healing potions just to stay functional.

But he won.

The nightmare-Clay dissolved as Satou’s blade finally found its throat, the manifestation unable to use its decay fast enough to stop the decapitating strike.

[Floor Forty-Five Complete]

[Nightmare Overcome: Fear of Richard Clay]

[Mental Fortitude (Moderate) → Mental Fortitude (Superior)]

[Decay Resistance (Weak) Acquired]

Satou collapsed, trembling. The decay resistance was minimal—nowhere near enough to actually protect him from the real Richard Clay’s full power. But it was something.

More importantly, he’d faced his fear and survived. When he fought the real Richard Clay in four days (outside time), he’d know it was possible to beat him.