'I'm the Villain, But the System Made Me OP'-Chapter 14: The Descent

The teleportation array smelled like ozone and burnt copper.

Draven had used these before. The sensation never improved.

Magic flared beneath his boots—blue light crawling across ancient runes like luminescent insects. His stomach lurched in anticipation. The air tasted metallic. Sharp. Like licking a battery terminal.

He took a breath.

Then reality folded.

Teleportation wasn’t instantaneous. Not really.

There was a moment—brief, eternal—where Draven existed in the space between. No up or down. No forward or back. Just the sensation of his atoms being politely asked to fuck off and reassemble somewhere else.

His inner ear screamed. His vision whited out. The taste of copper intensified until he could feel it coating his tongue.

Then stone. Solid ground. Gravity returned with prejudice.

"Christ," Marcus muttered, doubling over. "I’m going to puke."

"Do it away from me," Vera said. She looked green. Swallowing repeatedly.

Draven’s vision cleared slowly. Spots dancing at the edges. He’d teleported maybe a dozen times in his previous life. Never got easier.

They stood at the entrance.

Velkari Ruins.

The dungeon looked old in the way that made architects weep and archaeologists salivate.

Massive stone archway. Carved from a single piece of black granite. Runes covered every surface—script so ancient the academy’s best scholars couldn’t translate half of it. Moss grew in the cracks. Centuries of accumulated moisture and decay.

The entrance yawned before them like a mouth.

Draven activated his mana sense. Let it spread outward in a slow pulse. Feeling.

The dungeon’s aura pressed back immediately. Heavy. Oppressive. Alive.

B-Rank minimum. Probably higher the deeper they went.

[Welcome to Velkari Ruins. Current estimated survival rate for your specific party composition: 34.7%. This percentage may decrease as we proceed. Enjoy your visit!]

The System’s cheerfulness was forced. Even it knew the odds.

"Fantastic," Draven muttered.

[I rounded up, by the way.]

"Even better."

"Talking to yourself?" Lyra appeared beside him. Silent as always. Her footsteps made no sound even on bare stone.

"To the System. It’s being optimistic about our chances."

"How optimistic?"

"One in three."

"Could be worse."

"Could be better."

She smiled. Faint. "Where’s the fun in that?"

Astrid took command. Professor mode engaged.

"Status check. Sound off."

They responded in sequence. Weapons ready. Magic topped off. Spatial rings loaded with potions, rations, emergency supplies.

Kai looked pale. His hand gripped his sword too tightly. Knuckles white.

"First dungeon?" Draven asked.

"Is it that obvious?"

"You’re vibrating."

"I’m not—" Kai stopped. Looked at his shaking hand. "Fuck. I am."

"Normal. Dungeons aren’t like training grounds. Things here actually try to kill you."

"Comforting."

"Wasn’t trying to comfort you. Just stating facts." Draven checked his own gear. Sword. Daggers. Spatial ring accessible. "Stay behind me and Marcus. Follow orders. Don’t try to be a hero."

"And if things go bad?"

"Run. Fast. Use the emergency beacon if you’re about to die. Extraction teams are on standby."

Kai nodded. Some color returned to his face. Having a plan helped.

"Formation Alpha," Astrid commanded. "Draven, point. Marcus, center. Ranged support in back. Move out."

They entered the dungeon.

The first corridor was narrow. Barely wide enough for two people side-by-side.

Carved from the same black stone as the entrance. Smooth walls. Too smooth. Like something had worn them down through constant passage.

Torches lined the passage at regular intervals.

Ancient things. Wooden handles rotted to nothing. Metal brackets rusted through. They shouldn’t still be burning.

They were.

Blue flames. Cold light that cast twisted shadows. No heat. Draven passed his hand over one. Nothing. The flame was pure magic. Sustained by the dungeon itself.

"This is wrong," Lyra said quietly. Her voice barely above a whisper. "Dungeons don’t maintain themselves. Not for centuries."

"Someone’s feeding it power," Astrid replied. Also quiet. "Constant power. A lot of it."

Draven touched the wall.

Cold.

Not just cool. Cold. His fingers went numb within seconds. Frost formed where his palm made contact.

The temperature had dropped maybe twenty degrees since entering. His breath misted. Each exhale a small cloud.

This place is alive.

The thought settled in his chest like ice water. The dungeon wasn’t just a structure. It was breathing. Watching.

Waiting.

They descended.

Stairs carved into stone. Worn smooth by age and use. Fifty steps. A hundred. Each level down brought colder air. Thicker. Harder to pull into lungs.

Then the smell hit.

Sweet. Sickly. The unmistakable stench of rot.

Draven had smelled death before. In his previous life. Car accidents. That one time he’d found his elderly neighbor three days after she’d passed.

This was worse. Concentrated. Centuries of accumulated decay compressed into one space.

"Floor One," he announced. "Undead territory. Watch your step."

The chamber opened before them.

Massive. Pillars rose into darkness overhead—twenty feet tall, maybe thirty. Stone columns carved with more of those indecipherable runes. The floor was covered in bones. Not scattered. Layered. Centuries worth. Some crushed to powder. Others still intact.

And in the center, something moved.

The skeleton stood seven feet tall.

Armor hung from its frame. Plate mail. Rusted through in places. But still functional. A greatsword clutched in bony fingers. The blade was notched. Stained dark.

Blue fire burned in its eye sockets. The same cold flame from the torches.

[Lesser Death Knight]

[Rank: C-High Stage]

[Threat Level: Moderate. Unless you make a mistake. Then: Fatal.]

It turned toward them. Slow. Deliberate.

Joints creaked. The sound of old wood bending under stress.

Then it screamed.

The sound wasn’t human.

Couldn’t be. Not even close. It was rage compressed into audio format. Pain given voice. Centuries of undeath condensed into one prolonged note.

You will join us.

The message was clear.

More movement. Behind pillars. In shadows. Bones assembling themselves. Crawling together like insects. Taking shape.

Skeleton warriors. Dozens. Maybe fifty.

"Fuck," Kai breathed.

"Formation!" Astrid’s voice cut through the chaos.

They moved.

Training kicked in. Muscle memory. Draven took point. Marcus beside him. Ranged support fell back.

The skeletons charged.

Combat in dungeons was different from training.

In training, Professor Ravenclaw’s constructs pulled their punches. You knew they wouldn’t actually kill you. Knew there was a safety net.

Here, there were no nets.

The first skeleton reached Draven in three strides. Fast. Faster than a corpse had any right to move.

Rusted sword swung in a wide arc. Telegraphed. Predictable.

Draven sidestepped. Minimal movement. His blade came up. Caught the skeleton’s arm at the elbow joint.

Crack.

Bone shattered. The arm fell. Clattered across stone.

But the skeleton didn’t stop.

It lunged. Bony fingers reaching for his throat. No hesitation. No fear.

[Void Step].

Draven shifted. Spatial magic twisting reality for a fraction of a second. He appeared three feet left. Behind the skeleton.

His sword took its head. Clean cut. The skull separated from the spine.

Blue fire flickered. Died.

The skeleton collapsed. Just bones now. Nothing more.

One down.

Draven turned. Forty-nine to go.

Kai fought like a man drowning.

His sword moved in desperate arcs. Blocking. Striking. No finesse. Pure survival instinct.

A skeleton lunged. Kai’s shield came up. CLANG. Impact reverberated through his arm. Bones jarred.

"Shit!" He shoved back. Swung hard. Connected with ribs.

Crack.

The skeleton stumbled. Came again immediately.

"They don’t STAY DOWN!" Panic edged his voice.

"Head or core!" Draven called. "Center mass or skull! Everything else is cosmetic!"

Kai adjusted. Next swing aimed higher. CRACK. Skull split like a melon.

The skeleton fell and stayed down.

"Better!" Draven blocked another attacker. Dispatched it. "Keep that up!"

Kai nodded. Too breathless to respond.

Marcus was having the time of his life.

[Earth Armor] coated his skin. Stone layered over flesh. Turning him into a walking fortress.

Three skeletons swarmed him. Clawing. Striking with rusted weapons.

He tanked every hit. Grinning.

Then countered.

[Stone Fist Barrage]. His punches became hammers. Each impact pulverizing ancient bone.

BOOM. BOOM. BOOM.

Skeletons exploded into fragments. Dust. Nothing.

"IS THAT ALL?!" Marcus actually laughed. "COME ON!"

More came. He welcomed them.

Draven couldn’t help but appreciate it. The man was a psychopath. Absolutely perfect for this environment.

Seraphina’s magic was surgical.

[Ice Binding]. Blue light flashed. Frost spread across stone in geometric patterns. Crystalline chains erupted from the floor, wrapping around skeletal legs. Immobilizing them.

"Lyra! Now!"

The assassin moved.

One moment visible. Next—gone. Shadow magic blending with natural stealth.

She reappeared behind frozen skeletons. Daggers flashed. Poison-coated blades punched through vertebrae. Finding joints. Weak points.

Shatter. Shatter. Shatter.

Three skeletons in three seconds.

"Efficient," Draven noted between his own attacks.

"I’ve had practice," Lyra said. Already moving to the next target. No wasted movement.

Vera’s fire magic was less elegant.

More explosive.

[Flame Lance]. Spears of orange-red fire. They punched through skeletal frames. Superheating bone until it became brittle.

"BURN!" She screamed. Pouring mana into the spell.

WHOOSH.

A skeleton ignited. Fire consumed it. Reduced it to ash in seconds.

But fire was wasteful. Burned through mana reserves too fast.

"Conserve!" Astrid barked from above. Floating. Coordinating. "Smaller spells! Precision!"

Vera scowled. But adjusted.

[Fire Dart]. Smaller. Controlled. Still effective.

Good. She was learning.

Astrid floated ten feet above the battlefield.

[Levitation]. A-Rank privilege.

From her vantage, she had perfect sight lines. Could see everything. Direct everyone.

"Marcus, left flank! Four incoming!"

He pivoted. Intercepted. 𝑓𝘳𝑒𝑒𝓌𝘦𝘣𝘯ℴ𝑣𝘦𝑙.𝘤𝑜𝑚

"Kai, fall back! Too far forward!"

The boy retreated. Narrowly avoided a sword that would’ve taken his head.

"Draven—the Knight! It’s moving!"

Draven’s eyes snapped to the Death Knight.

The big one. The boss.

It had been watching. Assessing. Letting its minions test them.

Now it moved.

The Death Knight’s charge shook the floor.

Each step a small earthquake. Its greatsword—massive, two-handed—came down in an overhead strike.

Draven [Void Stepped] left.

BOOM.

The blade cratered stone where he’d stood. Cracks spiderwebbed outward. Chunks of floor turned to rubble.

C-Rank strength. Easy.

But the Death Knight was fast.

Impossibly fast for something dead.

It spun. Horizontal slash. Air displacement made Draven’s ears pop.

He ducked. Felt the blade pass overhead. Close enough to ruffle his hair.

Countered immediately. [Void Palm Strike]. Dark energy concentrated in his palm.

SLAM.

Connected with the Death Knight’s chest.

BOOM.

The impact should’ve shattered its ribcage.

Instead, the armor absorbed it. Distributed the force across the entire frame. The Death Knight staggered back three steps.

But didn’t fall.

Shit.

[Death Knights are elite mobs. Breastplate’s enchanted. You need to destroy the core behind it. Good luck penetrating armor designed to withstand siege weapons.]

"Helpful," Draven muttered.

[I try.]

The Death Knight attacked again. Faster. More aggressive.

Slash. Slash. Thrust.

Draven dodged. [Shadow Step]. [Void Step]. Moving between spaces. His sword found joints. Gaps in the armor.

Clang. Clang. Clang.

Chipping away. But not fast enough.

The Death Knight was adapting. Learning his patterns.

This is a problem.

"Draven’s pinned!" Seraphina yelled.

"I’ll flank it!" Kai charged forward.

"Kai, NO—" Astrid’s warning came too late.

The Death Knight’s gauntlet caught Kai mid-rush. Backhanded him like swatting a fly.

Kai flew. Twenty feet. Airborne. Hit a pillar with a sickening CRACK.

He slumped. Groaning.

"FUCK!" Draven’s focus split.

Mistake.

The Death Knight’s sword came in low. Fast. Under his guard.

Draven blocked. Barely. His blade caught the strike.

But the force—

Gods.

His arms screamed. Bones compressed. Muscles tore. He felt something in his right shoulder give way.

He was thrown backward. Tumbled. Rolled. Came up bleeding.

His sword arm hung limp. Sprained. Maybe worse.

The Death Knight advanced. Methodical. Inevitable.

Shit shit shit.

[Use the Bond. You’re fighting solo. That’s stupid.]

Right.

Draven activated the Harem Bond Network.

Immediately, sensations flooded his mind.

Seraphina: Focused. Mana at 60%. Concerned.

Lyra: Adrenaline spiking. Calculated. Ready.

Astrid: Analyzing. Waiting for opening.

He pushed intent through the connection. Not words. Pure feeling.

Freeze it. Strike window. Now.

Seraphina felt it. Understood instantly.

"[GLACIAL PRISON]!" She poured everything into the spell. Maximum output.

Ice erupted from the floor. Not chains this time. A cage. Walls three inches thick. Crystalline. Beautiful.

The Death Knight was trapped inside.

For about five seconds.

It roared. Swung its sword. CRACK. CRACK. Ice shattered. But slowly. Buying precious time.

Draven moved.

Injured arm useless. Fine. He had another.

[Void Convergence]. Dark magic concentrated in his left hand. All of it. Every drop of mana he could spare.

The energy formed a sphere. Black. Rotating. Hungry.

He thrust it forward.

The sphere hit the Death Knight’s chest. The armor. The core behind it.

Everything stopped.

Then—

BOOM.

The explosion was silent. Void energy didn’t burn. It erased.

The Death Knight’s chest simply ceased to exist. Armor. Bone. The glowing core. All gone. Deleted from reality.

Blue fire flickered in its eye sockets.

Died.

The massive skeleton collapsed. Clattered to the floor like dropped cutlery.

Dead.

Actually, finally, completely dead.

Silence.

The remaining skeletons—leaderless—fell apart. Literally. Bones separating. Falling like dropped pickup sticks.

The chamber was still.

Draven stood in the center, breathing hard. His right arm throbbed. Shoulder screaming. Blood dripped from a cut above his eye. More blood from his nose.

But alive.

[FLOOR ONE: CLEARED]

[Combat Duration: 14 minutes, 23 seconds]

[Team Casualties: 0]

[Performance Rating: B+]

[Rewards: +500 VP, Lesser Death Knight Core (crafting material), Dungeon Achievement: "First Blood"]

The team gathered slowly. Battered. Exhausted. But victorious.

"Everyone breathing?" Astrid called.

Groans of affirmation.

"Kai?"

Draven limped to the kid. Found him sitting against the pillar. Holding his ribs. Face pale.

"Broken. Two, maybe three." Kai’s voice was tight. "Hurts like hell."

"Healing potion." Draven pulled one from his spatial ring. Handed it over.

Kai uncorked it. Sniffed. Grimaced. "Smells like piss."

"Tastes worse."

"Great." He drank it anyway. Face contorted. "Oh god. That’s awful."

"Effective, though."

The potion worked fast. Bones knitting. Bruises fading from purple to yellow to gone.

"Better?"

Kai stood. Shakily. Tested his ribs. "Yeah. Better." He looked at Draven. "Thanks. And... sorry. For charging like an idiot."

"Don’t do it again."

"Noted."

Marcus approached. Covered in bone dust. Grinning.

"That void thing you did. At the end. That was real A-Rank magic."

"It was."

"I thought maybe you’d cheated somehow. Bought your rank. But that..." He shook his head. "That was legit."

"Glad I have your approval."

Marcus extended his hand. "I misjudged you. Won’t happen again."

Draven took it. Firm shake. "We’re good."

Vera was quieter. She just nodded. Respect earned through action. No words needed.

They rested for ten minutes.

Astrid distributed healing potions. Checked injuries. Made sure everyone was functional.

Draven examined his shoulder. The potion had fixed the worst of it. But the joint was still weak. Tender. Using his sword arm would hurt.

Six more floors. One arm. This is fine.

[You’re going to die.]

Probably not.

[The odds say—]

The odds said we had a 34% chance of surviving Floor One. We did fine.

[Fair point. Carry on being reckless.]

Lyra appeared beside him. Silent as always. "Your void magic. How much mana did that cost?"

"Thirty percent of my total."

"And you have six floors left."

"Yes."

"You’re insane."

"Probably."

She smiled. Small. Genuine. "I like that about you."

Then gone. Back to scouting.

The exit appeared at the far end of the chamber.

Stairs. Descending. Deeper into the earth.

"Floor Two is traps and puzzles," Draven reminded them. "Less combat. More thinking. Stay alert."

They moved as one. Formation maintained.

Astrid took point this time. Her mana sense was stronger. Could detect magical traps before they triggered.

They descended.

The stairs were long. Winding. Cold. The temperature dropped with each step.

Halfway down, Draven noticed the walls.

Carved. Inscriptions. Ancient script.

He couldn’t read most of it. But some words stood out. Repeated.

CAUTION

SEALED

DO NOT WAKE

And one phrase, over and over:

THE ABYSS HUNGERS

"Astrid," he called. "These inscriptions. What do they mean?"

She examined them. Her face paled.

"Warnings. From whoever built this place." She traced a finger over carved stone. "They sealed something here. Something dangerous. They’re warning people not to disturb it."

"The Abyss Core."

"Likely." She looked at him. "We could turn back. Floor Three. Collect decent loot. Survive. That’s not failure."

"And the Crown Prince wins. Seraphina marries him. My mother gets threatened. I stay weak." Draven shook his head. "No. We’re going to Seven."

"Even if it kills you?"

"Especially then."

She sighed. "You really are like your father. Stubborn. Reckless."

"I’ll take that as a compliment."

"It wasn’t entirely one."

They continued descending.

Floor Two awaited.

Beyond that, five more levels of escalating danger.

But Draven’s resolve was solid. Immovable.

Come what may.

He’d conquer this dungeon. Claim the Core. Become S-Rank.

Or die trying.

[That’s the spirit. Probably the dying part. But hey—optimism!]

Draven smiled. Dark. Determined.

Let’s find out which.

[END OF Chapter 14]