The Demon Queen's Royal Consort-Chapter 108 - Dungeon - XVI

**

The crimson sun cast weak light across the mountain's surface as five figures stood with hair whipping in the wind, their anxious gazes fixed on the fifth mountain's peak.

Three days had passed since they conquered the fourth mountain. Following standard procedure, the group destroyed the central access passage and took shelter at the summit. During these three days, they endured three centipede attacks - the creatures scaling the mountain in conquest attempts. Yet their positional advantage, combined with Dália and Aeloria's coordinated efforts to repel the monsters, proved overwhelmingly effective.

Still, no victorious smiles graced their faces.

"Nothing?" Seraphine asked.

"Nothing," I replied. "I scouted as close as possible. Watched for hours and saw no movement on the mountain."

"What about the grasshoppers?" Aeloria inquired.

"They follow the centipedes' pattern - try to conquer through the central passage, then vanish like dust when they enter!"

"The centipede strategy won't work against whatever's guarding this mountain," Dália observed.

"Phew... So it's another type of creature. The question is - what kind?" Aeloria deduced.

"The passage is much larger than the fourth mountain's. Big enough for four centipedes to pass simultaneously!" I described.

"Any theories?" Dórian asked.

"Something massive, judging by the passage size," Aeloria speculated.

For hours they debated possibilities, hypothesized enemies, and formulated strategies. But without knowing their true adversary, it was like pouring money into a bottomless pit.

**

The fourth night arrived with biting cold, the temperature at the fifth mountain's summit even more savage and intense. The wind cut like invisible blades, howling between ice-covered rocks and lashing exposed skin with relentless fury.

Each breath burned their lungs with thin, frigid air as if winter itself breathed among them. The ground froze solid at sunset, and vegetation hardened by extreme cold crunched underfoot like ground glass. Ice crystals formed instantly on eyebrows and lashes, giving the world a dull, cruel shimmer. Their campfire provided meager warmth, forcing the group to huddle together for body heat.

Even Aeloria, who typically cultivated at night, reached his limit. The cold proved too intense for his level, leaving their night watch abandoned as he joined the others by the fire.

Meanwhile, deep within the fifth mountain, beneath a crimson pool, small bubbles surfaced.

A wave rippled outward.

For a brief moment, part of the creature emerged - just its nose, inhaling momentarily before submerging again.

The nose alone revealed its staggering size - far larger than any centipede the group had ever seen.

**

The group stood ready at the fourth mountain's peak, muscles taut as bowstrings, all eyes fixed on Glenn as they awaited the perfect moment to cross. A full day of planning and speculation had led them to their least suicidal idea: wait for grasshoppers to attack the fifth mountain, then follow close behind, perhaps exploiting openings left by whatever guarded it.

The silence felt thick, oppressive. Sweat slicked palms beneath gloves, heat rising up necks and trickling down temples. Racing hearts pounded in rhythm with their anxiety. Glenn drew a deep breath, air whistling faintly through his nostrils. With pupils dilated, he stared at the abyss before them.

"No turning back now," I muttered through clenched teeth, more to myself than the others.

Then we leaped.

All five floated in deathly silence, moving at a controlled, almost reverent pace toward the fifth mountain. I remained central in formation - Seraphine clinging to my right arm, Dórian to my left. Seraphine carried Dália, while Dórian supported Aeloria.

The dungeon's artificial sun hung motionless at its eternal zenith in this cycle. Night remained distant, and with it, the comfort of darkness. Right on schedule - every two days at this fixed hour - a new grasshopper swarm attempted to conquer the fifth mountain.

"Five minutes since they entered... should be enough time," Aeloria murmured, his voice tense but calculated.

We landed softly against the mountainside near the massive entrance.

This time, our formation differed - calculated, almost ritualistic.

Our mission was clear: absolute stealth until we discovered what guarded this colossal hill.

But why all five?

Because this was our chance. In our desperate situation, any opening could mean the difference between conquest and failure.

We knew little about this place. But one absolute certainty remained: these creatures were at war with each other. Should a stalemate occur, even a split-second of chaos would require our full strength.

All present. All ready.

We approached the entrance. My footsteps were slow, nearly floating, lightened by manipulated gravity, each contact with the ground carefully muffled. My eyes scanned our surroundings, and though I saw nothing directly, that primal pressure in my chest warned we were being watched.

I advanced several meters and stopped. There they were. Three grasshoppers, barely visible over a thousand meters away, patrolling in triangular formation. Their carapaces gleamed in the dim light, footsteps echoing dully off cavern walls.

I raised a slow hand, signaling: Not yet.

Tension mounted. Throats went dry. Breathing shallowed. Sweat now traced my spine, soaking clothes already clinging from anxiety. Aeloria trembled slightly, controlling his breath through flared nostrils, pupils darting between focal points and peripheral vision.

Minutes later, the grasshoppers disappeared around winding paths. I signaled.

We began moving.

The fifth mountain's entrance resembled the others... yet didn't. Same materials, same rocks, same vegetation... yet something felt wrong. The scale was colossal. Disproportionate.

The ceiling arched above us like some profane cathedral dome - easily five stories tall. Nearly six hundred meters wide from wall to wall - too much space for any living thing.

No one spoke. None needed to.

If the creature guarding this mountain required such room to move... we stood at a severe disadvantage.

Total disadvantage.

We advanced in absolute silence, crouched, pressed against walls, each step calculated with near-surgical precision. Muscles trembled from constant tension, primed for fight or flight. Adrenaline sharpened every sense: our own heartbeats, the cavern's damp odor, even gravel vibrations beneath boots.

"We're descending..." Seraphine whispered, her voice a thread of sound.

An hour passed. An hour of mounting tension, exhausted muscles, senses at maximum alert.

Then... the mountain trembled.

The ground vibrated beneath us like the growl of some waking beast.

The air grew heavier. Something had awakened.

And it was coming.

**

"GRUUUUUUMM"

Following the mountain's tremor came the sound of blades striking stone - that metallic ping of steel hitting rock.

"It's begun, hurry!" Aeloria commanded.

Moving faster yet still cautiously, we advanced with precise steps. A thousand meters vanished in seconds until we encountered an alarming scene.

The path ended at a steep forty-meter cliff within the mountain. Below sprawled an immense hollow chamber, its ceiling studded with thousands of crimson stalactites.

At the chamber's center, a thick red pool resembling blood covered eighty percent of the area, leaving only a narrow rim of solid rock.

Flanking the pool, three grasshoppers prepared to battle something - yet none dared enter the viscous liquid.

Bubbles fumed on the crimson surface. Ripples spread outward toward the grasshoppers.

Then our hearts stopped momentarily. Blood ran cold. Breathing became erratic.

"Phew..." I heard Dália exhale.

The pool erupted, spraying liquid in all directions as something monstrous lunged toward the grasshoppers - a thirty-meter crocodile moving with impossible speed.

The impact shook the ground beneath us. Carmine liquid spread in boiling waves, corroding everything it touched. Nearby stones sizzled, dissolving slowly like living flesh. Then... it emerged fully.

This was no crocodile. Not anymore.

It was a profanation of all that should be dead.

Over thirty meters long, its massive body dragged forward with nauseating cracks, as if internal bones floated loose within flesh.

Its skin - what remained - hung in tatters along its underside, melted by the pool's acid. The abdomen gaped open, exposing muscles that twitched in involuntary spasms, revealing sections of fully exposed ribcage.

White bones gleamed in the crimson light, speckled with thick blood that bubbled like boiling oil. Its fore and hind legs, equally devoured by liquid, left trails of regenerating flesh - muscles reknitting like dancing serpents, skin stitching at grotesque speeds, forming fleshy blobs that reshaped within seconds.

And the head...

A complete aberration of nature.

No eyes remained - just melted, empty sockets dripping vitreous residue and cauterized nerves. A hundred eyeballs might have once existed there, but none survived the pool's acidity.

The head was hollow inside - a resonant shell like a cavern of flesh.

The skull housed no brain, just an empty space where sound echoed with every movement, an endless lament.

At the face's center, a colossal mouth opened - not to bite, but to swallow the world. Asymmetrical teeth, blackened like burned metal, surrounded absolute darkness: a pulsating black hole, a vortex distorting surrounding light. Its depths were unknowable. One certainty remained - this was unnatural.

And it didn't have just four limbs.

Dozens of appendages sprouted from its back, flanks, even neck.

Some were muscular arms ending in sharp claws.

Others seemed mid-mutation - incomplete limbs bent at wrong angles, bones protruding through skin, structures with no visible purpose beyond spreading horror.

Among these, natural blades grew like organic scythes, ready to rend flesh.

Some resembled smaller scaled tails, while others dragged across stone, breaking rocks on contact as if independently hunting prey.

The sound it emitted wasn't a roar. A wet, guttural moan, as if something inside constantly struggled to escape.

"This shouldn't exist..." Seraphine murmured, her voice barely audible.

The crocodile dragged itself toward the grasshoppers. Acid boiled beneath its weight, dissolving its legs and belly anew, yet it never stopped. Each step accompanied the crackle of regenerating flesh, like meat being endlessly ground and remolded.

Then it paused.

For one second, silence.

Until its mouth opened.

And the black hole began sucking in air.