CHAPTER 119: CHAPTER NO.119 FLOOR 50TH

[Location: Dungeon—Vampire King’s Castle]

After that dramatic episode of [Shadow Infantryman], and extracting Vaelion’s shadow in the first try.

[??? Lvl. 5]

— Elite Knight Grade

And naming him simply—

"Vael."

He, too, gained one level just by being named.

[Vael Lvl. 6]

— Elite Knight Grade

...

[Floor Cleared: 28th Floor — Vampire King’s Castle]

[Collected Souls of Vampires: 5274/10,000]

[Exp. Needed for the next level up: 50,000/18,000,000]

[Rewards: Random Skill Level Up, Access to Floor 29]

After a complete sweep of the castle, the vibrating [Shadow Infantryman] again came in front of me and kneeled, presenting what I had ordered to be found.

[Item: Entry Permit]

— Rarity: ??

— Type: ??

— A permit allowing you to enter the 29th floor of the Vampire King’s Castle. Can only be used on the 1st-floor floor-transfer magic circle.

So, the only thing remaining was to reach the floor-transfer magic circle and go upstairs, but...

My sight shifted towards the pillar of light. More specifically, a short distance in front of that pillar.

A pile of fangs like a mountain, glowing in a familiar glow—

’Is this what I think it is?’

[You found Item: Fang of Mid-Ranked Vampire.]

[Take it?]

[You found Item: Fang of Mid-Ranked Vampire.]

[Take it?]

[You found Item: Fang of Mid-Ranked Vampire.]

[Take it?]

...

A tidal wave of identical blue pop-ups kept slamming into my vision.

[You found Item: Fang of Mid-Ranked Vampire.]

[Take it?]

[You found Item: Fang of Mid-Ranked Vampire.]

[Take it?]

[You found Item: Fang of Mid-Ranked Vampire.]

[Take it?]

My eye twitched.

"...Shadow Infantryman."

The little jet-black gremlin froze mid-vibration. Even without a face, I could tell he perked up like a dog hearing the word "walk."

"...What did you do?"

He puffed his chest. Or rather, his upper mass expanded proudly, like a blob trying to flex nonexistent pectorals. Then he dramatically pointed at the colossal mountain of fangs stacked neatly in geometric layers—each row sorted by length, shape, sharpness, and even the mana-tint of the enamel.

I blinked.

"...You sorted them?"

The shadow nodded furiously.

"You killed this many?"

He shook his head.

"You found this many?"

He shook his head again.

"...You... collected every single fang from every corpse Astra and Draugr killed in the entire castle?"

The shadow straightened his spine and placed a hand over where his heart would be—radiating the aura of a soldier delivering a national treasure to his King.

I facepalmed.

Great.

My army’s first comic-relief shadow was also turning into a loot-goblin. Wonderful.

"Fine. Yes. Take all. Take ALL."

The system responded instantly.

[Acquired: Fang of Mid-Ranked Vampire × 4,712]

[Acquired: Fang of High-Ranked Vampire × 207]

[Acquired: Fang of Noble-Blood Vampire × 31]

My inventory surged. A literal ocean of vampire materials just got stuffed into a pocket dimension.

I turned toward the mountain-sized pillar of light in the centre of the throne hall—the floor-transfer point for the next segment of this endless hellhole.

But before I could command the shadows to move, a soft rustle of darkness wrapped around my back.

Astra.

Appearing silently at my side like a whisper of moonlight, she bowed with the perfect grace of an imperial assassin.

"My king," she murmured. "The path to the transfer circle is secure. I personally eliminated every remaining presence on this floor."

"Good work."

Her single golden eye trembled faintly at the praise.

Behind her, Draugr stomped over, massive and broad as ever, dragging three corpses like a child dragging stuffed toys. He threw them down in front of me with a heavy THUD, then crossed his arms as if awaiting approval.

"..."

He stared. Waiting.

I sighed.

"...Good job, Draugr."

He nodded once—slowly—and glowed faintly as if joy caused him to reach climax.

I ignored the last part.

’Nothing I can use directly among the pile, eh?’

In that case, sell them all!

As soon as I sold off all the items, more Gold got neatly deposited into his bank balance.

[Current Gold: 71,060 — 914,690,772]

THE FUCK?!

My gaze shifted to [Shadow Infantryman]. The little gremlin tilted his head, unaware that he had just generated enough wealth to destabilize three minor kingdoms and at least one major religion.

I massaged my temples.

"...No. Don’t look at me like that. I’m not actually going to kiss you."

The Shadow Infantryman deflated, shoulders slumping like a dejected slime. Then he perked up again—because Astra’s shadow tendrils gently bapped the top of his head, like an older sister consoling a dumb but loyal younger sibling.

Astra stepped forward, voice like calm frost.

"My king... shall we proceed to the 29th floor?"

Right.

The next nightmare.

I nodded. "Let’s go."

"Come back."

The entire army dissolved into a tide of black smoke, streaming toward my feet and disappearing beneath my shadow.

Then, without hesitation, I stepped inside.

I spoke up.

"Twenty-Ninth floor."

[You need the entry permit.]

I summoned the scroll as per the instructions. As soon as it appeared, it dissolved into the light.

[The Twenty-Ninth floor of the Vampire King’s Castle has been unlocked.]

[You are transferring to the second floor.]

Buzz...

...

Twenty-Ninth floor, Thirty, Thirty One.... and eventually, the 49th floor. That was the result of grinding for five days straight.

Five days.

Five days of watching shadows massacre entire noble houses like they were made of wet tissue paper. Five days of watching vampire aristocrats scream, run, explode, implode, and turn into fertilizer.

And five days of me standing behind them like a completely useless manager supervising extremely competent employees.

Honestly?

At this point, even I was scared of my own army.

Paimon and Draugr made a competition out of it— who destroys more.

Of course they did.

Because why wouldn’t a resurrected King of Hell and a resurrected Head of the Elder Council of vampires compete in a slaughter-fest in the middle of a cursed dungeon?

Meanwhile, Astra didn’t participate in the competition because—her words, not mine—

"A General does not compete. A General simply ends."

And then she ended things. Quietly. Efficiently. Perfectly. Half the time, I only realized an aristocrat died because their head rolled past my boots five seconds later.

The Shadow Infantryman eventually stopped vibrating altogether around the 43rd floor. Not because he was tired.

Because he was overcharged.

By the 44th floor, the little gremlin vibrated with enough force to generate electricity.

By the 47th floor, my shadow army had a strict warning:

"Do NOT let him near torches. He might explode."

But somehow he survived.

Somehow, HE got stronger.

Somehow, HE reached Lvl. 6.

And somehow, I still didn’t know how the hell shadows levelled up.

But now...

Now we stood before the massive pillar of light with the entry permit to the 50th floor.

The moment the gleaming pillar of light stabilized, the floor trembled beneath my boots—not violently, but with a deep, resonant pulse, like a heart buried under stone waking up after centuries of stillness.

[You need the entry permit.]

Right... this was it.

The 50th floor.

The first milestone floor of this hellish castle dungeon.

The permit was already in my hand—an obsidian-inked strip of parchment with a red seal shaped like fangs. The moment I brought it closer to the pillar, the parchment ignited into violet fire and dissolved soundlessly.

The light turned blood-red.

[The Fiftieth Floor of the Vampire King’s Castle has been unlocked.]

[You are transferring.]

A heavy silence swallowed the world.

Buzz...

The world stretched, twisted, and then snapped—

...

My eyes adjusted immediately.

And I froze.

This was... not another castle hall.

Not a throne room.

Not a noble estate.

This—

This was a cathedral.

A gigantic ruined cathedral built entirely of black marble and red crystal, stretching endlessly in both directions. Its arches curved like fangs. Its windows bled crimson mana instead of light. The air vibrated like a tuning fork struck by a god.

The moment my feet solidified on the ground, the entire cathedral trembled.

As it sensed my arrival.

...That can’t be good.

A chill swept through the space.

Astra materialized first, stepping out of my shadow with the elegance of falling moonlight.

Draugr emerged right after, massive, imposing, his molten veins pulsing brighter in response to the oppressive aura.

Paimon followed, towering and regal, his middn armour scraping faint sparks from the cathedral ceiling as he straightened.

Erebus was the last one.

Then—

pop!

Shadow Infantryman appeared.

And instantly began vibrating again.

Of course.

I rubbed my temples.

Five days of carnage, and the little idiot still found energy to shake like a malfunctioning washing machine.

Astra quietly caught his head before he could ricochet off a pillar.

"My king," she whispered. "This floor is of... Duke Veyrath, one of the Vampire King’s most cunning generals. His presence here is... substantial."

"Normally, even Elders are not allowed to roam freely here without alerting the entire upper echelon of the Vampire King’s hierarchy," Astra continued, her voice steady but faintly tense. "This floor... it is a crucible. And the master of this floor does not welcome intruders lightly."

I swallowed.

Of course, he wouldn’t. This was the 50th floor—the first floor that wasn’t just a meat grinder. This was the first milestone, almost halfway to the top. Of course, this is where the game changes.

RAWWWWWGGGG!

[Mid-Ranked Ghoul]

Hundreds of mid-ranked ghouls poured from the shadows of the cathedral’s nave, their glowing eyes reflecting the crimson light like a thousand cursed lanterns. Clawed hands scraped the black marble floors, and the air thickened with the stench of death, rot, and lingering mana.

’Seems stronger than the ones before, but will they provide souls or be like low-ranked ones and just be an infuriating waste of effort?’

Paimon’s armour shimmered as he stepped forward, his colossal frame moving with unnatural grace. A wave of spiritual energy radiated outward, forcing the nearest ghouls to stagger and screech. Draugr roared, veins glowing purple, and swung his massive claw like a battering ram, shattering ghouls into shards of blackened flesh that dissolved into shadow mist.

Astra’s figure glided silently beside me, her rose-gold shadows extending like ribbons, slicing through the horde with surgical precision. Every movement was lethal yet elegant; a single flick of her wrist dismembered five ghouls at once, their shadows absorbed back into her form.

The cathedral echoed with the unholy symphony of shrieks, crushing bone, and whispers of spiritual energy. Even Erebus, normally silent and reserved, moved like a blade of pure darkness, phasing between enemies to strike with pinpoint accuracy.

"Shadow Infantryman," I said, pointing at the vibrating gremlin. "Take other Infantry and collect the loot, but don’t get in anyone’s way."

The little creature saluted and dashed forward, waved at the others of his kind and started weaving between ghouls and shadows like a manic conductor orchestrating chaos. Each step, each tiny vibration sent ripples through the cathedral floor, kicking up shards of black marble that disappeared into the shadow mist. I pinched the bridge of my nose.

"Five days of slaughter... and he’s still full of energy," I muttered under my breath. Astra’s golden eye flickered briefly toward me, almost amused, before she returned her attention to the ghouls.

The first line of ghouls reached striking distance, claws raking the air. Paimon’s massive gauntlets slammed down, generating shockwaves that tore through their torsos, black mist erupting as the remains dissolved into the shadows. Draugr followed up, swinging his claws like twin wrecking balls, clearing a path while letting out guttural roars that made mid-ranked ghouls hesitate.

Astra didn’t waste a single motion. Her shadows swept through the back lines with elegant arcs, severing heads and limbs with a finesse that made the carnage almost hypnotic. Every strike left behind only a whisper of her power, shadows curling to await her next command.

Erebus, with his shadow spear, phased through the masses with unnatural speed. Every jab, every twist of his weapon tore ghouls apart and siphoned their essence directly into the darkness that clung to him. The cathedral’s floor began to glisten with pools of dissolved mana, blackened and thick, as if the building itself drank in the remnants of the slaughter.

I watched, almost detached, as my shadows executed perfect synergy. Astra moved like liquid death, Draugr like a battering ram, Paimon radiating divine authority, and Erebus phasing with surgical precision. The Infantryman zipped between piles of ghouls, collecting fangs, claws, and shards of dark crystal, all while vibrating at a frequency that made small sections of the cathedral resonate faintly.

The tide of ghouls slowed as they realized that no path to me existed. Every advance met a coordinated counter—Astra severing lines of reinforcements, Draugr splitting mobs into pieces with raw power, Paimon suppressing energy surges, and Erebus predicting and intercepting attacks before they materialized.

I clenched my fists. Watching the synergy of my army was... terrifying. Not because they were weak, but because they were too perfect. Too obedient. Too efficient. The sheer scale of destruction was something no ordinary army could achieve, and I was standing here like a mere spectator.

Vael was more of a traditional mage type— hovered slightly above the ground, robes fluttering like shadowed silk, his hands tracing intricate sigils in the air. Sparks of deep violet mana flickered along his fingertips as he muttered incantations under his breath. The mid-ranked ghouls at the edges of the battlefield shivered, sensing the shift in spiritual pressure, though they had no understanding of the force about to descend upon them.

"...Vael, now’s not the time to show off," I muttered, but even I had to admit—his quiet, controlled energy contrasted perfectly with the chaos around him. Where Draugr tore through lines with brute force, and Astra cut with elegant precision, Vael’s magic carved swathes of destruction with surgical inevitability.

He raised both arms, palms glowing with violet circles that pulsed in tandem with the cathedral’s distorted architecture. The symbols spun faster, faster, until a low hum resonated through the hall—a frequency that rattled bones and frayed shadows simultaneously. A pulse of raw, concentrated mana shot forward, and the nearest horde of ghouls disintegrated before touching the ground, leaving behind only a faint mist of residual energy.

The Infantryman squealed in what could only be described as admiration—or perhaps panic at being near such uncontrolled power—and zipped backwards, collecting scattered remnants while vibrating violently.

I stepped forward, letting my voice carry over the chaotic symphony of destruction. "Vael, focus on crowd control. Keep the perimeter clear. Astra, Draugr, Paimon, Erebus—you’ve got the centre. Let’s make this clean."

***

Stone me, I can take it!

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