Dungeon Corpse Stacker: I Absorb Everything to Become Ominous Monarch

The night air in Sector 2 didn’t carry the damp stench of sewage like the lower Slums. It smelled of ozone, refined mana-fuel, and expensive perfume.

Sector 2 was the beating financial heart of the Underground City—a sprawling neon-lit district controlled entirely by the commercial arm of the Apex Guild. Towering above the rain-slicked asphalt stood the Gilded Vault Bank, a fortress constructed from four-foot-thick reinforced mithril-concrete, built to withstand a direct siege from a Class-A Dungeon Breakout.

Inside the bank’s central command center, warm amber lighting illuminated plush leather chairs and wall-to-wall holographic monitors.

High Commander Boros, a massive man whose neck was thicker than his head, stood with his arms crossed over his heavy titanium breastplate. He was an S-Rank defensive specialist hired by Guild Master Richard at a absurdly high salary to protect Apex Guild’s off-the-books wealth.

”Status report,” Boros growled, his voice deep enough to rattle the glass water cup on his desk.

A young operator wearing a tactical headset typed frantically at his terminal. ”All outer perimeter barriers are functioning at one hundred percent capacity, Commander. Sector 2 guards have been placed on Defcon 1. We have forty Rank-A mercenary Hunters stationed in the main lobby, supported by six heavy automated mana-turrets.”

Boros scoffed, reaching for a expensive cigar resting on a crystal ashtray. He flicked a gold lighter, inhaling a deep drag before puffing out a cloud of blue-scented smoke.

”The rumors coming from Sector 4 are pure exaggeration,” Boros grunted, tapping cigar ash onto the mahogany desk. ”Victor is a weak-willed coward who lost his nerve. A single former F-Rank porter absorbing thousands of carcasses? Defeating Vance in seconds? Utter nonsense. Vance was likely ambushed by a rival Syndicate squad.”

”But Commander,” the operator stammered, looking up with pale cheeks. ”The communication feed from Sector 4 went completely dark ten minutes ago. And Victor’s official frequency just broadcasted a message saying... saying the Ominous Faction is coming to collect Guild Master Richard’s debts.”

”Let them come!” Boros slammed his massive, gauntleted fist onto the desk, cracking the polished wood in half. ”I don’t care what kind of cheap trick or illegal artifact this ’Renan’ found inside the gate. My [Immovable Citadel Barrier] is powered by six Tier-A mana cores. Not even an S-Rank strike team can scratch the paint on those front doors!”

CLICK.

Without warning, every holographic monitor in the command center flickered wildly with static.

The bright amber lighting overhead died instantly, plunging the vast command center and the three-story bank below into absolute, pitch-black darkness.

”What happened?!” Boros barked, his cigar dropping from his mouth onto the carpet. ”Backup generators! Activate emergency power immediately!”

”S-Sir!” the operator’s voice shrieked through the dark, laced with raw panic. ”The primary power lines didn’t fail... they were severed! The outer mana-turbines in the basement just melted! The internal temperature of the main breaker room skyrocketed to two thousand degrees in less than three seconds!”

Before Boros could roar another order, a low, metallic hum echoed through the building’s central ventilation shafts—a sound that didn’t travel through the air, but vibrated directly through the steel girders within the walls.

”The Ominous Faction has arrived to collect.”

The voice was quiet, calm, and terrifyingly close. It echoed inside the helmets of every guard, every mercenary, and every operator in the building simultaneously.

Down in the main lobby, forty Rank-A mercenary Hunters drew their enchanted weapons, forming a tight defensive circle around the grand vault door. The six heavy automated mana-turrets mounted on the balconies spun blindly in the dark, their red laser sights cutting through the rising fog.

”Stay sharp!” a mercenary captain shouted, his knuckles white around his broadsword. ”Watch the entrances! Magicians, cast light spells! Now!”

Three mages raised their staves, chanting frantically to conjure glowing orbs of holy light above the lobby.

The pale illumination expanded across the vast room.

The main entrance doors were completely intact. The reinforced windows hadn’t been touched.

Standing directly in the center of the grand marble floor—where a second ago there had been only empty air—was a single young man.

Renan stood quietly under the flickering magical light. His tattered black coat hung loosely over his shoulders, swaying gently in an invisible breeze. His eyes weren’t human anymore—they burned with a deep, suffocating violet radiance that cast long, unnatural shadows across the polished white marble beneath his boots.

Behind him, emerging seamlessly from the darkness of his own shadow, stood ten tall, terrifying figures clad in midnight-black plate armor. Their visors glowed with an eerie purple flame, and long, shadowy daggers rested in their dark gauntlets.

”Intruder!” the mercenary captain screamed, his voice cracking with fear. ”Open fire! Destroy them all!”

The six automated mana-turrets roared to life.

RAT-AT-AT-AT-AT-AT!

A torrential storm of condensed plasma bolts rained down from the balconies, firing at a rate of three thousand rounds per minute. The combined firepower was capable of turning an armored battalion into red meat within seconds.

Renan didn’t raise his hands. He didn’t even blink.

The ten Shadow Knights behind him stepped forward in perfect, terrifying unison. They raised their left arms, unleashing a collective wave of pitch-black shadow barriers that locked together like a wall of solid obsidian.

BOOM-BOOM-BOOM-BOOM!

The plasma bolts slammed into the shadowy wall, exploding into blinding flashes of blue and orange fire. Shockwaves blasted outward, shattering the glass chandeliers overhead and blowing out the marble pillars around the lobby.

When the smoke cleared, the obsidian shadow wall remained completely unscratched. Not a single particle of plasma had penetrated through to Renan.

”My turn,” Renan whispered.

He flicked his index finger forward.

[Skill Activated: Phantom Blitz (Rank-S)]

SWOOSH!

Renan’s body vanished from the physical plane.

The forty Rank-A mercenaries didn’t even see the air warp. In less than a hundredth of a second, Renan materialized on the second-story balcony, directly between the first pair of heavy automated turrets.

He caught the glowing barrels of both six-foot steel turrets with his bare hands.

[Strength: 920]

With a violent, casual flex of his forearms, Renan ripped both ten-ton turrets off their concrete mountings as if they were made of damp cardboard. He swung them through the air, smashing them directly into the remaining four turrets along the balcony.

CRASH-THUD-BOOM!

A deafening explosion of metal, sparks, and tearing wires echoed through the atrium. All six automated turrets collapsed down into the main lobby in a mangled heap of burning steel.

Renan dropped from the balcony, landing silently on his feet amidst the burning debris. He didn’t have a scratch on him.

The forty Rank-A mercenaries took a collective three steps back. Sweat poured down their faces, stinging their eyes. Their hands trembled so violently that two mages dropped their staves onto the marble floor with a loud clatter.

”He... he ripped apart automated mana-turrets with his bare hands...” a veteran mercenary whimpered, backing away toward the vault door. ”He’s not an F-Rank porter... he’s a calamity...”

”Execute,” Renan commanded quietly, waving his hand toward the mercenaries.

The ten Shadow Knights lunged forward like black lightning.

They didn’t move like mindless undead; they fought with the exact, terrifying precision of the elite Night Stalkers they had been in life. Shadow daggers flickered in the dark, cutting through high-tier enchanted leather and mithril armor as if it were parchment.

Screams of pain and desperate battle cries echoed through the lobby, but the fight was over before it truly began. The ten Shadow Knights moved in a flawless ballet of death, neutralizing four mercenaries every second.

Renan didn’t participate in the slaughter. He walked past the chaos, his boots stepping over pools of dark blood, heading directly toward the heavy vault door at the end of the grand hall.

The vault door was a masterpiece of dwarven engineering—twelve feet tall, ten feet wide, made of pure compressed mithril and sealed with three overlapping S-Rank defensive barriers that glowed with intricate golden runes.

High Commander Boros stepped out from the side corridor, standing directly in front of the vault door. His massive, six-foot tower shield was planted into the floor, radiating a blinding golden light that enveloped his entire twelve-foot frame.

[Ultimate Skill Activated: Immovable Citadel Domain]

”You won’t step a single inch past me, boy!” Boros roared, his bloodshot eyes fixed on Renan with desperate fury. ”My defense is absolute! I am the strongest wall in this city! Even an S-Rank dragon’s breath cannot break my shield!”

Renan stopped three paces away. He looked at Boros’s golden shield, then up at the terrified face of the S-Rank defender.

”Absolute defense?” Renan asked softly.

He slowly raised his right hand, making a loose fist. Dark violet lightning began to spark around his knuckles—the combined energy of [Corrosive Aura] and his new [Strength: 920] attribute density.

”There is no such thing as an absolute wall,” Renan said, stepping into a low, relaxed stance. ”There are only walls that haven’t met me yet.”

Renan pulled his right fist back, and threw a simple, straight punch into the exact center of the golden tower shield.

The air inside the bank atrium compressed into a vacuum as Renan’s fist struck the mithril shield, unleashing a shockwave so violent that the golden S-Rank barrier didn’t just shatter—it turned into liquid gold that melted straight through Commander Boros’s armor.