Dungeon Corpse Stacker: I Absorb Everything to Become Ominous Monarch

The air beneath Sector 3 did not smell of rain or fresh exhaust. It smelled of damp limestone, ancient iron rust, and the pungent, iron-rich stench of rotting monster entrails.

Eighty feet below the polished neon avenues of the surface city lay the Black Market Trench—a cavernous, three-mile-long subterranean labyrinth that the National Hunter Association chose to ignore, provided the underground syndicates paid their monthly tax in high-tier mana cores.

Here, under the flickering glare of red sodium lamps, illegal dungeon disposal yards operated twenty-four hours a day. Giant iron cranes lowered frozen carcasses of Tier-A drakes and shadow wolves into subterranean butcher vaults, where unlicensed porters stripped their scales and cores for black-market trade.

At the edge of Vault 9—the largest corpse storage facility in Sector 3—Boss Victor pulled his heavy leather coat tight around his chest. Sweat dripped down his nose despite the freezing draft blowing from the subterranean ice runes.

”Lord Renan,” Victor whispered, pointing a trembling, ink-stained finger toward the iron gates fifty yards ahead. ”Vault 9 is the primary supply hub for Guild Apex’s illegal combat potions. It’s guarded by the Nighthound Syndicate—a hundred mercenary Hunters hired directly by Guild Master Richard.”

Standing beside Victor in the dim shadow of a rusted support pillar, Renan looked quietly at the massive iron vault doors.

Renan wore a simple dark combat jacket over a grey linen shirt. His appearance was completely unpretentious, yet his dark purple pupils glowed faintly through the gloom like twin shards of polished violet crystal.

[Status Profile Check:] [Current Class: Ominous Monarch (Tier-2 Sovereign)] [Physical Attributes: Strength 1,810 / Agility 1,760 / Vitality 2,050 / Mana 3,200] [Shadow Army Capacity: 50 Units (Ignis + 49 Shadow Knights)]

”How many carcasses are inside tonight, Victor?” Renan asked softly. His voice was calm, measured, and cut through the ambient clanking of subterranean machinery with absolute clarity.

Victor swallowed hard, pulling up an encrypted data slate. ”Eight hundred Tier-A Iron-Hide Drake carcasses, Lord Renan. Apex Guild brought them in from an unregistered Gate breakout in the northern wilderness three days ago. They’re keeping them on ice until their black-market alchemists can extract the dragon blood.”

”Eight hundred Tier-A carcasses...” Renan murmured, a faint, cold smile tugging at the corner of his lips. ”An acceptable harvest to reinforce my vanguard.”

Before Victor could speak, the iron double doors of Vault 9 swung open with a deafening screech of rusted hinges.

A dozen heavily armed men stepped out into the damp cavern corridor. They wore dark tactical vests marked with a snarling red hound emblem. At their head walked a scarred, six-foot-four man holding a double-barreled plasma shotgun that hummed with volatile blue mana.

This was Commander Drake—head of the Nighthound Syndicate and a veteran A-Rank mercenary on Guild Apex’s payroll.

”Who’s lurking in the shadows?!” Drake barked, racking the slide of his plasma shotgun, causing his men to raise their enchanted assault rifles. ”This is a restricted Apex Guild facility! State your business or get turned into red mist!”

Renan stepped out from the shadow of the pillar, taking slow, unhurried steps toward the twelve armed mercenaries.

Victor shrank back into the darkness, his heart pounding against his ribs like a trapped bird.

Commander Drake squinted through the red sodium light, looking at Renan’s young face and simple dark coat. A cruel, mocking sneer spread across Drake’s scarred face.

”What do we have here?” Drake chuckled, spitting a glob of yellow tobacco onto the damp stone floor. ”A lost porter? Or some low-tier rat looking to scavenge dragon scales?”

”I am here for the eight hundred carcasses inside Vault 9,” Renan said flatly. He stopped ten paces from the mercenary squad, his hands resting casually inside his jacket pockets. ”And I am taking the vault.”

The twelve mercenaries stared at Renan for a second before bursting into loud, hysterical laughter that echoed off the cavern walls.

”Take the vault?!” Drake roared, wiping a tear of laughter from his eye. ”Kid, do you know where you are?! This is the Nighthound territory! We’ve buried fifty porters like you under this very floor!”

Drake raised his plasma shotgun, aiming the glowing blue barrels directly at Renan’s chest.

”I’ll give you three seconds to drop to your knees, rat,” Drake growled, his finger tightening on the trigger. ”One... two—”

Renan didn’t draw a blade. He didn’t order his shadow soldiers to appear.

He simply raised his left hand, flicking his index finger upward.

[Skill Activated: Monarch’s Domain (Rank-S - Concentrated)]

BOOM!

The atmospheric pressure in the fifty-yard corridor collapsed into an absolute vacuum.

A wave of crushing, dark violet gravitational force slammed down onto the twelve mercenaries like an invisible ten-ton iron press.

CRACK-SHATTER-THUD!

The concrete floor beneath the mercenaries cratered six inches deep. All twelve men—including the A-Rank Commander Drake—were slammed face-first onto the damp stone floor simultaneously. Their enchanted assault rifles crumpled like aluminum foil under their own weight, and Drake’s double-barreled plasma shotgun exploded into harmless blue sparks.

”GHRRRK!” Drake choked, his cheek pressed flat against the cracked stone, his teeth grinding so hard blood trickled from his lips. His A-Rank mana circuit flared wildly, trying to push against the invisible weight, but his muscles felt as if they were encased in solid lead.

”W-What... what kind of magic... is this?!” a mercenary Vice-Master shrieked, his arms snapping under the sudden gravitational load. ”He didn’t even cast a spell...!”

Renan took a slow step forward, stepping over Drake’s shattered plasma shotgun.

”You speak of burying porters beneath this floor, Drake,” Renan whispered, looking down at the scarred commander with eyes devoid of a single grain of warmth. ”Tonight, this floor becomes your tomb.”

Renan raised his bare right foot and brought his boot down onto Drake’s adamantine shoulder plate.

CRACK!

The heavy S-Rank mercenary shoulder guard shattered into metallic fragments. Drake let out a muffled scream as his collarbone was pulverized instantly.

”Wait... WAIT!” Drake wept, his arrogant demeanor completely shattered into primal terror. ”Apex Guild... Apex Guild pays us fifty million credits a month! We can double it! We can give you the vault keys... just don’t kill us!”

”I don’t need your keys, Drake,” Renan said softly. ”I take what I require by right of extraction.”

Renan extended his palm over the twelve pinned mercenaries.

[Skill Activated: Shadow Puppet Creation (Rank-S)] [Targeting: 12 A-Rank Nighthound Mercenaries] [Initiating Forced Extraction...]

THRUSSH-THRUSSH-THRUSSH!

Twelve thick, pitch-black shadow tendrils erupted directly from Renan’s palm, impaling the shadow planes beneath the twelve living men.

”GAAAAAAAH!”

A synchronized shriek of absolute agony echoed down the subterranean cavern. The twelve mercenaries twitched violently as their living mana, muscle density, and combat skills were forcibly drained from their souls. Their skin turned pale gray, their hair shriveled into white dust, and their life force was extinguished in less than ten seconds.

DING! DING! DING!

[Forced Extraction Successful!] [Target: 12 A-Rank Mercenaries Extracted!] [Attributes Extracted: Strength +140 / Agility +120 / Vitality +150 / Mana +210]

Twelve dark pillars of smoke erupted from the dried, hollow husks on the floor, solidifying into twelve tall Shadow Mercenaries clad in obsidian tactical gear with glowing purple visors. They turned around in perfect unison, bowing on one knee before Renan.

Renan swept his hand, dismissing the twelve new shadow soldiers into his shadow plane before walking past the heavy iron doors into Vault 9.

Inside Subterranean Vault 9.

The chamber was massive—spanning the size of two football fields. Hundreds of blue ice runes glowed along the stone walls, keeping the air at a freezing twenty degrees below zero.

Stacked on massive five-story iron racks were eight hundred Tier-A Iron-Hide Drake carcasses. Their dark blue scales, ten-foot razor wings, and jagged dragon horns still radiated faint, wild mana currents.

Renan walked into the center of the vast frozen hall.

He took a deep breath, feeling the dense dragon-elemental mana hanging thick in the freezing air.

”Victor,” Renan called back over his shoulder.

Victor scrambled through the doorway, his eyes wide as saucers as he looked at the eight hundred massive dragon carcasses filling the hall. ”Y-Yes, Lord Renan?!”

”Seal the vault doors,” Renan commanded, extending both arms as dark violet lightning began to crackle around his fingertips. ”It is time to feed the system.”

BOOM!

The four-ton iron vault doors slammed shut behind them, locking Renan inside with the eight hundred carcasses.

Renan threw his head back, throwing his palms toward the cavern ceiling.

[SKILL ACTIVATED: MASS EXTRACTION (RANK-S)]

RUMBLE-RUMBLE-RUMBLE!

A seventy-foot vortex of pitch-black and dark violet shadow energy erupted from Renan’s chest, expanding violently across the entire two-hundred-yard chamber. The dark shadow mist slammed into the eight hundred frozen drake carcasses, dissolving dragon scales, stripping dragon meat, and drawing the residual mana straight from their massive bones.

CRACK-CRACK-CRACK-SHATTER!

Eight hundred glowing blue mana rivers erupted from the frozen racks, rising into the air like a magnificent aurora of pure dragon energy before plunging directly into Renan’s chest.

”NNNGH!”

Renan’s muscles bulged against his dark jacket, glowing with an incandescent violet radiance. His skeletal structure groaned as his physical density hardened, his veins burning like rivers of liquid lightning.

DING! DING! DING! DING!

[Mass Corpse Extraction Completed!] [Target: 800 Tier-A Iron-Hide Drakes Extracted!] [Attributes Extracted!] [Strength +480] [Agility +420] [Vitality +510] [Mana +650] [Skill Acquired: Passive - Dragon-Scale Skin (Rank-A)]

BOOM!

A shockwave of pure physical force exploded outward from Renan’s body, pulverizing the iron racks and turning all eight hundred drake carcasses into a cloud of fine, weightless gray dust that swirled around his boots.

Renan opened his eyes, pulling up his updated status profile:

[STATUS PROFILE]

Name: Renan

Class: Ominous Monarch (Tier-2 Sovereign)

Strength: 2,430

Agility: 2,300

Vitality: 2,710

Mana: 4,060

Over two thousand four hundred physical strength. Over four thousand units of mana.

Renan flexed his fingers, feeling the explosive dragon-type energy settled within his muscle fibers.

Suddenly, Boss Victor’s communication slate chirped with a sharp, high-pitched red alert.

”L-Lord Renan!” Victor shouted, reading the flashing red text on his screen. ”Apex Guild Headquarters just received news of Vault 9’s fall! Guild Master Richard has dispatched Director Vance and two S-Rank Executioners to Sector 3! They are locking down the subterranean exits!”

Renan slowly turned toward the iron vault doors, his purple pupils glowing in the dark with an absolute, terrifying hunger for war.

”Director Vance,” Renan whispered softly, stepping into his shadow as black smoke wrapped around his body.

”Tell him I am waiting.”

At the main subterranean elevator of Sector 3, S-Rank Director Vance stepped out of the armored lift, drawing a glowing nine-foot crimson broadsword as three hundred Apex mercenaries lined the cavern corridor: ”Find the rat. Leave his head on my desk.”