Dungeon Corpse Stacker: I Absorb Everything to Become Ominous Monarch

The skies above the Northern Sector Gate were stained a bruised, apocalyptic shade of bruised violet and sulfur. Storm clouds, thick with the suffocating scent of ozone, burning ash, and impending rain, hung dangerously low over the massive reinforced concrete ramparts that separated the ruined urban sprawl of Sector 4 from the outer military zones.

On the vast paved highway stretching before the gate, three thousand elite Hunters from the Regional Coalition stood in pristine, terrifying military formation.

This was not a hastily assembled mob of low-tier mercenaries. This was the combined martial might of five major regional guilds—the Northern Frost, the Western Ironclad, the Eastern Tempest, the Central Aegis, and the Shadow Fang Syndicate. Row after row of Rank-A and Rank-B Hunters wore heavy anti-mana plate armor that shimmered under the pale, sickly sunlight. Behind the heavy infantry, twenty mobile mana-artillery tanks raised their massive, glowing barrels, aiming their high-density plasma cannons directly down the narrow highway leading into the heart of Sector 4.

At the center of the command vanguard stood five imposing figures whose sheer presence distorted the physical air around them, creating visible heatwaves on the pavement.

The five Regional Guild Masters.

Among them, Marcus ”The Blood Blade”—the Guild Master of the Western Ironclad—twirled a massive crimson broadsword in his right hand. His muscular frame radiated an S-Rank aura so volatile that the asphalt beneath his iron greaves cracked with every breath he took. Beside him, Guild Mistress Elena of the Eastern Tempest hovered three inches off the ground, her pale eyes crackling with white lightning and her dark hair swaying in an artificial gale.

”President James was overly cautious,” Marcus growled, his deep voice sounding like grinding stones as he glared toward the desolate ruins of Sector 4. ”Sending three thousand men and five S-Rank Hunters for a single rogue scavenger? Richard was weak, arrogant, and careless. He let an unregistered filth catch him off guard in his own office.”

”Do not underestimate him, Marcus,” Elena warned, her voice layered with electrical static that buzzed in the ear comms of nearby soldiers. ”He wiped out Guild Apex’s entire headquarters in less than an hour, extracted the Association Directors into undead thralls, and obliterated their ground forces. Sensor readings indicate he commands over five hundred autonomous entities.”

”Then let his five hundred face three thousand!” Marcus laughed coldly, slamming the heavy butt of his broadsword into the road, sending spiderweb fractures rippling across the lanes. ”Our heavy artillery will flatten Sector 4 into dust before his shadow army can even cross the perimeter line. He has nowhere to run, nowhere to hide, and no allies left!”

Suddenly, the ambient wind died down completely.

A suffocating, bone-chilling silence blanketed the eight-lane highway. The temperature plummeted by twenty degrees in a single second, freezing the stagnant puddle water along the drainage ditches into brittle sheets of black ice. High above, the birds circling the perimeter stopped chirping, scattering in blind panic away from the gate.

”Sensors spiking!” a radar operator screamed frantic warnings over the loudspeakers from the mobile command center. ”Massive necrotic mana signal detected at 800 meters! No... it’s not approaching on foot! It’s already here!”

Out from the dense, industrial fog covering the highway stepped a solitary figure.

Renan walked with calm, unhurried steps. His dark coat fluttered in the frigid breeze, and his hood was pulled down, exposing his sharp features and glowing golden eyes. He carried no visible weapon, wore no bulky armor, and walked completely alone down the center of an eight-lane highway facing three thousand armed men and twenty tanks.

”Halt right there!” Marcus shouted, his S-Rank voice booming across the highway like a localized thunderclap that vibrated the heavy plates of his men. ”Rogue Hunter Renan! You are completely surrounded by the Regional Coalition! By order of the National Hunter Association, drop to your knees and surrender your core, or we will erase Sector 4 from the map!”

Renan stopped fifty paces from the frontline of tower shields. He slowly looked at the vast sea of armor, the glowing artillery barrels, and the five S-Rank Guild Masters standing in full combat readiness.

”Surrender?” Renan murmured, his voice soft, yet carried across the vast highway by a wave of pure mana that rattled the visors of three thousand Hunters. ”You brought three thousand men to an execution ground, Marcus... and you think you are the ones offering terms?”

”Arrogant filth!” Marcus roared, raising his crimson broadsword high into the air. ”Artillery Corps, fire! Turn him into ash!”

BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

Twenty mana-artillery tanks detonated simultaneously, unleashing a localized barrage of high-density plasma shells that streaked through the air like falling meteors, aimed directly at the exact spot where Renan stood.

Renan didn’t dodge. He didn’t even shift his footing. He slowly closed his right hand into a tight fist.

[Absolute Extraction System: Sovereign Domain]

Unleashing Active Shadow Legion: 561 Units.

Activating Skill: ’Sovereign’s Command’ (Rank-A).

SNAP.

A towering wall of pure, abyssal darkness erupted from the asphalt in front of Renan, rising fifty feet into the air. The twenty plasma shells slammed directly into the shadowy barrier, detonating in a blinding inferno of orange and white light. The shockwave blew trees down along the highway and cracked the reinforced windshields of the artillery tanks, but not a single spark of fire touched Renan’s coat.

When the flames dissipated, the darkness wall didn’t fade. Instead, it expanded outward like a tidal wave of living ink, consuming the entire width of the eight-lane highway and plunging the area into shadow.

From within the pitch-black miasma, a towering figure stepped forward. Shadow General Ignis—the extracted form of Richard—raised its massive abyssal broadsword, its violet eyes burning with cold, fanatical rage. Beside Ignis, Shadow Gregory, Shadow Marcus, and Shadow Harold took their places at the vanguard, followed by five hundred dark-armored Shadow Knights stepping out from the shadows in terrifying, perfect synchronization.

The three thousand Coalition Hunters gasped in collective horror, taking an involuntary step back as they recognized the dark, spectral forms of the very men who had led the Association just days prior.

”That’s... that’s Guild Master Richard!” a frontline shield-bearer screamed, his hands shaking so violently he nearly dropped his heavy tower shield. ”He turned Richard into his shadow soldier!”

”Maintain formation! Do not break!” Elena screamed from above, channeling a massive storm of lightning into her hands. ”He’s just one man controlling puppets!”

Renan raised his hand, pointing a single finger toward the three thousand Hunters. His golden eyes flared with absolute, unyielding dominance as his status interface flickered before his vision.

[Target Analysis: Regional Coalition Force]

3,000 High-Tier Hunters.

5 S-Rank Guild Masters.

Status: Ready for Mass Extraction.

”Ignis... Gregory... take the front line,” Renan commanded, his layered voice echoing like the rumble of an earthquake beneath their feet. ”Break their shields. Harvest their cores. Leave none alive.”

Shadow General Ignis let out an apocalyptic roar that shattered the glass visors of fifty frontline soldiers. The eight-foot shadow giant charged forward at supersonic speed, trailing dragon-fire wrapped in necrotic darkness, slamming directly into the Coalition’s vanguard shield wall.

CRASH!

The battle for the Northern Gate had officially begun—and the highway was about to become a graveyard.