OP Absorption
Chapter 62: What is a dungeon?

Chapter 62: What is a dungeon?

For a spider, she was impossibly fast. She flowed across the floor, Requiem blurring in intricate, deadly arcs. Fin found himself purely on the defensive, his earlier confidence shaken by the sheer lethal presence of the bone weapon.

His blade met the scythe again and again. Sparks flew – bone-white against emerald green. Each block sent jarring impacts up his arm, each parry required precise timing and footing. He wasn’t fighting back, merely dodging, weaving, using the blade to deflect the killing edge by the barest of margins.

She was relentless. A slice aimed at his throat forced him to duck low. A sweeping horizontal cut aimed to bisect him made him leap backward. A sudden upward thrust nearly took off his arm.

He was faster, perhaps, thanks to the Mana Cell, but her skill with Requiem, honed over unknown eons, was terrifying. She anticipated his dodges, flowed around his parries, always pressing, always aiming for a killing blow.

He focused, the blankness returning to his eyes, processing her attack patterns, calculating optimal evasion routes. He needed an opening, but she gave none.

"Impressive, insect," she hissed, her voice tight with exertion and rising frustration as he continued to evade the inevitable. Requiem whistled past his ear, close enough to feel the chill of its passing. "You dance well."

She pressed harder, her movements becoming a whirlwind of deadly bone and focused hatred.

Then, mid-strike, she paused fractionally, pulling back slightly. Her breathing was controlled, but her eyes held a different light now. Curiosity, returning even through the rage.

"Tell me, human," she asked, her voice suddenly conversational, though the threat of the scythe remained absolute. "You wander into places like this, chasing power, trinkets..."

She tilted her head, her gaze piercing.

"Do you even know what a dungeon truly is?"

He paused his evasion, lowering his blade slightly, though his stance remained coiled, ready.

What was she talking about?

The shift in conversation was jarring, unexpected. From a death match to... a philosophy lecture?

"What do you mean?" he asked, his voice betraying a hint of genuine confusion beneath the cold exterior.

She lowered Requiem’s tip fractionally, resting the butt of the shaft on the floor. Her eyes held a strange mix of condescension and ancient knowledge. "You humans. You swarm into these... dungeons... like locusts."

She gestured vaguely with her free hand. "Tell me, what do you think they are? Convenient treasure chests? Monster dens that just happen to appear?"

Her gaze swept over him, as if examining a particularly ignorant specimen. "I’ve gleaned much from the minds of those who came before you. Your little Guilds, your rankings, your desperate scramble for mana stones."

She leaned forward slightly, her voice dropping conspiratorially, though it still echoed in the vast chamber. "But did you ever truly wonder? Where do these pockets of reality come from?"

Her eyes gleamed. "Where do beings like myself, like my children, originate? Why do these ’dungeons’ keep tearing holes into your world, spilling out monsters and power?"

She opened her mouth to continue, a knowing smile playing on her lips, ready to impart some world-shattering revelation—

And her voice just... cut off.

Mid-syllable.

Her eyes widened slightly, not in pain, but in surprise and sudden annoyance. It was as if an invisible hand had clamped over her mouth. The air around her throne shimmered faintly, disturbed.

She tried again, mouthing words, but no sound emerged for a second. Then, her voice returned, tight with irritation.

"It seems," she clipped out, glaring towards the unseen ceiling, "they don’t want me talking about that."

Fin frowned, the confusion deepening. The fight forgotten for a moment. "They? Who are ’they’?"

She looked back at him, raising a delicate eyebrow. "Hm? The Admins, of course."

She paused, studying his blank expression. Realization dawned slowly on her face, displacing the irritation with genuine disbelief.

"Hold on," she said, her voice laced with incredulity. "You mean... you didn’t even know about that?"

She stared at him, truly baffled now.

"As you humans say," she murmured, shaking her head slowly, a look of utter astonishment crossing her ancient features. "Wow. Just... wow."

He stared, processing the Queen’s baffled expression, the mention of "Admins," the abrupt censorship. His mind, supercharged by the Mana Cell, raced through possibilities.

"Whatever," he said, his voice cutting through her surprise. "Just tell me."

He needed to know. This felt bigger than just this dungeon, bigger than the Guilds, bigger than everything he thought he understood.

She regarded him, a flicker of amusement returning, mingling with her disbelief. She lowered Requiem fully, resting its shaft on the ground. An ancient weariness touched her eyes.

"You truly know nothing," she sighed. "Very well, insect. A brief lesson before your inevitable end."

She paused, glancing upwards again as if daring the unseen censors.

"Your world, my world, countless others... they are specks of dust in a vast, dark ocean."

"At the bottom, slumbering in unfathomable chaos, are the Outer Gods. Entities whose very dreams birth and shatter realities. Mindless. Formless. Absolute."

He listened, his blank face a mask, but inside, his understanding of reality began to fracture. Outer Gods?

"Above them, slightly less incomprehensible, are the True Gods," she continued, her voice a low murmur. "Beings of immense power who carve out domains, wage celestial wars, playing with existence like children with toys."

"Then come the Demigods, lesser spawn and servants. The Constellations, vast sentient networks of fate and power, influencing destinies across galaxies."

Her eyes narrowed slightly. "And then... the Administrators."

"The Admins," she spat the word like poison. "Self-proclaimed managers of reality. Beings who enforce arbitrary rules, bind entities like myself, create these... ’dungeons’... as farms, prisons, or perhaps just for their twisted amusement."

"They maintain the ’System’ your kind clings to, doling out power, manipulating events. They are wardens. Bureaucrats of existence."

She sneered. "After them? Countless other beings. Demons from abyssal planes, angels, elementals, spirits... and you humans. Barely noticeable."

Fin stood motionless. Outer Gods. True Gods. Admins running dungeons like cosmic prisons. His world, his struggles, the Guilds, the ranks... all reduced to insignificant pieces in a game played by beings beyond comprehension.

The Mana Cell pulsed within him, integrating the knowledge, but the sheer scale was staggering. Shock rippled through his processed thoughts.

He slowly lowered the blade. It didn’t vanish, but the humming lessened, the light softening.

He looked at the Queen, truly looked at her, past the monstrous power and ancient arrogance. He saw the faint lines of weariness around her eyes, the subtle tension in her posture.

"Are you trapped in here?" he asked, the monotone unchanging, yet the question held a different weight now. "By the Admins?"

She blinked, caught off guard by the directness, by the perception. She studied him for a long moment, the sharp intelligence in her eyes reassessing him.

A slow, genuine smile touched her lips. It held no warmth, but perhaps a flicker of wry acknowledgment.

"I guess," she admitted softly, tilting her head. "For a human... you are pretty smart."