Chapter 225: Moving Deeper Into The Dungeon, Seeking The Dungeon Core

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Riven spent a full hour carefully stitching the Kobold King’s severed arm onto Vladimir at the man’s own request. He had agreed mostly out of curiosity, wanting to see what would happen when such a powerful limb was forced into a living body. The arm remained a deep crimson color, dotted with scattered orange-red scales and tipped with slightly longer black claw-like nails, yet its overall size matched Vladimir’s other arm perfectly.

The procedure was a complete success. The flesh had achieved full assimilation.

Riven started laughing like a mad scientist the moment he saw Vladimir’s new arm twitch and respond to conscious command. "It’s a success! He’s alive!"

Vladimir slowly opened his eyes and glared at him with pure annoyance.

"What are you screaming for?!" Vladimir groaned angrily. Then his gaze dropped to the new limb. "Huh?! The arm...! Hah...! Hahah...! HAHAHAHAHA! IT WORKED?!"

"Hell yeah," Riven nodded with open satisfaction.

"FUCK YEAH!!!" Vladimir laughed loudly and tried to stand while raising the arm high. Sharp pain immediately shot through his shoulder. "Agh! Ack...! D-Damn it...! It’s not completely...!"

"Yeah, don’t move it around too much," Riven warned. "The Shadow Stitches are still holding everything together. They will dissolve after a couple of days. Until then, better not use that arm. Wrap it in bandages or something for now."

"Hm," Vladimir nodded, still breathing heavily. "Haaa... I feel revitalized. What is this sensation? Is this dragon energy? Those axes...!"

"The boss dropped them. They work as a pair," Riven said, holding up the dual axes with a cocky smile. "I’ve got my Fenrir’s Fang, but I was thinking of using these myself... Unless you want them? Huh? You want them so badly?"

"I don’t want them!!!" Vladimir hissed and immediately tried to walk away. "I am an assassin. I cannot go around wielding a pair of massive, super awesome axes..."

"You’ve got the affinity for them, and they can help you regulate your new power," Riven said. Without waiting for another protest he tossed the axes toward Vladimir.

Vladimir panicked and leaped aside just in time.

CLAAASH!

Both axes slammed into the stone floor, triggering a violent explosion of boulders and flames that forced Vladimir to shield his face. When the dust settled he stared at the weapons in silence, watching the red energy still pulsing along their edges.

"Take them. Consider them a reward for your hard work so far," Riven said with a calm smile.

"W-What?! You’re giving them to me?" Vladimir was left completely speechless. "Why...?"

"I make sure to keep my allies well equipped," Riven answered. "Hoarding a bunch of high-ranked equipment makes no sense, right? I am a generous and magnanimous man after all!" He was clearly messing with him.

"Tsk..." Vladimir clicked his tongue and finally picked up the axes. The weight felt natural in his hands. "Hmm... maybe it’s time I leave behind my pure assassin build and start working on something that combines both speed and raw power... My werewolf form no longer has limits or strict requirements. It can become a fundamental part of my fighting style."

"Indeed," Riven nodded. "I am glad you’re not stupid enough to miss something that obvious."

"Ugh! Are you going to keep annoying me?!" Vladimir roared."Maybe I should use these axes to finally have my revenge against you!"

He leaped forward like a wild beast, axes raised, but an invisible wall stopped him cold. He crashed to the ground and found himself unable to take another step.

In the end he was still Riven’s designated subordinate.

"Don’t get cocky now," Riven said, already walking away. "Let’s go find the Dungeon Core for the main body."

"Huh? Wait, is it you, Shadow?" Vladimir asked, suddenly noticing the slight difference in tone.

"Yes. The Main Body will come shortly. Let’s move. Hurry," the Shadow Self replied in its usual calm, clipped voice.

"Fine," Vladimir muttered. He actually got along better with the Shadow than with Riven himself. The Shadow was not truly Riven, and it rarely spoke unless necessary. That quiet nature was something Vladimir appreciated. Whenever the real Riven took full control of the Shadow’s body, the endless talking and constant teasing never stopped.

"Vladimir, hurry up."

"Yeah, yeah."

Vladimir followed the Shadow through the long stone corridors. Groups of remaining Kobolds appeared along the way, desperate and furious, but they met quick ends. Vladimir’s new axes cut through them with brutal efficiency, leaving only trails of burnt flesh and scorched stone behind.

"This is the end of the road," the Shadow said, placing one hand against a blank section of wall. "Indeed, it can only open for him. The Main Body is coming. Make space."

Vladimir stepped back. A Spirit Gate opened in the air, and Riven’s main body walked through without hesitation. He placed his hand against the same wall and wasted no time.

FLAAASH!

Ancient runes flared to life across the stone, spreading outward in intricate glowing patterns. The flames of the torches lining the corridor suddenly burned three times brighter. Then the entire cave began to tremble.

RUMBLE!

The wall split open, revealing a vast and ancient throne room beyond. At the far end rested the enormous skeleton of a great being, as if it had been guarding the glowing sphere floating in front of it for countless years. The sphere was a massive red Dungeon Core that pulsed with heavy, oppressive energy.

"A skeleton?" Vladimir asked, looking up slowly. "What is this thing— Wait...! No way...!"

Riven, Vladimir, and the Shadow all stood frozen in place as they gazed at the massive skeleton. It easily measured over thirty meters in height. The bones were so large and heavy that individual ribs were the size of buildings. Yet every piece remained perfectly connected. The gigantic white skull stared blankly at the glowing core, empty eye sockets devoid of any light. The entire figure was nothing more than ancient bone, yet the sheer presence it radiated filled the chamber with a heavy silence that pressed against their lungs.

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