The Demon Queen's Royal Consort-Chapter 110 - Dungeon - XVIII

**

Aeloria was the last to approach the edge.

Her icy eyes slowly scanned the cavernous hall, and for the second time, the group found themselves spectators to a macabre spectacle.

No one spoke. There was no need for commentary anymore. The enemy before them was incomprehensible—an abyss given form and teeth, a putrid carapace, razor-sharp fangs, incongruous and deadly movements, and no reason—just the pure, savage instinct to destroy.

Six locusts emerged like shadows within the darkness.

Warriors with six arms, aligned, swift as lightning, precise as the blades of a ritual. The cutting energy of their weapons vibrated deep into the bones of the onlookers.

"Phew..." Seraphine exhaled, impressed.

No matter how many times she'd seen it, these locusts were lethally awe-inspiring.

And then came the sound.

"GRUUUUUUUUUUUMMMM..."

The crocodile emerged like a living mountain spat straight from hell. A tsunami of acid rose behind it, splattering the sludge across the cavern walls. The battle began without ceremony.

The locusts spun at blinding speeds, carving deep wounds, scaling the colossal body like venomous ants. For a moment, Aeloria clenched her fists—they were dealing real damage.

But hope died quickly.

The first locust was sucked straight into the black maw.

The second was shattered against the tail, which moved with absurd speed.

The third and fourth attempted a dual assault, only to be embraced by living regeneration that swallowed them whole.

The fifth exploded in a sea of teeth.

The sixth hesitated... and that was its final mistake.

In five minutes, it was all over.

Aeloria stared intently. Her eyes flickered briefly, ice and thought swirling in turmoil.

Dália stood beside her, hands pressed to her chest, suppressing her own horror.

Her gaze wasn't on the crocodile, but on the sludge. Something bothered her. A pulse—almost imperceptible—in the crimson fluid.

"Did you feel that?" she murmured, almost whispering to herself.

"Not yet," Aeloria replied without looking away. "But I will."

**

The group retreated in silence. Words... no longer held meaning here. They had been stripped away by the weight of the days, by the quiet terror gnawing at their guts with every visit to that dark abyss.

When they reached the cliff's edge for the third time, something felt different.

Darker.

Thicker.

As if even the darkness was recoiling.

As if the dungeon itself was holding its breath.

Three. Only three locusts.

But these weren't ordinary warriors—this was an ancestral trio.

The first wielded curved scythes with such perfect precision it seemed to conduct a dance of death.

The second bore runic markings on its six arms, pulsing like dead stars—a warrior of pure destruction.

The third... floated. Monstrous wings beat on its back, granting it unnatural agility, making its movements nearly impossible to track—as if the wind itself had taken form to fight.

A trio that could easily slaughter Glenn's group in direct combat.

They watched in absolute silence.

Aeloria narrowed her eyes, and Dália gripped her own wrist, as if her intuition were trying to escape her body.

Then, it came.

"GRUUUUUUUUUUUMMMMMM..."

The roar didn't come from its mouth. It came from existence itself—a guttural frequency that made the stalactites tremble and the acid boil.

The crocodile rose from the sludge like a possessed titan. The liquid surged like liquid walls, bathing the cavern in shades of green and red—a living painting of destruction.

The battle began.

But this time... it was different.

The scythes carved chunks from the grotesque body, sending flying debris of mutating flesh. The aerial locust cut through physical barriers like paper, striking critical points.

And the rune-bearer? Its six arms moved in simultaneous rituals, summoning slashes that left glowing cracks in the air.

Even from a distance, the group felt the power behind each strike.

And with every devastating blow, something strange happened to the environment. It was subtle, almost imperceptible—but it was there.

Dália noticed first.

On the third sequence of slashes, when the runic warrior drove its blades straight into the base of the creature's skull, the sludge's surface trembled. But not like before.

Not like a churning sea.

It was a pulse. A spasm.

Circular. Perfect. Deliberate.

"Did you see that?" she whispered.

But no one answered—they were all transfixed.

The flying locust lunged at the creature's chest, piercing through like a ghostly bolt, tearing open its torso with a sonic explosion. Destroying where its heart should have been. But it wasn't effective.

Again, the sludge trembled.

But not the crocodile.

Aeloria leaned forward. Her eyes were frozen slits. ƒrēenovelkiss.com

"Again..." she murmured.

The scythe-wielder slid along the creature's back, severing each vertebra of its spine in a motion so fluid it seemed choreographed by the gods themselves. The crocodile howled. But before the sound even echoed—

The sludge vibrated.

A second before.

Dália's eyes widened. "No... it's not him who feels it first."

Aeloria turned slowly, her voice icy. "The body reacts... but the origin of the pain... is there."

She pointed to the center of the acid swamp.

"The sludge reacts first. The body just follows."

Dália's breath hitched. "Like an inverted reflex..."

"Not a reflex." Aeloria spoke as if reading from a divine text. "It's a command. That's where the core is. The consciousness."

Dália stepped forward, unafraid of her own deduction.

"Deep below. Hidden under the sludge. It doesn't even need to protect whatever's down there. After all, nothing can reach it."

Their exchange lasted just long enough for the three mighty locusts to be annihilated, like all the others.

The crocodile devoured the last of the three—not with glory, but urgency.

Glenn approached, his face hardened by epiphany.

"So... if we destroy what's at the bottom..."

"It dies!"

The real question was: How do you reach something hidden deep within a viscous, highly corrosive crimson sludge?

"Let's get out of here!" Dorian snapped the group back to reality.

**

"Do you think it's possible?" Seraphine asked, glancing sideways at Aeloria, who still stared into the campfire with a furrowed brow.

The ice mage let out a long sigh, rubbing her temple almost reflexively.

"Technically? Maybe. But... I've never tried splitting open a boiling acid lake with sheer willpower and a handful of spells." She paused. "So... I have no idea."

"I love it when you sound so confident," Seraphine muttered, crossing her arms.

"How deep do you think it is?" I asked, breaking the silence with a sliver of hope.

"It can't be too deep!" Dália replied, rubbing her nose from the night's chill. "The crocodile is massive and takes hits from every angle. Whatever's down there has to be connected to the aberration. If it were hundreds of meters down, the creature wouldn't regenerate so fast—it would've been wiped out long ago."

"Or evaporated in the first decent fight," Aeloria added. "But it's still there. Intact. Which means it's close... and protected."

"And... you two think you can open a path?" I asked, staring at them.

They exchanged glances. Not hesitation—calculation. The kind of silent understanding between mages who already share the same answer before speaking.

"If it's just opening, I can do it," Dália said firmly, interlacing her fingers as if already feeling the water's flow.

"And I can reinforce the walls with ice to stabilize the path." Aeloria narrowed her eyes. "But someone has to go down. And destroy whatever's there."

The entire group turned to me.

"Of course... because obviously, I'm the one diving into a damned corrosive acid swamp, beating up an immortal monster's heart, and blowing it up by the end of the day. Why not?"

Dorian cleared his throat lightly. "And us? Any brilliant plans for me and Seraphine?"

"Yes," Aeloria replied, her tone so neutral it felt premeditated. "You're the contingency plan."

Dorian raised an eyebrow. "Why do I feel like I won't like the next words out of your mouth?"

"Because you're right," Aeloria said, smiling faintly. "If Glenn fails, you two face the crocodile head-on... and hold it until he tries again. Or until you die. Depends on your stamina."

Seraphine scoffed. "Great. So that's it. Glenn takes a dive into hell, and we two-step with the devil while he figures it out."

"Exactly." Aeloria gave Seraphine's shoulder a light pat. "But look on the bright side—if everything goes right, no one has to die."

"That's what I call icy optimism," Dorian grumbled.

Despite the tension, a faint smirk tugged at everyone's lips.

It was bitter. It was grim.

But it was proof they were still alive.

"Alright," I said, taking a deep breath. "Two days. Rest, preparation, full recovery. And then... the plunge into the abyss."

"Perfect," Aeloria said. "Until then, try not to dream of pulsating sludge or regenerating monsters. Bad for your sleep."