Chapter 42: Death Knight's

  Dawn brought no sunlight to the blighted lands surrounding the Eternal Tomb. Instead, the perpetual twilight merely lightened from deep gray to a sickly pale hue. Lance stood before the massive open gates, his elemental markings pulsing steadily as he completed his final preparations.

  "Remember," Fenris cautioned, his evolved form tensing as death energy poured from the entrance, "this place survived the Primordial Gods' attempts to bring it under divine law. It won't yield easily."

  Lance's maniacal grin never faltered. "Nothing worthwhile ever does." His shadow-infused salamander moved reluctantly beside him, its transformed nature clearly unsettled by the dungeon's presence.

  The first step across the threshold brought immediate change. Lance's elemental markings flickered violently as the dungeon's atmosphere washed over him like a physical wave.

  [System Alert]

  Environmental Effect Detected: Ancient Death Domain

  Shadow Powers: Reduced by 95%

  Void Abilities: Reduced by 95%

  Warning: Hostile Environment for Shadow-Aligned Entities

  "How fascinating," Lance's laugh carried that edge of deadly amusement, though his elemental markings continued to pulse erratically. "The dungeon remembers old enemies."

  Inside, reality itself seemed wrong. The entrance hallway stretched before them, lined with sarcophagi carved from obsidian so black it seemed to consume rather than reflect the sickly green light. As Lance took his third step, the corridor behind them sealed without sound or movement - one moment open, the next a solid wall of ancient stone.

  "The first change," he noted, touching the seamless barrier. "No physical mechanism. The dungeon itself is alive."

  They continued forward, passing through an archway that seemed to breathe, its stone ribs expanding and contracting with slow deliberation. Beyond it, the corridor split into three identical paths. Lance chose the center, but after twenty paces, the passage curved sharply and merged with what should have been the rightmost path.

  "Space folds incorrectly here," Fenris observed as they passed the same funeral tableau for the third time, though each viewing showed the preserved bodies in slightly different positions. "The dungeon is testing how we perceive reality."

  The architecture refused to obey natural laws. Staircases corkscrewed upward only to deposit them on lower levels. Doorways opened onto chambers that couldn't possibly fit within the physical dimensions of the structure. Hallways stretched when walked in one direction, contracted when returned through. In one massive chamber, gravity itself seemed optional - sarcophagi and funeral offerings floated in gentle rotation around a central void.

  They encountered the first undead guardians within minutes. Skeletal warriors rose from alcoves, their bones bound together by energies that predated modern magic. Lance noted how they moved with perfect coordination, suggesting intelligence beyond simple animation.

  "These are merely sentries," Fenris growled, shadow power dimming around his form. "Tests to measure intruders."

  Lance dispatched them with calculated efficiency, though he immediately noticed the difference in his capabilities. His shadow techniques, normally devastating, now barely affected the undead. Even his elemental markings responded sluggishly, as if the death energy saturating the dungeon actively resisted his control.

  "The suppression is impressive," he noted as they moved deeper, following corridors that seemed to shift subtly behind them. "95% reduction would cripple most shadow wielders entirely."

  They passed a chamber where water flowed upward, forming perfect spheres that contained perfectly preserved scenes - moments captured from previous challengers' attempts. Lance watched as one sphere showed a team of high-level adventurers slowly realizing they were walking in circles. In another, a mage's fire spell rebounded, consuming its caster while leaving his companions untouched.

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  "The dungeon remembers," Lance mused, his elemental markings struggling to maintain their power. "It learns from every intrusion."

  As if responding to his observation, the floor beneath them liquefied, dropping them into a new section entirely. They landed in a catacomb where bones had been arranged in elaborate murals depicting ancient battles. The scenes showed armies of light falling before darker forces, divine powers shattering against something older and deeper.

  "Historical records," Fenris noted, studying the bone-art. "From before the divine restrictions."

  Their path forward materialized as they watched - a doorway forming molecule by molecule from swirling death energy. Beyond it stretched a colonnade where each pillar contained a trapped soul, their faces pressed against their stone prisons in silent screams.

  "The space-time distortion is deliberate," Lance observed, his elemental markings struggling to maintain their power. "Not chaos, but a specific pattern designed to disorient."

  When they reached the central chamber of the first level, the true challenge revealed itself. Massive doors swung open to reveal a gathering that made even Lance pause momentarily.

  Death Knights. Not one or two, but dozens - seventy-five at least. Each bore armor of blackened divine metal, corrupted holy symbols etched into plates that had once belonged to fallen champions. Their weapons pulsed with inverted divine energy, while their hollow eyes burned with intelligence and ancient hatred.

  "S-rank undead commanders," Fenris's voice carried rare concern. "Each one capable of leading entire armies."

  Lance's grin never wavered, though his elemental markings pulsed with recognition of the threat. "Let's see how they respond to a king's touch."

  His first attack should have devastated lesser beings - a combination of shadow-fire with void-touched wind that had torn through the Dark Masters' chosen warriors. But here, with his power suppressed by 95%, the assault merely caught the Death Knights' attention.

  They moved with perfect coordination, a symphony of ancient weapons and corrupted divine power. Lance found himself immediately on the defensive, his normal tactical advantages nullified by the dungeon's oppressive atmosphere.

  "This is unexpected," he commented, narrowly avoiding a blade that would have separated his head from his shoulders. His salamander familiar struggled even more, its shadow-infused nature making it particularly vulnerable to the dungeon's suppression effect.

  Lance managed to destroy two of the Death Knights through sheer tactical precision, targeting weak points in their armor that even undead transformation couldn't eliminate. But for each successful strike, the others adapted, closing those vulnerabilities.

  "They learn collectively," he realized as a third Death Knight fell, only for the others to immediately strengthen the exact weakness he had exploited. "Not individual entities, but parts of a unified whole."

  After twenty minutes of increasingly one-sided combat, Lance made a strategic assessment. His elemental markings flickered weakly, while Fenris and his salamander had been forced to retreat to avoid destruction.

  "It seems," Lance's laugh still carried that edge of deadly amusement, though now tinged with something rarely heard - acknowledgment of limitation, "that we have found the edge of current capability."

  The Death Knights formed a perfect half-circle, weapons raised in unison. They didn't press their advantage, instead waiting - almost as if offering Lance the dignity of choosing his next move.

  "An interesting lesson," he addressed them directly, his maniacal grin never faltering. "True strength requires more than shadow dominion."

  Their collective response came not in words but in a synchronized lowering of weapons - a gesture that somehow conveyed both respect and dismissal. The message was clear: return when worthy.

  [Scene Change - Heart of the Eternal Tomb]

  Deep within the dungeon's core, in a chamber that existed partially outside conventional reality, a figure sat upon a throne of fused bone and corrupted divine metal. The Superior Lich, an SS-rank undead lord whose name had been purged from history itself, lifted its skeletal head as ripples of awareness passed through the Eternal Tomb's consciousness.

  "Oh my," the Lich's voice carried the weight of millennia, making reality shudder. "It's been quite some time since I've felt that particular presence." Its eye sockets flared with ancient power as it accessed the dungeon's collective memory.

  The Lich studied the images of Lance, paying particular attention to his elemental markings and the way shadows responded to his will.

  "Still too weak," it mused, skeletal fingers tapping a rhythm on its throne's armrest. "But the echo is unmistakable. The deep ways stir again." A sound like crumbling civilizations emerged from its jaw - something approximating laughter.

  "How interesting that he returns now, when the seals grow thin. When divinity itself begins to crack." The Lich rose, its robes woven from the souls of fallen gods shimmering with power beyond mortal comprehension. "Come back stronger, little king. The Eternal Tomb has waited centuries for one who remembers."

  With a gesture, the Lich commanded the dungeon to permit Lance's departure. After all, seeds must be given time to grow before the harvest.

  [Scene Change - Dungeon Entrance]

  Lance's tactical retreat was executed with precision. The Death Knights made no move to pursue, watching with ancient patience as he gathered his familiars and navigated back through shifting corridors.

  The dungeon seemed to assist rather than hinder their exit - paths straightening, distances shortening, as if the Eternal Tomb itself was politely showing them the door. This calculated dismissal felt more insulting than any attack could have been.

  Once outside, under the perpetual twilight sky, Lance studied the massive structure with new understanding. His elemental markings gradually returned to full power as the dungeon's suppression field released its hold.

  "A setback?" Fenris asked, his evolved form recovering its substantial nature.

  "A revelation," Lance corrected, his grin carrying that familiar promise of beautiful devastation. "Shadow and void alone won't claim this prize." He laughed, the sound echoing across blighted ground. "How fortunate that evolution loves nothing more than overcoming limitations."

  [Status Window]

  Name: Lance Seraphis

  Level: 45 (Advanced from recent conquests)

  Core Attributes:

  Vitality: 124

  Strength: 70

  Dexterity: 99

  Agility: 104

  Magic: 62

  Intelligence: 40

  Stamina: 87

  Luck: 41

  Lance studied his status with interest. "Physical attributes developing nicely," he mused. "But clearly insufficient for SS-rank challenges."

  "What will you do?" Fenris asked, ancient eyes fixed on the Eternal Tomb's imposing silhouette.

  Lance's pondered for a moment. "Let's return to the Blue Moon Clan for now."

  As they departed the blighted lands, Lance cast one last look at the Eternal Tomb - not in defeat, but with the promise of return. Kytus had chosen this challenge perfectly - not to test Lance's current power, but to show him what he needed to become.

  The road to claiming an SS-rank undead dungeon would require new strengths, new adaptations, new evolutions.

  And nothing excited Lance Seraphis more than beautiful, devastating evolution.