The memory repeated itself, over and over and over again.

Two days had gone by since he had witnessed the battle for the first time, and the only thing Gabriel had managed to gauge correctly was that every time it repeated, its length shortened by roughly one minute.

He calculated that having two days and ten hours went by already. He had left, roughly, two days and sixteen hours left before the memory would last only less than 1 minute.

Gabriel had noticed the shorting mechanism the first day since he remained in the throne room for a few repetitions to understand how the King had turned into the Armored Tyrant.

Every time the memory would play out a little later in time, it would end each time with the singularity explosion.

He discovered that the King would turn into the monster, thanks to his wife. Each time he relived the memory, she would give her life with a weird type of ritual Magic, which judging by her Mana's color, he guessed was Blood Magic.

"That's certainly powerful," he realized.

"Liz, I think this is the kind of Magic Olive warned us against, the type of Magic people would profit the most by sacrificing our Life, our unexpendable Life." Liz nodded. She had been as surprised as him to discover the potency of it.

"I wonder what elements are needed to be able to use the Blood element… Oh, come on! Don't make that face! Like you weren't thinking about it? It would be amazing to have this sort of power at our disposal, and you know it!"

Liz couldn't help but shrug, but she took a second to do it. So Gabriel noticed that the idea tickled her as well.

The second day, they had passed studying the sky for the coming of the caped men. Doing so, he realized that they were human, but not all of them. There were elves and orcs among them. Some old alliance, maybe.

And yet, more than discovering their race, and the fact that most of the caped ones were not standing in wait in the sky, they all appeared together with the man riding the enormous turtle, probably summoned by the dark caped ones.

He tried following them for the entire day but did not discover much after that. Without the ability to hear them, there wasn't much he could say, and even if he tried to read their mouths, the capes magically obscured their faces. And even if they didn't? Would he be able to? Were they even speaking in English? Now that he thought about it, not everybody spoke English in the Cradle, nor among the Giants, but for some reason, he kept encountering people who only spoke that language. How weird was that?

Yet Gabriel could not focus on any of those useless questions. He had the clarity of mind to barely concentrate on one subject, his research to beat the Challenge.

Sadly, again and again during the day; he kept losing focus because of his hunger and, even more so, his thirst. He did not know how to keep those two urges at bay.

Gabriel even resented his Bond Spirit a little for the sole reason of not needing to eat or drink anything. She sustained off him after all.

Even then, what he could really do to keep his mind off of his needs was training his only grindable Skills, Built to Fly and Burst Attack. Built to Fly kept rewarding him with 1% increases for each Mana point he spent in it, but Burst Attack… would require much more.

As it seemed, Burst Attack barely gave him 0.02% for each Stamina point he spent in it.

Epiphany had yet to disclose its secrets to him. He had tried waiting for or asking for 'epiphanies,' he had tried wishing to cast Magic, but really nothing came to him. There were probably some processes involved that currently escaped him.

And another problem which he couldn't solve and that was piling on top to stress him out was the silence. It was so silent that if he did not move, he could hear the sound of his own heartbeat, of the blood flowing in his veins. His Enhanced Senses Perk was acting as a double-edged sword in this situation; still, he felt he had made the right choice when he picked it.

Time kept on passing, and as he had to fight against his needs, he grew more and more unstable and angry.

The third day he spent it to look around the village for clues or anything that jumped the eye, but the problem wasn't the lack of such things. On the contrary, the overabundance of them.

Their city-village tech was weird, and the city itself spawned many kilometers, he judged that it was almost as big as Turtle Island itself, and given the appearance of the Armored Tyrant, he couldn't but think about the fact that the Challenge was showing him the final moments of a regular town, turning, maybe into a Dungeon.

Gabriel had to leave the exploration when half of the fourth day had yet to go by. He had to stop and focus on not thinking about his physical needs.

The only joy he had was his Burst Attack Skill reaching Tier 9. He had trained it during the almost five days that had gone by in the Challenge; thus, he had reached its near mastery.

Gabriel knew he could push it all the way toward completion if he wished to, but then when his Class level reached 20, he would be obliged to evolve it, while if he instead had no fully evolved Skills, he could choose a Skill to bind to Resilience. It was by far the best path given his Life and regeneration speculations.

He had spent the three remaining days in a state of starvation and, most terribly, thirst.

As white flashes succeeded one after the other at the distance of only a few minutes, he knew that the time was almost upon him. So he waited by the position of the last moments of the fight between the scepter wielding man and the Tyrant King.

They repeated, and repeated, and once again repeated. So much was the visual noise that Gabriel had to close his eyes and enter a meditation of sorts, the type Olive had taught him.

Minutes passed by, and when he opened his eyes, it was the last minute.

Gabriel stood up. He was nervous.

He didn't only feel it; he knew that something was about to, maybe finally, change.

The light flashed, one last time, and one last time he could see the desperation plastered on the Tyrant's monstrous visage.

As usual, he was forced to close his eyes. The light would have blinded him otherwise.

When he opened them back up, the chamber was void once again, but he could hear something…

Hear something!?

Gabriel whirled around.

In front of him stood the gigantic body of what couldn't else be but the Tyrant King. The Tyrant King was enormous, standing at an ominous fifty feet height, dark mist shrouding him from the view, and a massive black crown jutting out from its head.

Damn, he's grown… was the first thing that came to Gabriel's mind before he started feeling that something was wrong.

Looking straight at its form, which seemed to look back at him, was different; it felt wrong. Gabriel had never seen him make that stance. It wasn't a scene taken from the spiritual memory. It was new.

The Tyrant was looking right at him; now, he was sure...

Liz froze, and Gabriel prepared for one and one thing only, flying away as fast as possible.

He had no idea if his maximum speed would be enough to beat the Armored Tyrant's reaction time, but it was the only thing he could possibly do. Only, he really couldn't make any sort of movement. He was stuck in place, immobile in his body.

He soon knew that the reason he was stuck in place was the incomprehensible pressure that the Tyrant emitted.

It was like facing one's own purest and wildest fear, all bundled up together and each of them ready to storm at the same time.

Realizing that the Tyrant King stood in front of him for real, Gabriel couldn't help but use the only thing that he could move other than his eyes, and that too barely walked.

Stuttering, Gabriel started talking, "He-hello the-there!"

After a few seconds, the Tyrant King smiled.

The pressure disappeared all at once; the sudden lack of it made Gabriel plop down. Lizzy hiding behind him.

"You've failed, young… human," he said, "but it was to be expected. The Challenge was meant for sentients only of a certain level. Alas, yours is much, much lower than the required."

"Oh…" Gabriel answered after a few long seconds of surprise.

The Tyrants' voice was… dark, grim, heavy but somehow… pleasant.

"Does that mean that I'm stuck he-here?"

"Yes, at least until you die of starvation, yes. I could kill you first if you so wished, but… it's been thirteen thousand years since I had contact with anybody who wasn't a representation of my memories."

"Th-thirteen? Really? That's a lot."

"It really is, yes."

Hearing those words gave a little more courage to Gabriel, "Are you sure there's nothing to eat around here? I mean, I could eat insects, no problem there. Though I have to admit that drinking my own urine would reach a certain limit with time…"

"You could always eat yourself, maybe drink your own blood."

"Oh, I don't see that really helping much if… if…"

Gabriel paused in thought. Wait a little… as terrifying as that sounds… my Recovery would most probably fix the problem of the food… ending.

But he shook his head. Come on! I can't really think about eating myself! And what about Recovery? Would it work in circles? If I cut my arm and eat it, it would grow back thanks to Life, while I could keep my body alive thanks to the proteins and the rest coming from my own body and blood…

"Great Wakan Tank, I can't believe I'm actually taking into consideration what he just said…" Gabriel said out loud.

The Tyrant chuckled.

"Is there something more important than keeping yourself alive for the moment? I very much doubt it. And most importantly, you could keep me entertained, telling me about the outside world, the state of Alter, and so on," said the Armored Tyrant turning around and going for a walk. He signaled Gabriel to follow, and the young man did so automatically. As if the gesture from the monster-king had an impossibly ignorable will of command behind it.

"Your lizard, is it a Spirit? I had never seen a spirit take such a stable physical form."

"Uh? Yes, she's Lizzy. Say hi, Liz. Well, she can't really talk, but she is good at keeping company."

"Liz. I see now that she's part of you. You are her, and she is you. Very powerful, your bond is perfect and complete. You truly are a one and only individual. Very interesting, what kind of tether can allow this, I wonder."

"I don't know much about tethers, but they call me, and those with a Bond Spirit, druids."

"Druids… why? Druids connected with nature and became one thing with animals back in my time. Your lizard does undoubtedly represent an animal, but I don't understand how, the clearly higher implication of your Spiritual link, ties with the original form of the druid Class."

"I really can't help you with that. I'm very new to Alter. I've been here less than a month."

"Really? How peculiar. You come from one of the adjacent worlds then?"

"The adjacent worlds? So that's what those transparent worlds are..."

"Of course, many other worlds were connected to Alter back then, I don't know the state of it right now, but of that I'm certain. Where would all those races have come from if not from those planets? So, what is your original world called?"

Gabriel nodded in understanding. Though the details lacked, he had figured out as much. "Earth. Mine is called Earth."

"Earth? Never heard of it. Is it beautiful? It does sound beautiful."

"Never heard of it? Then where do the humans from your Challenge come from?"

"Humans are some of the original inhabitants of Alter, although, superficially, you are different, yet I recognize something of them in you. It must be because you come from some other place... But let's not think about them. Tell me about your world. Is it as beautiful as Alter?"

Sighing for the obvious change in the argument, Gabriel thought seriously about it. "Beautiful? I think it was, but we corrupted it; it's shit now." He paused for a couple of seconds, "Alright, alright, maybe it's not that bad… it's my planet, after all. So yes, we might say it is liveable."

The Tyrant chuckled, "Good, good. Your planet, your village, your house. It must be valued, or you will lose yourself, and essentially become… lost, like me."

Gabriel followed the scary Tyrant face taking on an incomprehensible expression before asking the real question.

"Who were they? The people that attacked your city, village, or whatever you want to call it."

"The Alliance." The Tyrant took a breath, "Racists, classists. They wanted to create the 'perfect world' by excluding the species they did not think were pure enough." It scoffed, "In reality, what they were doing was culling all the species born with higher Attributes than them. The ones who attacked us were a group of Elites, guided by a Human Champion, while mine was just a medium-sized village. I was the mayor back then."

"I thought you were a King or something."

The Tyrant chuckled, its laugh profound yet somehow heartfelt. "There exist no Kings among the Feldurs. Well, existed, might be the correct term, what do you think?"

"I'm sorry. Even if I've been here briefly, I've never heard about the Feldurs before, nor seen anybody of your people's likeness."

"I already expected that, do not worry yourself with it. Of the many hundreds of visits this place has received in the past millennia, not once has a Feldur crossed over it, I found it improbable."

"Yeah… unlikely. We... had somebody trying to purge ethnicities back on Earth… thankfully, it failed. Anyway, you said others have come, did all succeed, or did you indeed meet somebody else? I thought you said that you hadn't spoken to anybody for thirteen millennia."

"Yes, certainly many have succeeded, but most have failed. Their corpses are sent above once again, but what is peculiar is that you are the first one that actually answers my questions. Most of them just ran or tried to attack me. I wonder why your reaction was so different, but sincerely I'm just grateful."

"Oh, wow. Did it not take you by surprise when I answered then?"

"It did indeed, but you see, Gabriel, one tends to fill voids when one has to be alone for so long… there are many ways to do that. The one that most came easy to me was simply creating people out of my memories. After all, the Dungeon needed me to create one, but could be choosing the type of Challenge it would be." The Tyrant started speaking again. "What you saw for five days straight were, in fact, each and all, created by me."

"Wait, how did you know my name? Your species has access to Analyze?"

"I am the owner of this place, actually. I'm an exiled Boss. If I don't have something as basic as Analyze, who would?"

"You are a Boss?" Gabriel stopped walking, considering what he had just heard. Not only was the creature in front of him 2048 times more powerful than him, if not more, but he had probably been the one responsible for the deaths of Greencliff. "Does that mean that it was you the one declaring war the other day?"

"War? So war is in action. Interesting, but no. I cannot declare anything, I was exiled, so I am now the one who controls the Dungeon's Challenge. I cannot communicate with anybody but… myself."

"Oh. But what does it mean that you are exiled?"

"It means exactly that. When this Dungeon was created, thanks to the event which you just witnessed, I ruled it. I was put above every other spirit which dwelled in the city back then. The only other sharing my station was the abandoned Island Turtle. She was left behind to die. Because, sadly, the Alliance member, including the human Champion, were unaffected by the Magic and thus did not die. After I woke up, I found myself in a sphere of Mana. It was what would slowly form and become this Dungeon. After the Mana finally took his stable shape, the Island turtle and I battled once again. Of course, I came out on top, and for two millennia, I ruled the Dungeon with an iron fist."

The Tyrant paused, to which Gabriel couldn't wait but ask, "Then, what happened?"

So the armored giant smiled, continuing his story, "I generated an invincible army, and my Dungeon was inexplorable, its resources untouched, no explorer or adventurer would come back alive. And of course, the Dungeon had my name back then, 'The Dark Tyrant Dungeon' they called it." He said that last part with pride in his voice.

"Back then, I kept believing that the Alliance was ruling Alter. I believed that the explorers I tortured to tell me Alter's state had all been lying to me. I must say that I still burned with a desire for revenge. Anyway, finally tired of my unconquerable Dungeon, Alter mustered the forces to end my reign, and they, after many battles, did indeed defeat me. Yet my woes did not end there because, as you know… or maybe not, a Boss is effectively immortal. Given its power, it takes time for a Boss to reform and gather the necessary Mana. After that comes a period of minions generation, and I'd say, at least, a century can go by, but then he is free to rage war on the other Bosses once more. Well, they stopped that problem by exiling my Spirit toward the Dungeon core, and here we are."

"Damn… so we are in the Dungeon core now? But, something doesn't click. Who is commanding the Tyrants up there to rage war against the turtles now?"

"Oh, just another version of this monster," he said, pointing at his body, "which has formed to have power on the same scale as the Island Turtle. Just to make things clear and not about pride, not all Bosses are born equal. The one driving the resistance now was one of my Royal guards back then, and even though powerful, it is half as strong as myself."

Gabriel thought long about what he had just heard, keeping a reverent both for the person in front of him and for realizing that there were spirits trapped inside of Dungeon. Maybe they were peoples before, like the Royal guards, which had become the new Armored Tyrant Boss, and yet there were so many things that he still wanted to know. Details that still did not fit one another, information about how it actually worked, and such.

"It is much, but don't worry, you'll have time to understand. As long as you decide to do it, anyway."

Gabriel looked at him. "I don't know, is there really no other way? I can't start eating mys-"

The young man was abruptly interrupted as with an invisible movement, the Tyrant, removed one of his arms, or at least that was what he supposed had happened as his right arm, the one not tied to the spear, fell to the floor.

Widening his eyes first at feeling his weight and balance suddenly change, Gabriel screamed once he saw his arm on the floor. Before he knew it, he cast Helping Hand on himself.

"Why!?" He said after his pain started calming down. But then he realized that the blow from such a mighty creature would do more than just cut his arm. In fact, his Life had dropped to zero. So the creature had effectively tried to kill him.

"So, the Anchor was really failing when you got here. You should not have been able to enter at your level. Which means that you are indeed a Herald," the Tyrant said, his grin opening up in a wide smile before continuing, "See, I've made it easier for you, now show me if you can sustain yourself, show me you have what it takes to do the extreme, or die. It's your choice. But I guess you will choose the first option because I have an offer to make you. An offer that you shall not refuse."

***

"Back away." Shouted Dustille's division leader, a giant with fiery short hair. Even if his hair and his height did not really resemble Sigmund, if one looked at their faces, they would be sure that the duo couldn't be else but father and son.

Sigmund does really look more like his uncle, she thought, amused.

Larry had joined the fray, he and many other of the Veteran teams, which usually dwelled in the Wyrm Nest.

Given his expertise and cool temperament, Graskielle had appointed him division leader of a party composed of himself, his Son, Dikez senior, Carla, Dustille, and Terry.

Like him, many other Tier 4 or veterans had been appointed as team leaders. They were mostly Tier 3 sentients. In Larry's team, the only other veteran apart from himself was Dikez senior. However, unlike many others, this team was very focused on their objective. Even if they knew it was futile, they wanted their revenge.

Larry shouted his order, but a relative retreat was only to be expected. The war had been going on for seven consecutive days, and no matter the interferences, the Tyrants had managed to bring down almost all of the turtle Boss' Paragons located in the forest. They were camouflaged as rock protrusions. The Paragon levels monsters in the plains were instead camouflaged as hills, and even though not directly supporting the Champion's offensive, they had been of much help, intercepting the majority of the Tyrants' sudden assaults on the not fully prepared raid. The water Paragons, hiding as islets, were the turtle Boss' last line of defense. Ever since the first day of the assault, in which they had managed to throw back the army of Tyrants, they had remained idle.

"I don't know if we should be thankful or fucking regretful for that fucking useless turtle," said Dikez senior, as they tried to back away from a Tyrant incursion. Rare and Elite monster's armored army had managed to bring down the third of the nine Turtle Plains' Paragons. And even if only a few of the initial twelve strong Tyrants, only five remained, three Elites and a couple of Rare.

Dustille could feel Dikez's rage. It had never receded since he had had news of his son's death, his only son.

Dikez senior shared much of Dikez junior's traits, especially his physicality, but he carried himself in the experienced way in which only a veteran could. Like that of his son, his Class was the Barbarian, though he was tied to the Higher Element of Jotun, making him an exceptionally efficient off-tank for Carla while at the same time a heavyweight with his giant ax.

Dustille couldn't help, though, but be in awe of Larry's Class. She had never met the man. After all, it hadn't been long since she started dating his brother; hell, they weren't even official yet. The only one knowing it was Sigmund and his sister, Grace. They had met them once while they were taking a stroll in the plains of the Expanse.

His Class was that of the Dragon Hunter, and once again, as she called for an aperture she had just sensed, she would witness his abilities.

"Dragon Hunt," he uttered.

His rifle-umbrella had gathered power from his stance for five seconds straight, and when he finally released, the shot was deafening. It blew one of the Elite Tyrant's right tail off, effectively making it lose its stability and making it fall for her Skill Trap, placed earlier.

She had imbued it with her strongest Skill, Arctic Eagle. The Armored monster became one huge icicle the moment the arrow connected.

Yes! She exclaimed internally.

Having successfully triggered their tactic, they were ready for the next step.

Dikez senior activated his signature Skill. Four copies of himself made of living ice, burst out of his body, and went off to intercept two of the rare Tyrants assault, while the third was taken being occupied by Terry. Dikez instead supported Carla in tanking the remaining Elite Tyrant.

At the same time, Sigmund prepared his new Signature Skill and quickly shot at the monster encased in ice. Effectively blowing it to smithereens, this time not losing his arms in the process but definitely losing another greatsword.

The battle, from impossible, had suddenly turned to almost doable. If they managed to take care of the three Rare monsters in time before the Elite one had his beam off cooldown, they could win the battle.

It soon turned out to be only a dream, though. Because as soon as the much weaker versions of Dikez, which had the strength of a Tier 3 version of himself, were overwhelmed by the pressing from the trio of Guardian Tyrants, the battle once again turned sour.

Carla fell, the Elite monster successfully destroying her defenses, breaking her arms, and kicking her away. After that, it teleported in the middle of the defending formation, its back spikes shooting like homing missiles and eliminating two of Dikez's summons.

Sigmund still had the need to recharge for a few seconds. His new ability depended much on his, currently, suboptimal Recovery. So after exploding once, the boy was useless in a time-gated battle.

Then, her fears came true. Black smoke started rising from the creature's mouth, and eyes and soon, his mouth opened impossibly wide, and a concentrated, black light beam left.

Thankfully it was directed to what the creature, and all the ones before it, had marked as the most dangerous of the group, Sigmund's father.

Larry was ready, his rifle quickly converted into an umbrella, a film of thick Arcane-tainted Mana spread around it. The black beam impacted with it, and the weight of the power behind it, had Larry's feet dig into the ground.

He managed to sustain it for a couple of seconds before his face started twitching and a vein pulsed on his temple.

Dustille guessed that between the previous shot and sustaining that defense, his Mana was reaching its end.

She had to do something, but what!?

Her Arctic Eagle was her only means of defense against such heavily armored monsters. So she prepared it, of course, having chosen Far Sight, she had to forfeit the Channeling Perk, which meant that she had no real way of doing massive damage with her build.

Larry's grunts were almost as loud as the sound of the beam of dark light, his umbrella slowly crumbling away as his Arcane shield gave out.

Praying to Odin, she was about to release, knowing that she would be entirely defenseless after that when something shot from the sky like a meteor and smashed against the body of the Tyrant.

The beam quickly interrupted, and the Tyrant exploded everywhere.

When the dust wall that followed the assault had receded, a crater revealed itself, and from the smoke, a figure came toward them.

"Thank you, oh mighty Odin, thank you," Dustille said.

She switched her aim toward one of the Guardians that tried to teleport away, probably in fear of the real monster which had just descended from the sky.

The monster froze, another one was tackled down by Terry, which was consequently exploded by another of Sigmund's cannonballing attacks.

The last one was, in folly, tried to take on the Champion.

Graskielle sent it a smirk of surprise, and as if reading the direction of its teleportation, she swung her huge bat with annoyance.

The monster violently exploded into thousands of pieces.

"Larry! Are you guarding little niece? Look at how white she is!" Graskielle closed the distance, walking with nonchalance.

Larry answered, "You owe me a new umbrella."

Graskielle just smiled, then she took Dustille in her embrace, caressing her face.

"Look at you, even so, distressed you are as beautiful as your mother," she sighed, embracing her even tighter, only letting go when Dustille started suffocating, "If only she could see you now! She'd be so proud of you!"

"How's-," Dustille coughed, "it going, auntie? I think you broke something, by the way."

"Hey!" Carla shouted, "If everyone's done with showing affection, could anybody bring me to camp!? I can see the damn bones of my fucking arms!"