Dungeon King: The Hidden Ruler
Chapter 50: [Roots of Dominion 9] - Ascendant’s Hunger 1

Chapter 50: [Roots of Dominion 9] - Ascendant’s Hunger 1

Raven stood locked with the Root-Soul Ascendant, the Dominion Chain tight in his hands, biting into the beast’s shoulder. Bark cracked and sap hissed—but the boss didn’t bleed. It twisted violently, dragging Raven two feet forward, claws raking the air behind him.

His fingers slipped, blood smearing the chain where calluses had torn open.

The floor beneath his boots cracked, webbing fractures outward with every wrenching pull. HUD warnings blinked crimson at the edge of his vision.

[GRIP INTEGRITY CRITICAL]

[PHYSICAL RESISTANCE DROPPING]

But he gritted his teeth and locked his stance. The Ascendant strained forward, dragging him inch by inch. Raven felt the chain vibrate like a live wire, the beast’s raw strength pulsing through the links. Every heartbeat pounded like a war drum against his temples. He knew—one slip, one break in tension—and they were dead.

Growth: 63%... 67%...

Too slow.

He couldn’t keep it locked forever. Seneschal and Seer were still hammering at the bark-cage surrounding Duskrunner, but it wasn’t enough. Every second they delayed meant less control. Less damage. Less chance.

His fingers slipped once. Just for a second. But the chain held.

His arms locked. The pressure on the chain burned through his biceps. His eyes tracked the counter. 67%. 70% soon. He could feel the strain in every root still clinging to Duskrunner’s frame.

He could keep going. Turn back to the boss. Use the momentum, burn everything he had. He could buy enough time, maybe even solo push the phase. The others could hold position. Maybe.

But then what?

Seneschal was support. Seer was control. Without Duskrunner, they had no DPS core. That meant a time delay. Meant another Rootbound Pulse. Another Sentinel. Another absorption.

He clenched his jaw.

Releasing him is risky. Turning my back is worse. But losing him—resetting the whole dungeon—starting again? That’s a loss I’m not playing through twice. This isn’t just about DPS. It’s about momentum. It’s about trust. It’s about... ...no, stop thinking.

His strategist mind screamed to hold the line—bleed the boss dry, buy seconds at any cost.

But deeper, something older stirred.

Pack over plan.

Instinct over logic.

Not numbers. Not DPS metrics.

Duskrunner is family.

You don’t leave family behind.

Raven’s grip tightened until blood slicked the chain. His HUD blinked urgent warnings, but he barely saw them.

The Vault seemed to lean closer, roots shuddering as if amused.

He exhaled once, slow and heavy.

He would not sacrifice one of his own for a perfect strategy.

Not today.

Not ever.

Just move.

Then the thought came.

It was insane.

He’d never thought to use Phantom Bind like that

But maybe the system wouldn’t see it as a direct attack.

Maybe the chain would recognize the vines as enemy.

Maybe it would hit the bind.

Maybe.

He whispered, "If I’m wrong... I waste our last shot."

And then he acted.

Phantom Bind activated.

The chain snapped from the Ascendant and lashed toward Duskrunner—not him, but the core of the bark-armored cage. Raven vanished.

Teleport complete.

He emerged with a burst of pressure, between Duskrunner and the Ascendant. The hit landed.

The bark cracked.

Raven’s blade was already in motion, slamming into the next root segment.

Growth: 70%... 74%...

He yelled, "Seer! Throw up Mirage—now!"

Phantom Seer spun on cue, illusions flaring across the broken terrain. Growth Mirrors locked onto shadows, not allies.

The illusion scattered across the dimly lit stage, dancing through root-pillars and vanishing into the mist.

Phantom Seer blurred into motion, conjuring not one, but dozens of broken reflections. Some danced perfectly across the root-choked arena; others staggered, glitching through pillars like echoes of forgotten hunts.

One illusion dragged a phantom wound across its side, baiting the boss’s attention.

Another knelt dramatically as if weakened, trembling at the edge of the Growth Mirrors.

Each reflection shimmered just wrong enough to unsettle—slightly too fast, slightly too late, but enough to fracture the Ascendant’s perception.

The Root-Soul Ascendant twisted violently, its clawed arms slashing through one after another.

Each missed strike churned the air into a maelstrom of broken rot and mist.

One mirror exploded harmlessly under a misdirected blow. Another illusion flickered and danced away, leading the beast in a lumbering, frustrated circle.

The shadows in the arena snapped sharper, the runes bleeding a sickly pulse. The Root-Soul Ascendant lashed out savagely. A claw passed through empty space—through rot that burst into mist with a hiss.

For a heartbeat, the creature hesitated, roots writhing like a cornered predator. The shadows in the arena snapped sharper, the runes bleeding a sickly pulse.

Raven didn’t waste the moment. He struck again—driving his chain into the bark-shell, muscles screaming, willing the roots to break.

The Root-Soul Ascendant turned sharply, swiping at a phantom flicker to its left. It roared again—a fury of confusion—and lashed at another image near the wall. Each strike missed. Each movement became more erratic. The illusions worked.

Distortion Aura active.

The boss’s attacks lost focus, rhythm fractured.

Raven didn’t look back.

He pressed forward, slamming his chain into the bark casing again and again. Sparks flew from the metal-on-root. Every strike was hard labor. His breath came in ragged pulls, jaw tight, muscles screaming.

"Come on... come on... break, damn you."

The bark creaked under his onslaught. Vines snapped like tendons. The timer continued.

Growth: 75%... 78%...

The momentary distraction ended. The Ascendant’s mind—if it could be called that—cleared. It turned toward Raven and the group, illusion and misdirection no longer holding its focus.

Raven cursed under his breath. He thought fast.

The debuff cycle is over.

One second. Maybe two before the next strike lands.

And then the idea came.

"Seneschal! Growth Denial Slam, now! Encircle and slam—buy me seconds!"

The Seneschal raised both bark-etched arms. Roots erupted in a wide arc, coiling upward around the Ascendant’s legs and ribs. It twisted, but the vines held just long enough.

Then the slam landed.

Growth Denial Slam activated.

The Ascendant lurched violently, bark-arm limbs struggling to pull free. The roots held. For just a second.

A guttural chorus screamed from its maw, layered with a thousand broken tones.

"TRAITORS! ROOTLESS! ROT-CARRIERS!"

The sounds, filled with hatred and rage towards Seneschal.

The slam detonated under its feet, sending cracks through the stone.

HP: 50% → 25%

It hissed and writhed, and the words kept coming, mangled in rage: "You were part of the bloom. Now you poison it!"

Raven didn’t flinch. He was already back at the shell.

His arms ached. Hands numb. But he didn’t stop.

Every strike now was a scream from his bones.

And still, he hit.

Raven wasted no time. He returned to Duskrunner, snarling, stabbing into the bark again. The roots groaned. Time was bleeding out.

Growth: 79%... 82%...

"Seneschal, debuff rotation! Burn the cycle!"

Rite of the Root triggered.

Healing spread through the team. Buffs on the boss went null, while the team HP regenerated slowly.

Raven didn’t wait.

His Soul Pressure stacks pulsed.

5/10... 6/10...

Each swing, each movement, fed the rhythm.

Duskrunner snarled, trapped inside the half-shattered bark.

"Hold on," Raven muttered, slamming his chain again into a seam. "Don’t you dare fall behind."

Growth: 80%... 85%...

Roots tried to regrow.

Phantom Seer phased through them.

Seneschal slammed the ground again. One pulse. Two.

Soul Pressure: 8/10... 9/10...

Raven roared in desperation and drove the dagger edge deep with all of his power.

"JUST BREAK GOD DAMMIT!"

The bark shell screamed.

Duskrunner’s eyes snapped wide.

And then the howl came.

It wasn’t just rage. It was memory. Survival. The sound of a hunt restarted, not ended. Raven paused, breath caught in his throat, as the pack came back together.

A primal sound, not born from throat but from soul. It shook the mirrors. It cracked the vines.

Growth: 95%...

The bark exploded outward.

Duskrunner landed, crouched, heaving.

[Growth Terminated. Seed Broken.]

For a heartbeat, the world tilted.

Time didn’t freeze—but it buckled.

The mist around the arena slowed, curling like heavy smoke in reverse.

Roots trembled in sluggish spasms, the glow in the Growth Mirrors flickered, lagging behind reality.

Raven saw it all—Duskrunner crouched, the Seneschal rising tall, the Phantom Seer’s illusions folding into sharper, deadlier shapes.

Even the Root-Soul Ascendant seemed to stutter, its body shuddering in glitchy frames—as if the Vault itself recoiled from what was about to happen.

For the first time since the battle began, momentum wasn’t slipping away.

It was crashing back toward them.

The tables had turned.

They were no longer the ones cornered, desperate and scattered.

Raven stood upright, the mask burning red against the dim light of the root-pillared arena. Around him, the team gathered—Seneschal steady and glowing with healing resonance, Seer casting out layered illusions, and Duskrunner crouched low, ready to launch.

A surge of energy spread from the center of their formation.

All HP restored.

The Root-Soul Ascendant flickered red.

Every buff it held—leech auras, resistance shrouds, damage reflection—blinked out of existence.

Rite of the Root burned through the field—Seneschal’s pulse of healing and denial washing over the boss like a cleansing wave.

The root magic didn’t just heal. It stripped. It punished imbalance.

The Root-Soul Ascendant body twitched in erratic pulses.

The light in its chest dimmed.

They weren’t stalling anymore. They were coming for the kill.

It knew.

The prey was now the hunter.

And it had been pulled into a new hunt.

Raven’s eyes locked on the weakened enemy.

"Now we finish this."