SSS-Class Overlord: My Harem Rules the Realms (18+)
Chapter 98: Done With Fighting Them.

Chapter 98: Done With Fighting Them.

The cavernous tunnel echoed with the snarling shrieks of Chamiras as Ethan and Daniel dove into the chaos.

The air was a choking blend of decay and bile, thick with the rot of ancient fungi and acidic amoeba lining the walls.

Every step was treacherous—slick with slimy green bacteria that squelched beneath their boots. The shadows curled around them like predators, making it hard to distinguish enemy from illusion.

Ethan tightened his grip on Warlord’s Fang, its jagged black blade humming with dark energy.

Daniel’s new axe, a heavy twin-headed weapon with crimson edges—"Breaker Fang," he had named it—gleamed even in the corrupted dark.

"Keep your back to mine!" Ethan barked, his voice sharp over the screeches.

"Already there, boss man!" Daniel shouted, slamming his axe through a lunging Chamira. The beast—a twisted fusion of scaled limbs and bone-twisting joints—howled as it fell, leaking a viscous purple fluid.

The creatures were everywhere, crawling from the walls, dripping from the ceiling, swimming in the layers of stench.

Their skin shimmered between forms, like shadows given flesh, half-born from some forbidden experiment.

Ethan activated Battle Focus—his senses sharpened, the sounds grew crisper, every movement slowed just enough for him to react with deadly precision.

He ducked beneath a serrated claw swipe, pivoted on the slime-slick floor, and rammed his sword upward through a Chamira’s throat. It spasmed violently before melting into the ooze.

"Nice one," Daniel muttered, swinging Breaker Fang in a wide arc that cleared three enemies at once. "But careful. These bastards don’t stay dead if you don’t slice the core."

"Yeah, I noticed," Ethan growled. "Hit the heart—middle of the ribcage, just under the right collarbone."

Another Chamira surged from the side. Ethan turned mid-air, Shadowstep flickering him three feet away just in time. The beast missed, and Daniel slammed his axe straight through its skull, splitting it in half.

The tunnel vibrated with constant noise—claws scraping stone, acidic saliva dripping onto floor puddles, the heavy rhythm of their boots slipping, dodging, killing.

And all around them, the green bacteria pulsed like a living thing, as if the very walls were breathing, watching.

Daniel spat to the side. "This place’s got the worst vibe. Worse than the orphanage’s basement."

"Let’s make sure we don’t die in it," Ethan muttered, ducking another swipe and countering with an Abyss Rend, unleashing a dark slash that sliced three Chamiras clean through. Their bodies fell twitching into the muck.

They fought in a dance of shadows—back to back, weaving between death, covering each other without needing to speak.

One Chamira latched onto Daniel’s arm, its jagged teeth sinking in, but he didn’t scream. With a feral grunt, he smashed its face into the wall and cleaved its torso off with a brutal swing.

"You good?" Ethan asked.

Daniel wiped blood off his mouth and grinned. "I’m fucking fantastic."

It went on for what felt like hours—wave after wave of twisted beasts. Ethan’s mana was dropping, and Daniel’s arms were trembling from the weight of his axe. But they endured.

Step by step, kill by kill, until the last Chamira gurgled into the floor, dissolving into dark sludge.

Both men stood, panting. The stink was unbearable now, like every breath threatened to turn their lungs inside out.

Ethan wiped sweat from his brow. "That should be the last of them... you good on your side?"

Daniel rolled his shoulder. "I didn’t die. So yeah. Let’s never do this again."

They stood there in the dark, catching their breath, the silence finally settling over them like a curtain drawn after a brutal play.

Only the sound of their breathing remained, along with the faint drip of water somewhere in the distance.

"I swear if one more jumps out, I’m gonna blow this whole damn tunnel apart," Daniel muttered.

Ethan chuckled, the sound low and weary. "Let’s just get out of here."

They began walking again, stepping over dissolving carcasses and patches of burning green slime. The air was still thick, but the worst of the stench was fading—either it was growing weaker, or their noses had given up.

As they moved forward, the shadows began to thin.

And then—light.

A faint glimmer up ahead. At first just a trickle, then a full bloom, like moonlight spilling through a crack in the world.

Ethan and Daniel paused for a second, staring at it.

"The exit?" Daniel asked, hope flickering in his voice for the first time in a while.

"Or another trap," Ethan muttered. But then, slowly, a smile tugged at the corner of his lips. "Only one way to find out."

Without hesitation, they broke into a run.

Their boots pounded the ground as they charged forward. The slime-covered floor no longer slowed them—they were past fear now. Past caution. They wanted out.

The glow grew stronger with every step. Warm. Clean. Free.

As they emerged into the chamber beyond, the stench dropped away, replaced by a gust of crisp, metallic air. Like they’d stepped from rot into the breath of something ancient, untouched by time.

Ethan stopped at the threshold. Daniel staggered up beside him.

They looked at each other. Tired. Bloodied. Victorious.

"...We’re not dead," Daniel whispered.

"Not yet," Ethan said.

But even as they stood there, something in the new room stirred.

A pulse of energy.

A whisper neither of them could quite hear—but they both felt it. Like a pressure in the air, tugging at their bones.

The chamber ahead was massive, with faint carvings on its walls and a platform at the far end.

But whatever came next... it wasn’t going to be simple.

Ethan exhaled and lowered Warlord’s Fang.

"Let’s catch up with the girls," he said. "I don’t like being separated."

Daniel nodded, tightening his grip on Breaker Fang. "Yeah... and something tells me they’ll have a story of their own."

The two of them walked forward, deeper into the mystery. The light behind them faded as the darkness embraced them again—but this time, it felt different.

Quieter.

Like the calm before a new storm.