Episode 175

3.

[The "Nightmare Banquet" is beginning.]

[The curse of the "Castle of Nightmares" seeps into your body.]

As the banquet began, the vast hall dissolved, reforming into a wide-open plain. The castle was nowhere to be seen; only the desolate land remained. The only change was the appearance of tiny black dots in the far distance.

"Wow."

There were at least a thousand of them. In contrast, the number of demons standing on the opposite side was, at most, a hundred.

'Can we even stand a chance against that?'

He didn't need a detailed explanation. The words of the Lord of Nightmares, Beneila, her provocative declaration, and the magical transformation of the battlefield were more than enough to infer what was happening.

Once every hundred years, a banquet was held, granting demons the chance to challenge for the throne of the Castle of Nightmares. It wasn't a place to simply drink and socialize, but a battleground to decide the master for the next century. Countless demons had gathered to challenge for that position. And for eight hundred years, Beneila had faced down and defeated such aggressive challengers, holding her seat for nine hundred years.

Even knowing it was just a theme, a setting, he couldn't help but feel a bit intimidated. He knew that in the end, she was just the boss of a 3-star Legendary dungeon—a slightly stronger monster wrapped in a bundle of penalties.

But that was the power of a theme dungeon. It was a structural device that turned the player—normally the protagonist of any story—into just another character in the narrative, preventing them from using their full power. In regular dungeons, everything revolved around the player, but not here. You had to overcome that to earn the chance to clear the dungeon, and most people couldn't do it easily.

It was a subtle but fundamental shift. He had destroyed countless dungeons, which were like small societies, by beating down each monster and collapsing the structure. But this was different. You couldn't destroy a grand story—a narrative that flowed regardless of the player's will—simply by acting on impulse.

He had to be more strategic. More methodical.

From that perspective, the Nightmare Banquet was daunting, but not so complex that it made him forget it was still bound by the framework of a 3-star dungeon.

"Let's gooooooo!"

"Yaaahhhhhhh!"

The demons shared a common goal. Rather than pointing their weapons at each other, their first priority was to break down the solid wall in front of them. After that, it could devolve into a free-for-all. That was the shared understanding among them.

All he had to do was follow along.

From the vanguard, he let out a rough battle cry, pulled out a Molotov cocktail, and hurled it. The simple glass bottle cut through the air, zipping between the monsters. Given the massive size of the demons, it was small enough to go unnoticed.

But this was a battlefield. On a battlefield, you block anything that might pose a threat to your allies. Besides, it was obvious the projectile had no special mechanism attached to it.

One of the Nightmare Legion monsters, hovering in the air on spread wings, confidently kicked the Molotov cocktail as it flew past.

Crack!

The bottle shattered pathetically. No one paid any mind to the spilled oil and igniting flames. To demons, ordinary fire was something they could practically bathe in; only the lava of hell itself was a threat.

Whoosh!

They figured a rough shake would flare the flames up before they quickly died out. The Nightmare Legion monsters doused in oil all thought the same, and none of them tried to dodge. Their greater duty was to face the hundred demons charging at them and prevent them from reaching their queen.

That was their fatal mistake.

No one could have predicted it. No one imagined that a single small Molotov cocktail, which felt like nothing more than a pebble tossed to get on their nerves, was a bomb that should have been treated with more caution than the countless spells the demons were about to unleash.

FWOOSH!

Devouring the plentiful sacrifices scattered everywhere, the flames of the Blazing Ash began to roar to life.

* * *

Buja had vowed to cut down his spending at the Gold Shop, but that only meant he would refrain from turning every battle into a gold-burning spree, not that he would stop using it entirely. When an item was necessary, he used it. In fact, the Gold Shop had become a combat skill that accounted for over 30% of his total fighting power. Not using it would be a loss for him alone.

Besides, he had invested over 100,000 gold into boosting his base stats this time. Spending the remaining 10,000 gold on items wasn't overspending; it was efficient combat. With that in mind, he had bought Molotov cocktails that cost a whopping 3,000 gold each.

[Molotov Cocktail Containing the Flame of Eternity]

▶ Grade: Unique

▶ When it uses a living being as a sacrifice, it evolves into a flame that can never be extinguished.

▷ This Molotov cocktail contains a flame drawn from the lava at the end of the Abyss. The bottle has been magically treated so the fire does not go out easily, but if it fails to consume a sacrifice after ignition, it will dissipate.

The effect was excellent. As was always the case with items that had absurd options, the penalty attached to justify the relatively low price was no great restriction in this situation. The demons had taken the bait and met the Molotov cocktail head-on.

And so, the Flames of Eternity erupted, spreading with a ferocity determined to show them the true meaning of hell. The problem was that the expanding Flames of Eternity didn't distinguish between friend and foe.

"Arghhh!"

"Those Nightmare Legion bastards! Are they resorting to suicide attacks now?!"

"I will not back down!"

From Buja's perspective, it didn't really matter, since both sides were targets he had to wipe out anyway. But regardless of the Molotov cocktail he had thrown, the Nightmare Legion was no match for the charging demons. Even though they were outnumbered ten to one, the demons aiming for the throne of the Lord of Nightmares were far stronger than that gap suggested.

He had expected as much, but he hadn't thought they would overwhelm the enemy so completely. The gold he had thought he was spending in a rational, efficient way suddenly felt like a waste.

At the same time, he had to revise his plan.

'To think the Nightmare Legion would be wiped out first.'

Still, this wasn't such a bad situation for him. He could eliminate one of the three clear conditions without lifting a finger. Of course, he soon realized his mistake when a voice reached him.

"You're quite something. This banquet is turning out to be very entertaining."

Beneila's laughter slipped into his ear as his vision flickered again. The space that came into view was all too familiar.

"…Of course."

It wouldn't be a Legendary dungeon if it didn't pull some bullshit like this. The only small mercy was that, unlike before when she had just watched from the second-floor terrace, Beneila was now floating in midair herself, arms spread wide.

[The second banquet is beginning.]

Along with the system message, Beneila revealed her true form.

"Wow."

A succubus. Seeing the dreamy figure of the woman who had held the position of Lord of Nightmares for nine hundred years, Buja couldn't help but let out a sound of admiration. She was the perfect centerpiece for a flawless video.

'So this is a succubus.'

He was certain that just uploading this would guarantee a billion views.

'If she seduces them like that before attacking, someone is definitely going to… die.'

The moment the thought crossed his mind, Beneila vanished. At the same time, a sickening, wet sound of piercing flesh echoed nearby.

When he turned his head, he saw Beneila's hand buried in a demon's chest, having punched straight through. The succubus wore a chillingly beautiful smile, her eyes locked with the demon's from less than a handspan away. Even as his heart was being ripped out, the demon's face was slack with a goofy grin.

'That idiot…'

He clicked his tongue, then swallowed the rest of his words. On second thought, he was in no position to judge. Just ten seconds ago, his own expression had probably looked exactly the same. They had the same thought, the same look on their faces. The only difference between Buja and that demon was that Beneila hadn't chosen him as her first sacrifice.

And unlike the other demons, who still hadn't come to their senses, he had already grasped the gravity of the situation.

He drew his sword.

The real nightmare was beginning.

* * *

The demons challenging for the throne of the Lord of Nightmares were strong. Even if it was in a space created by Beneila, they had shown enough might to completely annihilate the thousand-strong Nightmare Legion. At the very least, they had proven they possessed the "strength" to rule over that legion.

And nearly a hundred such demons were gathered here.

The second trial was to prove they were qualified to endure this hell that repeated every hundred years—the very trial they would have to inflict on others if they became the Lord of Nightmares. For now, their plan was simple: join forces to defeat the current lord, then let the survivors fight to determine the final victor. However, the Lord of Nightmares had to kill all of them to hold her seat for another century.

Of course, the challengers had no way of proving their worthiness for that trial. That qualification was a privilege granted only to the Lord of Nightmares. Instead, Beneila had the power to grant them a chance to take it. She had done so eight times before. If they could kill the woman who had slain a hundred powerful demons at every banquet, they would have proven the minimum qualification.

Naturally, it wasn't easy. If every demon had that level of power, this banquet couldn't exist in the first place.

Beneila rampaged freely in her own space. Demons died one after another. She displayed overwhelming strength, proving she was indeed the final boss of a 3-star Legendary dungeon and that the first phase had been nothing more than a warm-up.

"I've never seen a dungeon this goddamn trashy."

Even Buja was cursing under his breath every time he blocked one of her attacks. He wasn't even going all out yet, but judging from all the dungeons he had experienced, Beneila's individual combat power could not be considered 3-star.

4-star. Maybe even 5-star. Perhaps she could go even higher within the Castle of Nightmares. The chained clear conditions and the power of the five stacked penalties were immense. He should have killed the thousand-strong Nightmare Legion in the first phase.

His regret remained just that—regret. It wasn't like he had a skill that could wipe them all out in one go, and the phase would have moved on before he could anyway. What mattered now was taking down the Beneila in front of him.

He had to pick his timing carefully.

"Aaaargh! The seat of Lord of Nightmares is mine!"

"You brazen wench! I'll kill you and—!"

Fortunately, even in this hell, some idiots still hadn't come to their senses, throwing their lives away in blind obedience to their instincts. They were dying in his place.

Demons were falling one by one.

Beneila was gradually being worn down.

Even in a story where Buja was not the center, the narrative was racing toward its conclusion.

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