Free Web NovelChapter 27: The Gates of Hell
Gabriel had a precise objective etched in his mind as he observed the map floating before his eyes. He wasn’t going to waste time on trivial quests or gathering herbs or killing giant rats.
Today, his true ascent would begin.
He exited through the main gates of the beginner village with his minimal equipment. The two curved daggers well-sharpened, the dark brown coat that concealed his figure, and the jester mask that had become his signature item.
He needed speed, agility, and silence.
Some players watched him as he passed. Not all of them, only about a tenth of those walking through the square, but their gazes were intense.
Gabriel sensed that innate curiosity from the players and a vague fear. He deduced their hidden thoughts from the way their bodies tensed and how they whispered among themselves.
Apparently, his little incident with the village extortionists had become a popular story.
He didn’t care. Fear could often mean protection.
The journey to his destination was short. The lushness of the initial forest gradually thinned, giving way to an increasingly arid, rocky, and oppressive terrain.
The ground turned grayish, plants became scarce, and a hot wind laden with dust raised small clouds that irritated the eyes. Gabriel knew immediately that he was getting close.
The Gates of Hell.
A colloquial, unofficial name given by the thousands of players who had tried to conquer it and failed.
Recommended for levels 10 to 15, it was known for its high mortality rate. It wasn’t a conventional dungeon. It was practically a slaughterhouse disguised as a challenge.
When he finally arrived, several makeshift camps surrounded the enormous entrance. Cheap tents, campfires, and groups of players discussing strategies, reviewing past mistakes, and mentally preparing for another attempt.
His arrival didn’t cause much commotion. He was just another player among many.
However, a murmur caught his attention.
"Look, Daf. That must be him, the jester," whispered an archer to his female teammate. "They say he took out those despicable guys alone."
Gabriel gave them a subtle glance. The girl, a red-haired mage, was listening attentively to her companion.
He said nothing. He kept walking.
He stopped in front of the entrance.
It was imposing. A huge irregular hole in the wasteland, crossed by thick, rusted chains of unknown origin hanging like metallic warnings. The darkness inside seemed to absorb the light.
That was why players had baptized it as the Gates of Hell. A popular belief that had become legend.
Gabriel didn’t hesitate.
He descended alone.
The moment he set foot inside, the system threw a red warning at him:
___________________
[You have entered the Dungeon: The Gates of Hell!]
[Difficulty: High]
[Historical Mortality Rate: 87%]
[Recommendation: Enter with a minimum group of 5 players.]
___________________
He ignored the warning.
He had to jump and land precisely on the thick chains, using the balance he had trained on the streets and his outstanding agility.
Chain after chain, he descended into total darkness. The air became dense, humid, and smelled of mold and old iron. Suddenly, his body passed through a viscous barrier, like sinking into quicksand.
A second later, he fell onto a damp stone floor covered in rotten straw.
He was inside.
This room was the starting point for all challengers: an ancient prison cell, similar to forgotten catacombs. Cracked walls, rusted chains, and a single reinforced wooden door.
Gabriel gently placed his palm on the cracked wood. He took a deep breath and pushed hard.
He had to react immediately.
Three arrows shot out from hidden traps in the side walls.
His mind, already sharpened by previous trials, acted before his body. He spun his main dagger with mastery, deflecting the first arrow, cutting the second mid-air, and dodging the third by rolling backward.
The metallic sound of the arrows hitting the ground echoed in the cell.
Gabriel stood up slowly, breathing under control. This was one of the first deadly mechanisms of the dungeon.
Three arrows that could destroy an entire team’s momentum if someone lost focus for even a second. Many had died here, with an arrow through the neck before even seeing the first enemy.
Because this wasn’t a normal dungeon. It contained countless lethal mechanisms, deadly puzzles, and wave-based monsters. Concentration was just as important as strength.
Gabriel heard monstrous growls from the other side.
He pushed the rest of the door open and stepped into a wide hallway lit by torches.
Three giants were approaching.
Cyclops.
Creatures nearly three meters tall, wearing heavy rusted armor and a single enormous eye in the center of their foreheads. They were slow, not very agile, and relatively stupid, but their brute strength was impressive.
Each carried a massive hammer or axe.
Gabriel frowned beneath the mask.
He baited them intelligently, walking straight toward them. The cyclops roared and charged.
At the last second, he rolled to the right with exceptional precision. Their weapons struck the empty ground, sending sparks and dust flying.
Gabriel took advantage of the opening. He leaped with force and delivered a brutal knee strike to the back of the first cyclops’ neck. The impact hurt his own knee, but the giant staggered and fell to his knees, finally collapsing completely.
Using the momentum, he launched a spinning kick that disoriented the second cyclops and pushed him back. The third tried to crush him with its hammer, but Gabriel had already moved.
He noticed the first one’s weak posture, full of openings. He swept its legs with a low kick and slammed it against the rocky wall. Before it could get up, Gabriel jumped onto its back and drove his dagger deep into its throat in one clean, deep motion.
The cyclops roared in agony, a guttural sound that reverberated through the walls.
He had no time to celebrate.
He had to move quickly. A huge axe struck exactly where his head had been a second earlier, embedding itself in the dead cyclops’ armor.
Gabriel circled the fallen enemy and slammed the second cyclops’ head against the ground.
Then he drove his other dagger into the back of its neck with a precise, swift strike. The creature convulsed and went still.
The third was still trying to pull its weapon free from its companion’s corpse. Gabriel clung to its back, destabilizing it with his weight and quick movements.
Finally, he wrapped around its neck and sliced its throat with both daggers crossed.
The fight had started fast and ended fast.
Gabriel stepped back with slow breaths. The three cyclops lay dead.
They were tough enemies, but he had exploited their slowness and tactical incompetence. He also knew their weak point: the neck. That was where they hid their mana core, because they weren’t creatures of flesh and blood, but golems built by some forgotten master.
He crouched beside them and placed his hand on the first one’s chest.
"Absorb," he whispered.
Leviathan Gluttony awakened.
The skill flowed, but this time it was much more difficult. There was no real blood, only a dense, artificial essence.
Gabriel felt his body tense from the effort. Even so, he managed to absorb part of that unknown energy.
A wave of strength ran through his muscles, slightly increasing his physical power, although the process left him exhausted and slightly nauseous.
He stood up, cleaning his daggers on the straw.
"No cyclopes... Heh".
He looked toward the stairs leading upward, out of the prison. The real dungeon awaited him above. freewёbn૦νeɭ.com
More lethal mechanisms, complex puzzles, and far more dangerous waves.
Gabriel gripped his daggers tightly and began to climb.
Each step echoed with a sound that seemed to warn him. The air grew heavier, more laden with ancient death.
However, instead of fear, he felt a cold and dangerous anticipation.
He had not been born to be devoured.
He had been born to devour.
