Dark Dungeons Review นิยาย & เรื่องราว

But that was only temporary because, in a matter of seconds, the dark monsters reappeared as if they were endless. “KKKKKKHHHHHH! AAAAAARRRRRRGGGHHH!" The boy's scream was heard again, followed by a groan that grew weaker and weaker. “Draco, wait! I am coming!" Jergintarth thought anxiously. There was an evil aura filling this dungeon. The weather was dirty, and the black magic energy was thick and suffocating. It's no wonder that many monsters have sprung up around this underground area. Why would humans dare to play with dangerous black magic? Don't you know that games like this could lure evil beings from the world of darkness to come and eat them?

My knees were shaking so hard they were drumming a rhythm against the stone floor. The dungeon was a shithole. That was the only word for it. There was one tiny, slit-like window high up near the ceiling, but it didn't let in light so much as it let in the gray suggestion of it. The air was thick. It didn’t just smell bad; it felt heavy, like it was coating the inside of my lungs with grease. It smelled of old, stagnant piss and the sharp, metallic tang of blood that had long since dried into the cracks of the floor. But beneath that, there was a deeper, more sickening scent. It was the cloying, sweet rot of meat left out in the sun—wolves that had been tossed in here and forgotten until the

“We don’t have a choice. Stop wasting time, and let’s go inside.” Supporting him by the arm, I slowly walked toward the building. With every step forward, the cold around us became sharper. … At the same time, in a dimension unknown to the players, the livestream chat was already exploding. “No way. Are they all newbies? This is an S-rank dungeon! Nobody’s ever made it out alive!” “Say a prayer for these players. They’re definitely getting wiped out.” “The boss in this dungeon is insanely twisted. The last group of players would rather commit suicide than die by his hands.”

Upon arriving at Dark Woods, I jumped out of the truck and had my men bring the two piles of shit down to the dungeons. The place was my favorite in the world. The stone walls carried the screams and multiplied them by a hundred, creating the echo that rumbled deep within me, feeding the beast inside me and boosting it with so much energy. The more they screamed, the more I got excited. We arrived at the foot of the castle and Ciello and the rest of the guys dumped the two shits down, strapped them on St. Andrews cross, and then left without saying a thing. I looked up at Lorik and flexed my muscles, for it was about to get down!

“Take her to my dungeon. The cold pit. Lock her where the dead fear to go.” The warriors saluted and dragged her away, her mangled form screaming silent sobs. That dungeon was legendary—submerged in icy water that numbed the limbs and pierced the bones, with a slow-turning wheel of jagged wooden spikes that tore into flesh with every movement. No one survived that place sane. Watching them go, Damian exhaled deeply, then turned to Lucian who was now standing beside him, sword still in hand. “Gather the elders,” he said coldly. “Ten minutes. I want this over with.”

Maybe because it felt like there were still so many loose ends, an uneasy feeling settled in my stomach. KADE’S POV It was rare for Jaxon, Fenrath, and me to be in agreement. But we all agreed—we enjoyed torturing Gordon Vale. The Obsidian Howl dungeon was nothing to write home about. The stone walls dripped with condensation, yet heat made sweat bead on my forehead. The stench of scorched blood and fur hung in the air—thick, metallic, suffocating. Around us, the howls and screams of prisoners long forgotten in the dungeons bounced off the walls.

The heart of the Frostspire was a cavernous sanctum of ice and bone, a vast, domed chamber carved deep within the mountain’s core, its ceiling a jagged expanse of ice, glistening with frost, the surface streaked with veins of obsidian that pulsed with a sickly blue glow, the light casting eerie, flickering shadows across the chamber, the air frigid and heavy, each breath a searing sting in the lungs, the temperature far below freezing, the chill seeping into bones, numbing fingers and toes, the atmosphere thick with the acrid tang of dark magic, a suffocating weight that pressed down on the soul, the scent of ancient ice, decayed bone, and a metallic bitterness lingering in the air, the grou

Every link to the bosses—gone. "Doesn't work here," Darren sneered, reading me like an open book. "Welcome to the Abyss of Mist. No rules, no ties. Not even the dungeon bosses can sniff you out." My stomach tanked. Fog choked the air, black stone stretched forever. No wind, no sound—just still, dead nothing. Every charm, every buff I had? Useless. "You... what do you want?" My voice cracked. "What do I want?" His laugh scraped like nails on glass. "Everything I lost—my squad, my loot, my pride—I'll rip it all back from you a hundred times over."

It was as if the very walls of the dungeon were soaked in the tears of the tormented souls that inhabited it. With the surroundings shrouded in an ominous gloom, I relied on Lena's keen vision to pierce through the shadows. The dungeon stretched before me, a labyrinth of grimy walls and murky passageways, each corner cloaked in an unsettling stillness broken only by the mournful wails that echoed through the air.

Down into the cold, damp dark where screams had once lived and broken souls still lingered. The path to the dungeons was lined with torch brackets, each flame flickering as he passed, casting long shadows that danced across the stone like ghosts, twisting like specters against the damp walls. The air grew heavier the deeper he went—dank, bitter, laced with fear and the reek of old blood. He walked with purpose, his expression grim, his rage tucked neatly beneath a mask of calm cruelty. There was still one more soul he needed to see before the day was done. One more reminder of what happened to those who betrayed him.