The hunt had been productive; I had taken down nearly a hundred orcs with little effort. Being in a forest full of trees and bushes made it easy to move once I detected them within my domain. It was only a matter of getting close and killing them.

With renewed motivation, I headed back to the fortress. The battle began the moment I arrived. Some orcs had been hiding in their huts, and as soon as I entered, they attacked without fear of death. The assault was relentless—they wouldn't let me breathe.

I couldn't stop moving through the fortress. More started coming in through the same entrance I'd used, cutting off all possible escape routes. I began to consider how much mana I needed to use. The gravity well lessened in intensity, and I was focusing more on my swords. I sharpened and extended my Imra further and further. Deeper cuts started to appear on the orcs' bodies. Their usual resistance, bolstered by their muscular build and Imra, felt easier to slice through—it had become slightly softer.

I needed a Law or pseudo Law related to cutting. I kept moving, avoiding any dead-end alleys. They were starting to overwhelm me not just from front and back, but from every possible direction.

Their numbers started to drop quickly after 15 minutes of this cat-and-mouse game—except I was the mouse and they were hundreds of enormous, ugly cats hungry for my death. The scent of blood began to creep into my nose. Almost every street was littered with mutilated or bruised corpses from my spheres.

Looking around, their numbers had dropped significantly. They could no longer overwhelm me from all sides so easily. I kept weaving through the streets, avoiding fatal injuries along the way.

I made a poor decision and ran into a path clogged with ogre corpses. I needed to get out of that dead end. As I tried to turn back, I found orcs in every direction, so I used a charge of my movement skill to head for the least crowded group.

I started sidestepping, dodging their massive arms as they tried to grab or slash me. I sensed a powerful attack—rock spikes—coming my way. In that moment, my brain saw only two options: take the hit or dodge and put myself in a difficult situation.

I used a charge of my electrified steps and reappeared beside two orcs. One of them tried to grab my head. I ducked just in time and jumped, but the second had anticipated it. A vertical swipe of its claws tore off my left hand.

There was no time to scream or pick up the sword—I just kept backing off. My healing ability restored my hand instantly. The only visible problem was the sword itself.

Still retreating and thinking how to deal with this, I started forming Ice Sword V3 constructs as replacements. They were single-use weapons and not very good at slicing, so I focused on impaling them into vital areas.

I was burning through the mana I'd saved. The only upside was that I got nearly one kill per sword if I landed a vital strike.

When my mana reserves dropped to a critical point—about 10% by my standards—I realized something: only five orcs remained around me. The rest had fallen during those endless minutes of pursuit. I finished off the last ones and debated whether to go rest.

Had I killed all the orcs in the fortress? I wasn't sure. My brain had been stuck in survival mode this whole time. Kill or be killed. I couldn't even estimate the total number slain.

I started searching the streets for my sword but couldn't find it after several minutes of searching. I gave up. I slowly walked toward the castle—if all the orcs were dead, it was time to end this dungeon.

I looked at one of my twin swords. It was badly chipped and could break at any moment. Its edge had dulled almost completely. If not for my Imra, it wouldn't even cut through an ogre on a good day, much less now. I thanked my grandmother in my heart for such a wonderful gift.

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That pair of swords didn't just help me survive this long—they also helped me control my Imra better due to their unique property of improving its flow. I needed a replacement soon. Something I could use for the rest of my life—or at least a long time.

I could already see the castle ahead, growing larger with each step. I hadn't been attacked by any monsters on the way, and I couldn't see a single ogre guarding the place. One thing was certain: the ogre mage was still alive, probably hiding inside.

I pushed open the castle doors and stopped abruptly. What if they were waiting for me inside? If they ambushed me now, escaping would be hard with my current mana.

Should I turn back? Should I just wait nearby? I wasn't tired enough to sleep right away, but my mana was low and my brain fried. I looked for a good place to rest near the small wall surrounding the castle. Since I couldn't sleep on enemy territory, I just hid and sat to recover my mana and cool my head.

I needed something to keep myself entertained, or I'd fall asleep. I wasn't as exhausted as yesterday, but my body still didn't have the energy to stay awake if I got bored. The only thing at hand were the tattoos on my arms.

How was I going to explain all this to my family? There was a never-ending list of things I'd need to explain, and these tattoos were one of them. The one on my left arm symbolized my bond with Sus—the connection that helped me conquer this dungeon faster.

The affinities of life and death were present in the tattoo. I could feel them if I focused. There was also a third affinity, seemingly sealed by the tattoo's symbols. I tried to decipher a relationship between the tattoo and my affinities. I attempted to use my Law of Life and Death but got no reaction. I gave up after nearly an hour of effort.

My right arm had similar but more complex symbols. I could feel stronger vibrations of life from it. Death was present too, but in significantly lower amounts. I also felt a completely new affinity I'd never sensed before, though I couldn't identify it.

The same game began—I tried injecting mana with no result. My Law of Life also triggered no reaction. I gave up and kept saving mana to recover as quickly as possible.

I compared both tattoos side by side. The differences weren't just in the symbols—the lines on my right arm were thicker. Weren't they the same thickness before? I remembered them being the same size when I first got them. Was I mistaken?

I kept comparing. The lines on my right arm were getting closer to connecting. Maybe the two tattoos would merge soon. What would happen then? Would I meet Sus's child?

Wait... can you even call them male or female? Sus always referred to herself as a woman—an old lady in her case. It made sense since she was "pregnant," though I wasn't sure what to call this kind of "pregnancy." Would it be a boy or a girl? I was going to be their caretaker. I hoped it would be... a girl?

I tried to brush away the idea of a preference. It didn't matter if it was male or female—I would protect and love them. They would be as important to me as my family... just like Sus.

A strange happiness started to bloom inside me. Is this what a father feels like when he loves a child before meeting them? Was I going to be a father before coming of age? Well, in this world, people married and became parents quite young...

Time flew by as I stared at my tattoos and planned my future. From now on, I had to include this new life in all my plans. They were already a part of me.

With my mana reserves over half full, I left my hiding spot and wandered around, looking for signs of life or mana disturbances. With no other option, I entered the castle and kept searching for the dungeon's core.

How did a bunch of ogres manage to build this? It must have been impossible... Was it the work of that human group? Most likely. It had no luxuries or valuable items—just a well-constructed, empty castle.

Eventually, I reached a large hall, like an old ballroom. Finally, I found two ogres standing before me. They were watching from the upper floor—one was the ogre mage, and the other looked different. His skin tone was sickly green, as if infected.

"This time, you won't escape, you rat-like ogre." I taunted him, trying to get a reaction. This ogre should also be able to speak.

"Do you think you'll leave this place alive?" His voice surprised me, though I didn't show it on my face. I knew it—that damn ogre could talk.

"Feeling confident inside this castle? You couldn't kill me with hundreds of orcs outside." As I spoke, I began constructing a movement spell. If he spoke with such confidence, he had a plan.

"I don't know your motivation, boy, but today you'll die." The sickly ogre spoke. That shocked me. His voice was deep and authoritative.

"And who are you?" My question was simple—I didn't expect an answer. Just curiosity spilling out.

"The leader of this dungeon... and your future killer." Right after those words, more ogres began emerging from three different doors. I hadn't sensed them earlier due to the hall's size.

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