Dungeon Corpse Stacker: I Absorb Everything to Become Ominous Monarch
Chapter 18: The Blood on the Northern Gate

Chapter 18: Chapter 18: The Blood on the Northern Gate

The Northern Gate of Sector 1 was no longer a civilian checkpoint.

It had been converted into a smoldering war zone. Thirty-foot steel barricades lay crushed beneath the tracks of heavy armored personnel carriers. Burning Syndicate supply trucks painted the foggy afternoon sky in thick columns of oily black smoke.

Standing atop the crushed cab of an overturned logistics rig was S-Rank Guild Master Marcus Vane—"The Blood Blade."

Marcus was a terrifying sight. Seven feet tall, clad in crimson plate armor forged from the scales of a Tier-S Flame Drake, he held a massive, double-edged broadsword that dripped with viscous, dark red blood magic. Behind him, arrayed in precise military battle lines across the eight-lane highway, were three thousand elite Hunters from the Northern Guild Coalition.

"Forward!" Marcus roared, his voice amplified by blood-mana that vibrated through the asphalt. "Clear every alley! Execute any rat wearing the Ominous mark! By nightfall, we spill Renan’s blood on the steps of the Association!"

"GLORY TO THE COALITION!" three thousand Hunters roared in response, raising enchanted halberds, heavy plasma rifles, and glowing elemental staves.

They believed they were an unstoppable tide. They believed three thousand A-Rank and S-Rank Hunters backed by military heavy armor could crush any rogue entity.

Then, the sky died.

RUMBLE-RUMBLE-RUMBLE!

It didn’t happen gradually. In less than half a second, the afternoon sun was completely erased.

A suffocating, pitch-black dome of dark violet shadow energy expanded over the highway, stretching for three miles in every direction. The temperature dropped forty degrees instantly. The rain turned into sharp, crimson frost that bit into the bare skin of the vanguard soldiers.

[Skill Activated: Monarch’s Domain (Rank-S - Expanded)] [Domain Radius: 3 Kilometers.] [3,000 Coalition Hunters Suppressed by 30%!] [Spiritual Pressure: Crushing.]

THUD-THUD-THUD-THUD!

Across the eight-lane highway, hundreds of A-Rank Hunters fell to their knees simultaneously. Their breath came in desperate, frost-coated gasps. Their enchanted armor creaked under the sudden, immense gravitational pressure that felt like having three tons of wet cement poured directly onto their shoulders.

"W-What is this magic?!" a Northern Guild Vice-Master gasped, his legs trembling as his heavy broadsword slipped from his numb fingers. "My mana circuit... it’s being clogged! My strength is draining!"

Marcus’s eyes widened under his crimson visor. He slammed the butt of his blood-broadsword onto the crushed truck cab, flaring his S-Rank blood aura to resist the crushing domain.

"STAY IN FORMATION!" Marcus bellowed, sweat pouring down his forehead despite the freezing cold. "MAGES! CAST WIDE-AREA HOLY BARRIERS! NOW!"

Five hundred coalition mages raised their staves frantically, chanting high-tier defensive incantations.

A pale yellow magic circle expanded overhead, attempting to push back the dark violet domain.

STEP.

The sound was quiet. It was the simple sound of a leather boot stepping onto wet asphalt.

Yet it echoed through the minds of three thousand men like the strike of a war drum.

Standing fifty yards away in the center of the vacant highway—surrounded by three thousand heavily armed enemies—was Renan.

He walked alone. He wore his sleek, midnight-black combat coat, his hands resting casually inside his pockets. He didn’t carry a shield. He didn’t wear armor. His dark purple pupils burned through the cold fog with an absolute, terrifying calmness.

Behind him, emerging seamlessly from his shadow, stood Shadow General Ignis and the Fifty Shadow Knights.

"You brought three thousand men to my border, Marcus," Renan said softly. His voice didn’t carry through the air; it vibrated straight into the eardrums of every soldier present. "Did you think numbers would make your fear disappear?"

Marcus sneered, stepping down from the crushed truck, his crimson broadsword erupting into a ten-foot torrent of boiling blood-flames.

"You arrogant little porter!" Marcus barked, his face twisting into a furious scowl. "You got lucky against Richard because he was weak and injured! I am Marcus Vane! I have cleared twelve Class-S gate breakouts! You think your little shadow tricks will work against three thousand elite Hunters?!"

Renan stopped twenty paces away. He slowly pulled his hands from his pockets, flexing his bare fingers.

[Physical Stats: 3,010 Strength / 3,450 Vitality] [Mana Density: 5,000 Units]

"Try me," Renan whispered.

"KILL HIM! VANGUARD, CHARGE!" Marcus screamed, pointing his flaming blade at Renan.

Five hundred heavy armored vanguards and two hundred shock-troopers lunged forward simultaneously, their mechanical exo-suits roaring as they crossed the fifty-yard gap in a terrifying iron stampede.

Renan didn’t call on Ignis. He didn’t order the fifty Shadow Knights to advance.

He simply stepped forward with his left foot, pulling his right fist back into a low, relaxed stance.

[Skill Activated: Sovereign’s Armor (Rank-EX - Passive Density)]

Renan threw a simple, straight punch into the open air toward the oncoming stampede of seven hundred armored Hunters.

BOOM-CRASH!

The atmospheric pressure in the three-mile domain collapsed into a vacuum.

A shockwave of pure, unadulterated physical force—amplified by his 3,010 Strength—exploded outward in a hundred-yard-wide cone.

The kinetic blast hit the seven hundred advancing vanguards like an invisible continental missile.

CRACK-SHATTER-THUD!

Heavy two-ton exo-suits were pulverized instantly into scrap metal. Adamantine shields folded like damp paper. Seven hundred elite Hunters were launched backward like weightless ragdolls, flying two hundred yards through the air before crashing through the armored personnel carriers and concrete barricades behind them.

In a single, casual fist-strike, the entire front line of the Northern Coalition was wiped out.

A dead, horrified silence fell over the remaining two thousand three hundred Hunters.

Marcus froze mid-step, his jaw dropping so low his breathing hitched in his throat. Sweat poured down his face, stinging his eyes.

"H-His physical strength..." Marcus stammered, his fingers trembling violently around his broadsword. "He didn’t even use a skill... He just... punched the air..."

Renan took another slow step forward, stepping over a crushed piece of exo-suit armor.

"Is this the power of the Northern Coalition?" Renan asked dryly, his purple eyes locking directly onto Marcus’s bloodshot pupils. "You talk about clearing twelve Class-S gates, yet your men break like brittle glass."

"DIE! [S-RANK SKILL: BLOOD DRAGON’S DECAPITATION]!" Marcus screamed, driven past the point of sanity by pure, unadulterated terror.

Marcus kicked off the asphalt, shattering the highway surface into a ten-foot crater. He blurred into a streak of crimson light, crossing the distance in a millisecond, swinging his ten-foot blood-flamed broadsword straight at Renan’s neck in a desperate, full-power execution strike.

CLANG!

A blinding wave of red sparks erupted into the dark.

Marcus’s eyes bulged until the blood vessels in his whites ruptured.

Renan hadn’t dodged. He hadn’t raised a hand.

Marcus’s ten-foot legendary blood-broadsword—delivering forty tons of kinetic force—had slammed directly into the side of Renan’s bare neck.

And it had stopped completely dead.

Not a single scratch appeared on Renan’s skin. The blade couldn’t even indent his flesh. The passive physical density of his [Sovereign’s Armor (Rank-EX)] and [3,450 Vitality] treated the S-Rank legendary sword as if it were a dull wooden toy.

[Physical Check:] [Renan Vitality: 3,450] [Marcus Attack Power (Suppressed): 820] [Result: Absolute Ineffectiveness.]

"Is that all?" Renan asked softly, turning his head slightly to look at Marcus.

"N-No... impossible..." Marcus whimpered, pouring every drop of his S-Rank blood mana into the blade, but the sword didn’t budge a millimeter against Renan’s bare skin. "Your body... what are you made of?!"

Renan slowly raised his right hand, wrapping his bare fingers around the razor-sharp edge of Marcus’s broadsword.

He squeezed his fingers.

CRACK-SHATTER!

The legendary Flame Drake broadsword snapped into dozens of jagged metallic fragments, falling onto the wet asphalt like useless gravel.

Before Marcus could even attempt to retreat, Renan’s left hand shot out like a striking cobra, catching Marcus by his throat and slamming him violently onto the highway surface.

BOOM!

The concrete highway cratered five feet deep. Marcus spat out a torrent of dark blood, his crimson chest plate cracking down the middle under the immense kinetic shock.

Renan stood over the broken S-Rank Guild Master, stepping onto his cracked chest plate with his heavy boot.

"Two thousand three hundred Hunters remain behind you, Marcus," Renan said, his voice cold, calm, and echoing across the silent battlefield. "Watch closely as I convert your coalition into my army."

Renan raised both palms into the air.

DING!

A massive, crimson system panel flared over the entire three-mile pitch-black dome:

[Skill Activated: Shadow Puppet Creation (Rank-S)] [Targeting: 700 Defeated/Dying Vanguard Hunters.] [Initiating Mass Extraction & Shadow Conversion...]

As Marcus watched in absolute horror, seven hundred dark pillars of smoke erupted simultaneously from the broken bodies of his vanguard soldiers, forging seven hundred new Shadow Knights that turned around to point their glowing purple daggers directly at the remaining two thousand three hundred terrified Hunters.