Is It Wrong To Level Up In A Dungeon?

The battlefield was chaos incarnate.

Vulcan's guards barely had time to react before Bell's shadow soldiers descended upon them like a storm of death. A tide of black steel and piercing crimson eyes surged forward, crashing into the demon ranks like an unstoppable hurricane.

Swords flashed. Claws raked. Darkness swallowed the lesser demons whole.

A hulking, armored shadow ripped through a demon's chest with a single brutal swipe, sending its lifeless body crashing to the ground. Nearby, a slender assassin-type soldier slashed through another's throat with a flick of its curved daggers, the creature's gurgled scream lost in the symphony of battle.

The demons fought back, but their resistance was meaningless.

A massive shadow—Tank—bulldozed through a squad of guards, its sheer size and monstrous bulk turning them into nothing more than crushed remains beneath its feet. The Minotaur followed suit, its massive axe cleaving through demonic flesh with raw, unrelenting brutality.

The three shadow mages raised their hands.

A blinding eruption of black flames consumed an entire wave of demons, their shrieks of agony ringing through the dungeon halls as their bodies turned to ash.

The massacre was absolute.

Vulcan's guards—once the terror of the lower floors—were being picked apart, shredded, and devoured by the relentless horde of darkness.

Then, in an instant, everything changed.

Vulcan moved.

Faster than Bell had anticipated, the massive demon's bloated form belied its speed. A monstrous club came crashing down, obliterating dozens of shadow soldiers in a single strike. Bell flinched as his mana reserves plummeted, the loss momentarily staggering. Yet, the shadows were unyielding—regenerating from the darkness as if mocking the demon's power.

Only Titan stood firm, the colossal knight unaffected by Vulcan's initial assault. The two behemoths clashed, locking hands in a primal contest of strength. The ground beneath them cracked and cratered from the sheer force of their struggle.

[The Ruler of the Lower Floors, The Avaricious Vulcan, has activated the skill: "Rage."]

A monstrous bellow erupted from Vulcan's throat. The air trembled as a shockwave of raw power blasted outward, sending debris flying. Titan braced himself, trying to hold firm against the wave of force, but it was futile.

[Vulcan's stats have increased by 50%.]
[Vulcan's pain threshold has risen.]

Bell's eyes widened. That much of a boost?!

Before he could react, Vulcan's club came hurtling toward him like a meteor. Bell barely had time to brace himself, crossing his daggers in a desperate block. The impact was cataclysmic. A thunderous boom split the air as the force of the blow sent him rocketing backward, skidding across the ruined stone floor.

The battlefield was chaos, a symphony of steel and shadows clashing in a relentless dance of death. At its center, Balak moved like a phantom, a streak of blue flame and steel that cut through Bell's common foot soldiers as if they were nothing more than mist.

His greatsword carved wide arcs through the air. Each swing left trails of searing light, cleaving through the undead warriors with ruthless precision. Dozens of shadow soldiers crumbled into blackened wisps, their broken forms fading into nothingness.

Balak's movements were fluid, almost unnatural—his armored exoskeleton gleamed as he weaved through the carnage with effortless agility, sidestepping grasping claws and countering attacks with bone-shattering force. No strike landed, no attempt even came close. The Infernal Juggernaut was untouchable.