Once again, Viktor woke up.

  Before his eyes was a familiar view. Old, weathered, sagging wooden beams, covered in scratches, dust, and spider webs. This was the same ceiling he had seen every morning for the past week—since when he acquired this body.

  This body, yes. The frail, borrowed shell he now inhabited after clawing his way back from oblivion.

  It had been one week. Seven mornings since the day his consciousness resurged, not into his own ravaged corpse, but into... this. A warm, yet empty vessel. Where did its previous occupant go? he wondered.

  “Quinn! Wake up!” he heard a call from downstairs.

  Ah yes, Quinn. The name of the previous occupant. It was his name now.

  “I hear you!” he yelled in reply. If he didn’t respond, the woman would keep calling, and that would be very annoying.

  With a groan, Viktor pushed himself up and moved through the routine. He brushed his teeth, he washed his face, and he changed his clothes.

  As he went down the stairs, he smelled the familiar scent of bacon sizzling in its own grease. Does this woman even know how to make anything else? He snorted.

  He didn’t even need to look to know what was on the table. Some slices of bread, some strips of bacon, and two mugs of milk. The exact same breakfast every single day. And there, sitting behind such an uninspiring meal, was a young woman with long blonde hair. She was Claire, Quinn’s older sister. His older sister.

  “Sleep well?” she asked, smiling as he slouched into his chair.

  Tearing off a hunk of bread, Viktor replied, “Yeah,” before popping it into his mouth.

  Since he had access to all of Quinn’s memories, it wasn’t hard for him to impersonate the boy. And even if he made a mistake now and then, Claire would likely just assume that kids acted oddly during puberty.

  From the memories, he learned that the two siblings had been living alone ever since their parents died several years ago in a dungeon somewhere. As a result, Claire was forced to carry the burden of supporting her family, working hard to provide for her little brother.

  He wondered what her reaction would be if she ever found out that the precious brother she had been caring so much for was gone, replaced by a total stranger. Better she never knew. He would hate to have to kill her.

  How did it work, anyway? he pondered.

  He knew that he would come back, that he would be reincarnated. But he had always assumed he would return to his original body, now fully revived, or perhaps he would be reborn as a baby. Instead, he found himself hijacking someone else’s body.

  The power that allowed Viktor to revive himself didn’t actually come from him, but from someone else. A mysterious traveler who had crossed his path in an unexpected encounter.

  It took a great man to recognize another. One single look was enough for him to perceive the immense power concealed beneath the stranger’s seemingly ordinary appearance. Clearly, this was a being no one should ever dare to cross.

  Nevertheless, their one and only encounter had been surprisingly friendly. In the end, the man bestowed this gift upon him on a whim, and he had no reason to refuse. After all, death was inevitable. No matter how powerful one was, in the end, everyone would succumb to it without fail. Thus, when presented with the opportunity to defy death, he embraced it wholeheartedly.

  Then they went their separate ways, and Viktor pressed on down the path of the hegemon. With his own prowess and an army of loyal warriors and mages, he made the entire world submit to his will. The few who dared to resist, met swift and brutal ends. Kingdoms fell as he carved out his empire. He had become the most powerful man in this world, especially since that mysterious wanderer never showed up again.

  No one could defy him. Not a single soul could. Yet, his enemies banded together. The strongest among them, the so-called Six Heroes, struck when he was least prepared. In one moment of weakness, he made a mistake, a mistake that cost him his life. And he ended up here.

  “I have to go to work now,” Claire said after finishing her breakfast. “You’ll be fine by yourself, right?”

  Viktor frowned. “How old do you think I am?”

  Claire laughed as she went back to her room to change. She reappeared a moment later, wearing a long-sleeved white shirt, with a silken ribbon of dark blue tied at her collar, and a long black skirt that fell in graceful folds to her knees. Her hair had been braided down her back, with a few loose strands framing her face. She looked very polished. After all, she was a receptionist at the local Adventurer’s Guild.

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  Oh, the irony... Viktor couldn’t help but chuckle. Claire’s job was to receive, guide, and support the adventurers, while he was planning something completely opposite.

  After saying goodbye, his “sister” quickly left, and he was free to do whatever he wanted.

  Not really, though. When Claire was out of the house, it was her brother’s job to do the chores at home, including tending the small garden they had. It was just a patch of earth, filled with some vegetables and herbs. He also needed to make lunch for both of them and at noon, he would bring it to the Guild so that they could eat together.

  Most people at Claire’s workplace would just buy something from the Guild’s mess hall or a vendor nearby to eat, but she wanted to save money. It made sense. Their family’s financial situation wasn’t too great. They were not starving, of course, but they weren’t well-off either.

  Let’s not waste time then. The normal Quinn would usually laze around before doing anything, and the boy often daydreamed while he worked, which meant that even the simplest tasks could take him the entire morning. But Viktor was different. He had pressing matters to attend to, so he needed to wrap everything up here quickly.

  Thirty minutes, and the chore was done. Well, most of it. Cooking should be left until just before noon, so the food would still be hot when they ate.

  Now was the time for him to visit it.

  His dungeon.

  After his reincarnation, Viktor immediately came back to his old castle. Surprisingly, it wasn’t far. He found it amusing to have reincarnated as someone living this close to his former stronghold. Was it a coincidence? Fate? A joke from the gods? Or part of some grand design, set in motion by someone? He didn’t know, and he didn’t care. It suited him just fine. Perhaps he might find something useful there.

  The castle was a ruin now, though. Three hundred years had passed, after all.

  He had searched it for several days, moving through crumbling hallways and dilapidated chambers. His heart sank when he couldn’t find anything at all, despite all of his efforts. Everything there had already been looted or destroyed.

  But then, under the rubble, he found a Dungeon Core. He had once had dozens of them when he ruled his empire, which had been nothing but fancy toys to him. Now only this Core was left, a very underdeveloped one. Perhaps that was why everyone had missed it. It was so insignificant, hiding in the shadows of a forgotten castle.

  Yet, it was better than nothing. A Dungeon Core was still a Dungeon Core. As long as he fed it, it could grow and become more powerful, and it would help him eliminate his enemies.

  The Six Heroes didn’t just kill Viktor. They also extracted the power from his dead body and divided it into six parts, one for each of them. With this stolen strength, the so-called heroes dominated everyone else and established themselves as kings and queens of their own kingdoms.

  They were all dead now, though. It had been three centuries, and no one lived forever. But their powers—his power—remained, inherited by their descendants. And he wanted it back.

  There was one big problem with such a wish, however. In the current state, he was nothing more than a feeble boy without any special abilities. There was no way he could challenge the most powerful men and women in the world.

  The only thing he had left was his dungeon. At the moment, it was small and unimpressive. But he would cultivate it, nurture it, and feed it with the essence of the adventurers who dared to tread inside. Eventually, he would transform it into a formidable stronghold, where he would lure and ensnare the progeny of his enemies, and then reclaim what was rightfully his.

  Viktor had placed the Dungeon Core deep within a cave he found in the forest surrounding Daelin, the town where he was currently living. At first, he had intended to create the dungeon in his old castle in order to utilize the existing foundations. However, the site had a reputation for being haunted and cursed, and no one around here would dare go near it. Fortunately, he had discovered that cave. The location was very convenient. It wasn’t too close to the settlement, where people might accidentally spot him coming and going, but it also wasn’t too far into the woods, which would make the trip too exhausting and dangerous for a boy of his age.

  Leaving the town behind, he followed a narrow trail that wound its way through the dense forest. High above, branches curled and twisted, knotting together into a thick roof that blotted out the sky, and the sunlight had to fight its way through to cast a dappled glow on the underbrush. The air was chill and damp, steeped in the smell of earth, and wrapped in a quiet that was not truly silent.

  He strained his ear to pick out the faint whisper of running water, barely audible beneath the rustle of leaves. He turned and abandoned the trail. The foliage closed in tight, shrubs clawing at his clothes and twigs cracking underfoot as he forced his way forward, relying on nothing but the gurgling thread of sound to guide his steps. Eventually, he broke through into a small clearing, and found a stream snaking its way over rocks and roots. He walked alongside it, following the mossy path that bordered the edge of the water. The stream’s burble grew louder and louder, until it exploded into the thunderous roar of a waterfall.

  There it was.

  Beyond the silver curtain, barely visible through vines and mist, yawned a cave entrance.

  As Viktor entered the dark mouth, a musty, earthy scent invaded his nostrils. The air was thick and heavy with moisture. This area, near the entrance, was just the natural part of the cave, but deep inside, he had transformed it into a dungeon.

  With each step, the waterfall’s roar gradually faded, leaving only a faint echo behind. The light diminished quickly as he ventured further in. He brushed his hands against the cold, rough surface of the cave’s stone walls, navigating the rocky tunnel until he glimpsed the radiance from the first floor of the dungeon, illuminated by its magic.

  This was the first and also last line of defense, as the Dungeon Core was located right below it.

  Viktor had decided to make this floor a maze. It wasn’t the most original idea, but it worked. The branching corridors and dead ends were a cheap and simple way to stall intruders, making them waste valuable time as they tried to find their way through. And while they were lost and disoriented, he could direct his minions to ambush them, attacking when they least expected it.

  Since he was the one who designed the maze, he already knew its layout and breezed through it effortlessly. At the end of the path was a staircase leading down, a passage to the heart of his domain.

  Down there, his Dungeon Core was waiting.

  As soon as he set foot on the second floor, Viktor was greeted by a shimmering crystal hovering above the ground in the center of the room, its faint blue light pulsing rhythmically and casting an ethereal glow across the walls.

  [Welcome back, Master.]