I Shall Pervert the Heavens

Chapter 52: Into the Dungeon



The bus wheezed to a stop, coughing black smoke as if it hated its job almost as much as the driver did. The tired-looking man barely turned his head before barking out in a flat monotone:

"All right, everybody; we're here. The booths to leave your personal belongings are in the usual place. If you're new, just follow after the most experienced person you can find."

That was the extent of his warmth. To the government, Rank F Blessed weren't people worth a speech anyway. They were fodder—meat to throw at the lowliest fortresses that nobody else cared to touch. If the cannon fodder survived, good. If not, their deaths still generated paperwork and a sliver of profit for the bureaucracy. Either way, the government won.

Everyone in the bus knew this. Still, some clung to hope that this would be the dungeon where their luck changed. That maybe, just maybe, they'd crawl back out of the portal richer, stronger, one step closer to clawing their way up to Rank D or higher.

Zach stepped off the bus, inhaling the damp morning air. Around him, the nervous shuffle of adults contrasted sharply with the loud, careless chatter of the teenagers trailing behind.

And then there was Zach.

The boy drew eyes without trying. Black horns curved back from his head, faint scales ran down the sides of his neck, and his golden eyes gleamed with an unnatural shine even in the gray daylight. He carried himself with the same casual weight as any other youth, but the differences were too obvious, too much. He wasn't human.

And humans, especially humans in wartime, didn't forget that.

A group of teenagers snickered as they shoved their belongings into the storage booths. Harry, the loudest of them, pointed with a mocking grin.

"Look at that freak. Guess they'll let anyone join now, huh? First demons, now half-breeds. What's next, dogs and pigs walking into the dungeon?"

His friends laughed, voices sharp and mean. A girl with a high ponytail pressed herself against his side, her voice dripping with false sweetness.

"Don't waste your energy, Harry. It's not like he'll make it back out. Hybrids die just like the rest of the cannon fodder."

Zach didn't flinch hearing such words, neither did he speak. His face was carved stone, the kind of expressionless mask that let imaginations run wild. That silence, that indifference, only made him look more dangerous in their eyes.

The veterans in the group exchanged glances. Some looked uneasy, others grim. They'd seen enough history to know the danger of bloodlines like Zach's.

A half-demon was bad enough. A half-dragon was worse. Entire wars had been fought because of beings like him, creatures who carried both destruction and arrogance in their veins. And worse part, humans and demons were at war, this alone was enough to let everyone be wary of Zach. Although they know he might not be part of them after all both demons and Dragons value their bloodlines and half-breed like him were always hunted by their kinds making their existence akin to taboo.

Harry sneered, emboldened by Zach's lack of response. "What's the matter? Cat got your tongue? Or are you thinking about which of us to eat first, lizard-boy?"

"That's enough," one of the older men snapped, his face lined with years of exhaustion. "You kids think this is a joke? You'll be screaming for anyone's help once you're cornered by monsters."

The teens rolled their eyes, unbothered, after all while those old men could boost of experience, the teens believe they were stronger, after all they were young but have already reach the same power level as the oldies, just give them a few months and they will surpass them entirely.

Zach, watching from the side, felt the old weight of cynicism pressing on his shoulders. He'd seen these little power plays before, the arrogance of the young smashing itself headfirst into the cold stone of reality back in his real world. After all the main reason he agreed to come here was to experience a different dungeon and understand what makes it different from his or what to learn and implement inside his own that will be helpful.

The group moved on, belongings stored, heading toward the looming portal where a government agent stood with a tablet. His eyes skimmed over the assembled faces, his expression as empty as the driver's.

"Great," the agent muttered. "Only one person didn't show up. Probably dead already and it looks like you found a replacement for him." He tapped at the screen like object, checking boxes, not bothering to hide his boredom.

"Alright guys, come. Let's step in!"

Harry and his friends didn't wait for instructions. They strutted toward the portal like they owned it, seven teenagers moving as if the world was built for them. Their laughter echoed as they crossed the threshold without so much as a nod to the veterans.

The older fighters stayed behind, forming a loose huddle. Their voices dropped to low, serious tones as they discussed formations and tactics. They'd been here before. They knew hesitation or disunity killed faster than any beast.

At the center of the group stood a heavyset man with a scar across his face. His single eye carried the weight of experience, and when he spoke, the others listened.

"We'll move in tight formation. Pairs, no one strays. We clear one part at a time. Don't try being a hero, as that's idiotic thing."

Heads nodded. The veterans were scarred, tired, but not reckless.

The scarred man's gaze flicked to Zach. "And you," he said, voice steady. "What do you think?"

A ripple went through the group. Surprise from some. Approval from others. Few ever asked hybrids anything beyond their name. But this man knew history. He knew enough to take no chances.

Dragons were strength. Demons were ferocity. Together, they created nightmares. If Zach's blood carried even a fraction of that, ignoring him would be suicide.

The silence stretched. All eyes turned toward the hybrid. His golden eyes caught the light, unreadable, unflinching.

To the veterans, he looked to be in deep thought.

But to himself… well, only Zach knew what storms or stupid thoughts brewed inside his skull.

"I agree with your plan, and if any of us see anything abnormal from the information, report it quickly. Just a little abnormality can cause us death." He immediately said with straight face.

The scarred man finally gave a short nod, as if the lack of answer was enough. "Then stay sharp. Let's move."

Inwardly Zach sighed, although it might look like nothing, but only Zach knew what a small abnormality can cause. After all if he can transmigrate and become a dungeon core, what if another person can? The intelligence of a human with supercomputer like brain is no joke.


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