Chapter 290: Shuna Escapes the Dungeon

Shuna knew black hair and black eyes were rare—in her brief life, she’d only met one person with them: herself. That didn’t mean this black-haired, black-eyed man before her had any connection to her.

What unnerved her was the sense of sameness. Deeper than shared magic circuits, muscle memory, or combat style. This was a resonance at the foundation of existence—like dungeon-spawned copies sharing the same core blueprint.

This entity was undeniably born of the dungeon. Perhaps, in some fundamental way, they were alike.

“Sir…? Can you speak? Communicate? Care to introduce yourself?”

“Shu. Names are irrelevant. You may consider me…” He spun his dagger, light glinting coldly off its edge. “…the strongest monster in the memories of one named ‘Will’.”

“Oh? Should I interpret that as you being his greatest fear?”

“…Inaccurate. He likely doesn’t fear me. A more precise term would be… hatred.”

“Fine, got it. Bottom line: if I kill you here, this floor is cleared? Then I walk out.”

“Correct. This is Floor 20 of ‘Demon Castle Zero’. Defeat the Boss, claim your reward, and leave.”

Shuna understood. This “Shu” didn’t truly exist. Not in the world of souls. He was a manifestation of Will’s memory. Fighting him was fighting a fragment of Will’s past.

But…

Damn it. Why did his thought process, his combat stance, even the rhythm of his blade spin, mirror hers so perfectly?

Her questions were a tactic—a bid for time to analyze his weapon handling and magic aura.

He answered, equally analyzing her.

They were reflections. Her move, his counter-move—planned.

“Still curious. Why the name ‘Shu’?”

“Because the ‘Male Protagonist’ in the story was named such. No deeper reason.”

“Story? ‘Male Protagonist’? Weird. So the golden boy himself resents the hero?”

“Presumably. Wanting me dead—or broken—might be part of what keeps him going.”

They circled each other in the void’s silence. Shuna in shadow, Shu bathed in harsh spotlight. The schh-schh of blades cutting air filled the darkness—a prelude to violence.

Both held back. Both were cautious. Never striking first against an unknown threat.

The only difference?

Shuna saw it. Where she brimmed with fierce vitality, Shu radiated negativity. A bitter, oppressive aura clung to him like a shroud. His eyes held none of her spark.

It revolted her. Seeing a reflection of her potential self twisted by despair… it forced a sickening thought: “Could I become this?”

“You know this stalemate is pointless.” Shuna flicked a coin into the air, catching it deftly. “Coin lands. We strike. No holds barred. Deal?”

“…Agreed.” Shu hesitated, but agreed—a move Shuna knew she would have made.

“Then… get ready—”

Shuna tossed the coin high. It arced from shadow into the spotlight’s glare.

But…

Of course, both betrayed the agreement.

Neither waited.

Throat strike.

Their signature opener against humanoids: fast, lethal.

Clang!

Palms met forearms—ice armor flaring—blocking simultaneously.

Second blade. Wrist slash.

Schwing!

Daggers collided mid-air. Sparks flew.

Fire and ice spells detonated in the spotlight’s circle. Brutal, calculated exchanges—every blow a potential kill. Every countermove pre-rehearsed in their minds during that minute of talk.

Clatter.

The coin hit the ground as the clash ended.

The combatants disengaged, breathing steady. A mere probing strike. A lethal dance ending in a draw.

Shuna gripped her dagger tighter. She wouldn’t let this version win.

“Pointless,” Shu rasped, pulling an identical coin. “Equal skill, mirrored minds—stalemate is inevitable. Coin decides. Heads, I win. Tails, you lose.”

Different. Shuna’s eyes widened. She would never accept this. Not when reaching Will demanded action. Not when her reasons burned brighter than Shu’s hollow bitterness.

“You don’t want victory? If we’re alike, you know dungeons demand a real fight!”

“…I do. But… you crave escape more intensely. Our motivations… differ.”

He didn’t wait. The coin spun into the light.

“You—!”

Shuna moved. Distance vanished. Her blade flashed—a silver arc across Shu’s throat.

Clink.

The coin landed. Heads.

But victory belonged to Shuna.

“You lost,” she stated, thumb jabbing down in contempt. “Because I choose my path. I will leave.”

Thick, black blood welled from Shu’s neck. He didn’t falter, didn’t clutch the wound. He simply gazed at the coin, a faint, knowing smile touching his lips.

“Disgusting,” Shuna muttered. “Losing… and smiling?”

Shu nodded, like a weary mentor acknowledging a pupil. He stepped aside, revealing the dungeon exit. His lips formed silent words before dissolving into the darkness.

What had he said?

“You are luckier than I was. Treasure it.”

Unease prickled Shuna’s skin. She stepped towards the light, replaying the “mirror’s” final moments.

Their true difference?

Her gaze fell to the “trophy” left behind: Shu’s dagger, identical to her own. She picked it up, understanding crystallizing.

The difference wasn’t skill. Or will.

It was whether the person who gave you a reason to fight…

…still stood beside you.

It was whether you were someone…

…who hadn’t yet tasted true loss.

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