Absolute Cheater - Chapter 331

Chapter 331: Auction house Manager
“After all,” Mireya said smoothly, “risk and opportunity often come together.”

She turned, gesturing toward the massive wall of shifting crystal panels behind her, where countless dungeon sigils shimmered faintly.

“Most people only see the glamour—the Hundred dungeon gates we manage, the relics retrieved, the cores formed. But they don’t understand the danger. Every gate we register has a lifespan. Thirty days, at most. After that, the dungeon core destabilizes. The internal essence floods, the sealed monsters awaken prematurely, and then…” She snapped her fingers. “It all explodes.”

Veyra’s eyes narrowed. “And the fallout?”

Mireya smiled faintly. “If we’re lucky, only the mountain dies. If not, it spreads.”

She folded her hands behind her back. “To prevent that, we must clear or purge each gate before collapse. But we can’t do it alone. That’s why the auction system exists—it lets us lease out risk while maintaining control. Every successful clear lowers our burden. Every failure… well, it’s already accounted for.”

She turned back to Asher, her tone colder now. “Now you understand what it means to buy ten gates.”

He nodded slowly.

“If you fail to clear even one of them in the next thirty days… the collapse, the destruction, the monsters it births—it all becomes your responsibility.”

Asher gave a faint smile, one that held no warmth.

“I don’t plan on failing.”

He turned on his heel and walked away, the map tablet vanishing into his cloak.

Valeris and Veyra followed without a word, their silence louder than defiance.

The staff parted in silence as the trio left the hall. And as the golden sigils marking their purchase finalized in the record flame, whispers spread once again among the nobles and hidden delegates.

But Asher paid them no mind.

Outside, the sky had darkened to molten bronze as twilight kissed the peaks of the Hundred Mountains. A new wind blew—hot, sharp, and tinged with sulfur.

He glanced once at the map, then toward the jagged silhouette rising in the far distance.

The Gate of Flames.

The first Dungeon

“Let’s see what’s inside,” he said, as they walked towards it.

The sealed gate pulsed as they approached—a looming arc of scorched obsidian inscribed with shifting flame runes, each one glowing a deep crimson. At the base, veins of molten essence pulsed like a heartbeat, casting flickering light across the charred stone approach.

Asher placed his hand against the sigil-etched surface. It flared in response, recognizing the seal keyed to his purchase.

KRRRNNCH.

The gate cracked open, groaning like a sleeping beast disturbed. A wave of heat burst forth, thick with ash and the scent of burning metal. The air shimmered, rippling with raw elemental energy.

They stepped through.

And the world changed.

Inside the Gate of Flames

The entrance collapsed behind them with a thundering slam, sealing the path with a dome of obsidian glass. Ahead lay a cavernous expanse—an endless descent of jagged basalt terraces and magma rivers, flowing like serpents through a broken world.

The sky above was gone, replaced by a ceiling of glowing emberstone that dripped slow, searing droplets into the molten lakes below. Pillars of fire burst sporadically from vents in the rock, screaming as they erupted. The air was alive—hot, choking, crackling with mana.

Veyra shielded her face with a veil of Blood mana. “It’s like walking through a dying star.”

Valeris stepped beside her, her shadow stretching unnaturally behind her as she stared into the flaming abyss. “This place is unstable. The entire ecosystem’s been twisted by fire Law—extreme pressure, dense essence, unpredictable surges. We’ll need to move fast.”

Asher stood at the edge of a basalt shelf, gazing downward. Far below, beneath layers of magma vapor and heat distortion, he saw it: a massive gate-shaped ruin, half-sunken into a crater of lava. The path to it was a spiraling descent through collapsed flame temples, charred guardian bones, and rivers of molten stone.

He turned to the others. “This dungeon isn’t just hot. It’s Blazing.”

They descended.

Each step brought them deeper into the heart of the inferno. Dead beasts lay scattered—creatures forged from fire and hatred, slain long ago by earlier expeditions, now petrified into ash statues. The walls bore murals of flame-touched warriors battling wyrms made of cinders. But the deeper they went, the more twisted the carvings became—fire giving way to hunger, heat to madness.

Lava burst beside them, spraying molten shards that hissed against basalt. Valeris raised a hand, and a veil of shadow-hardened light rippled into being, absorbing the molten spray with an almost soundless pulse.

“This place…” Valeris said slowly, “might be a recreation of some old territory war.”

Her voice echoed through the vast, cracked halls around them—walls lined with warped statues and melted reliefs that once depicted noble spires and fire-bound banners.

Veyra glanced around, her eyes scanning the twisted murals. “Each dungeon in world mirrors something, doesn’t it? A fragment. A memory.”

Asher nodded faintly. “A recreation of a forgotten scene. Or maybe… a buried sin.”

From the contours of the land, the trenches of cooled magma, the shattered towers embedded in slag-glass, it wasn’t hard to see it now. This dungeon wasn’t a natural volcano.

It was a siege.

A city of fire had once stood here—proud, shining, and powerful. And something had broken through its gates.

Burned its defenders.

And left only echoes behind.

They moved forward, the heat growing heavier, thicker, clinging to the skin like molten chains.

Soon, they reached the edge of a scorched plateau—and what lay beyond made even Veyra halt in stunned silence.

A burning mansion rose ahead, half-sunken into a river of slow-moving magma. Its blackened spires twisted like claws into the smoke-heavy sky, and its once-regal balconies now hung shattered and aflame. It had been beautiful once—an aristocrat’s stronghold, elegant and imposing—but now, it was a palace of cinders and screams.

The basalt steps leading to the front were littered with weapons: molten glaives, cracked shields, bone-handled sabers charred to the hilt.

Ash and embers swirled in a heatstorm that pulsed with ancient rage.