My SSS-Rank Class Is Blood Monarch!

Arthur walked away from the crowd without another word. The dim glow of the castle walls flickered over his back as he disappeared into the shadows, leaving Germa to tend to the others. The man watched him go with a strange expression, part awe, part uncertainty. His heart was still pounding from what he had witnessed—a confrontation with something beyond mortal comprehension—and yet, Arthur had walked away from it like it was nothing.

Germa turned to the shackled prisoners and knelt by the closest one. The tension was far from over, but at least for now, the towering threat was gone. That alone brought some room to breathe.

Meanwhile, Arthur slowed his pace after putting some distance between him and the rest. He stopped in the middle of an arched hallway, the faint echo of his footsteps bouncing off the high, ribbed ceiling.

“Now, where should I start?” he muttered, glancing from one end of the corridor to the other.

Truthfully, he had no idea if this place even had an exit. Not one that someone like him could easily find, anyway. But one thing he did know—he wasn’t going to trust Nameless’ words. That enigmatic lunatic had built a web of lies so thick that even truth, when it did show itself, felt like just another trick.

‘That man knows more than he lets on.’ Arthur thought grimly, rubbing the back of his neck. ‘I’d bet my life he has a way out of here. He just chooses not to use it, likely for some sick reason he thinks is noble.’

His suspicion wasn’t baseless. Nameless’ sheer strength alone proved that he was no mere cultist or madman. That kind of power wasn’t born out of nothing—it was cultivated, nurtured, and likely inherited from something much larger than himself. A clan, perhaps. A god-bloodline, even. Arthur had come across monsters before, but Nameless was the kind of entity that made those monsters look like playground bullies.

‘There’s no way someone like him just stumbled into this place by chance,’ Arthur reasoned. ‘He didn’t fall in here with the fleet—he came alone. With intent. That much is clear. And if he came here by choice, then he must know a way out too. No one walks into a prison without holding the key to the back door, even someone as crazy as him.’

Arthur exhaled sharply and looked up. A quiet determination settled in his eyes.

“All I have to do is find it,” he said aloud. “Simple enough, right? In a cursed castle the size of a city…”

The castle loomed endlessly around him, its halls splitting off in dozens of directions, each more convoluted than the last. Twisting staircases, doors that opened into other hallways, and ceilings so high they disappeared into black fog—everything about the place was disorienting.

He chose a door at random and slipped inside. The room on the other side was barren, a stone cell with nothing but old cracks and creeping vines. He frowned, backed out, and moved to the next.

And the next. And the next.

For the next half hour, Arthur wandered through the halls like a ghost. His footsteps echoed in empty chambers and long-forgotten corridors, each one mirroring the last. Most of the rooms were abandoned, filled with dust, silence, and the weight of time. It felt like no one had walked these parts for centuries.

Still, Arthur wasn’t lost. He had the advantage of the map feature—and it kept track of every single room and every single corridor he had walked in. That, and his unrelenting sense of direction, kept him grounded despite the endless maze.

“This place… it fits Nameless too well,” he grumbled, standing in the middle of a six-way fork in the halls. “Chaotic. Unstructured. Designed to keep you going in circles until you give up.”

Dust swirled around his boots as he moved into another hall, noticeably more decrepit than the last. Cobwebs hung from the rafters. The air was still and thick with age.

Arthur slowed his pace, a strange feeling growing in his gut.

“This area hasn’t been touched in a long time,” he murmured. “Which means it’s probably more important than it looks.”

It was an old habit, trusting his instincts, but they rarely led him astray. In a place like this—where logic failed and reality bent—gut feeling was as reliable as any map.

He started searching again, more methodically this time. Door by door, he opened each one, peering into the darkness with a squint, looking for any hint, any hidden panel or stairwell. But each room yielded the same result: emptiness.

Fifty doors. Sixty. Ninety.

By the time he reached the hundredth, frustration was boiling in his chest.

“Why build so many fucking rooms if you’re not going to use any of them?” he snarled, slamming the door shut with a loud bang.

He leaned against the wall, running a hand through his hair, trying to calm himself. His patience was wearing thin.

“I can’t do this alone. Not at this pace,” he muttered. “I’ll have to get the others to help. Split the place into sections, sweep the whole damn castle.”

He turned to leave. There was no point in lingering if he was just wasting time. But just before he stepped away, something stopped him.

A door.

Plain. Dusty. Tucked in the corner of the hallway where the stone wall curved slightly into shadow. It wasn’t different from the others, and yet… his eyes locked on it.

Why? He didn’t know. But something tugged at his chest—a strange, magnetic pull.

He paused, staring. The air around the door felt heavier. Thicker.

Arthur clicked his tongue. “Fine. One last room.”

He walked toward it. As he reached out, a glint passed over his eyes—faint, almost unnoticeable. He gripped the handle and yanked the door open. A cloud of ancient dust exploded in his face.

“Cough! Damn it… too hard,” he wheezed, fanning the air.

The room was just as he expected: empty. A square box of stone and shadow. No furniture, no markings, nothing at all. Arthur stood there, his expression comically blank as he stared at the empty room.

“… Fuck.” He muttered. It was another disappointment.

He sighed and turned to go.

‘Why did I even bother? Just another—’

Click.

The sound froze him.

He turned slowly, eyes narrowing. Inside the room, one of the floor tiles shifted with a low groan. A stone slab lifted, revealing a narrow staircase descending into pitch-blackness.

Arthur stared, stunned. Then a grin spread across his face.

“Well, would you look at that…” he whispered. “You clever bastard. Of course, you’d hide it here. Who would ever check a place this abandoned?”

His grin widened as he stepped inside and approached the stairs. He crouched slightly, peering down the tunnel.

A humid breeze rose from the opening, thick with the scent of mold and stagnant air. The walls were damp, the steps slick with centuries of grime. The staircase vanished into the depths below, swallowed by a darkness untouched by flame or time.

“I knew you had a secret,” Arthur said under his breath. “And now I know where you’ve been hiding it.”

He glanced behind him once, as if making sure no one followed. Then, without hesitation, he took a breath and stepped onto the first stair.

Stone creaked beneath his boot. The air grew colder as he descended, each step a heartbeat into the unknown.

“Here goes nothing,” he muttered.

And with that, Arthur vanished into the darkness.