Chapitre 7: Chapter 7:The Abyssal Vault rumours
The first stirrings of rumors began in the bustling heart of a small border town. At first, the chatter was little more than background noise—just the idle talk of travelers passing through. But, as the days went by, the whispers grew louder, taking on a life of their own. In taverns, around campfires, and in the back alleys where only the bravest—or the most foolish—would dare to linger, the same topic was discussed: the mysterious dungeon known only as the Abyssal Vault.
Aiden's dungeon had begun to take on a mythic quality, the kind of place adventurers dared each other to explore, but never fully believed they would return from. The stories varied in detail—some said it was filled with unimaginable treasures, others said it was a cursed tomb where death awaited all who entered. Still, there was one constant in every tale: no one had ever come out alive.
At first, the rumors reached only the nearby villages and towns, places where the adventurers who first fell victim had lived or trained. But as the Abyssal Vault claimed more and more lives, the stories began to spread further. Adventurers from all over were drawn to the mystery, and with each passing week, more names were added to the growing list of the lost.
The common folk, who relied on adventurers to protect them from beasts and bandits, began to worry. The roads grew more dangerous without the protection of those who had once patrolled them. Caravans carrying much-needed supplies either refused to pass near the dungeon or were never heard from again. The weight of unease settled on the region like a thick fog.
Inside the dimly lit tavern of one such village, a burly man with a scar running down his left cheek sat hunched over a mug of ale. His voice was low but carried a certain weight, drawing the attention of those nearby.
"They say it appeared out of nowhere," the man muttered to his drinking companion, a young man barely old enough to wield a sword. "One day, there was nothing. The next? This... thing. Like the earth itself decided to open up and swallow the poor fools who wandered too close."
The young man leaned in, eyes wide. "What's in it? The Vault, I mean."
The scarred man glanced around, as if expecting to be overheard, then lowered his voice even further. "Monsters. Dozens of 'em. And worse still—traps. Not the kind you can just walk around, either. They're built into the walls, the floor. You take one wrong step, and before you know it, you're buried six feet under."
"But there's treasure, right?" the younger man pressed, eager. "There's always treasure in these kinds of places."
The scarred man grunted. "That's what they say. But no one's ever made it back to tell the tale, have they?"
The Growing Hysteria
As the rumor mill churned, so did the desperation of those who listened. For some, the tales of the Abyssal Vault were nothing more than an exciting distraction—a chance to boast about something they'd never truly face. But for others, it was a beacon of hope. Adventurers who had fallen on hard times, struggling to scrape by, saw the dungeon as their last shot at glory and gold. Farmers who had lost their crops, merchants who had been robbed on the road, even thieves looking for their next big score—all of them started to eye the Vault with a mixture of fear and temptation.
"I heard it's the size of a city down there," one man whispered to his wife as they walked through the marketplace. "Can you imagine? If we could find just one piece of the treasure that's hidden away... we'd be set for life."
The wife frowned, clutching her shawl tighter around her shoulders. "And how many men do you think have said the same thing, only to never come back?"
"It's only a matter of time," the man insisted. "Someone's going to break through. Someone's going to conquer it. Why shouldn't it be us?"
The Adventurers' Guild Response
At the local adventurers' guild, things were less hopeful. Reports were coming in daily—teams of adventurers entering the dungeon and never returning. The guildmaster, a grizzled veteran by the name of Maros, sat at his desk, staring down at the growing pile of missing-persons notices.
"This is getting out of hand," he muttered, rubbing his temples as he looked at the paper in front of him. He could still hear the bustling activity from the guildhall, but there was an underlying tension in the air.
Adventurers, once confident and brash, were now speaking in hushed tones. They were exchanging stories about those who had entered the dungeon. Friends who were now presumed dead. Allies who hadn't returned.
"What are we going to do?" his assistant asked, standing by the doorway. Her voice was nervous. "People are starting to get scared."
Maros sighed. "I don't know. The Vault is claiming more adventurers than any dungeon we've seen before. But if we pull back, we'll lose everything."
"They'll keep coming," his assistant pointed out. "The treasure... the rumors..."
"I know," he said, voice heavy with the weight of his responsibility. "That's what worries me. This dungeon is like a flame, and all these people... they're moths."
Aiden's Watchful Eye
Inside the Abyssal Vault, Aiden stood at the heart of his dungeon, watching through the eyes of his monsters. He could feel the growing pull of adventurers outside. Each time a group entered, the dungeon responded, evolving in small ways to make itself deadlier, more insidious. The traps grew sharper, the corridors darker, the creatures more cunning. Aiden didn't need to lift a finger—his dungeon was alive, adapting to every adventurer who dared to step inside.
Through the Player's POV skill, Aiden observed each battle with cool detachment. He saw their strategies, their fears, and ultimately, their failures. Each death brought him more Dungeon Points, and with those points, he improved the Vault further, layering in more defenses, more tricks, more nightmares.
And as the DP climbed higher, so did the rumors.
The Seeds of Greed
As the whispers spread, so too did the hunger for power. In the dark corners of the world, where wealth and greed ran deeper than morality, bets began to be placed. Not on whether the dungeon could be cleared, but on who would die next. The vault had become a death trap—a place where men and women bet their lives for the promise of fortune.
Aiden, through the system, could feel the desperation seeping into the adventurers. Their lust for wealth and fame blinded them to the reality of the dungeon. And with each new death, the dungeon grew stronger, more dangerous, feeding on the greed and ambition of those who thought they could conquer it.
A Tale That Won't Stop Growing
Rumors of the Abyssal Vault continued to spread far and wide. It wasn't long before entire cities were aware of the mysterious dungeon, though no one truly understood the scope of the threat. For most, it remained a story, a distant legend that might one day be proven false. But for those who lived close to it, for those who knew someone who had entered and never returned, it was a nightmare made real.
And as the Vault's reputation grew, Aiden knew that more would come. They would always come.
But little did they know, the dungeon was only getting started.
|==========================|
|| Dungeon Level: 11 (Iron Tier)
| |Popularity: High
| |Adventurers Lost: 83
| |DP Accumulated: 4750
|| Current Floor Count: 6
|| Adventurer Success Rate: 17%
| |Dungeon Ranking: #341 Global
|==========================|
Aiden smirked. The Dungeon Ranking had been added since his last upgrade. His dungeon was no longer just a whisper among adventurers—it had earned a place on the global leaderboard, a small number compared to the world's most infamous dungeons, but given time, it would climb.
État de l’alimentation hebdomadaire
-- Classement
Power Stone 
-- Power
stone