SSS-Class Overlord: My Harem Rules the Realms (18+)-Chapter 56: Is Someone Behind This?

The corrupted Golem let out a thunderous roar as it charged again, fists glowing red, eyes pulsing

with violent malice. But this time—Ethan didn’t move. Not right away.

He stood firm, watching.

His eyes tracked the twitch in the Golem’s arm joints, the staggered rotations of its torso, the

rhythm of its red-lit veins. Every twitch, every stomp, every surge of unstable mana—it all

repeated in subtle loops, only slightly shifting each time. A twisted kind of algorithm.

"Hmm," Ethan muttered. "So even at 200%, you still follow a pattern. Just better at hiding it."

He let out a long breath, sharpening his focus, feeling the weight of each pulse of corrupted

energy radiating off the creature.

The moment the Golem’s right leg shifted—telegraphing a downward slam—Ethan burst into

motion. He twisted past the blow with surgical precision, Warlord’s Fang whistling through the air

as he slashed the underside of its left arm.

Sparks and a trail of corrupted bark flew in the air.

The Golem reeled. Ethan didn’t let up.

He flowed like liquid shadow—his sword carving arcs of steel and silence through the battlefield.

The Golem swung again, but now Ethan was anticipating. Countering. Toying with it.

"Left feint... right elbow swing... pause... charge." Ethan’s voice was low and calm, like a

professor dissecting a theory mid-battle. "Predictable."

Each time the Golem tried a new sequence, Ethan was already there—slipping past, blocking,

slicing tendon-like root cords, dodging just before a spike could protrude from beneath its armor.

"Adapt all you want. I’ll still keep up."

The battle wore on, and soon—Ethan wasn’t dodging because he had to. He was dodging

because he wanted to. Experimenting. Testing.

By now, he was practically dancing around the hulking monster. He parried its clawed fists with

one hand, slashing open glowing veins with the other.

A spark of exhilaration lit in his chest. There was always a special thrill in figuring out an enemy, in

cracking its code. It wasn’t just combat—it was a puzzle. A conversation in steel and blood.

And then—

CRACK!

Warlord’s Fang plunged deep into the Golem’s exposed core. Red light burst outward like an

imploding sun.

The beast let out a final, warbled scream before exploding into fragmented shards of digital

debris, the simulation hissing as the pieces dissolved.

[Simulation Complete.]

[Victory Achieved.]

[Opponent Strength: 200%]

[Analyzing Battle Data...]

The field quieted. Ethan exhaled and dropped to one knee, resting his elbow against his thigh.

Sweat rolled down the side of his face, even though none of this was real. His heartbeat still

thundered like war drums in his ears.

"Whew... even simulated, that thing still hits like a pissed-off mountain."

He stood and approached the remaining fragments of the Golem’s shattered core. The digital

fragments flickered—less like code, more like echoes of something organic... corrupted.

He knelt, reaching toward the simulated remnant. The pulsing red glow cast eerie shadows over

his features.

"System," he said. "Scan the corrupted core. Don’t give me everything... just enough to know

what I’m dealing with."

[Analyzing fragment...]

[Partial Analysis Complete.]

[Origin: Anomalous energy signature detected.]

[Trace: External corruption—non-dungeon source.]

[Possible cause: Human interference.]

Ethan’s brow furrowed. His voice dropped to a whisper.

"So... someone tampered with this thing. That mutation wasn’t natural... wasn’t just part of the

dungeon’s own evolution."

He stood slowly, fingers curling into a tight fist as new possibilities unfurled like poisoned flowers

in his mind.

If someone could manipulate dungeon cores... they could manipulate monsters anywhere. Entire

ecosystems. Entire cities.

He pictured armies of beasts, infected and driven mad, storming human walls. He pictured

adventurers lured into dungeons and devoured by creatures they thought they understood.

He pictured the cult’s hidden faces, chanting in dark places, weaving corruption into the marrow

of the world.

"There’s someone behind this. Someone smart enough... dangerous enough... to twist a dungeon

boss into that."

A low chill crawled down his spine. It wasn’t just a one-time fluke. It was a threat that could reach

anywhere, affect anyone.

Then, the system chimed.

[DING! Main Scenario Unlocked.]

Ethan’s eyes snapped to the floating prompt before him.

[Main Scenario: "Trail of Corruption"]

[Objective: Discover the source of mutated dungeon cores.]

[Warning: This scenario may evolve based on the user’s decisions.]

[Difficulty: A-Rank (Scaling)]

[Rewards: Unknown]

A slow, excited grin spread across Ethan’s face. His blood, still warm from the simulated battle,

pulsed a little faster. His thoughts were already racing with theories.

"Oh... you’re giving me a mystery, huh?" he murmured, eyes gleaming. "This is gonna be fun."

He waved the prompt aside and exhaled slowly. His mind churned with suspicions and threads

yet to be followed.

"I’ll find you," he whispered to the air. "Whoever you are, whatever cult or backdoor madness

you’re running—I’m coming for you."

He took one last look at the fragments still flickering on the floor of the simulation. They seemed

to pulse like dying stars, secrets trapped inside fading light.

Then, without another word, he raised a hand and snapped his fingers.

"End simulation."

The 3D world fractured like a mirror. Light spun, time unhooked itself, and Ethan was yanked

upward—out of the artificial battlefield and back into the quiet, dim-lit comfort of his room in the

Knight Quarters.

The world righted itself.

He was back in his chair, the distant sound of sparring still echoing faintly through the training

yard outside.

He leaned back, staring at the ceiling.

He felt the weight of it all pressing in—the core’s corruption, the cult lurking in shadows, the

shape of something vast moving behind the curtains of the world.

Yet...

A spark of adrenaline still thrummed under his skin.

It wasn’t just fear or duty driving him. It was curiosity. The hunt.

"Alright," he murmured to himself, voice quiet but firm. "Let’s see how deep this rabbit hole goes."

But before he could stretch or take a deep breath—

KNOCK KNOCK.

Someone rapped on his door.

Ethan blinked. "Hmm?"

The knock came again, firmer this time.

He ran a hand through his hair, still feeling the lingering high from the simulation fight. His muscles

ached—but his mind was razor-sharp.

"Alright... showtime."

He stood, walking toward the door with relaxed, measured steps. Whoever was on the other side

of that door... had come at exactly the right time.

Because Ethan Graves had just discovered that the world was a lot messier than it let on—

And now?

Now he had a trail to follow.

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