The More I Invest in My Wives, the Stronger I Become

”Victoria.”

The young man crossed the room like he owned it.

”Didn’t know you were coming in today,” he said, flashing an easy smile. ”Thought we were training for the upcoming gate assignment.”

Victoria turned.

Kael Draven. S-Rank. WHA’s golden boy, and the current captain of her elite team.

”I had something to handle first,” she said simply.

Rosalind leaned back in her chair, watching the exchange with faint amusement.

”Something I can help with?” Kael asked, ignoring Rosalind entirely.

”Not particularly,” Victoria said.

Rosalind cut in, dry. ”Was there a reason for barging into my office, Kael, or did you just want an excuse to see her?”

Kael’s smile didn’t waver.

”Just wanted to see what she was up to.” A short pause. ”Guess I got my answer.”

He gave a small nod and left, the door clicking shut behind him.

Victoria let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding.

---

”Back to business,” Rosalind said, folding her hands. ”What’s Daemon doing right now?”

”I don’t know,” Victoria admitted. ”He mentioned looking for dungeon work.”

Rosalind tapped a finger against her desk, thinking.

”Have him come in tomorrow. There’s a guild selection test — if he performs well, he could actually get placed somewhere real instead of scraping through disposable parties.”

Victoria hesitated, then nodded. ”I’ll tell him.”

She rose to leave.

---

Kael was waiting just outside the door.

”Victoria. Wait.”

She stopped.

”Are you free tonight?”

She blinked, momentarily thrown. ”What?”

”Dinner,” he said, like it was the most natural question in the world. ”Just the two of us.”

Victoria’s expression cooled instantly.

”No.”

Kael’s jaw tightened, just slightly, the smile staying fixed even as something behind his eyes didn’t.

”Fine,” he said. ”Another time, then.”

She didn’t answer. She walked past him toward the training wing, already putting the conversation out of her mind.

---

Across the city, Daemon stood in front of a shimmering C-Rank gate, staring up at the rippling distortion in the air.

*So this is what a real dungeon looks like.*

He’d seen dozens of dungeons before, but never one above E-Rank. The air around this one felt different — heavier, charged, like standing too close to a live wire.

His party was already gathered — four Hunters, hired same as him for the day, none of them familiar faces.

The captain introduced himself first. Garrick Sterling. C-Rank. Broad-shouldered, loud, the kind of confidence that came from never having been humbled by anything in his life.

”E-Rank, huh.” Garrick looked him over once, unimpressed. ”Stick close. Don’t get in the way.”

”Understood,” Daemon said evenly.

Beside Garrick stood a woman in her mid-thirties, healer’s satchel slung over one shoulder, her expression carrying the quiet exhaustion of someone who’d learned to expect very little from the people around her.

”Roxana,” she said, offering Daemon a small, tired smile — the first genuine one he’d gotten all day. ”I’ll be keeping everyone patched up in there.”

”Daemon,” he replied. ”Support. Whatever you need.”

Garrick barely glanced at her.

”My wife,” Garrick said flatly, nodding at Roxana without looking at her. ”Don’t expect much. She’s slow.”

Roxana’s smile faltered, just for a second, before she smoothed it back into place, like she’d had years of practice doing exactly that.

Daemon said nothing.

*Not my business.*

But something about the exchange sat wrong in his chest, and it didn’t leave.

---

Inside, the dungeon was ordinary at first. Low-tier monsters, manageable terrain.

But Garrick never stopped needling her.

*You call that healing? Move faster.*

*Useless. Just stand there, then.*

Roxana absorbed each comment without complaint, patching wounds, keeping the team standing, never once slowing down.

Daemon watched, jaw tightening more with every jab.

*She’s doing everything right. He just needs someone smaller than himself to step on.*

He didn’t say anything.

Yet.

---

Then the air changed.

The dungeon’s ambient pressure spiked, walls groaning, the ground beneath them trembling like something enormous had just opened its eyes.

Daemon’s system flared to life.

[WARNING.]

[Dungeon Rank Anomaly Detected.]

[C-Rank Gate Destabilizing — Escalating to A-Rank.]

Garrick’s face went pale.

”That’s not— that’s not possible—”

The rest of the team scattered on instinct, Garrick shoving past his own teammates toward the exit path, leaving Roxana behind in the panic.

Daemon grabbed her arm before she went down under the shifting terrain.

”Stay with me.”

They were cut off from the others within seconds — the dungeon’s new geometry folding the path shut behind them like it had a will of its own.

---

The first attack came from the shadows.

Three shapes burst from the broken terrain, low and fast, teeth already bared.

*Wolves.*

*Duskfang Wolves. Pack hunters. They don’t come one at a time.*

Daemon shoved Roxana behind him as the nearest wolf lunged, jaws snapping for his throat. He twisted aside — barely — felt the rush of it brush past his ear.

*A-Rank. I’m E-Rank. This isn’t a fight. This is a death sentence.*

A second wolf came from the flank. He grabbed a jagged piece of broken stone off the ground and swung it wide, catching the beast across the jaw. It yelped, staggered, but the third wolf was already circling wide toward Roxana.

”Behind you!”

She spun too late.

Daemon threw himself between her and the leaping wolf, taking the impact across his shoulder. Claws tore through fabric and skin. He hit the ground hard, the wolf’s jaws snapping inches from his face.

*Not like this.*

*Not here.*

He got a forearm up, holding the jaws back by sheer stubbornness, muscles screaming under the strain.

And then—

Ding!

[Critical Threat Detected.]

[Nameless Bloodline — Emergency Response Activated.]

[Temporary Skill Granted: Nameless Fang]

[One-Time Power Surge: ACTIVE]

Heat surged through his veins, faster than blood, faster than thought.

A blade materialized in his free hand — a short, black-edged dagger, faint silver markings pulsing faintly along the flat of it, like something ancient had just decided to wake up and lend him its teeth.

Daemon didn’t question it.

He drove the Nameless Fang up and through the wolf’s throat in one clean motion. It went still instantly, weight collapsing off him.

He rolled to his feet, vision sharpened, every sense burning bright. The second wolf lunged — he sidestepped, blade flashing once, and it dropped before it finished the leap. The last one hesitated, snarling, before bolting back into the dark.

*It’s working. Whatever this is — it’s working.*

”Are you hurt?” he asked, already pulling Roxana up.

”I’m fine — Daemon, behind you—”

---

Something massive uncoiled from the shattered ground ahead, scales the color of wet ash, a hiss that rattled through the stone itself.

*Venomcoil Serpent.*

Easily twice his height when it reared, fangs long enough to punch straight through bone, twin slit eyes fixed unblinking on both of them.

It struck without warning.

Daemon shoved Roxana clear and dropped low, the serpent’s head slamming into the space he’d occupied a heartbeat earlier, cratering the stone.

He didn’t hesitate.

He drove forward under its guard, dagger leading, and buried the Nameless Fang into the soft flesh beneath its jaw before it could recoil.

The serpent thrashed, venom-slick fangs snapping at empty air, thick coils lashing wildly across the broken terrain. Daemon held on, twisting the blade deeper, refusing to let go even as the creature’s weight nearly took him off his feet.

It shuddered once.

Then went limp.

Daemon staggered back, chest heaving, blade dripping black.

*Two down.*

*Whatever’s guarding the core — that’s next.*

---

They found it at the center of the ruined dungeon, wrapped in layers of thick white webbing that clung to broken pillars like torn curtains.

*Voidweaver Spider.*

It was enormous — easily the size of a small house, eight legs ending in barbed points, a cluster of black eyes that all turned toward them at once.

Roxana’s breath caught. ”That’s the core guardian. Daemon, we can’t—”

”Stay behind me.”

The spider lunged, faster than anything that size should move, a leg driving down where Roxana had been standing a second earlier. Daemon pulled her clear, rolling both of them across the shattered floor.

Webbing shot past his shoulder, thick and clinging. He ducked, felt it graze his arm, sticky strands tearing at his skin as he wrenched free.

*Get to the eyes. Get to the eyes or get to the joints. Anything soft.*

The spider reared, forelegs slashing down in a wide arc. Daemon met it head-on this time, blade flashing, weaving between strikes that would have taken his arm off a heartbeat slower.

He drove the Nameless Fang into the base of one leg. The spider shrieked, an awful grinding sound, and lashed out wildly — a stray leg catching Roxana across the side as she tried to scramble clear.

She went down hard.

”Roxana!”

The spider turned toward her, sensing weakness.

Daemon didn’t think. He closed the distance in a single burst, vaulted off a broken pillar, and drove the dagger straight into the center mass of its eyes with everything the surge had left in him.

The spider convulsed violently, legs curling inward, and collapsed in a shuddering heap.

The dungeon convulsed once, violently, then began to dissolve around them, unraveling like it had never been real at all.

The dagger in Daemon’s hand crumbled to faint light and vanished as the surge finally emptied out of his body, leaving his limbs shaking and hollow in its wake.

He dropped to one knee, gasping.

*It’s done. It’s actually done.*

He turned — and saw Roxana on the ground, blood soaking through her sleeve where the spider’s leg had caught her, her face gone pale.

”Hey—” He was at her side instantly, pressing a hand over the wound. ”Stay awake. Stay with me. I’ve got you.”

He lifted her without hesitation and started walking, legs unsteady, refusing to let it show.

---

The WHA had already noticed.

A C-Rank gate spontaneously escalating to A-Rank was almost unheard of — the kind of anomaly that triggered immediate emergency deployment.

Rosalind’s console lit up with the alert. She read it once, then called Victoria without hesitation.

”Your team’s needed. Now.”

Victoria was in the field within minutes, Kael and the rest of her team close behind.

When they arrived, Garrick and two of his teammates were already standing outside the collapsed gate, chests puffed with borrowed pride.

”We cleared it,” Garrick was telling anyone who’d listen. ”Who else would have? We’re the ones who fought that thing.”

Victoria barely heard him.

*Where’s Daemon?*

She scanned the wreckage of the gate’s exit point, the fading shimmer of a dungeon that had already dissolved, and felt something close to panic rise in her chest for the first time in longer than she could remember.

*He shouldn’t have even been in a C-Rank dungeon. If this actually escalated to A-Rank—*

Her pulse climbed, sharp and unfamiliar, as she stepped toward the exit, ready to go in after him herself—

And then he appeared.

Daemon walked out of the dissolving gate, Roxana unconscious in his arms, blood on his clothes that wasn’t entirely hers.

Alive.

Standing.

Victoria stopped where she was.

Something in her chest, wound tight since the moment Rosalind’s message came through, finally loosened all at once.

*He’s fine.*

Her heartbeat slowed back to something normal, something steady — and for the first time since she’d met him, she noticed the difference. Noticed how loud the relief was, how much louder it was than it had any right to be.

*Why does it matter this much?*

She didn’t have an answer.

Daemon caught her eye across the clearing, saw the tension still lingering on her face even from a distance, and pulled out his phone one-handed without breaking stride.

**[Come to the car. I’ll be right there.]**

Victoria read it, then quietly turned and walked off before anyone could ask why she looked the way she did.

---

Healers descended on Roxana immediately, stabilizing her before rushing her off for further treatment. One of them glanced at Daemon’s torn side and offered to look at it too — he waved them off toward Roxana instead.

*She needs it more than I do.*

Garrick never once looked her way.

He was too busy retelling his version of events to a growing circle of WHA officers, chest still puffed with a victory that wasn’t his, gesturing wide like he was reenacting a fight he’d never been part of.

Daemon watched him from a distance, hands curling into fists.

*He didn’t even ask if she’s alive.*

*Not once. Not even a glance.*

*I could end him right now, and it wouldn’t even take effort.*

He forced the thought down. Not here. Not worth the trouble it would bring.

He turned to go find Victoria, the exhaustion from the surge finally catching up to his legs—

And found the WHA elite team standing in front of him instead, blocking his path.