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

Daemon stared at the number on his screen for a long time before he finally pressed call.

*Seven months.*

*Seven months since I’ve heard her voice.*

The line rang twice, then cut to a flat, mechanical tone.

*Disconnected.*

He tried again, just in case. Same result.

*That doesn’t make sense. Kassia wouldn’t just disappear.*

The affection number wouldn’t leave his head. Ninety-two percent. A number that didn’t belong to someone who’d walked out of his apartment without a single backward glance.

*Something happened to her. Something she didn’t tell me.*

*And if it happened because of me...*

He didn’t let himself finish that thought. He grabbed his jacket instead.

---

He couldn’t reach Kassia directly, so he went looking for the next best thing — her old party, the guild hall they used to operate out of, anyone who might know where she’d ended up.

He found Reiner first.

Her old team captain. The one who’d looked at Daemon like an inconvenience every time their paths crossed. The one who’d had a crush on Kassia that everyone in her party knew about — everyone except her.

*If he did something to her—*

Daemon’s hand curled into a fist before he’d consciously decided to make one.

*I swear, if you touched her, you’re dead. I don’t care what rank you are.*

He stopped himself before he crossed the street toward him.

*Not yet.*

*I go in now, and I’m still an E-Rank nobody he can brush off without a second thought. I need to actually be someone first. I need power he can’t just ignore.*

The anger didn’t fade. But it sharpened into something more useful.

*The dungeon. I need that dungeon. Now.*

---

He called Victoria before he left.

She picked up on the second ring, the faint sound of chores going on somewhere behind her voice.

”I’m heading out for a walk,” he said. ”Call me if you need anything.”

”Okay,” she said simply, and hung up without asking questions.

*Good. She doesn’t need to know about this yet. Not until I actually have something worth telling her.*

---

The street he found was empty — a quiet stretch of pavement on the edge of the district, no one around to witness whatever was about to happen.

He took a breath.

”System. Open the gate.”

The air in front of him split down the middle, silent and precise, revealing a rift of shifting blue-white light.

Before he could step forward, a familiar prompt bloomed into view.

[Solitary Trial — Entry Preparation]

[Host currently possesses no combat equipment. Select a starting weapon.]

A short list scrolled past — sword, spear, twin blades, war hammer — each one flickering briefly into a ghostly outline in front of him before fading again.

Daemon considered it for only a moment.

*Something fast. Something that doesn’t rely on strength I don’t have yet. Something I can actually control.*

”Daggers,” he said. ”Twin daggers.”

[Selection Confirmed.]

A pair of plain steel daggers materialized in the air, dropping neatly into his waiting hands — lightweight, unadorned, built for precision over raw power.

*This fits.*

---

Then the system continued, and Daemon read every word carefully.

[Solitary Trial — Rules of Entry]

[This dungeon has no confirmed floor count. Only the Host has ever entered it, and only the Host ever will.]

[Clearing this trial in full will grant a significant Bloodline Growth increase — enough to meaningfully alter the Host’s current standing. Partial completion may reduce corruption in the Bonded Wife’s bloodline. Rare elixirs and materials unavailable anywhere else may also be found within.]

[Each floor cleared grants a reward. Reward quality increases with each subsequent floor.]

[WARNING: Death within this dungeon results in permanent death in the outside world. There is no revival. There is no exception.]

[Time Dilation Notice: One year inside the Solitary Trial is equivalent to ninety days in the outside world.]

Daemon read that last line twice, just to make sure he hadn’t misunderstood it.

*A year. A full year in there, and only ninety days pass out here.*

*A year to actually train. A year to become someone who doesn’t have to hide in a window every time Kael Draven shows up. A year to maybe — maybe — find a way to actually save her.*

*But if I die in there, I really die. No do-overs.*

For a moment, doubt crept in, cold and quiet.

Then he thought of Victoria, asleep in a hospital chair with gold light on her face. He thought of Reiner’s smug expression. He thought of a phone number that no longer worked.

*Then I won’t die.*

His eyes gleamed, something steady and sharp settling behind them for the first time in a long while.

”Let’s do this,” he said, and stepped through the gate.

---

The light swallowed him whole.

When it faded, Daemon opened his eyes onto something that made his breath catch in his throat.

This wasn’t a dungeon.

Not the kind he knew, anyway — no stone corridors, no collapsing ceilings, no familiar monster dens carved out of rock. Instead, an entire sky stretched overhead in shades of violet and deep gold, twin suns hanging low over a horizon lined with jagged, floating landmasses that drifted slowly, impossibly, against gravity itself. The ground beneath his boots shimmered faintly with each step, like it was only half-solid.

*This isn’t a pocket dimension.*

*This looks like an entire world.*

”System,” he said slowly. ”What is this place?”

[Host level insufficient.]

[Information locked. Increase Host level to unlock regional data.]

Daemon frowned.

*Of course it’s not going to just hand it to me.*

He looked out over the shifting terrain, twin daggers cool and steady in his grip, the weight of an entire year stretching out ahead of him.

*Fine. Floor one, then.*

*Let’s find out what this place is myself.*

He took his first step forward into the unknown.