You promised to wreak havoc on the dungeon, but instead you've got Dragon Slime!

The powerful dungeon lords will compete openly, and the final result will be determined by the nobles with titles, based on their "election votes"!

Although the Knights had fewer votes, they were the real tickets to the game.

Ron silently pondered the rules he had just learned:

Knight: Possesses one vote, symbolizing initial recognition from the power structure.

The Baron: has 3 votes, significantly increasing his influence.

The Earl: He holds 10 votes, which can significantly influence the balance of the election!

Ron stroked the medal in his pocket, which still seemed to retain the warmth of lava.

This small amount of power will be the key fulcrum for him to establish himself in this world and leverage his future.

Having sorted out the complex web of aristocratic rights in his mind, Ron once again turned his attention back to his "real job."

He skillfully activated the control panel of the heretic prison.

The light screen unfolds before your eyes, and real-time data refreshes continuously:

Dungeon: Black Whisper Caves

Status: Running

Total number of adventurers: 788

Number of Death Adventurers: 762

[Experience Pool Reserves: 22447 EXP]

[Current ranking of E-rank dungeons: 197]

Clearance rate: 0%

"Rankings are steadily improving..."

Ron stared at the ranking numbers, a hint of satisfaction in his eyes.

But then, his keen eyes caught an unusual phenomenon:

The growth in the number of new players has slowed down, but the increase in the experience pool is more dramatic than in previous years!

He stroked his chin, pondered for a moment, and a knowing smile appeared on his lips:

"Yes... the reclamation order has taken effect."

The first group of "fat sheep" to explore the Black Language Cave were all elite experts carefully selected by various forces!

The average level and experience points of this group far exceed those of random, unorganized groups!

If they are wiped out, the experience points transferred to the "public experience pool" will be unprecedentedly abundant!

This is the true nature of the plunder of experience and resources!

Having grasped the overall situation, Ron switched his perspective to the surveillance footage of the heretic prison.

He wanted to see how the newly fed "materials" performed in this meat grinder.

Chapter 54 The Death of Sisyphus

Deep within the Black Language Grottoes.

In contrast to the blind charge of the first wave of fallen soldiers, the Silver Blade II, personally selected and armed to the teeth by Viser, performed in a completely different manner.

Upon entering the oppressive cave, the first thing the five did was not to charge forward, but to uniformly pull out potions!

Various bottles and jars were quickly poured into their mouths—antidote, resistance potion, condition stabilizer… various colored lights flickered slightly on their bodies.

The entire preparation process was orderly and quiet, with only the soft sound of the cork being pulled out and the faint sound of swallowing.

After the potion's glow stabilized on them, the team did not rush forward.

The captain's mage surveyed his companions, his voice steady and clear, echoing through the narrow passage:

"Listen up, the goal isn't to break records! Safe passage! Clear it one by one! No grouping monsters! Everyone, keep your distance! Don't get close to each other without my order! Understand?"

"Yes!"

A crisp and clear response.

Upon receiving the order, the soldier gave a low shout, raised the heavy shield in his hand, and slowly advanced towards the nearest paralyzing mushroom.

Only when he was close enough to the target did he raise his one-handed hammer and smash it down with a lightning-infused strike!

The movements were precise and powerful.

The other team members behind kept a close eye on it until they confirmed that Mushroom had only flinched and showed no other abnormalities after being hit by the hammer, and then they tacitly began their "work".

The thief's figure blurred for a moment before flashing to the flank; the archer's longbow was steadily drawn back, the arrow gleaming coldly; pure arcane energy began to gather at the tip of the mage's staff; and the priest gripped his holy emblem tightly, ready to receive holy light at any moment.

The mushroom's life was quickly cut short under precise encirclement; it let out a mournful cry and collapsed, without any suspense.

The warrior, having landed a successful blow, did not linger. He immediately retreated a step, returning to the edge of the defensive circle formed by his teammates, his shield always vigilantly protecting him.

"Cheer up, everyone! Play it safe and steady! We can't afford to lose twice!"

The soldier gave a low, deep shout, his gaze sweeping over his teammates.

A well-equipped female archer in the group, wielding a heavy crossbow, had a slight upturn at the corners of her mouth, radiating absolute confidence:

"Overturn? Hmph, with this cautious approach, unless this dilapidated cave collapses, it'll be difficult for us to overturn!"

Her words had barely left her lips when the echo of her confidence still lingered faintly on the stone wall.

Right where the paralyzed mushroom had fallen dead, the hard stone ground emitted a soft "hiss" sound!

It felt as if a hot iron had touched the ice.

Immediately afterwards, the ground twitched eerily, like melting wax!

A small, rough stone obelisk slowly emerged from beneath the melting stone surface...

It only reaches about knee height, and the monument carries an ancient, cold, and ominous aura, as if it had been buried for a thousand years.

The monument was bare, without any words or patterns, only a faint, chilling aura of the dead lingered around it.

The group's expressions instantly tensed as they looked at the strange little tombstone that had suddenly appeared.

"Don't move! Observe first!"

The captain of the magicians immediately shouted a command to stop them, his magic already circulating within him as he warily watched the small area. The others obeyed, halting in their tracks and holding their breath.

Several shocking characters were engraved on the top of the tombstone:

The Tomb of Sisyphus.

There is an even smaller inscription below.

"There's definitely something wrong with this thing!"

The tank berserker named Sisyphus frowned, his face grim.

"Erect a monument for me? Hmph, trying to provoke me, make me lose my temper and rush up to tear it down? Dream on! I won't fall for it!"

He has complete confidence in his own judgment.

The team members nodded in agreement, expressing their appreciation for Tank's calm analysis.

The captain, a mage, leaned down, his sharp gaze sweeping over the line of small print, and slowly read aloud:

"[The adventurer whose name is engraved must knock down the tombstone within three seconds, or they will die.]"

Sisyphus scoffed at this:

"See! I knew it! The goal was to trick people into pushing it! Once this thing collapses, who knows what might happen!"

He looked around at his teammates, as if to proclaim his foresight.

"That's right. If it were any other reckless team, they would probably have already fallen victim to this."

"Hmph, too bad we're not those fools."

The group, believing they had seen through the trap and feeling a sense of relief at surviving, decided to cautiously walk around the tombstone.

However, after only a few steps—

Pfft!

Just moments ago, the tank berserker was full of energy and analyzing things logically, but suddenly he collapsed to the ground like a puppet with its strings cut!

In an instant, all breath vanished, leaving behind a cold corpse.

boom!

The moment he fell, the mysterious tombstone seemed to have completed its mission, suddenly shattering and disappearing without leaving a trace.

The remaining four people froze on the spot, their horrified gazes fixed on Sisyphus's lifeless body, their minds blank.

"How...how could this happen?"

"This is impossible……"

His voice was dry and trembling.

Their pride in their caution... turned out to be their companion's death warrant.

The warning on that tombstone... was actually true!

"Who...who could have imagined this..."

One of the team members' lips trembled, a surge of frustration and anger welled up inside him, and he almost wanted to curse, but a huge sense of absurdity choked him up.

If they had acted like "reckless fools" just now, perhaps Sisyphus would have... survived!

It was their unwavering "caution" that ultimately led to his downfall!

"The designer of this Black Language Cavern dungeon... is absolutely a... freak! A madman!"

Another member's voice was choked with sobs, on the verge of collapse.

The captain mage took a long, deep breath, forcefully shaking off the shock and confusion in his eyes, his gaze suddenly becoming resolute and fierce:

"No! This road is blocked! This place is designed to trap cautious people! Since caution leads to a dead end, let's do the opposite! Charge through!"

Having just experienced that mind-blowing death trap, the team members instantly grasped at this lifeline.