Dungeon King: The Hidden Ruler-Chapter 109: [The Throne of Kharnath-Dur 12] Sovereign Recognized

The elevator doors slid open with a worn hiss.

Raven stepped out into the stone corridor, boots clicking against scorched tile. The air still held the bite of soot and steel. Burnt dust clung to the edges of the dwarven carvings, and deep cracks ran like spiderwebs through the murals on the wall.

But the gate stood.

Blackened, chipped—but upright. Whole.

Ash still clung to the wind.

The battlefield beyond the outer gate stretched like a scar—charred barricades, shattered ballistae, and the burned remains of Velkarin siege armor scattered like bones across the stone.

Rusted helms and broken banners lay abandoned in the blood-soaked mud. Somewhere near the ridge, a dwarven engineer worked alone, dragging a half-melted turret back to the line with nothing but a grunt and a rope.

One section of the wall still smoked faintly. A young dwarf sat at its base, cradling a cracked shield as though it were a fallen comrade.

There had been no reinforcements. No rescue. Just a city that decided not to fall.

Raven stood still for a moment. The heat still hung in the stone.

The silence wasn’t peace. It was aftermath.

He took a slow breath.

"They held," he muttered.

He walked through the damaged gate. Past broken barricades and the still-smoking remnants of an assault that had failed. Dwarves were moving about—tired but steady, their eyes alert, their posture proud.

In the inner city, beside a supply stack and issuing commands with a tired voice, Durnehra turned.

She froze.

Then she smiled.

"You’re back," she said, eyes shining. "You’re late."

Raven gave a faint smirk. "System’s fault."

She moved toward him, relief replacing formality.

"You missed everything. After you fell, the Velkarin Axis attacked—hard. They came for Ironsong. Called him a traitor. But he didn’t flinch."

Raven listened in silence as she told it:

Before the smoke cleared, a figure stumbled forward—one of the youngest engineers from the barricade line. In his hands, he carried a half-burnt banner, the tattered crest of Kharnath-Dur still barely visible through soot.

He held it high. Then knelt.

Others followed. Warriors bloodied from battle. Smiths with cracked gauntlets. Even wounded soldiers from the infirmary limped forward to lower their heads.

One older dwarf stepped up to Ironsong and placed a hand against his chest plate.

"Our king doesn’t sit above us," the dwarf said. "He fight for us."

The crowd murmured in unison:

"He fight for us."

And the circle around Ironsong closed—not with weapons, but reverence.

The first strike came like a hammer. Kharnath-Dur’s eastern wall shook under the weight of coordinated fire.

Ironsong, armor scorched and bannerless, stood alone at the threshold. No rank. No orders. Just a blade and a blood debt.

A Velkarin squad breached the outer defenses. Some among them were old squadmates—men who once fought beside him.

One of them aimed.

Hesitated.

Lowered their weapon.

Lines broke. Loyalty cracked.

Ironsong shouted over the chaos: "You don’t fight for kings—you fight for those still bleeding beside you!"

He rallied the dwarves, manned the old siege rigs, reactivated the furnace turrets. Smoke rose over the walls. Crossfire fell like rain.

Still, they pushed. Ironsong was struck—once, twice. His sword cracked.

But he rose.

And then, through the smoke, a young dwarf climbed the wall with a ruined banner. The old crest of Kharnath-Dur, stitched with burns, raised high.

The dwarves saw it.

And they charged.

Velkarin lines buckled.

And broke.

When the last fire faded, Ironsong stood amid rubble and blood. He turned to see the dwarves around him—silent, watching.

They didn’t speak.

They knelt.

Durnehra looked back at Raven.

"They call him king now. Not because he wanted it. Because he capable during fire."

Raven said nothing.

But in his chest, something twisted—a flicker of pride. Maybe even something like peace.

"He’s waiting for you. In the throne room."

Raven nodded and walked. Torchlight flickered against scorched stone

But something had changed.

Dwarves who once gave him cold, guarded glances now greeted him with nods, smiles, and soft-spoken respect.

"Good to have you back, Raven," one said as he passed.

Another—an older smith with soot still on his brow—straightened from his workbench and offered a small salute.

He passed a pair of young engineers reinforcing a gate hinge. One nudged the other and whispered, "That’s him. The human who fought beside Ironsong."

They no longer looked through him.

They looked at him.

With eyes that remembered who had stayed.

As he enters, the throne room is simple. Regal in weight, not in decoration. The banners of Kharnath-Dur hang behind the high seat, still soot-streaked from the attack.

And there he sits—Ironsong. No crown. No cape. Just a repaired cuirass over plain clothes. Still a soldier, even now.

He rises when Raven enters.

"My friend, you come again."

Raven stops a few steps from the dais. Smiles faintly.

"Captain King."

Ironsong lets out a hoarse laugh.

"Yeah... only you would be allowed to call me that."

He steps down from the throne. No guards interfere.

"I want to thank you. Not as king, not as commander—just as a man. You stood by me... by this city... when no one else would."

His voice wavers—barely noticeable, but there.

"For that, my friend... you will forever be part of Kharnath-Dur. As kin."

[Hidden Achievement Unlocked – Friend of Kharnath-Dur]

Effect:

— Citizen NPCs of Kharnath-Dur will no longer treat you as outsider.

— Discount: 15% off dwarven-crafted or dwarven style gear.

— Style Effect: 15% more effect for dwarven-crafted or dwarven style gear.

Raven smirked at the notification.

Not bad for a hidden quest.

He clicked OK. Time to move on.

"It’s great for Kharnath-Dur to have you, King Ironsong. I mean it," Raven said with a faint smile.

During his 24-hour death suspension, he’d browsed the forums out of curiosity—and found nothing.

The Kharnath-Dur questline was widely reported as ending the moment players met the king after clearing out the bandit convoy.

Just another backdrop city, people said. Oversized, overdesigned—wasted on a one-shot ambush mission.

During the suspension, he skimmed through dozens of threads—most dead ends.

"Kharnath-Dur looks cool but no loot. Useless zone."

"Some dwarf chick gave me a key, but nothing happened after."

"Whole city feels like wasted dev time lol."

Raven leaned back, watching scroll after scroll of missed opportunities. Players moved on from cities like this. They wanted bosses, drops, shortcuts—not legacy.

No one mentioned Ironsong. No one met Seravelle. Not even a whisper of the cathedral wall turning into a door.

He exhaled and closed the tab.

They missed the truth.

They missed the fire.

They missed the war.

Well, their loss.

"I would love to stay longer, My Liege, but I have other matters to attend to for now," Raven said with a faint smile.

Ironsong patted his shoulder. "I understand. My door will always be open to you, my friend."

Raven smiled. "Thank you, Captain King," he said, then bowed before leaving the room.

The dungeon. He had completed the hidden quest—now it was time to check the reward.

Raven entered the cathedral once more.

Where once a shattered wall stood, now a great dwarven door had been built—etched with golden lines, reinforced with stone and brass. He reached for it.

[Access Granted: Friend of Kharnath-Dur]

Raven smiled. A dungeon gate keyed only to him. Exclusive.

The door creaked open slowly, ancient mechanisms purring with renewed life.

He stepped into Gravewake Hollow.

Unlike the hollow tomb it had been during the siege, the dungeon was now vibrant with eerie activity. Small mobs scuttled across side halls. Spectral knights stood in half-guard along cracked causeways. A pair of succubi hovered above broken pillars, whispering quietly.

None attacked.

As Raven passed, they all turned.

And bowed. fгeewebnovёl.com

Recognition.

Dungeon Sovereign detected.

He walked the familiar route in silence, each step echoing in the reverent quiet. Torches that once held ghostlight now shimmered with something warmer—something obedient.

He arrived at the final boss chamber.

There, at the center of the vast cracked dais, Lady Seravelle waited. Her black silk robes billowed softly as she rose to greet him. Her golden armor gleamed beneath the fractured light. One hand rested lightly on her hip.

She smiled.

"Welcome back, Sovereign," she said. Then, with a teasing lilt, added: "You forgot your loot."

She took one slow step forward, a hand brushing her braid behind her shoulder—regal, poised, and obedient.

Raven’s eyes followed the motion of her fingers.

There, beside the dais, a golden chest pulsed faintly with light.

He approached. Opened it.

The glow spilled upward—gold-tier notifications already dancing in his interface.

[Dungeon Sovereign Reward – Complete Set Acquired]

Set Name: Sovereign Mantle of Shadow Command

Type: Red Tier Dungeon Armor Set (Exclusive)

Slots Included: Chestplate, Armguards, Greaves, Shadowboots

Set Bonus – Sovereign’s Ascendancy

Grants +20% Stealth Effectiveness inside Dungeon Zones

• +15% Movement Speed while unseen

• Critical hits from stealth have a 50% chance to silence the enemy for 4 seconds

• While leading summoned dungeon bosses, all allies gain +10% resistance and +5% damage

• Activating Subjugation causes a 5-meter fear shockwave to lesser mobs (10s cooldown)

A perfect match—not just for his class, but for his style.

The armor shimmered black, deep as polished obsidian, trimmed with faint runes that pulsed like heartbeat shadows. It didn’t clash with what he wore before—it evolved it. The Sovereign of Dungeons had his uniform now.

Raven’s lips curled.

"Finally, some recognition."

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