Grand Dad Is The Pervert God-Chapter 182: First Dungeon Attack

The moment the final gate groaned shut behind them, silence consumed the party.

No wind. No light. No sound but the quiet, tense exhale of dozens of living bodies.

The walls of the dungeon were damp and ancient, carved with what appeared to be runes and rough-hewn symbols that glistened faintly with residual moisture. Darkness swallowed the air itself, dense and unrelenting.

A voice pierced the stillness.

"Light the torches," came Christiana WarEmbrace’s calm, unwavering command.

Her royal guards and guards from the other families moved with practiced discipline. With flint and steel, a line of torches blazed to life, one after the other, illuminating their surroundings in a golden glow.

The shadows recoiled, but not completely. The darkness here clung to surfaces like moss, unwilling to flee.

What lay ahead was a long, empty stone corridor. The floor was slick in places. Pillars lined the walls, worn and cracked, with figures that were too faded to decipher. The air smelled... stale. Old. Wet.

And far ahead, at the very end of the hall, two wide tunnels yawned open; one leading left, the other right.

These were the diverging paths.

Where both parties would part ways... guided only by the orbs of the survivors that came before them.

Christiana raised her hand. "Advance."

And they did. The boots of soldiers echoed off the stone.

Amanda, Ngozi, and Eros kept their pace behind Violet and Alexis, who trudged with purpose despite the weight of tension in the air.

But after just twenty or so steps—

"Stop."

Someone in the front let out a gasp.

The torches had cast light on the floor ahead... and what it revealed was grotesque.

Corpses.

Twisted and torn. Piled like broken marionettes. Some lay against the walls with their arms outstretched, as if trying to crawl away from something. Others were contorted mid-scream, their jaws wide open in frozen horror.

Their armor and robes were marked by various noble families—likely previous explorers or mercenaries who thought they could brave the dungeon.

But it wasn’t the number of corpses that was disturbing.

It was the condition.

Serra Blackman, one of WarEmbrace’s most trusted sisters-in-arms, moved ahead. Her dark skin gleamed beneath the glow, and her shaven head well reflected the light from the torches. She knelt by a body and examined it.

Christiana’s voice rang out, "Serra. Report."

Serra didn’t answer immediately. She studied the corpse’s face, at least what was left of it—then ran her gauntlet across the armor.

"There’s something wrong," she murmured. "The temperature. We are in mid winter. Even in here, it should preserve the dead... but these are rotting. See here—muscle torn, skin melted. But..." She rubbed her fingers together. "It’s mucus. Thick. Slime-like."

A single drop landed on her shoulder plate.

She froze.

Her eyes flicked up.

Christiana and Serra exchanged a glance.

WarEmbrace didn’t need to be told.

That one glance said it all. Years of fighting side-by-side in the bloodiest battles forged a language only they spoke.

Instantly, Christiana turned and drew her blade. "To arms. Now!"

Soldiers unsheathed steel. The noise of blades leaving scabbards reverberated down the hall like a drumbeat. Still, the darkness above held firm. Nothing moved.

Luke, tucked safely behind two guards, scanned the surroundings and frowned. "Where’s the damn threat? I can’t see anything."

Christiana stepped forward and snatched a torch from a nearby soldier. She raised it up high, and the fire cast its light against the ceiling.

And then they saw them.

Dozens.

No—hundreds.

Bat-like figures, human-sized, dangling upside down from the high stone arches. Wrapped in their leathery wings, they clung to the ceiling like monstrous fruit.

But they weren’t just bats.

Their legs were humanoid. Their faces too long. Their ears pointed and fangs visible even behind folded mouths.

WarEmbrace narrowed her eyes. "They’re dormant. Do not disturb them."

No one breathed.

Then—

"We need to run. Now," Eros whispered low to Violet.

She blinked. "What?"

Eros didn’t look away from the ceiling. "Those aren’t sleeping dungeon creatures. They’re not ordinary. They’re very smart vampires. I’ve seen this breed before. They’re waiting for us to go deeperinto the dungeon so that they can surround us."

Violet’s jaw clenched. "Are you sure?"

Eros locked eyes with her. "If we stay here, we die."

Without another word, he bent and lifted Alexis onto his shoulder in a single graceful motion, then turned and ran—his boots silent but sure. Amanda and Ngozi moved in perfect sync, melting into the shadows behind him.

Violet hesitated—but only for a breath. Then she turned and sprinted after them.

The sudden departure left the rest stunned.

Luke cried out, pointing, "That masked brute is stealing my wife! Someone stop him!"

But before anyone could react, William Icemake looked at Eros’s back. He frowned. Without hesitating, he shot forward, the air exploding in frost beneath his feet. His soldiers followed instantly.

Christiana didn’t understand at first—until she saw it.

One of the batlike creatures cracked open a single eye.

Then quickly closed it again.

Her heart dropped.

"Shit."

She turned. "IT’S A TRAP. RUN!"

But it was too late.

The silence shattered.

A chorus of screeches—high-pitched and deafening—ripped through the dungeon as the monsters unwrapped their wings, revealing grotesque bodies rippling with muscle and hunger.

They were all naked females.

They dropped from the ceiling like falling blades.

"FORM RANKS!" WarEmbrace shouted.

But the enemy was already upon them.

The first bat-like vampire dropped from the ceiling with silent grace, wings folding around its body like a cloak. Then it unleashed a scream which was high-pitched and unnatural, like metal tearing cloth, and then, it snatched a soldier from the ground with its taloned feet.

The man screamed as he was dragged upward, limbs flailing, sword clattering to the floor.

Before anyone could react, his throat was torn open in mid-air, a spray of blood misting down like crimson rain. The vampire hovered a moment, relishing the kill—then let the corpse fall.

The man’s body crashed against the stone with a sickening crack.

Then all hell broke loose.

Dozens of the creatures descended, their bodies blotting out the torchlight, wings stretching wide like monstrous veils. Some swooped low, snatching victims by the shoulders or waist, while others pounced with claws and fangs bared. Their leathery skin gleamed with mucus, and their eyes were pure black—hollow, endless hunger.

A royal guard screamed as a vampire latched onto his neck, sinking fangs deep, and then with a feral twist, the creature snapped his spine before dragging him into the shadows above.

"USE YOUR SPEARS!" Christiana WarEmbrace bellowed, blade gleaming in her hand.

She stood like a golden pillar amid the chaos, her armor catching the flickers of firelight, her voice cutting through the madness. "BRING THEM DOWN BEFORE THEY GET AIRBORNE!"

Soldiers obeyed.

The line of spears lowered, and as the next wave of vampires swooped, steel met flesh.

Several were pierced mid-dive—black blood spurting as they were impaled and dragged to the ground. One creature screamed as three soldiers skewered it together, its limbs thrashing until it stopped moving entirely.

Another vampire landed on a spearman’s back, tearing through armor like cloth before biting into his skull. But his comrades stabbed through the beast’s side before it could lift off again, nailing it to the floor.

For a moment, it seemed to be working.

Vampires fell one after another.

Their corpses piled in twisted heaps of leathery wings and shattered bones.

But...

They were too many.

From the shadows above, more and more came, fluttering in waves like a plague descending from the heavens.

Every kill only brought another predator in its place.

One soldier was lifted high into the air, screaming and kicking, only to be dropped moments later. His body slammed into the stone with a crunch—spine broken, eyes still open in frozen terror.

Another was carried away screaming, lost to the black. free𝑤ebnovel.com

WarEmbrace swung her blade, decapitating a vampire mid-leap, but even she could feel it—they were being overwhelmed.

Blood splattered across the walls.

Men screamed. Steel clanged. Torches fell and sputtered out one by one.

The golden glint of Christiana’s armor began to lose its shine beneath sprays of gore and shadow.

Still, she stood firm.

Still, she shouted.

"HOLD THE LINE! PUSH THEM BACK!"

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