Dungeon Maker

LNB is delighted to announce a new project, Dungeon Maker by Chwiryong to the Bastion. Some of you may already be familiar with the author who also wrote Breakers which has also been completely translated recently.

The project will be headed by none other than jennchan! She isn’t new to the novel translation scene and also translates another fun series titled The Skill Maker over at knoveltrans.com. Check it out!

If you’d like to see more translations for Dungeon Maker and would like to support jennchan’s quality translations, please consider pledging to her Patreon at (Dungeon Maker specific patreon)

Without further ado, let’s begin our new journey here.

<Prologue>

When I was 15-years-old, during the year that I graduated from middle school, my father told me this.

“The Devil’s blood runs in our family.”

To this day, I think it was good that I heard that story during my last year in middle school. It’s scary for me to even imagine what would happen if I heard that while I was in high school.

Anyways, my father probably noticed that I wanted send him to a mental hospital, so he immediately showed the 15-year-old me proof, that what he said was true.

I still couldn’t forget about that day.

The day when blue flames bloomed out of my father’s eyes.

However, I wasn’t sure if I should’ve felt relieved or worried because that was the only skill that my father had.

My father explained that it’s because there was too much human blood within him, which caused the Devil’s blood to thin out.

“But, there’s a thing called atavism. This may be my only power, but it’s impossible to know what kind of power you or your children might have. That’s the reason why I told you about our family.”

After seeing the way my father suddenly told me about this, it must’ve been a characteristic that’s been passed down for generations.

Of course I couldn’t sleep that night. I was curious as to what kind of powers I would gain, so I ended up staying up the next couple of days.

And couple of days, I finally realized something.

Even if the Devil’s blood was running through our veins, my father, who had the ability to turn his eyes to a bluish color, was just an owner of an ordinary chicken restaurant and I was just a son of that owner who happened to be a bit stronger than most kids my age.

But, five years later.

There were people that came and looked for me.