I’m Telling You, I’m Not the Boss Monster!

“Denizens of darkness! Keep squirming! I, Valmonk, will crush every last one of you!”
Each swing of his fist carried apocalyptic power.
The rumors of Valmonk’s might were no exaggeration. Numbers alone were not enough to challenge a hero of his caliber.
For the first time, Charlotte realized she’d made a grave mistake. She was utterly outmatched, her abilities woefully inadequate for this fight.
Even as the thought crossed her mind, she caught herself.
This was supposed to be her test as a lieutenant—a chance to prove her worth.
To lean on the boss for help would be a failure of her duty.
The unyielding minotaurs and the basilisk fell. Their collapse spread fear among the remaining monsters like wildfire, crushing their morale.
With their spirit broken, retreat and defeat seemed inevitable.
Charlotte had exhausted all her tricks. She couldn’t think of a single way to stop Valmonk.
“Hah! That’s right! I almost forgot about you!”
With those words, Valmonk shifted his focus and rushed toward the Death Knight standing at a distance.
The so-called dungeon boss hadn’t moved a muscle, standing there with an air of indifference.
Charlotte’s face went pale.
The dungeon and its boss were one. If the boss fell, so would the dungeon.
A defeat in battle could be overcome, but allowing the hero to confront the boss directly would be catastrophic.
She closed her eyes in despair, the weight of her failure pressing down on her.
But when she opened them again, Valmonk was gone.
The spot where he had stood moments ago was now smeared with blood and bits of flesh.
No sound, no sign of life remained—everything had vanished as if erased from existence.
Silence fell over the battlefield.
The Death Knight stood motionless, looking down at his black iron armor, now splattered with blood.
“Even in death, he sullies the place.”
That was all he said, his voice devoid of emotion. Turning away, he left the bloodstain behind.
Charlotte’s mind struggled to comprehend what she’d just witnessed.
Valmonk, the Hero of Faith, had been obliterated. Not defeated in a battle of attrition, but destroyed in an instant.
Without lifting a finger, without uttering a word, the boss had killed a hero who had massacred dozens of monsters with ease.
Even having seen it with her own eyes, she couldn’t believe it.
The Death Knight didn’t seem fazed. His response to killing a hero was less dramatic than squashing a bug.
Every pair of eyes in the cave turned toward him, the weight of his presence suffocating the room.
It felt as though even breathing required his permission.
“Ha...”
Someone exhaled, and the others finally released the breaths they’d been holding.
“This... will shake the entire demon realm for some time.”
The demon merchant spoke, his usually composed face slack with disbelief.
Never in the Empire’s history had one of its greatest heroes been killed so effortlessly.
For a millennium, no boss of the
had ever managed such a feat. But now, the newly crowned boss had done it.
The impact wouldn’t be confined to the demon realm—it would ripple across the Empire and all 72 dungeons.
If the other bosses of the
witnessed this, they would surely be stunned.
But the Death Knight showed no interest in the awe he inspired. He walked away, his back exuding an air of detached supremacy.
The only reaction he had shown was mild irritation at the bloodstains. It was as if he’d stepped on a cockroach and found the mess distasteful.
The demon merchant, a well-known gossip even among his peers, had witnessed the entire event.
With his reputation for spreading tales, it was only a matter of time before the new
boss’s accomplishment became legendary.
The demon merchant’s nostrils flared, catching a faint scent in the air.
As a half-incubus, he had a keen sense for detecting lust, and his gaze shifted to Charlotte.
A human hybrid daring to harbor such feelings toward the boss? It was beyond disgusting.
Charlotte, realizing she’d been caught, shook her head rapidly, extinguishing the fleeting desire like a candle in the wind.
She understood her place. He was not someone she could dare to desire.
Only another boss of the
might have the qualifications to stand beside him.
The demon merchant recalled a certain someone among the other bosses, one who had recently complained of loneliness.
While it was too soon for such considerations, the merchant decided he would propose a meeting in the future.
It was only a matter of time before the long-delayed assembly of the dungeon bosses was convened.
When it happened, the new boss of the
would undoubtedly be the center of attention.
***
With the chaos surrounding Valmonk’s demise finally subsided, the demon merchant gathered the remaining monsters and stepped through the portal. Before departing, he left a parting comment:
“I’ll return soon with everything needed to restore and expand this dungeon.”
Charlotte explained that the only monsters she had acquired were the minotaurs and the basilisk, both of which had been annihilated during the battle with Valmonk.
Now, the "dungeon"—no, the cave—was back to its original state, with only me, Charlotte, and the vampire group left behind.
“Oh, great boss who defies the natural order! I am humbled by my inability to aid you. I will repay my debt as swiftly as possible!”
For some reason, the way everyone was looking at me felt incredibly uncomfortable.
Isabella was especially over the top, her gaze brimming with reverence. Sitting on pins and needles might feel like this.
When I told her to tone down her speech, she returned to her usual manner of talking, but that only slightly improved the situation.
“You’ve done enough from your positions.”
“Boss...!”
Isabella and the vampires stared at me with tearful, starry-eyed admiration.
Annoyed, I gestured for them to leave, and they obediently scurried away.
I, who couldn’t even properly manage Isabella, had somehow become the boss of the
.
As if that wasn’t enough trouble, I had just killed a hero.
It wouldn’t take long for the Empire to catch wind of this.
They would undoubtedly mark me as their top priority, possibly even more dangerous than the other
bosses.
The humans were a problem, but the bigger issue was elsewhere.
The eyes of the 72 dungeons and the demon realm would be fixed on me for some time. On me, a fraud who wasn’t even the real boss of the
.
Judging by the misunderstanding, it seemed there had recently been a
that had been cleared.
Considering the timeline and the fact that this seemed to be the past, the dungeon in question could only be the
.
In the game’s timeline, the story began after the
had already been cleared.
Naturally, this raised a question.
If I was being mistaken for the real boss of a newly emerged
, what had become of the real one?
If there was any silver lining, it was that.
As the name suggests, Hermit was a recluse who stayed locked up in their dungeon, living a life of total isolation.
In the game’s storyline, you couldn’t even locate the
until after clearing the Rank 5 dungeon.
Hermit rarely showed themselves, and their dungeon’s location only became known late in the game.
This made them a perfect target for impersonation.
Still, Hermit existed somewhere, and I would have to live with the constant anxiety of being exposed. Damn it all.
“Boss, I have a request.”
Charlotte’s voice broke my train of thought.
Feigning the arrogance of a true
boss, I tilted my chin up slightly.
Her level hadn’t changed, but the indicator’s color had softened to a light green—a sign of goodwill.
As long as that color didn’t change, there was no reason to fear her.
“If you have no need for it, may I claim the hero’s remains?”
Remains? Oh, I understood her request now.
But wasn’t Valmonk reduced to nothing more than a fine powder?
“There’s nothing left to claim.”
“With your permission, I’d like to collect the fragments and make use of them.”
So, she wanted to gather the pulverized remains and turn them into an undead.
What kind of deranged psychopath thinks like that? Only Charlotte.
Beyond the moral implications, it was incredibly inefficient.
Even a skilled necromancer struggles to raise an undead from a body missing significant parts.
Even if she succeeded, such an undead would likely be weak, a hollow shell of its former self.
The true value of undead transformation lies in enhancing the subject’s power beyond their mortal limits.
To achieve this, the body must be mostly intact, which allows for an average level increase of 2 to 5.
But Valmonk? His entire body had been turned to dust.
“Don’t waste your mana on something pointless.”
“I can do it.”
Was she always this stubborn? Her usual indifference had been replaced with an almost obsessive determination.
“Please. Let me prove myself by correcting my mistake.”
“Mistake?”
What mistake was she talking about?
“I know I’m unfit to be a lieutenant. Let me show that I can still be useful.”
Ah, I understood now.
She felt responsible for the Valmonk incident and saw it as a failure of her test.
“Do as you wish.”
Charlotte wasted no time. She pulled out several mana potions, uncorking and downing them in quick succession.
After finishing three, she hurriedly began collecting Valmonk’s scattered fragments.
I crossed my arms and closed my eyes, feigning indifference. Watching her work was revolting.
Her actions reminded me of a child asking their parents to watch them perform a silly dance.
I hoped she’d finish quickly, whether she succeeded or failed. I tapped my folded arms, silently urging her to hurry.
The air grew heavy with the ominous energy of her ritual.
“Guuuuh....”
The groaning of the undead signaled the ritual’s completion.
What stood before us was a patchwork monstrosity, its body stitched together from Valmonk’s remains.
She had succeeded, technically. But the result was pathetic—a level 32 undead created from the remains of an 84-level hero.
It was like forging a nail clipper out of mithril.
“Ah...”
Charlotte let out a defeated sigh. Though her expression remained blank, her disappointment was palpable.
Even I had secretly hoped for better.
“Undead, respond to your master’s call.”
“Guuuuh....”
As expected, it was mindless. Lacking intelligence or speech, it was nothing more than a lower-tier undead.
Charlotte hung her head in shame, unable to lift it again.
The patchwork body made it hideous even by undead standards. I wanted to tell her to get rid of it, but the atmosphere made that impossible.

I blinked at the sudden notification.
“Forgive me for disappointing you,” Charlotte murmured.
I ignored her, too focused on the notification. What conditions could this monstrosity possibly meet for evolution?

I couldn’t suppress the triumphant cheer in my heart.
Unlike Isabella, whose evolution had a 100% success rate, this was a 50/50 gamble, making the victory all the sweeter.
The odds weren’t bad—I’d often seen two heads on a coin land in succession.
I almost let out a scream of disbelief.
Before my eyes, the hideous undead transformed. Its body was engulfed in light, and when the glow faded, it had taken on a humanoid form, dignified and imposing.
“Your name is Valmonk.”
“Val... monk... will... follow...”
“Raise your hands, Valmonk.”
Without hesitation, the newly evolved undead obeyed.
He was stronger than a Death Knight or even a lich—a new force at my command.
Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Charlotte staring at me with her mouth agape.
When she finally spoke, her voice trembled with emotion.
“I will serve you forever as your lieutenant.”
The light green color beside her name began to darken.
The deeper the shade, the stronger the feeling. But instead of turning green, it shifted to a shocking pink.
Pink, the color of affection.