A/N - Thank you,š§NamiestnikSzatanaNaZiemi, & Cody McSwain, for becoming God of Velmoryn's Patrons!
I knew instantly I wouldn't be able to block or dodge the creature's charge. So instead, I used Phantom Step.
Black smoke burst around me as I vanished, reappearing a few steps away in the shadow of a nearby tree.
My hand reached instinctively for the hilt of my greatsword, tightly strapped across my back. The blade felt heavier than usual, due to the strain my body was still under, but not so much that I couldn't wield it. I shifted my stance, lowering my center of gravity slightly to strengthen my footing.
With the distance bought, I took a proper look at the beast.
Its body was covered in faint silver runes, pulsing softly beneath coarse fur. It resembled a horse at a glance, but its mouth was twisted, grotesquely elongated, lined with jagged fangs. It had six legs instead of four and moved with an unnatural flexibility for a horse.
After missing its charge, the beast whipped around, already gathering strength for another leap. Yet even as I stood facing it for the first time, something within me kept telling me that it wasn't stronger than me. Confidence bloomed somewhere deep, rising with the excitement of inevitable combat.
I tightened my grip on the hilt, smiling reflexively. I had noticed it for a while - I was starting to enjoy the thrill of fighting.
It lunged again, closing the gap in a blink. Just a few steps away. I raised my blade, waiting for it to enter my range.
But as if it had sensed my intent, the mutant steed veered sideways at the last second. Instead of committing to the attack, it landed to the side, drew in a deep breath, and exhaled a thick, gray smoke from its jaws, coiling out in heavy clouds.
I had no idea how dangerous the smoke might be, and I wasn't about to find out firsthand.
Without breaking eye contact or shifting my stance, I leapt sideways, keeping both my blade and focus fixed on the beast.
The smoke slowly began to disperse, and I noticed that the beast's eyes, once alert, seemed dulled now, its limbs momentarily sluggish. It even staggered slightly, as if the attack had taken a toll on its body.
Why isn't it charging again? Is it recovering? Does that breath leave it vulnerable?
I decided not to wait for the answer.
Shifting my weight forward, I located a shadow behind the beast, one close enough to strike from, and used Phantom Step again.
The creature didn't even react. It was still staring at where I had stood seconds ago, its gaze blank with confusion.
By the time it realized something was wrong, my sword was already falling.
I brought it down with full force, shoulders and back tightening as I poured everything into that strike, aiming for the spine just above its back.
The dark green edge of the blade cut through with frightening ease. Hot, red blood erupted from the wound, painting my hands and weapon crimson. Even the resistance through bone was less than expected. Either my sword was sharper than I'd realized, or its constitution was softer than it appeared.
The beast collapsed immediately, its body twitching as blood pooled beneath it. Its upper half tried to crawl forward in desperation, limbs scraping across the ground in a feeble attempt to escape. It didn't growl anymore. It screamed - high-pitched, shrill, the sound of a dying animal too afraid to accept it. Like a pig before slaughter.
I watched unfazed as its life bled out, its gaze losing focus, fading to nothing.
Then I turned from the corpse and walked toward the lake, intending to wash the blood from my blade and hands. My steps felt heavier than before, but not from exhaustion. They were steady. Confident. There was something satisfying about the strength I now wielded.
But before I reached the water, I heard a sharp click - like a mechanism springing to life.
In the center of the room, out of nowhere, a chest materialized.
I glanced around the room first, scanning for any signs that another creature had been released along with the chest. The timing seemed too convenient. It felt like a distraction, bait, meant to draw me in while something waited in the shadows to strike.
To test the possibility, I picked up a nearby stone and hurled it toward the chest, swinging my arm as hard as I could.
I missed. Badly.
The stone landed several paces wide, bouncing harmlessly across the grass, and for a moment, I genuinely felt embarrassed.
Just because I'd inherited elven swordsmanship through Sylvan Heritage didn't mean I'd suddenly become an expert with every weapon orā¦ with throwing rocks. In my past life, most of my time had been spent at a computer. Physical coordination had never exactly been my strong suit.
I picked up another stone, this time focusing on accuracy over force. I tossed it carefully.
It still missed. But this time, the stone rolled to a stop near the base of the chest and gently tapped against it with a soft thud. At that point, I was fairly confident there was no ambush waiting for me. If anyone had seen those throws, they would have already laughed themselves into giving away their position.
I approached the chest with slow steps.
It was wooden, not ornate or overly large, but big enough to fit something like a greatsword inside. I tapped it lightly with my blade, then poked around the edges, checking for triggers or hidden mechanisms. Nothing responded.
I decided that it was safe as I stepped in and reached for the lid. At first, the top resisted, refusing to open, as if protesting the idea of giving up its contents. But with a little added pressure, it slid forward and dropped open with a dull clatter.
My heart picked up.
The excitement of an unopened chest never faded. I used to love these moments in games - the mystery and the suspenseā¦ they were the best part of RPG games. Now that same thrill pulsed through me, but here, in real life, it was sharper. More tangible.
I looked insideā¦ and frowned.
No gleaming artifacts. No scrolls etched with ancient knowledge. Just a single vial of crimson liquid, larger than my fist, and ten silver coins resting beside it.
It was a paltry reward, considering I had just slain a monster in a dungeon. Even if that monster was far weaker than I'd expected.
Still, I moved both items into my Veilspace without complaint and turned toward the lake, finally ready to drink and wash the blood from my hands.
The water was cold, refreshingly so, and felt even better against my overheated skin after the fight.
Now that my thirst had been quenched, a new problem settled in - hunger.
I still had a few strips of dried meat in my Veilspace, but they wouldn't last long, nor would they satisfy anything beyond immediate need. My eyes drifted toward the mutant horse I had just slain.
The only thing keeping me from carving into it was the memory of its breath attack. Creatures with such abilities often had internal glands or organs responsible for producing toxins. I had no idea whether that smoke had been poisonous - or if it was, whether the flesh remained safe to consume. And testing that theory inside a dungeon was far from wise.
I'll cut the meat and store it in my Veilspace. If I find no other food and hunger becomes unbearableā¦ then I'll take the risk.
Even then, I would need fire. And I had nothing to start one. My grasp of magic was nonexistent, and the only skill I could activate was Phantom Step.
I sighed and set the thought aside. Obsessing over it now would solve nothing. That was a problem for tomorrow.
I rose and made my way back to the creature, crouching beside it and chopping its thigh with my greatsword. If it had been a normal beast, I would have aimed for the ribcage first. But in this case, the thigh felt like the safer option.
Once I'd stored the meat, I rose and was just about to search for the next exit when a thought struck me - Crimson Rite.
I could extract an essence from the beast.
A grin tugged at my lips as I focused, activating the skill. The air around me shifted as faint crimson runes began to take shape. But suddenly they stuttered and collapsed halfway through the casting.
What?
My smile vanished as quickly as it came. I recalled the skill's description, going word for word. There was no mention of limitations.
Then I remembered something.
Roy's group never used Crimson Rite on beasts after they'd already harvested the meat.
I instantly realized that I had ruined the corpse myself. The moment I'd carved it, the integrity required for essence extraction had been lost.
There was no fixing it, I'd already wasted the opportunity.
I sighed, glancing back at the horse-mutant's body, regret written all over my face. Then I turned and resumed searching for the next stone arc.
But it was easier said than done. The thick trees and overgrown brush limited my line of sight, so much so that I couldn't locate another exit. I began walking, weaving between the trunks, searching every corner of the space.
Eventually, I found it - a second archway partially hidden beneath an outcropping of roots.
ā“ā“ā“ā“ ā“ā“ā“ā“
Another inscription in faintly glowing Elvish shimmered beside the doorway. I didn't bother trying to decipher it or check for traps. I had no doubt that whatever danger existed lay beyond the threshold, not in the frame itself.
I placed my hand at the center of the arch.
As before, the stone shimmered and turned transparent.
I leaned forward, scanning the next chamber, and this time, caution vanished the moment I saw what awaited me.
The room was small, almost absurdly so. Nothing was hidden. There were no trees. No stone. The walls were made of a soft, luminous green energy, flattened into a solid mass that pulsed gently with life.
The moment I stepped inside, I felt it.
A rush of warmth spread through my limbs. The fatigue vanished. Even the smallest cuts and bruises faded without a trace. It was the same sensation I felt when Vaelari used his healing on me, except this was different in a major way. There was no excruciating pain, only a wave of pleasant, seamless restoration.
I stood there for a moment, stunned by the ease of it.
My entire body buzzed with energy and clarity. The floor beneath my feet was soft and pleasantly warm. And then I saw it - a fire, gently crackling in the far corner, and meat already roasting above it.
Is this the dungeon's version of heaven?
A genuine smile pulled at my lips as I moved toward it almost instinctively, but as I drew closer, my steps began to slow. Everything felt too convenient.
What if this is a trap? A poisoned bait meant to lull me into complacency?
I hesitated, considering the possibility.
But then again, if the dungeon truly intended to kill me, it wouldn't have gone through the trouble of healing my body and restoring my energy. Magic capable of such effortless restoration could have easily been reversed into something lethal.
I knelt beside the fire. The meat was already cooked on the outside, the skin beginning to crisp in places. It looked nearly perfect.
I'll give it a bit longer, just until the edges turn golden, and the juices are sealed inside.
I could feel the saliva gathering in my mouth. Just the scent of it made my stomach tighten with delicious anticipation.
But rather than let the craving consume me, I chose to focus my thoughts. It was better to analyze my situation than torture myself imagining the flavor.
If this room truly is what I think it isā¦ then I've reached the checkpoint. A green zone. A place designed to allow rest and recovery. Whoever designed this dungeon structured it to be conquerable. They didn't go out of their way to make it impossible.
Unable to resist any longer, I reached for the meat and took a large bite.
My mouth flared with heat instantly, the burn sharp and sudden, but along with the pain came a rush of soothing energy. Unintentionally, I had confirmed that the room's restorative effect wasn't a one-time thing.
Glad with the discovery, I refocused on my meal, this time trying to cool it before taking another bait.
I need to find the others. Even if I'm managing well enough for now, I have no idea what lies ahead. Even if they are together and weren't separated, they might still leave the dungeon now that they're without a frontliner, and if that happens, I'll be trapped here alone, with no knowledge of how to escape.
I quickly devoured half the meat and sealed the rest of it away into my Veilspace, which would keep it warm and fresh for when hunger returned.
I was preparing to rise, to look for an exit which was nowhere to be seen, when the green energy surrounding the room began to flicker.
The warmth beneath my legs vanished, and before I could fully process what was happening, the space around me shifted, replaced by a vast chamber, far larger than the one I had just left.
I stood quickly and scanned my surroundings, looking for threats.
It didn't take long to find it.
A massive, crimson eye was staring at me, unblinking.
The creature's head slowly began to turn, its gaze fixed on me. I froze, taking in the full scale of what now loomed before me.
Kurraghal would have looked like a hobbit beside it.
Its colossal body was layered in dark scales, each one pulsing faintly with a sinister glow, like blood beneath obsidian. Its wings, now folded, were massive enough to blot out a sky, and the sheer size made it clear that escape, at least by outrunning it, was not an option.
It wasn't a wyvern. Not a drake. This was a true dragon. A fully-formed, four-limbed. Regal and impossibly massive.
And now it was done watching me.
Its mouth began to open as my senses roared through my mind.
Danger.
The instinct to run overwhelmed me. Every part of my body screamed to escape.
The dragon's mouth opened wide, and for the briefest moment, I caught a flash of crimson light rising in its throat.
And then the fire came, a roaring torrent of flame surging straight toward me.
**
A/N -Ā
From now on, we will slowly balance Verde / Avenor POVs.Ā Verde will return in the next chapter.
Having 0 magic knowledge is dragging Avenor down. Should he learn spells and risk magic affecting him? Or should he remain a pure physical type?
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