Kaiser’s feet punched the ground, yet his boots were clean as he ran through what felt like muddy water. The weight of his armor—and Elara clinging to his shoulders—bogged him down. But it bothered him less than it used to.

  She looked ahead.

  Kaiser looked further.

  She saw a statue.

  He saw the ever-close entrance to the dungeon.

  “Section 4, Article 17 of the Order’s Principles…”

  Lynda’s words echoed in his mind, a reminder of how he ended up here.

  Then again, if this beast escaped the dungeon, he would’ve been sent here regardless. Other dungeons required massive armies just to try and subdue what was inside—and even then, they weren’t always success stories. Many still stand.

  So who the hell paid these guilders for a suicide mission?

  This place still echoed with ancient sounds—ones no one could explain. Some claimed it was screams from hell and heaven.

  Laughing devils. Crying angels.

  “Kaiser, what is that statue ahead?” Elara asked.

  Kaiser looked up. The moss-covered figure was unmistakable—Ashura.

  What devotees of the old cults once called the Devil, Satan, Lucifer… even Beelzebub.

  “It’s a religious statue,” he answered simply. “Likely built by a cultist before Canaan’s Holy Renaissance took hold.”

  Elara slouched, peeking down from his shoulder to his face. “You don’t look curious about it.”

  Kaiser met her gaze, then turned back toward the dungeon ahead.

  “Why should I be curious about something that probably predates these trees, let alone the statue?”

  Suddenly— Two holes erupted from the earth.

  “Kaiser! Ahead!”

  Reverberating screams burst from the openings. Kaiser leapt, Elara clinging tighter to his shoulders as two towering golems surged upward.

  “YOU CANNOT PASS!!”

  They screamed.

  Kaiser unsheathed his blade, swinging through the air. A purple flare of lightning arced through the sky.

  “Finisirae!”

  A violet blast formed at the hilt, flung downward by the fuller of his blade. It crashed into the golems with violent ferocity.

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

  Dust filled the air.

  Kaiser exhaled, believing it done—but the golems roared again. He landed, setting Elara down gently.

  Weaker than usual…?

  He frowned. Finisirae’s spell had never been that weak. Against goblins and gremlins, it carved with ease.

  They must resist magic.

  Without hesitation, he charged forward.

  “Kaiser!” Elara cried.

  He looked back briefly.

  “Stay there,” he ordered. Curt—but not unkind.

  The damaged golems rose, smoke curling from their wounds. No pain. No hesitation. Then—they lunged.

  Fast. Too fast.

  Kaiser shifted, grip tightening.

  Two attackers. One at a time.

  The nearest one slashed with jagged claws. Kaiser feinted left, baiting the overcommit. The golem stumbled, and Kaiser struck.

  He twisted and cleaved upward.

  Flesh, bone, stone—ripped apart. The creature crumpled, dead before it hit the ground.

  Kaiser didn’t pause.

  Using the force of the kill, he spun. His blade carved the air, meeting the second golem as it raised its claws.

  Too slow.

  With a downward strike, he severed its arm at the elbow. Black ichor sprayed, and the monster shrieked.

  But Kaiser wasn’t finished.

  Blade raised for the final blow—

  ROAR

  A roar behind him. Instinct screamed.

  The first golem—not dead—was moving again. Its broken body reanimated, arm raised to strike.

  “Kaiser!” Elara’s voice cut the air like a knife.

  Too slow.

  The shadow closed.

  Time warped. Hands reached out in increments. A heartbeat echoed like war drums.

  Impact.

  A force like a divine hammer smashed into his back.

  Kaiser flew. His balance shattered. Pain exploded through his ribs, his lungs emptied. Vision blurred.

  Finisirae slipped in his hand. The creature clawed for him, sensing weakness—its chance to kill him and take the blade.

  Damn… This is going to hurt…

  Darkness crept in.

  A name surfaced.

  I’m sorry, Annika…

  The creature merged with its fallen partner. Stone joined stone. A titan formed.

  Two heads. One monstrous body.

  It roared, stomping toward him.

  Kaiser lay motionless—until Elara ran in front of him.

  “From the Feywild to the accursed Nuar, I set aflame the earth to ignite my opponent!”

  A ball of fire formed at her chest like a campfire between her hands.

  “Incinerate!”

  She launched the blast. It collided directly.

  Fire tore through the titan’s rocky form, melting it—burning it until molten chunks collapsed into the earth. Kaiser stared in disbelief.

  Elara ran to him. She slid down beside him, panic and fire in her eyes. He was dazed. Breathless.

  She saved him.

  Not the other way around.

  Why was he so weak?

  Why couldn’t he get up?

  Why—

  “Kaiser!”

  A slap.

  His vision refocused.

  Elara’s face hovered above his, concern laced with heat. His expression softened. He smiled faintly.

  “Yeah… That’s the name I was given.”

  Their eyes met.

  Elara exhaled, then opened her eyes again—stronger.

  “Get up, silly.”

  ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

  The dungeon creaked as Wolfe, Lucy, and Mason stepped through the cold corridor.

  They kept their distance from Shattered Angels and other Floor Beasts. This was only the first floor… but even here, danger lurked.

  Lucy and Wolfe lacked the power to face what waited. Mason had been their backbone. Orc or not, Wolfe respected him for that.

  The air was damp, soaked in stone and something… older.

  Their footsteps echoed—until another sound pierced through.

  A chill crawled down all three of their spines.

  Laughter.

  Distant. Wrong.

  “What the hell was that?” Lucy asked, her grip tightening on her staff.

  From around the corner—they came.

  Shattered Angels.

  Dozens.

  They moved like crabs, bent and broken. Their limbs distorted. Once human, now desecrated forms of something divine.

  Marionette bodies twisted at unnatural angles. Wings—bone-thin and featherless—jutting from cracked backs. Skin white and broken, like plaster peeled from the dead.

  And their faces...

  Wolfe regretted looking.

  Porcelain masks—shattered, hiding mouths where mouths didn’t belong. Eyes peeking through fractures. Grins stretching too far.

  The laughter layered.

  Their lips didn’t move. But the sound kept coming, like a choir of possessed dolls.

  One snapped its neck.

  Then they all lunged.

  “Move!” Mason roared, pulling his axe free.

  Wolfe dodged the first swipe, grabbing Lucy—frozen in fear.

  Together with Mason, they ran.

  Alive—for now.