Brandon awoke to the soft pattering of water hitting his face. Slowly, he opened one eye and instantly felt all the frustration of the previous day flood back into his mind. He groaned, muttering, "You have got to be fucking kidding me."

  Feeling he couldn’t delay it any longer—and wary of the possibility that his destined opponent might wake before him and take advantage for a quick and easy finish—Brandon stood, stretching out the niggles that came from a night’s sleep on stone. His thoughts drifted to just yesterday, when he had woken in his pristine king-sized bed, adorned with the softest mattress he had ever felt. Despite the luxury, his back had been riddled with pain, as if his body was protesting the comfort. Now, after a night on hard stone and scattered pebbles, he found he couldn’t feel a single ache, other than the usual stiffness of muscles in need of a good stretch.

  Bringing himself out of his thoughts, Brandon looked up into the sky, the soft pattering of rain splashing onto his face and the plateau around him—and by extension, watering the forest below. He felt the cold chill of the rain take hold of his body, watching his clothes become increasingly wet and stick to his skin. He couldn’t help but develop a personal grudge against whoever or whatever controlled the rain, thinking it was a good joke to have it rain on him this particular morning.

  Looking up at his destined enemy, he still couldn’t make out too many details, and he wasn’t sure exactly when the fight would activate. But for now, he was more than happy for the time to let his brain catch up and get into gear.

  Looking out over the forest, Brandon first glanced in the direction of the colossus he and Khaross had observed the previous night. Thinking of Khaross also brought back memories of his daughter, Sarah. "I hope you're okay, sweetie," he mumbled to himself, the words tinged with both hope and guilt. He made a silent promise to her, vowing that he would defeat whatever this creature was and claim the talisman. He was resolute—he would do whatever it took to find her again.

  Once again forcing himself out of his memories, Brandon noted that no matter where he looked, the colossus was nowhere to be seen. "How the fuck can something that big hide?" he muttered, squinting as he scanned the area. He took another glance around, but no matter how hard he looked, there was no sign of the creature. He was about to turn his full attention back to the figure sitting in wait behind him, but a nagging feeling wouldn't leave him. Something was wrong with the direction he was facing.

  He stood there, confused, for a few more minutes before something clicked in his mind. "The forest is fine... how?" he questioned, his brow furrowing. All the trees that had been smashed apart by the colossus last night were perfectly intact this morning. The trail of destruction that had been left in the creature’s wake was gone. He must have gotten the wrong side of the plateau, he thought, so he ran to the other sides, checking every angle. But no matter where he looked, there was no sign of damage.

  "What the actual fuck?" he muttered in disbelief. Brandon wasn't a landscaper, but he was pretty sure forests didn't grow and fix themselves in a matter of hours.

  Brandon froze at the sound of a deafening roar. His heart skipped a beat as he quickly spun around, only to hear the sound of pebbles scattering down the cliffside. In his haste, he must have dragged his feet, knocking loose rocks that tumbled noisily.

  “I guess it’s time,” he muttered in a shaky voice, his eyes fixed on the creature that had, just minutes ago, seemed like nothing more than a statue. Now, cracks appeared in its massive form, glowing ominously as it began to stir.

  Without warning, it leaped from the archway where Brandon had exited the dungeon and landed with a thundering crash on the plateau across from him. The impact sent a shockwave through the ground, reverberating up through Brandon’s body, as though he were standing next to a roaring speaker at a metal concert, feeling every beat of the drums deep in his chest.

  "Don’t piss yourself. You’re better than that," Brandon told himself, his gaze slowly creeping upward, locking onto the largest creature he had ever seen.

  "Do you think Khaross lost his mind putting that damn creature in this dungeon?" Veylan asked, glancing over at Sulgar. Both of them sat with an uneasy tension, watching as Brandon remained transfixed by whatever beast had been placed as the dungeon’s final challenge.

  "Yes and no," Sulgar responded, pausing for a moment as he watched Brandon’s tense posture. "It was Khaross's first creation. And, to be honest, it reminds me of a warden—obviously a variation of one. But as long as he keeps his wits about him, Brandon should be fine. They're slow, for the most part."

  Sulgar’s gaze wandered around the room, and he noticed the distinct lack of alcohol. Narrowing his eyes, he shot a glare at Veylan.

  "Did you take all my alcohol?" he asked, his tone demanding an explanation.

  Veylan didn’t flinch at the glare, his expression unchanged. "I did," he said simply. "You've had enough. And if Brandon survives this, I’m not about to let your first interaction with him happen while you’re drunk. You're insufferable when you're like that."

  "I don't know what you're talking about," Sulgar responded, his face a mask of fake annoyance. "I'm perfectly fine when I'm drunk. I can't remember anyone ever complaining," he continued, his gaze fixing back on the screen he had created for Veylan and himself to watch through.

  "That's because you don't remember anything, idiot," Veylan replied, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. He was glad for Sulgar’s attempt to break the tension in the room, though it couldn’t fully mask the underlying anxiety. The death of Brandon was likely inevitable, and Veylan knew it.

  "Wait, first interaction?" Sulgar asked, his brain seemingly catching up to the conversation.

  "What do you mean?" Veylan responded, his curiosity evident as he looked at Sulgar. "If Brandon wins the fight, I figured you would either go and speak to him or bring him here to speak to him in an attempt to get him on board."

  "No, no, no. As much as I would love to, I don't think it's wise to place that pressure on him yet," Sulgar said, nodding to himself as if trying to convince himself that it was the right decision. "We should probably let him get to at least wizard level 10 first."

  "Veylan," Sulgar said before Veylan could respond, his voice lowering in tone. "This is important, and we likely only get one shot at it. We need to make sure it’s right before doing anything hasty."

  Sulgar's jovial nature evaporated, replaced by a stern, serious presence, his gaze hardening as he met Veylan's eyes.

  Veylan sighed. "Very well, you're probably right." "In that case, I think I could use a drink," Veylan commented as he stood and walked toward the door. "I assume you want one too?" he asked Sulgar, though he already knew the answer.

  "What kind of question is that?" was the only response he got as Veylan made his way to where he had placed the alcohol earlier.

  It took a few minutes, but eventually, Veylan returned with two glasses and a large bottle filled with a dark brown liquid, starting to pour drinks for himself and Sulgar.

  "I think it's about to start," Sulgar said as Veylan came in.

  With their drinks in hand, both resumed their positions and returned to watching Brandon, in what both were loathed to admit would likely be his last fight.

  Brandon, looking up at the creature, couldn’t help but feel that all the confidence he had built up had just thrown itself over the cliff the moment this thing hit the ground. But he forced himself to focus on it.

  Fucking massive were really the only words Brandon could think of when he looked at it. He’d never seen a giraffe in person, but he had a brief stint in his life where he learned about animals and knew that male giraffes stood at around 18 feet tall. He was certain this thing was taller. It appeared to be made of stone, though he was stunned to see actual lava running through cracks in its body, crisscrossing all over. But amazingly, even when it appeared the flow of lava would cross each other, they didn’t—something Brandon put down to a new term he had come up with: Magic Bullshit.

  He noted that the formations he saw coming from its back the previous night were actually wings. They were made of stone and had jagged points all over them, which for some reason made him think of a bat's wings. No matter how much Brandon tried, he could never see these wings being strong enough to let a creature of this size fly—also, they were fucking stone wings. Stone doesn’t do well in the air. So, he resolved that either it was more Magic Bullshit, or the wings were just there for show.

  He looked down at the hands and feet of the beast. Well, down in relation to its head, though the beast’s hands ended above Brandon’s head, with himself only really coming up to the creature's thigh. It stood on two legs and reached its full height, but at the end of every finger and toe, Brandon noticed a large set of claws protruding from each appendage.

  “Why is it always fucking claws?” he muttered, remembering all the times in the last day he’d been cut open by various claws.

  Focusing on the beast itself, he learned its name: Molten Warden. And with that, another deafening roar came from the creature as it began to move slowly toward Brandon, starting the fight.

  Brandon could feel every single step the Molten Warden took, each one reverberating up through his legs, shaking loose every last glimmer of confidence he had. Thankfully, it wasn’t the quickest of creatures. In fact, if he was being honest, it was bloody slow—but Brandon wasn’t complaining. It gave him time to pick his jaw up from the cold, wet rock below him, conjure his shield, and summon his whip. He infused his whip with Volt Infusion, figuring that fire would be pretty useless with all the rain around, especially considering it was called a Molten Warden.

  Brandon took a second to check over himself, making sure his shield had worked properly. He already knew it had, having felt the energy envelop him, but it was still a slight boost to see the translucent blue shimmer around him. Satisfied, he looked up just in time to see the creature raise its arm and point directly at him. Without warning, a massive wave of lava surged forward, barreling toward him.

  Reacting quickly, Brandon jumped to the right and rolled, feeling the surge of power course through his shield as he hit the ground. As he came up against one of the rocks on the plateau, he instinctively cried out—but the pain never came. He stood up, glancing over to see how close he had come to the edge of the plateau.

  “That would’ve been embarrassing,” he muttered, realizing just how close he'd been to toppling over the side.

  With a deep breath, he steeled himself. It was time to enter the fight properly.

  Clutching his whip tighter, Brandon summoned his clone to the side of the Molten Warden, hoping to draw its attention. Just as he feared, the Warden paid it no mind—though that was expected. Brandon had a plan.

  Focusing intently, he picked a spot on the Warden's massive thigh where he wanted to strike. With a thought, he imagined his whip lashing through his clone and, with a surge of effort, he felt energy leave his body. The moment the energy flowed, he watched in awe as his whip lashed out, not from his own hand, but as if it were coming from his clone.

  A wide grin spread across his face.

  "That was amazing!" he yelled, the thrill of triumph coursing through his veins.

  That rush of excitement and triumph lasted approximately five milliseconds before the cold reality of the situation hit. Brandon winced as the sharp sting of disappointment replaced the adrenaline. His whip, infused with lightning, had cracked against the Warden’s stone-like skin, but the result was… underwhelming.

  He looked at the spot where the whip had lashed out, noting a faint black scorch mark, but that was about it. No significant damage. No reaction at all from the creature.

  Great, so it's impervious to that, huh?

  Realizing the obvious, Brandon sighed. He’d been so caught up in the thrill of the moment, he hadn’t stopped to think. Mindlessly striking it with his whip was probably not going to cut it. The Molten Warden was no ordinary opponent. If he wanted to make a dent, he’d have to be smarter about it.

  "How the fuck do I kill this thing?" Brandon muttered to himself, circling the massive beast in an uneasy standoff. He could feel the weight of his focus, more intense than he’d ever been in school combined. Why am I thinking about school? You’re about to die, idiot, he reprimanded himself, snapping his attention back to the present.

  If I take out the legs, that might at least make the height issue less of a problem, he reasoned, but how to take out those legs was the real question. An idea sparked in his mind. What if the lava flowing through the cracks in its body are weak points?

  Hastily forming what he knew was a risky and likely useless plan, he readied himself to move—but then he froze. What happens to my whip if the lava coats it? Better yet, what happens to me if I get lava on myself?

  His clone attack was an option, but the last time he'd used it, he'd felt the mana drain from his body. He couldn’t afford to overuse it. And even if he managed to hit the lava cracks, he wasn’t confident in his accuracy.

  He shook his head, pushing away the doubt. No time to think about that now. With a determined breath, he sprang into action. His knees creaked with the force of the movement, but there was no stopping him now. He charged the hulking beast, knowing he had no choice but to push forward, plan or not.

  Brandon took a couple of quick, rushed steps forward, barely noticing the creature curl its massive hand into a fist above him. The Warden punched down, and Brandon, feeling the rush of wind from above, didn’t think twice before rolling to the side. Pain flared in his knees and joints, but he forced it from his mind.

  With the Warden’s fist now embedded in the ground, an idea struck him. He decided to use his new ability. Focusing on the creature, he conjured Binding Chains. Three tendrils of glowing mana burst from the ground, twisting up and around the Warden’s massive hand, locking it in place.

  Brandon allowed himself a small moment of triumph. He had actually forgotten about the Conjure Binding Chains ability until this opportunity presented itself.

  The triumph didn’t last long. His stomach sank as the Warden simply stood, shattering the mana chains as though they were nothing more than fragile threads.

  “Well, great,” Brandon muttered under his breath, resuming his charge toward the cracks in the creature’s legs, his determination unwavering despite the mounting dread.

  Brandon closed the distance, getting close enough to target the cracks in the creature’s stone body with his whip. With a yell of desperation, he struck. The moment the whip made contact, two things happened almost simultaneously.

  First, lava splashed out from the crack and landed on Brandon, immediately breaking through his shield. The burning heat seared into his hand, but not enough of it got through to cause real damage. The pain was sharp but manageable, and as the shield exploded into shards of pure energy, it sent fragments crashing into the Warden, some of them hitting more cracks and exposing even more lava beneath the stone surface.

  The second thing that happened was more immediate: the creature began to vibrate violently. Stone chipped away in chunks around where Brandon had struck, revealing even more of the molten lava hidden under its rocky exterior.

  Glad he now had a viable way to damage the beast, Brandon refocused, his pulse racing with renewed purpose. But before he could move, another massive fist came crashing toward him, forcing him to dive to the side. The beast did not take kindly to being stabbed in its cracks.

  Brandon struggled to shake off the nauseating effect of the vibrations that rumbled through him as the Warden’s fist slammed into the stone. He staggered back, his insides feeling as though they'd been pummeled repeatedly by the force. Taking a few steps away to regain his footing, he conjured his shadow clone again and launched another attack, this time directing it straight for the exposed lava that now snaked through the creature’s rocky body.

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  Mana drained from him as he watched the Warden roar in pain, more stone cracking and flaking off. But it wasn’t enough—Brandon could see that the Warden was still standing strong, and the damage wasn’t coming fast enough. Determined, he summoned his shield once more and moved back in, ready for the next assault.

  Then, Brandon realized his mistake. So far, the Molten Warden’s attacks had been slow but incredibly powerful, leading him to believe that was all it had. But as the Warden spread its wings wide, the jagged edges began to turn toward him. To Brandon’s horror, the tips of the wings shot small obsidian projectiles straight at him.

  He barely had time to react before several impacts slammed into his shield, and with a deafening crack, it exploded outwards. Two sharp pains pierced his right shoulder, throwing him back with the force of the attack, sending him tumbling to the ground.

  The sudden, intense pain nearly caused him to lose consciousness, but Brandon fought to stay alert as his body skidded dangerously toward the edge of the plateau. His eyes widened in panic as he realized too late what was happening. He tried to stop himself, but the stone beneath him crumbled, and in a flash, he was falling.

  “OH SHIT!” he shouted, feeling the terrifying drop as he collided with the side of the mountain on the way down.

  Thinking quickly, he summoned his binding chains just in time to catch himself with a jarring thud against the cliffside. “Ow,” he muttered, the impact ringing through his body. Taking a brief respite, he applied some of his rockroot regeneration sap to his shoulder and the scrapes he had from the fall. Thankfully, the damage wasn’t too severe.

  Brandon glanced up at the plateau above. It wasn’t too far—maybe twenty feet. Resolving himself, he began climbing, releasing the chains and gripping the stone with determination as he made his way back up.

  One precarious rock after another, Brandon could feel his fingers starting to get tired. "Almost there," he muttered, looking up at the ledge he was aiming for. "Hey, it stopped raining," he said, surprised. "I didn’t even notice." A smile spread across his face. "Maybe things are looking up for me." He said it more to convince himself as he painstakingly pulled himself up and over the ledge.

  He locked eyes with the twin black flames that constituted the Warden's eyes, and a slight shiver ran down his spine. The eerie presence of those flames spread through his body, creeping into his bones. But as he studied the beast, Brandon noticed something important: despite taking a hit, his last attack had definitely taken a toll on it. Almost all of the rock covering its leg had cracked and fallen away, revealing molten lava beneath. The Warden’s leg was almost entirely exposed now, and Brandon could see a new opening. With a high enough hit, I could sever its leg entirely, he thought, his determination solidifying.

  With that in mind, he summoned all his equipment. A translucent blue aura enveloped him as his shield appeared and his whip materialized in his hand. He charged, eyes locked on the Warden, who stared back at him with those piercing black flames. As the creature’s wings spread, jagged points facing toward him, Brandon instinctively conjured Binding Chains. The chains erupted from the stone behind the Warden, wrapping around its wings in an attempt to stall the attack. The chains snapped almost immediately as the beast struggled, but it was enough. Brandon closed the distance, his body moving faster than it had all fight.

  With a yell, he lashed out with his whip in its lance form, striking deep into the Warden’s leg. He felt it hit something solid in the middle of the leg, and immediately noticed the lava around his whip began to stop flowing. The light from the crack in the stone dimmed considerably. He quickly backed up, realizing the Warden was about to strike again.

  The creature roared in fury, and it tried to punch down at him. Brandon ducked just in time, feeling the wind rush past his face as the Warden’s massive fist brushed by him. But that feeling of near-death was quickly replaced with triumph. The Warden attempted to take a step forward, but the severed leg crumbled beneath it, causing the creature to lose its balance.

  With a deafening crash, the Warden fell to the ground, shattering the stone outcroppings of the plateau. The ground shook beneath Brandon’s feet as the Warden struggled to regain its footing, its massive form crumpled but not yet defeated.

  Brandon, grinning to himself, watched the beast struggle for a moment, then sensing this was his chance, moved in for the kill. He slowly walked forward, conjuring as many chains as he could, covering most of the Warden’s body. Then, an idea hit him. He tried to use Volt Infusion on the chains.

  It worked.

  He watched as the chains began to buzz with the telltale sound of electricity, and the Warden writhed in what Brandon assumed was agony. He moved forward, feeling his mana drain quickly. He knew that if he didn’t end it now, he might not have another chance.

  The beast was lying face down on the stone, struggling to lift itself with its arms and one remaining leg, breaking chain after chain. But Brandon didn’t slow his assault. He repeatedly and wildly targeted the Warden’s neck, watching as stone cracked off in various directions, revealing more of the lava beneath.

  Eventually, he chipped away enough of the stone, just as the beast broke the last of his chains. Brandon took the opening and forced his whip directly into the exposed neck of the beast.

  The Warden froze for a moment, then began to vibrate uncontrollably. Brandon wasn’t sure why, but he had the distinct impression that he should hide. His instincts kicked in, and he sprinted toward the archway, his legs protesting after everything he’d put them through. He dove inside, covering himself from the Warden.

  Not even five seconds later, as he hit the ground in the tunnel, he heard an explosion. He felt—more than saw—millions of tiny pieces of stone shoot out from the creature. Some entered the corridor through the archway, falling onto him, while others no doubt shot off into the forest.

  Brandon sighed in relief.

  He had done it. He had survived. And, hopefully, Khaross would keep his word. This would be his first step toward seeing Sarah again.

  Brandon, heart pounding, took deep breaths and let the smile on his face grow as he walked back out of the archway and onto the plateau. He saw a large pool of lava sitting in the middle, burning its mark into the stone, but making no more than a blackened scorch.

  Brandon opened his overview screen and was pleased to see the message:

  “You have slain Molten Warden. Level: Unknown. Experience gained.”

  “Wizard level 6 gained. Congratulations.”

  “Wizard level 7 gained. Congratulations.”

  “Wizard level 8 gained. Congratulations.”

  “Wizard level 9 gained. Congratulations.”

  "Four entire levels? Holy shit," Brandon muttered as he read the notifications. He couldn’t help but grin. Those were the only ones he noticed at first, but then he felt a surge of pride when he read the next Couple.

  “Through your ability and desire to experiment with the combination of your powers, an evolution has been crafted. Congratulations, and may this only be the first.”

  “Ability: Shadow Distraction has evolved.”

  “Shadow Distraction: Conjures an illusionary mirror image of yourself draped in shadows. This distraction confuses and misleads enemies, drawing attention away from your true location for a limited time.”

  “Has evolved to: Conjured Projection. A projection of yourself draped in darkness, drawing the attention of lesser enemies and allowing the user to attack through the projection itself.”

  He felt himself smile wider than he ever had before as the realization that he could actually improve his own abilities on his own dawned on him. Possibilities started running through his mind, and he had to physically stop himself from rushing off to test them all.

  He decided to look at his last notification.

  "Once again, your ability to experiment and combine abilities has resulted in the crafting of a new ability. Congratulations."

  Ability: Conjure Binding Chains has evolved.

  Conjure Binding Chains: Conjures ethereal chains that can bind enemies and creatures, rendering them immobile for a set amount of time. The chains can restrain opponents, preventing them from attacking or using magic.

  Has evolved to: Conjure Elemental Binding Chains. Though a basic concept, you have unlocked the ability to infuse your chains with any element you have access to. Picking the correct element for the correct fight could win or lose you the battle.

  Once again, Brandon felt his grin tighten as he read what he had achieved.

  "Fucking A," he said aloud, before looking toward the Molten Warden.

  He tried to loot the Molten Warden, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t.

  “That’s strange,” he said aloud, looking around.

  “There are some creatures in the world that people won’t let you loot, though for that, they have to be direct creations of that person,” an aged voice croaked from above.

  Brandon jumped back, almost expecting an attack, until he looked up. An old man was floating down from the sky. It felt strange to Brandon to call someone else old, considering his own age, but he was starting to think he wasn’t actually that old in this new world.

  The man landed before him, dressed in a near-perfect black suit and white tie. Brandon took in his aged, sunken face before his eyes were drawn to the man’s dark, almost jet-black eyes.

  “Khaross,” Brandon said, nodding and gesturing to the man’s creation. “That was a rough one,” he admitted, for once not feigning the confidence he usually tried to project with his voice.

  "I believe a congratulations is in order," Khaross said, a conflicted smile on his face as he gestured toward the Molten Warden. "For a while, I severely had my doubts that you would beat it, but I am sincerely glad you lived."

  His smile grew more genuine as he focused more on Brandon. "It was definitely touch and go for a while," he added with a small smile.

  "Sorry about him, though. I don't know what goes into making one, but it can't be fun to have your creation killed," Brandon replied.

  Khaross laughed in response. "When I created him, it was possibly the hardest thing I had ever done, but now his creation would be fairly simple," Khaross said, looking around for a seat. "I see none of the rocks that we used as seats survived the fight."

  He eyed Brandon.

  "Don't look at me; your creation fell on them," Brandon replied, arms raised in defense.

  Khaross laughed again. "No matter," he said, then Brandon watched as two seats made of fabric—similar to garden chairs from Brandon's own world—rose from the ground.

  "What level was that thing?" Brandon asked as he and Khaross took a seat, Brandon taking a long sip from the water bottle he had received from Veylen before his battle with the aquatic Seraph.

  "Technically, it didn't have a level," Khaross responded. "My creation, or the Molten Warden, is a unique creation, and they are usually granted a level upon creation. However, due to a few secrets I have—no, I won't be sharing them—the creation of him was kept a secret from the system. Therefore, he was never granted a level, which is why I was able to place him in this dungeon. But if I had to guess, he was probably around the 12th level."

  Khaross clarified after seeing the look on Brandon's face.

  "I was level fucking 5!" Brandon shouted, a momentary outburst of anger. Though he quickly schooled his features back into neutrality, he added, "Sorry," looking at Khaross. "But don't you think having that in this dungeon is a little unfair?" he asked, waving his hand toward the Molten Warden.

  "In my defense, I didn't think anyone under the level of at least 10 would really be delving into this dungeon," Khaross said, raising his hands in defense. "Besides, you won, didn’t you?" he asked, a small smile blossoming on his face.

  Brandon shrugged, acknowledging Khaross's point. "Can you explain to me what the whole leveling thing does?" he asked, looking at Khaross as a look of surprise grew on the older man’s face.

  "You don’t know?" Khaross asked, receiving a shake of the head from Brandon.

  "Every level increases the damage you can take, the length of time you can go without food, drink, and sleep. It also increases your stamina—how long you can run, how fast you do it—as well as your mana levels. Most importantly, it enhances your ability to use magic and have it flow through you, making stronger magic easier to perform while using less mana. There’s no direct way to view these changes, but eventually, you’ll get used to it. Have you felt the energy enter your body whenever you level?" he asked.

  Brandon had a look of deep focus on his face, causing Khaross to tilt his head slightly. "Are you okay?" Khaross asked, a bit confused and worried that Brandon might have succumbed to some kind of lingering attack from the Warden.

  "Oh, yes, I'm okay," Brandon replied. "Just trying to process everything you said," he clarified. "So then, what's the difference between my specialization level and race level?" he asked.

  "Your specialization level has a minor impact on all those things, except in your case, your mana and ability to use magic will be increased more than the rest. And every 5 levels, you will be offered a basic skill from the system that aligns with your specialization. Though you can also learn abilities outside of your specialization, they just take more effort and time to learn," Khaross replied. "Oh, and each casting will take more mana, and they are harder to level," he added.

  "Your race level, however, determines the amount of true specializations you can have. For instance, you could have the Conjurer specialization as you do, and then at level 10 of your race level, gain a specialization to use a sword and be able to gain abilities in relation to that," Khaross continued. "Race level also impacts your stats in relation to your body and soul, like the stamina and health I mentioned earlier, along with some other things that I'm not at liberty to discuss with you at your current level."

  "Fair enough," Brandon replied, clearly deep in thought about the possibilities.

  "Don’t worry, it will be made clearer to you as you advance through the levels and you gain access to more direct information from the system," Khaross said in a consoling tone, coughing at the end of it. "Oh, I should add, your race level also impacts your maximum lifespan," he casually added.

  This last bit caught Brandon's attention. "It’ll increase how long I live for?" he asked, his focus shifting.

  "That is what I said," Khaross confirmed. "Did my creation hit you too hard?" he asked, frowning at Brandon.

  "It's a lot to take in, okay?" Brandon replied defensively.

  "Now, I believe you owe me a talisman," Brandon said, trying to change the topic.

  Khaross chuckled. "That I do, that I do," he replied, raising his hand. A small metallic object appeared in his palm.

  Brandon stood and walked over to Khaross, focusing on the object. His system read:

  "Talisman of Separated Souls: Bridge the gap between two souls disconnected. This talisman will glow and do its best to direct the holder to the other person, as long as both people are located inside the integrated universe."

  Brandon looked at the talisman. It was small, with the only detail being an engraving on the front. The engraving depicted two people walking away from each other, with some kind of energy between them.

  "How do I use it?" Brandon asked.

  Khaross, looking at Brandon, replied, "Focus on pushing mana into the talisman. You will get a notification asking if you wish to soul link the item. Accept that, and when you do, focus on memories of your daughter for it to accept the person as its second soul."

  Brandon, doing as Khaross suggested, tried to push some of his limited mana into the talisman. He felt a slight headache come on as his mana levels reached critical levels. Then, the prompt Khaross had mentioned appeared:

  "Would you like to soul bond the Talisman of Separated Souls? Yes, No?"

  He confirmed, and immediately started thinking of memories of Sarah. His mind raced with visions of pushing his daughter on the swings when she was little. Losing her mother when they were young meant they did almost everything together. More memories followed—watching her graduate high school, then university. He felt a deep sense of pride at the memories, a deep pride over his daughter.

  Eventually, he received a prompt telling him that the process had been completed:

  "Soul connected: Sarah Larente."

  Khaross, smiling a warm smile at Brandon, nodded.

  "Thank you," Brandon said, gratitude clear on his face.

  Brandon, feeling as if all he could do now was wait, asked Khaross, "So now what do I do?"

  Khaross, eyeing Brandon, replied, "You go and gain strength, kill monsters, learn more magic, make friends, build a team." He stood and gestured to the world around him. "You can quite literally do anything now."

  "But where do I start?" Brandon asked, unable to resist the excitement flooding into him. However, he noticed the look on Khaross's face.

  "Probably start with that," Khaross said, pointing to Brandon’s chest.

  Brandon looked down, and all thoughts left his mind except for one. "Sarah," he mouthed, unable to make a sound. He lifted the talisman, now worn around his neck, and watched as it glowed. Brandon felt a slight pull towards the sky.

  "She's here," he said to Khaross, who replied, "Likely not on this planet. I assume the pulling sensation is upwards?"

  Brandon nodded in response.

  "That is an issue," Khaross continued, his frown deepening. "You cannot leave the tutorial world until at least level 15 in your specialization. The system prevents it, and even then, you’ll have to secure some way off the planet."

  Frustrated, Brandon growled, "Couldn't you take me? Aren’t you stupidly high level?" He gestured to the sky in exasperation.

  "It would cause issues for me," Khaross replied, a stern look on his face. "Plus, this version of me isn’t the real me. It’s just an avatar I placed here in the dungeon to speak to whoever fought my creation."

  Khaross's tone turned serious as he continued, "I’m sorry, but I cannot help here, even if I wished to. I fear I may have done too much already giving you the talisman, depending on the force that has summoned her."

  "What do you mean? Wouldn't it be the same people if they bought the world or whatever?" Brandon asked, concern crossing his face.

  "Not necessarily," Khaross replied, then clarified, "It is likely, though it's been known to happen that what would be easiest explained as pirates hijacked the Duresque Corp's signal and managed to siphon some people to their ships."

  Brandon’s face turned into a mask of rage. "You're telling me my daughter could be in the fucking hands of some pirates, and you will do nothing to help?" Brandon all but screamed, struggling to keep the anger from his voice.

  "The best I can do is offer to attempt to find her location," Khaross said, his voice stern but soft. "You still need to reach level 15. Focus on that. Make your way to Lasenth, the city on the edge of the forest, and put together a team. It’ll make the leveling easier, as you’ll be able to take on harder enemies. I will attempt to contact you if I learn anything."

  Khaross turned to face the forest. "I’m sorry, Brandon, but this really is the best I can do. Take this," he said, summoning a large sack into his hand.

  Brandon walked up beside Khaross and took the sack, receiving 50 gold pieces. "Thank you?" he said, his voice still full of rage.

  "I’ll unlock for you the ability to gain money from the beasts you harvest," Khaross consoled. "But don’t tell people where you got it. Just tell them you received it from the system if asked. This is not a common power, and people will look to abuse you if they know."

  "Now, please, take as much time as you need here. The dungeon won’t reset until you leave it, nor will it let any others in. It will unlock the other corridor for you to leave through. I must go and start my search if I’m to find anything before you hit level 15," Khaross said, and without giving Brandon the ability to respond, simply disappeared from existence.

  With that, Brandon felt the anger dissipate from his body, replaced by resignation and determination. "Hold on, baby, I'm coming," he mumbled as he turned and made his way toward the archway he had come from, ready to leave the dungeon.

  "Well, that’s something," Sulgar said, his eyes locked on the screen in front of him. Veylan, the same. Neither man had moved for the entirety of the fight with the Molten Warden, and even though Khaross managed to block any sound coming back from their conversation through some magic neither of the men understood, they both knew what the talisman Brandon had received was. Judging by the reactions, it didn’t end well.

  "That could be our chance," Sulgar said to Veylan, who nodded in return.

  "Should I make contact with Khaross and find out?" Veylan asked, looking down at Brandon with concern.

  "I don’t know if he would tell us, but it can’t hurt to try," Sulgar replied. "It was a fine battle, though, was it not?" he continued, excitement flooding his body as he recounted the battle in his mind. "I truly thought he was done for when he went off the edge."

  "As did I," Veylan said, still the picture of concern as he moved about the room, gathering his belongings. "Such quick thinking to bind himself to the edge of the mountain and then climb back up. Do you think it ever occurred to him to just climb down and leave?"

  Sulgar asked, but he received a shake of the head in response. "It would have been way too far down for him," Veylan replied. "Now, if I’m going to make contact with Khaross, I must leave now, lest it take too long to locate him."

  Veylan said to his friend, preparing to leave. "Try not to let him die," Veylan added, then nodded to Sulgar as he left the room.

  "Be quick, friend. This may be our best opening to gain his trust," Sulgar said to the empty door that Veylan had just occupied.