Solomon wiped sand and sweat from his brow, glaring into the distance with an annoyed frown.
> "What did you expect, Ishmael? That you'd just walk away without consequences? The people of Eden aren't dumb. Of course they left a failsafe."
Ishmael's voice erupted in Solomon's head, boiling with rage.
> "That wasn't the damn failsafe, idiot! The old man's still alive! That was the failsafe. The real one was supposed to be me needing a host. So you can take your snarky little comments and shove them up your—"
> "Yeah, yeah," Solomon cut him off with a sigh. "Whether it was or wasn't, you've got some explaining to do. Who was that voice? What's this so-called greater threat? And how does this merging even work? 'Cause honestly, I expected you to take over our bodies. Not be stuck as some angry voice in my skull."
> "It was supposed to work like that!" Ishmael snapped. "You were supposed to carry my consciousness, and the mage was supposed to carry my power. But the old man—damn him—took pity on you and gave you control. As for your other questions, go ask him yourself when we get to the Temple of Edom. I'm not your damn dictionary."
Solomon raised an eyebrow. "Fine. Be like that." He turned to Rose. "Come on, let's go. We're heading to Edom. If we're gonna get answers, we'll need someone actually willing to talk."
But Rose remained frozen, still trembling from everything that had happened. Her eyes were unfocused, her breath shallow. Solomon sighed softly and walked over, gently lifting her in his arms.
> "Don't worry, Rose. We'll make it through this. Just rest for now."
She nodded faintly, and he smiled, comforted by her response.
Ishmael scoffed.
> "Touching. But aren't you forgetting something, genius? The artifact. The old man said to bring it with us."
Solomon smirked. "Oh? I thought you weren't helping us."
> "I said I wasn't your dictionary! But if you screw this up, my life's on the line too. So if we fail, we all lose."
Though irritated by Ishmael's arrogance, Solomon was relieved that the Ginn was proving to be more of an asset than a burden. As he prepared to re-enter the dungeon, he asked:
> "Hey, Ishmael, since we've got half your power, can we control the dungeon and monsters like you did?"
> "First of all, my name is Ishmael—you saw it carved on the pillar, monk. Use it. Second, no. That power was severed during the fusion. You won't be able to control the dungeon anymore. But don't worry—your new abilities should be more than enough. Leave Rose on the first floor. It's sealed off. She'll be safe there."
Solomon was disappointed but not surprised. He carried Rose to the sandstone chamber at the entrance, its ancient pillars covered in eerie hieroglyphs.
> "This place is dull, but safe. I'll be back soon," he told her as he gently set her down.
Rose looked up at him with worry in her eyes. "Just… be careful, okay? I'll be fine. I just need a moment to breathe. And if anything shows up, I can handle myself."
Solomon smiled and nodded. "That's more like it."
---
Charging deeper into the dungeon, Solomon reached out to Ishmael again.
> "Alright, oh mighty genie—what powers did I get from this fusion, and how the hell do I use them?"
> "I swear, if you call me anything other than Ishmael one more time—" the Ginn groaned. "You've got flame, air, and shadow manipulation. Just visualize what you want to create and how to control it. I'll handle the mana flow and let you know when you're low."
Solomon grinned. "That's surprisingly simple."
The moment he turned a corner, a black, two-tailed wolf-like creature with a skeletal armor emerged from the darkness—a Bloodhound.
> "Perfect," Solomon muttered.
He raised his hand, imagined a spiraling fireball, and let loose. The ball of flame rocketed toward the beast, slamming into its chest and detonating in a blast of embers.
> "Boom," Solomon said with a twisted grin.
> "That's it? A fireball?" Ishmael groaned. "You could create anything out of flame—and you go with a basic fireball? How imaginative."
Solomon rolled his eyes. "It worked, didn't it?"
---
As Solomon dashed through the labyrinthine halls, he began experimenting with his powers—trapping goblins in shadow tendrils, slicing kobolds with blades of wind, and incinerating harpies mid-flight.
Each time, Ishmael corrected his technique, explaining the nuances of his new abilities. Shadow manipulation, for instance, could take on properties like extreme heat, freezing cold, or diamond-like hardness—depending on intent. But it drained mana fast and had a 30-minute cooldown.
Eventually, Solomon reached a massive steel door carved with the image of monstrous spiders devouring smaller creatures. A faint chitter echoed beyond.
> "Yo, Ishmael," Solomon whispered. "Shortcut?"
> "Left path. The Black Widow's chamber. Beat her, and beneath one of the golden spider statues is a trapdoor to the vault."
> "Great."
He placed his ear against the door, listening for skittering. The spider wasn't too close.
He smirked, igniting his feet with flame. With a running leap, he kicked open the doors, blasting them toward the massive spider inside. The creature—easily twenty feet tall—swatted the doors aside, hissing in fury.
Solomon rushed in, summoning a flaming lion's head that lunged and tore off one of her legs.
> "Did you see that, Ishmael? That creative enough for you?!"
> "Not bad… but don't get cocky. One slip and that poison will melt your pretty little face."
"Noted," Solomon muttered, diving away as the spider launched a flurry of webs. He countered with fire arrows, dodging left and right.
At a safe distance, he conjured a wind blade and launched it—but the spider darted aside and charged.
She was fast. Too fast.
The creature's leg slashed out, barely missing Solomon's head. The second strike caught him off-guard and hurled him into a wall.
Blood trickled from his forehead, but Solomon growled, lifted his hand, and blasted a wide burst of wind to knock the spider back.
He dashed forward, conjuring flaming wolf claws on his arms and legs. Leaping onto the spider, he scrambled up her limbs like a wild animal, using fire blasts to maintain speed and grip. Reaching her thorax, he fired two more wind blades—slicing off another two legs.
The beast shrieked, shaking violently. Solomon tumbled to the ground, landing on his feet with a manic grin.
> "You fight like a savage," Ishmael said. "Just like the first time we fought. But now… you've got power."
The spider screeched and unleashed a wave of corrosive venom across the floor.
Solomon jumped, grabbing the wall just in time. The acid hissed and sizzled below.
He launched fireballs as a distraction, but the spider charged straight through them. With no safe ground, Solomon began running along the wall, using explosive flame bursts to propel himself faster.
But it wasn't enough.
A web shot out—snagging him midair—and the spider slammed him downward toward the venom-soaked floor.
Reacting fast, Solomon used wind to launch himself upward, narrowly avoiding death. While suspended, he had an idea.
He conjured a massive ball of flame in the center of the room, then blasted it with rotating wind, creating a giant flaming vortex. The vortex sucked up the venom, clearing the floor.
But the spider braced herself with her remaining legs, screeching again—this time not in pain, but as a signal.
From the shadows above, hundreds of small red eyes began to glow.
> "She's calling her children," Ishmael said. "Let's see if you can survive this round."