I staggered to my feet, almost collapsing again as my legs threatened to give out. My vision blurred, the edges of the world warping as if I stood in a haze. Still, I refused to fall. My hand clenched around my dagger—my lifeline. Slowly, I slid the blade into my waist sheath, freeing my arms. I stretched them out wide, my breath ragged, and began to chant.
From my left hand: "Wind Magic: Wind Hurricane!"
From my right: "Fire Magic: Fire Storm!"
The two spells collided in the air, swirling together into a massive fire hurricane. The roaring vortex tore across the battlefield, heat distorting the air. I thought—hoped—it would be enough to engulf the Abyssal Reaper.
But I was wrong.
The Reaper's twin scythes pulsed with a malevolent glow. It swung, absorbing the fire hurricane into its weapons as if my attack were nothing more than a candle flame. The stolen magic burst forth again—but now the flames burned an unnatural purple, tainted with the Reaper's own corruption.
I had no choice. "Dark Magic: Dark Defense!" I shouted.
A swirling sphere of black energy enveloped me just as the purple inferno struck. The impact rattled the barrier like a drum, cracks spiderwebbing across its surface. A few tongues of purple fire slipped through, grazing my skin. Even a single touch burned like molten metal. I gritted my teeth until the flames subsided.
When I dropped the defense, the battlefield was a charred wasteland. The Reaper emerged from the haze like death given form, its aura burning brighter. Before I could react, it closed the distance and slammed its foot into my chest. The world spun as my body smashed into a wall.
I gasped for air. The metallic taste of blood filled my mouth. I barely managed to draw my dagger again before the Reaper's massive hand wrapped around my head, lifting me off the ground like a doll.
"How weak you are," it spoke, its voice a deep, echoing growl that rattled my bones. "You come to my domain to defeat me? You're dreaming."
Its grip tightened. Pain exploded in my skull, and I screamed, blood dripping from my lips. My dagger slipped from my fingers, clattering to the stone floor. I clawed at the Reaper's arm, but its strength was immovable.
The scythe in its other hand rose high—aimed at my neck.
Something inside me snapped.
"I am not going to die here! Not yet!" I roared.
Mana erupted from my body in a violent wave, forcing the Reaper to release me and leap back. Crimson sparks flared from my skin, my eyes shifting from red to a deep, burning black-crimson. I seized my dagger, channeling dark magic into its edge.
I lunged forward. The Reaper crossed its scythes to block, but I vanished from its sight, reappearing behind it. My blade pierced deep into its back. The Reaper swung wildly behind itself, but I had already retreated, slamming my hand into the ground.
"Dark Magic: Dark Whip!"
From the stone floor, dozens of shadowy tendrils erupted, lashing out at the Reaper. It fought desperately, scythes whirling in a frenzy, until the darkness enveloped it completely—forming a black sphere around its body.
Then… the glow started.
A deep purple radiance pulsed from within the dark sphere, growing stronger until it shattered outward. The Reaper now hovered slightly above the ground, its aura flaring violently. The very debris around us began to lift into the air as it drew in the battlefield's energy.
Its power had doubled. Maybe tripled.
The Reaper swung once. A single arc of purple energy ripped through the air so fast I barely dodged—still, it grazed me, carving a shallow slash across my side. The shockwave gouged a massive trench in the wall behind me.
I swallowed hard.
I charged, screaming as I struck again and again, but the Reaper blocked every blow. With a sudden spin, it generated a purple tornado, its suction pulling me in.
I stabbed my dagger into the ground, anchoring myself even as my muscles strained against the pull. Rocks and dust swirled violently until the Reaper roared, the vortex dissipating in an explosion of force.
"Even with this… 'power up,'" it mocked, "you cannot defeat me."
My knees trembled. My lungs burned. My vision wavered dangerously close to blacking out.
But then… I saw it.
An opening.
I thrust my hand forward. "Wind Magic: Wind Hurricane!"
The swirling gale crashed into the Reaper, shrouding its vision. I moved—fast, circling around the edge of the vortex. This was my last shot. If this failed, I'd never get my revenge.
Flame mana surged into my body, coursing through my veins until I felt like I might ignite from within. My dagger blazed with crimson fire.
The hurricane died, revealing the Reaper. Its head turned just in time to see me charging.
"Fire Magic: Inferno Blitz!"
The ground cracked beneath my feet from the sheer force of the dash. The Reaper crossed its scythes to block, but I didn't stop. My blade struck the weapons—metal screamed, cracked, and then shattered into shards. The inferno consumed the Reaper's body, hurling it across the chamber and into the far wall.
The purple flames that had wreathed it for so long flickered… and died.
I collapsed to my knees, every muscle screaming in protest. My mana was spent, my body numb. Darkness claimed my vision before I hit the ground.
---
When I awoke, the chamber was eerily silent. The Reaper's body slumped against the wall, head bowed. Slowly, I approached.
With the Ring of Hell on my hand, I pressed my palm to its forehead.
A red aura surged from the corpse, wrapping it completely. The massive frame shrank, transformed—the once ominous purple energy now replaced by blazing crimson. When the light faded, a new being knelt before me.
A towering, muscular figure with demonic horns and burning red eyes. His armor was spiked, jet-black with streaks of molten orange. Flames licked across his chest and shoulders, his twin blades now glowing with fire instead of corruption.
"My master," the figure said, voice deep but obedient. "Name me."
I smirked. "I'll call you… Volcagore."
He bowed his head. "Then that shall be my name. Call upon me, and I will burn your enemies to ash."
With that, Volcagore vanished into the ring, joining my growing army.
I couldn't help but laugh, my voice echoing in the empty dungeon. To think the Abyssal Reaper—an A-rank dungeon boss—was now my servant. With Volcagore alone, I could turn that pathetic little village into ruins.
I stepped outside into the afternoon sun, its warm light washing over me. My path was clear, my power growing. Soon… this nation would be mine.