The cold stench of rot thickened in the chamber as the massive iron doors ground open, stone dust raining from the ceiling. Beyond lay the final hall of the first floor, the lair of the dungeon's guardian.
Kael's heart hammered. His palms were slick with sweat around the worn hilt of his dagger.
They stood at the threshold of the Boss Room.
The party members – the Crown Prince, two noble scions, a merchant's heir, and Arven, Kael's childhood friend – stood tall, their rare and elite-ranked summons shimmering with mana. Wolves of steel, drakes covered in obsidian scales, and even a falcon blazing with silver lightning.
Only Kael stood apart, his Common-rank Fire Spirit hovering at his side, a small ember-like creature flickering faintly against the oppressive dark.
It drew mocking glances, but Kael clenched his jaw. He would not falter.
Kael exhaled sharply and summoned his status screen one last time before stepping inside.
Current Stats (Level 4):
Strength: 16
Agility: 13
Endurance: 15
Intelligence: 12
Free Points: 20
He gripped his dagger tighter. If I don't strengthen myself now… I'll just be dead weight.
He forced the decision quickly, channeling his points:
Strength +5
Agility +5
Endurance +6
Intelligence +4
The numbers shifted, his body subtly humming with new vigor, the weight of his blade suddenly lighter, his breath steadier, his focus sharper.
Strength: 21
Agility: 18
Endurance: 21
Intelligence: 16
A faint smirk touched his lips. He wasn't elite like the others, but he wasn't useless either.
The chamber trembled.
From the shadows of a cracked throne rose the Undead Warlord, a towering knight clad in corroded plate. Its skull burned with two hollow flames, and in its grip was a rusted greatsword longer than Kael was tall.
A suffocating aura rolled across the hall. Even the prince's wolf shuddered.
"So… this is the end of the first floor," the prince murmured, lips curling. "Perfect. A chance for me to display my true power."
The warlord bellowed, and skeletal soldiers clawed their way from the dirt floor, a tide of clattering bones.
"Steel Fang—tear them apart!" the prince commanded. His armored wolf lunged, its jaws snapping two skeletons like twigs.
"Storm Drake, burn them down!" shouted the merchant's heir. A drake exhaled black lightning, frying three more in a crackling storm.
Kael drew his dagger and ran forward, his Fire Spirit swirling beside him. It let out a shrill cry, spitting a Fire Bolt at an advancing skeleton, its bones igniting until the thing collapsed into ash.
But more came.
One skeleton slashed for Kael's throat. He ducked, his boosted agility saving him by a hair. His dagger slashed upward, cutting through brittle ribs. The creature crumbled.
Another leapt at him from the side—only for the Fire Spirit to flare suddenly, releasing a new attack.
[Skill Learned: Ember Burst]
The spirit detonated a flash of heat, blasting the skeleton back in smoking fragments.
Kael grinned despite the sweat pouring down his temple. Good. You're growing too.
The tide surged. The prince's party moved in perfect rhythm, high-rank summons overwhelming the undead horde with raw power. Kael stayed near the rear, cutting down stragglers, his Fire Spirit weaving bursts of flame to clear his flanks.
Then the Warlord moved.
It raised its greatsword and brought it down with earth-shattering force. The ground quaked. Several lesser skeletons shattered instantly.
"Now! Focus fire!" the prince barked.
The elite summons lunged. Claws, lightning, and flame battered the Warlord, but its armor absorbed blow after blow.
Kael darted in during an opening, his dagger flashing. He jammed it between two corroded plates, sparks flying as he twisted deep. The Warlord reeled back with a screech, green fire leaking from its wound.
"Not bad, Commoner," sneered the prince, not looking at him. "But don't overestimate your worth."
Kael ignored him, chest heaving. The fight was far from over.
Minutes dragged like hours. The chamber stank of charred bone and rusted blood. The Warlord stumbled now, armor cracked, its flaming skull dimmer.
Kael wiped blood from his cheek, body screaming from the exertion. His Fire Spirit hovered weakly, its flames flickering but determined.
They were so close.
The Warlord raised its greatsword for a final desperate strike—then slammed it into the ground.
The dungeon shook violently.
Stone split. The floor caved in.
A massive hole yawned beneath them, swallowing debris into blackness. Kael stumbled and barely caught himself, his dagger jamming into the crumbling stone at the edge.
Dust filled his lungs. His arm trembled, straining to keep hold.
"Arven!" he shouted, his gaze snapping to his childhood friend. "Help me up!"
For a moment, their eyes locked. Arven hesitated. His lips pressed thin.
Then… he looked away.
"Pathetic," the prince's voice drawled. He stepped forward, his silhouette haloed in the glow of his summon. "You were useful only as bait, Kael. Did you truly think a Commoner with a Common summon belonged among us?"
Kael's blood ran cold. His dagger slipped slightly. "W-What are you saying—Arven, you… you're just going to leave me?!"
His childhood friend's face twisted. Shame warred with something colder. Finally, he muttered:"Forgive me, Kael… but siding with the prince is the only way I'll survive in this world."
Kael's chest hollowed. His hand ached. The stone beneath his dagger cracked further.
The last thing he saw as his grip failed was Arven turning his back… and the prince smirking cruelly.
"Eryndor… Arven…" His voice was raw, whispering into the darkness. "You'll regret this. One day… you'll regret everything."
Then Kael plummeted into the abyss.