Five days had came and went with a single blink.
Grace, David, and Miller had arrived at the town furthest up north — eventually learning it to be called: Croford — during early noon of the 2nd day on the island, allowing themselves to settle in a tavern for the evening.
Now on the morning of the sixth day, the three were in a secluded corner of a tavern, eating their food in silence.
Due to it being early morning, it was relatively quiet. People were eating their food, allowing their early morning to be experienced in this sound tranquility.
But within the silence, the echoes of the dungeon's future began to swirl around the tavern air.
"More mercenaries have came," one spoke. "And they are going to the forest in haste." The air around these folks quickly became strained.
"That should be the last of it, yeah?"
"Hopefully," the former responded. "Arriving no later than this noon would hurt their chances of this supposed phenomena."
Even amongst the civilians that have been born and raised on the soil of this island, they were unable to fully reciprocate the long-awaited tale to be the truth.
The cohort continued to mind their own business.
However, the two civilians from before turned their heads towards their direction, obviously aware from their characteristics that they were not from around Croford.
"Hey, you three," they called out.
The cohort turned their head towards them, their attention captured.
"What do you make of this tale?"
Whether if it was true or not, or something they sought after, there was an underlying curiosity in the civilian eyes.
Unexpectedly, it was Miller that responded.
"I think... it's true, most likely," he said, but his eyes were blank, staring into oblivion. "Though... it may just end in a tragedy..."
His voice trailed off into the fleeting atmosphere.
Grace and David both stared at him.
They could both see something in those eyes of his. Something that churned, wanting to be let out. But the only thing that could manifest itself into the world was something estranged.
~~~
When Gabe first entered a dungeon, he too shared the curiosity of whether these people were as real as him.
The academy he had attended — a pitifully small one — came forth with both an answer of indifference and optimism that these people were just as real as them.
Gabe would have agreed if there wasn't a universal truth—only a Devotee can make it out alive.
Which is why, at the stroke of 10 PM on the sixth day, the civilians of Fordale saw fire rise in a building near the port of Fordale.
Gabe rose from the ashes, lantern in hand.
[Lantern of Fire]
In a dungeon, one can taste the lips of death at any moment.
That was all Gabe needed, this undeniable truth, to be able to enact his indiscriminate violence.
His crew followed him as they strode the port; they had been on the low ever since they arrived on the end of the first day. Lurking in the shadows for the remaining days, Gabe had set his sight towards obtaining the Legendary Artifact.
As he strut along the concrete roads, his gaze held no fear. Though that could not be said for the people that saw his figure emerge.
The [Lantern of Fire] swayed gently with each fearless step, having emerged from a storage ring that he had purchased in order to be able to store items.
The fire from within the lantern flickered softly, then coiled outward once Gabe directed it towards the houses nearby. His eyes, reflecting off of the fire, maintained its indifference as he heard the coughs of the innocent swell within the flames.
"Sir! Above you!"
One his crew yelled. He did not know whether it was someone from his actual crew or if it was one of the crew members that was forged by the dungeon.
Nor did he care.
His eyes drew up, seeing a man descend from atop the burning building. He was a masked figure, cloaked in a mercenary's attire. In his hand was a steel dagger, the curvature letting out a glint of madness underneath the moonlight.
Gabe stayed firm on the ground, unmoving like a statue.
The mercenary was quick, Gabe could give him that. However, he was just a beat faster. Catching the descending hand — the one bearing the dagger — Gabe allowed mana to surge throughout his entire arm, granting him a seismic increase in strength.
Gabe caught sight of the man's expression. Despite being covered by the mask, he could see the pained expression in the man's eyes. Before the mercenary could retaliate, Gabe pressed his hand on top of his face.
Fwoom!
Fwoom!
Two blades of wind swiftly manifested, tearing through the mercenary's head. Blood spewed, brain matter flailing.
As the former mercenary's figure dropped, Gabe continued moving.
~~~
10:37 PM, Croford.
Underneath the guiding moonlight, they watched from afar —on the balcony of the tavern — the dozens of people that were making their way to the forest.
Almost all of them were seeking the glory of witnessing and — hopefully — taking the Legendary Artifact that would supposedly manifest itself.
Holding a map, David let out a quiet hum.
The map had a more detailed view of the island in contrast to the map they had saw during their swift stay at Fordale.
This map vividly depicted a shrine at the center of the forest in the form of an icon.
The wind flowed by, ruffling the piece of paper. David tucked it into his pocket, his gaze flying towards the forest.
"Gabe is surely going to be there," David spoke the obvious truth. "What will we do then?" His eyes locked onto the other two.
They didn't say anything for a moment.
"Like what... we've been doing," Miller responded softly with a frown. "Struggle... persist."
That was the only thing they could do.
Grace hummed in agreement.
He took a sharp inhale, closing his eyes as the hairs on his body stood up. It was only now did he begin to feel the imminent future. The hairs on the back of his neck and on his arms stiffly stood up, the heat settling in.
Persist... Grace repeated, allowing it to reverberate inside his head. He then opened his eyes, sharpening his gaze.
If they cross paths with Gabe, they knew they would surely die.
He turned around, feigning confidence.
"Shall we loot the dead?"
He smiled.
~~~
10:40, Fordale.
His clothes were bloody, defiled by his foes' woes. Still, Gabe remained relentless as he sauntered through an alley, slaying people who were trying to run away from their inevitable slaughter.
He was a dark blur in the night, as flashes of green soared momentarily.
The fire burned and burned, spreading like a deadly virus.
Another died.
Then another.
And another.
And another.
Blood sprayed from the fallen like a water hose, piling onto Gabe's face. After awhile, Gabe emerged at the end of town.
He left behind everything -- including his crew who were behind -- as though he was a ghostly figure that had came to reap what was due.
The dungeon's clearing Grade should at least be a B+ or maybe an A-. Gabe thought as his figure was swallowed by the forest.
Gabe began running, storing his [Lantern of Fire] away in the ring positioned on his index finger. The moonlight penetrated the leaves above, briefly brushing against him as he sought for more opponents.
"Huahh..."
He let out a shaky exhale. Not out of tiredness, but out of the jolt of excitement that was circulating through his veins as he saw three figures from a distance.
He didn't bother quieting his footsteps, not caring if they had caught him advancing towards them.
A mad grin spread across his face as he jumped, appearing above one of them.
Their heads turned, their eyes widening as they saw his figure descend down. They moved to dodge, but unveiling his [Lantern of Fire] from the storage ring, there was a ring of fire that sprouted around them.
A green aura began to churn, a crescent arc sauntering down.
Splshhh!
An arm gone.
An eruption of pain.
Blood flying.
And a grin that grew even wider than before.
Gabe landed on the ground, immediately pushing off of it and capturing the nameless man's head. Clawing it, Gabe pulled on the head, separating it from the base of his neck.
His onslaught did not end, becoming an unrelenting endeavor. He swayed forth, dozens of crescent moons shooting from the palm of his hands.
They, too, met an ugly fate.
As his body writhed in their blood, Gabe found joy in their annihilation.
Swoshhhhh!
It was then a wave of fire came barreling from his side, the intense heat burning the lush grass that had been dyed with blood.
Jumping, Gabe vaulted over the intense fire.
He looked towards the direction in which the fire had came from, watching as a male figure emerged from the shadows.
It was a handsome man with short brown hair and of an average stature. However, he wore an ornate attire, magnifying his presence.
"A noble," Gabe muttered, glaring.
Rustle!
Around the noble, a tome revolved around.
"Beastly," the noble said simply. "In the name of Grav Young, you shall be exorcised."
From within the pages of the tome, fire came to life.