Viktor still couldn’t believe what he had just witnessed.

  Four Cyclopes y sprawled across the floor of the arena, dead. These monstrous, one-eyed creatures had triumphed in many battles before, with those foolish enough to challenge them either meeting a swift, brutal end or fleeing in terror. Even Cedric’s party, with their combined strength, had only managed to take down one after a drawn-out and hard-fought battle. But here, just now, four had been sin. Within seconds, no less.

  He would have accepted it better if there had been some magic involved. After all, these creatures were notorious for their ck of intelligence and weak wills, making them highly susceptible to mind control. Which was why he had built the whole pn around that very fw in the first pce: to exploit it, to turn it to his advantage. But no, the Cyclopes were not subdued by magic. They had been brought down by sheer brute force.

  To be fair, he didn’t expect to obliterate the entire party in one fell swoop. He had always assumed that even if the battle went his way, he might only be able to take down one or two of them. When seen in that light, the battle could hardly be called a disaster. In fact, it was well within the acceptable margin. Still, the prowess dispyed by the Northern warrior was nothing short of unbelievable.

  The man possessed two Reliquaries: the sword and the shield. The shield appeared capable of absorbing the full force of the strike that came at it, negating the impact entirely. That ability was what allowed him to successfully block the Cyclops’s devastating swing. Very useful, indeed, but it wasn’t exactly mind-blowing. What truly set Bjorn apart, however, was the sword.

  The moment it left its scabbard, a blinding radiance emerged, enveloping its entire edge and transforming it into a bde of light. The bde stretched twice the length and width of its metal core, giving its wielder a longer reach. More importantly, this beam of radiant destruction could cut through anything. Wood, meat, or bone. Everything unfortunate enough to be in its path would be cleanly cleaved in two.

  Obviously, engaging the man in close combat was unwise. The bde’s power and reach made it a formidable weapon in any kind of direct confrontation. Even Sebekton would have a hard time dealing with that. No, his minions needed to stay away from Bjorn, far out of reach of that terrifying sword, and with ranged attacks, they could harass, wear down, and hopefully pick him apart from a safe distance.

  After assessing the situation and contempting the next move, Viktor’s attention returned to the arena, where the three Dungeon Reavers were coming to terms with the aftermath of the battle.

  Joshua gave a brief gnce at what used to be Xahir. His face went pale, his hand going to his mouth as if he might vomit right then and there. But he swallowed it down, quickly averting his eyes.

  “Fuck!” Clint spat on the ground, then he turned to Bjorn. “What now?”

  “We press on,” the warrior said ftly.

  “Is that wise?” Joshua asked with a frown. “This dungeon seems much more dangerous than we expected.”

  “We’ll be fine.”

  “No, you’ll be fine,” Clint yelled. “But how about us?”

  “You can go back if you want,” Bjorn said. “I’ll continue, with or without you.”

  “You’re acting strange, Bjorn. Is it really all about money? Or... does that queen of yours have something to do with this?” Joshua asked. For a brief moment, the Northman’s eyes narrowed.

  Queen?

  “What queen?” Clint voiced the same question.

  Bjorn gred at the aeromancer, his jaw tightening. “Do not make baseless assumptions. She has nothing to do with this.”

  “Oh, really?” Joshua didn’t back down. “Then tell me, where did you get that sword? You didn’t have it before. Someone has just given it to you. Right before this job. Who? Must be someone very rich and powerful, right?”

  “It’s none of your concern,” Bjorn said, cutting off any further argument. Without another word, he turned and made for the other exit of the arena. The mage and the rogue exchanged a gnce. Joshua sighed, before trailing after Bjorn. Clint spat again, then picked up his pace to catch up with his companions.

  That was... certainly some interesting information. So, someone had entrusted Bjorn with the Reliquary for the purpose of completing this mission. And Joshua had mentioned a queen. But which queen? Since Bjorn hailed from the North, the Queen of Brefjord seemed the most likely candidate. However, the word “queen” here might not necessarily refer to a literal monarch. There was also that mysterious woman, Nephra, who might be involved in some way.

  Before long, the Dungeon Reavers had reached the third floor, where a vast expanse of shimmering blue y before their eyes. Joshua raised his hand without waiting for Bjorn’s order, as if the decision had already been made beforehand, and a gust of wind began to stir. The currents of air swirled around the three adventurers, and slowly, their feet lifted off the ground.

  Viktor watched as the trio flew onward. As expected, they tried to cheat the water realm by taking flight, bypassing the dangers of the treacherous sea below. But he had something at his disposal that could stretch all the way to the heavens. No pce was safe, not even the sky.

  “Rise.”

  When the party was about to reach the midpoint, he uttered the word.

  The water exploded. His minions, the Acolytes of the Deep, who were preparing their spell beneath the surface, had heard their master’s call and unleashed their power, calling forth an extension of their god into this world. A leviathan pilr of flesh, covered in writhing suckers and grotesque mouths, shot upward, rising like a siege tower. It swung, a mountain of muscle and malice, aimed directly at the intruders.

  “Left!” Bjorn roared.

  Joshua wrenched his hands upward, and the air screamed in response. The party lurched sideways as the colossal limb nearly grazed Clint’s boot. The rogue cursed under his breath and loosed an arrow, which buried itself uselessly in the tentacle’s thick, slimy hide.

  When the serpentine pilr returned, targeting the center of their formation, Joshua veered to the left, while Clint swore again as he was flung to the right. Bjorn’s bde fshed to life, slicing through the tentacle’s head with a wide arc of silver. The tip fell, spraying putrid ichor as it plunged back into the depths.

  The severed stump coiled, then shed like a whip. Joshua grunted, sweat streaming down his face as he struggled to dodge the filing remnants, all the while straining to keep his companions out of danger as well.

  “Send me down!” Bjorn bellowed, sliding his sword back into its scabbard.

  “What?”

  “Get me close to its base! I’ll cut it at the root!”

  “Are you mad? We have no idea what might be lurking down there.”

  “Just do it!”

  The aeromancer let out a sigh. “Hold on tight!” he said, moving his hand, and the warrior began to plummet. He was not dropping straight down, of course, but instead angled toward the spot where the tentacle emerged.

  But before he could reach his target, the water moved. Dozens of smaller tentacles shot upward, each one as thick as a man’s torso. The bde of light danced, cleaving them in bursts of gore and bck blood. But for every tentacle he cut down, two more serpentine tendrils surged to take its pce.

  That’ll keep him busy for a while.

  The true target was still the wind mage. Once he was sin, the other two would fall to their watery grave.

  “Rise,” Viktor uttered again.

  A second pilr of flesh breached the surface. This one was smaller than the first, but no less grotesque. It rose a bit further away from the Reavers, since its purpose was not to strike at them, but to send something—or more accurately, someone—into the sky. At its tip clung Sebekton, his loyal Guardian, axe raised high, slit-pupiled eyes glinting with murderous intent.

  Joshua saw him too te.

  The deadly Reliquary sheared the air, and an invisible crescent unched forward, passing through the aeromancer’s waist without any resistance. For a heartbeat, Joshua hung intact, his brow furrowed in confusion. Then, his lower half fell, guts spilling out like a torrent of glistening red. Blood rained in crimson droplets as his torso toppled as well, a moment ter. The mage’s eyes, wide with shock, blinked at the sky one st time before his world went dark forever.

  Viktor grinned. Perfect!

  Clint screamed, cwing at empty air as the wind died. The rogue and the warrior dropped, swallowed whole by the dark water beneath.

  The archer was as good as dead, Viktor was certain of it. Falling from such a height, it didn’t matter what was down there waiting to meet him. The impact alone would have reduced the man to a crumpled heap. Bones would be shattered, flesh would be pulverized, and life would be snuffed out in an instant. No one would be able to survive that.

  His focus shifted to Bjorn, who was now underwater. He had to make sure that the warrior wouldn’t resurface. “Send the merfolk and froglings to encircle him,” he ordered the Dungeon Core. “But don’t get too close,” he added. That bde of light could still be a threat. “Maintain distance and bombard him with missiles.”

  He watched closely as his minions began to converge. First came the mermen, their scales gleaming in the murk, webbed hands clutching harpoons and javelins. The froglings trailed behind, their throats puffing up as they readied their darts. They formed a ring, staying just outside the reach of the sinking warrior’s terrifying sword. Weapons at the ready, they prepared to strike as one.

  But before the first projectile could even be unleashed, Bjorn’s body twisted. He surged toward the nearest merman, and the radiant bde arced upward, slicing through scale, flesh, and bone from hip to shoulder. The merman’s torso peeled open, spilling coils of entrails that drifted away, while the lower half sank, tail still thrashing.

  What?

  A harpoon hissed past the warrior’s ear. He spun, shield raised, and a dart bounced off the metal surface. Another merman threw a javelin, but he ducked and unched himself at the creature with unnatural speed. His sword carved a crescent through the water, severing his foe’s arm at the elbow.

  Unbelievable...

  Viktor wanted to dismiss the Northman as just a good swimmer. He really wanted to. But the way Bjorn moved underwater felt so wrong. Too fast, too precise, and worst of all, too familiar. It mirrored the same fluid, deadly movements he himself had made when he was conquering the water realms of the dungeons in his past.

  [He is using your Reliquary, right, Master?]

  Ugh.

  There was no mistake. This was another artifact from the collection Alycia had called the Tyrant’s Legacy, or whatever name people had spped on it. Back when he was an adventurer, he had used this Reliquary to dive into the depths and sy the Acolytes of the Deep, who were hiding at the bottom, thinking they were safe and beyond his reach.

  And now, it was being used against him.