Congratulations! Basecrest City Guard Suit’s ability, [Snap] has leveled up from Foundation - 7 to Foundation - 8.

  I dismissed the notification with a smirk. Even easier Trials like this one were great for power leveling lower level abilities. And right now, [Snap] was one of the most powerful tools in my arsenal.

  Turned out there were no good ores to mine on the first or second floors, so we blitzed our way up the spiral staircase to the third floor. The most common exotic material—Frostsilver—was found on the third floor, but the better stuff like Voidsteel and Aurorium were only found on the highest ones, and were far rarer and more difficult to extract. Many had died trying.

  I initially thought that with our faster pace, we’d clear the stairs in no time.

  Except, as Aerion told me only after we’d reached the top, the stairs took the same amount of time, regardless of how fast you went. You could crawl up the thing and only clear a single flight, or you could blitz through a thousand.

  Aerion gave me a pensive stare, and I could only sigh in return.

  This was stupid. What were we, prepubescent teens? I could’ve cleared the air just by apologizing—hell, I had every intention to—but I just couldn’t get the words out. I mean, Richard and the others were right there. There wasn’t a bit of privacy to be had.

  I’d apologize the moment we had a moment to ourselves. Until then, we had a new floor to explore.

  The dungeon was slowly morphing into the environment I remembered. We were in a cavern, but one so vast, I could barely see the top. Unlike floor five, which was a network of tunnels and barren caverns, we emerged at the edge of a forest, and tall, canopied trees were all I could see.

  It seemed we’d emerged from the base of a large mountain. A mountain inside a colossal cavern.

  “Is it just me, or did Dominion go to town with his artistic expression? Every floor’s one fantastical environment after another.”

  Philip shrugged. “Wait till you hear about the Trial that takes place in the innards of a world-sized fish. Or the one with the ocean of stars…”

  I stared at Philip, not quite sure if I should believe him. Then I remembered the world I was on. Of course there would be something that ridiculous here.

  Philip’s expression turned bitter.

  “What?” I asked.

  “I can tell you find the prospect exciting.”

  “Hell yeah, I do,” I said. “Know where that one is?”

  “Passion’s turf. Supposedly a Bastion-Class Trial.”

  B rank, huh? That was a ways off.

  I glanced at Aerion, who narrowed her eyes and looked away. I sighed. This was so stupid.

  We walked through the forest in silence, all lost in our thoughts. According to Aerion, the exit that bypassed floor four was on the opposite end, some fifty miles away. That didn’t sound like much for people with our speeds, but the forest—more like a jungle, really—hampered our efforts as we dodged vines, roots, and plant growth. How there was any light here, I didn’t have the faintest clue. While not bright, odd balls of light floating idly in the distance did give us just enough light to move by.

  It was great for my Grace stat, though, which ticked up steadily, faster than it had any right to.

  That all happened automatically, though, leaving me a lot of time in my head. As people usually did with gobs of time to themselves, my stupid brain kept looping that interaction I had with Aerion.

  I really had to question why I lashed out at her like that. Sure, I’d been irritated, but why say that, of all things? I wasn’t a twelve-year-old, for Cosmo’s sake.

  Nor was I that dense. I knew what these feelings usually meant. I’d been around the block enough to pick up on the signs. Except, that made no sense.

  I looked at Aerion, jumping her way over and around obstacles in front of me, holding Philip and Rogar under her arms as usual.

  When I saw her, I felt gratitude, appreciation… Respect. But no heart throb, no dilation of the pupils. I didn’t feel like I saw Aerion in that way. She was a reliable, competent partner, and the arrangement we had lasted only until the Archon was killed. Or that was how it was supposed to be.

  Besides, she’d never hinted that she had feelings for me, either.

  No, this was about Eskil, and the fucked up way he treated Aerion. Like she was a possession. Lashing out at Aerion, of all people, was just misguided.

  Also, I had to remind myself that the Viking came from a different era, with different sensibilities and culture. Still, that didn’t make it alright. It was one thing to read about it in history books, and another entirely to live it.

  Or maybe it was just a ‘me’ thing. Maybe Eskil reminded me too much of my old man. I put a hard stop on that line of thinking. That place wasn’t anywhere I cared to go. Not now. Not ever.

  Luckily, I was spared from any further introspection when we broke out into a meadow, and onto a pair of… somethings?

  “Are those... bears?” Richard said from behind my back.

  “Obsidian bears?” I said, doubting my own words. I don’t know why the sight struck me as so odd. I’d seen so many crazier things. It was probably because these two were like 8-bit versions of bears. Each obsidian piece on their body was large, and formed perfectly straight lines and geometric shapes.

  My bewilderment only lasted a moment, though.

  Aerion dumped Rogar and Philip unceremoniously and blurred toward them. She’d already activated [Reave].

  Losing only the barest instant to set Richard down a bit more gently than my angry elven friend, I took off after her.

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

  My extra Grace, plus [Snap], more than made up the difference. I reached her, and overtook.

  Then I stopped.

  I wasn’t strictly a melee fighter anymore. These days, I had more weapons in the arsenal. Ranged weapons.

  And it was high time I got to try out my brand-new darts.

  Aerion took the bear on the right, moving in to slash. The bear bellowed a roar that sounded like breaking glass, and deflected her attack, but it lost an arm in the process, as obsidian cracked and fell.

  Not bad. A few more strikes, and she’d down the thing.

  Only question was—could I beat her?

  There was only one way to find out.

  I extended my arm in front of me and queued up a dart. One of the explody ones.

  Aiming with my Spatial Inventory was weird, to say the least. All I technically needed was concentrate on my target and the inventory would send whatever I flung in that direction.

  It wasn’t perfect, though. While it got close, I needed an aid for finer accuracy. Maybe I’d develop some sort of arm-sight someday when I attained sniper-levels of range. For now, an extended arm worked.

  A single Steel Dart erupted from my inventory. This wasn’t its first time, of course. It was said that wise people learn from their mistakes, and wiser people learn from the mistakes of others.

  I, at least, learned from my mistakes—after that Aerion fiasco, I was going to thoroughly testing out every ability I got, no matter how excited I happened to be at the time.

  Lacking any live targets that were durable enough, I’d tested the darts on trees to admittedly impressive effect. And while I didn’t think they’d be ineffective, there was a vast chasm between a tree and a vicious Obsidian Bear. Would the dart penetrate? Would it just punch a hole through? And how would the thing’s condition fare against an enemy like this?

  I heard my answer before my brain registered what had just happened.

  Imagine a hundred mirrors, all hitting the ground at once. It was kinda like that. The bear didn’t just shatter. It exploded.

  I could only attribute that to the dart’s two-fold [Ouch!] and [Burst!] abilities. The former inflicted a wound. The latter made it explode. There was good synergy there, and when combined with the ridiculous speed the thing shot out of my inventory… In hindsight, I supposed the bear didn’t really stand a chance.

  Aerion, meanwhile, was still hacking at her bear. I thought about sending another dart at her bear, just for shits and giggles, but thought better of it. She was pissed as it was. I didn’t want to do anything that risked her thinking of me as an enemy. Aerion on her own was lethal enough. Berserker Aerion with 167 points of Dominion? Downright terrifying.

  Her bear fell on her next strike, which cleaved the thing in two. This, with an Uninitialized blade.

  I caught our friends gawking at her performance. I was right there with them. Aerion turned and flashed me a primal grin, which I returned. Then she came back to her senses and remembered that she was supposed to be angry with me, turning away with a huff.

  Unfortunately for us, the forest had other ideas about letting us celebrate our victory.

  Almost as soon as the dead bear’s shards hit the ground, a low buzzing sound started up around the forest. It came from all directions, all at once.

  “Guess this isn’t a Trial level for nothing,” I muttered, staring warily into the depths of the dark forest. The going had been just a bit too easy so far. Sounded like those times were over.

  “Do we flee?” Philip asked.

  I grinned and cracked my neck. “Richard? You got our backs?”

  The Champion grinned. “Always, friend.”

  Two-dozen hovering critters—they looked like a cross between a giant millipede and a mosquito armored with obsidian plates—appeared all around the periphery of the meadow, surrounding us. They were the sort of monster that would make an Entomophobe shake in a corner, wishing to die. Oh, and they glowed the same color as the forest.

  I guess I’d found out the source of the forest’s illumination, or one of them, at least.

  “Let’s crush these bug fuckers.”

  When the insects surrounded the party, Rogar had frozen stiff. Actually, he’d frozen stiff when they had encountered the bears. Suddenly, the ax in his hand, which he’d forged himself, felt a lot less secure.

  No. Who was he fooling? It wasn’t the ax, it was the wielder.

  Rogar had never been more terrified in his life. Was this how all Trials were? No wonder delving smiths went in with the best delvers they could find! Rogar had always found it overkill. How hard could it really be?

  After the Lava Leapers, after the Ash Golems and the Heat Worms, Rogar had just about been ready to throw his ax into the damn lava. Nevermind being carried like a water barrel by an elf half his girth.

  If that was all, Rogar would’ve accepted his fate and given himself to Dominion’s will. Except, whenever he ought to have died, it was the terrifying enemies that had died instead. Whenever the party ought to have fled, they prevailed.

  Because the greatest monster of them all had been right by his side, all this time.

  Rogar gulped as Grug conjured up projectiles from nowhere. Had he not forged them himself, Rogar would’ve been convinced he was magicking them into existence.

  Either way, the force at which they flew was nothing short of terrifying. Without even the barest hint of fear, Grug rushed toward the vile insect, faster than ought to have been possible. That, too, was something Rogar couldn’t quite put his finger on. The way Grug moved was… unnatural. No doubt some other form of magic.

  And then the impossible happened. The foul beast that would have eaten most delvers alive… disintegrated.

  Rogar had only caught the barest glimpse of a black object appearing in midair, and then the millipede was gone.

  Then Rogar blinked, and Grug was gone. Rogar found him some dozen feet away, and by the time his eyes locked onto the moving blur, another insect had fallen.

  Meanwhile, Aerion put on a terrifying performance of his own. The slim-framed elf didn’t even have a hammer, and yet he cleaved into the insects, with just the force of his attacks breaking their durable armor.

  Rogar winced at the abuse his blade must be taking. Worse, Rogar didn’t know if he could truly repair the blade, especially with his portable forge. Not with the sort of abuse the elf was subjecting his weapon to. The smith inside him wished to cry, while the warrior roared.

  Aerion was like Dominion himself, ripping into his enemies with nothing but sheer strength. Where Grug fought with miraculous weapons, Aerion smashed his foes apart with pure brute force. His attacks were augmented by an almost elegant technique. Quite the odd combination.

  The sight of the two decimating their enemies as they converged at the same spot was nothing short of awe-inspiring.

  Rogar had never witnessed a more beautiful display of strength and magic in his entire life. Were these the heights great warriors achieved? Was this what Rogar had missed out by choosing the life of a smith?

  Rogar thought back to all those times he’d talked down to Grug, treating him as just another nobody. The smith’s blood chilled. Grug had held back. He’d endured that treatment, each and every time.

  If he hadn’t? If he’d let his control slip for just one instant? Rogar would be dead.

  When the two master warriors met back up, every millipede had been annihilated. The battle hadn’t even lasted a single minute, and neither combatant was injured or even tired.

  In fact, when Grug and his little elf friend met up, they were grinning. Grinning! As though they were enjoying this!

  Then again, when one wielded such absolute, overwhelming power, who was to say it wasn’t fun?

  The smith swore, there and then, to make amends. Even if it took the rest of his life. Even if Grug never forgave him, Rogar swore upon Dominion’s name. He would make amends, and he would start now, by showing Grug—no, Greg—to some valuable ore.