The sound of footsteps echoed softly through the dim tunnel, each step bouncing back against the stone walls like distant heartbeats.
The atmosphere felt thick—heavy with moisture, silence, and the faint acidic scent of goblin blood that stained the cracks in the stone.
The trio moved in a familiar formation: Kael at the front, Marvin in the middle, Lena at the rear. Each of them walked with a distinct rhythm.
Lena, carefree as ever, had her hands folded behind her head as she hummed a light, airy childhood rhyme—one she had been crooning on and off since they regrouped.
Her soft voice contrasted sharply with the dungeon's oppressive environment, almost like she was trying to breathe color into a colorless world.
Kael walked silently ahead, his presence a blade in human shape.
His steps made little noise, his attention fanned out to every shadow and ripple of sound.
Behind the mask, his face remained stern and unreadable.
Marvin followed closely behind him, posture straight, expression cold and professional. His dagger hilts gleamed faintly in the dim light as his sharp eyes scanned the darkness, colder and sharper than honed swords.
He looked every inch the assassin his reputation proclaimed him to be.
Every few minutes, goblin squads ambushed them—primitive formations of four to six monsters charging from side tunnels or dropping from ledges.
But each attack evaporated within seconds.
Lena's humming never even faltered.
The trio neutralized the goblins with almost lazy efficiency: Lena disoriented them with sudden bursts of movement, Marvin's blades dispatched any exposed threat, and Kael ended the rest with surgical precision.
But Kael noticed something off.
Marvin's behavior… it's inconsistent.
The man had the skill set of an assassin—speed, precision, awareness—but his eagerness to attack was unnatural.
He struck too quickly, lunging at feints and barely dodging obvious baits.
He moves like he's trying too hard. Good for me, though.
Kael smirked inwardly. The more openings this team has, the easier it is for me.
Still, their synergy was objectively excellent.
Lena disrupted enemy formations, Marvin killed any goblin too stunned or too slow to react, and the loot was split between them in two equal halves.
Predictable behavior for a team that had been together for three years.
"Ahem." Lena gave a light cough—her signature soft attempt at peacemaking.
"Since we're looking for Max, I think we should talk while we walk. That way he can follow our voices and not attack us like a certain person did."
Her side-eye toward Kael was not subtle.
Kael paused mid-step.
So that's why she kept singing?
He mentally sighed. Nice strategy. But…
His head suddenly snapped to the right. A faint metallic clanging—soft, distant, but unmistakable—echoed from a branching tunnel.
"I don't think we'll be needing that," Kael interrupted calmly.
He gestured toward the sound and turned into the tunnel without waiting for them. Lena and Marvin exchanged glances, then followed.
As the passage widened, Lena's voice rang out. "Found him."
There, in the center of a small chamber, Max was locked in brutal combat with an ogre—the evolved form of a hobgoblin.
The creature towered over him, muscles thick as tree trunks and breath reeking with rot, it's skin had a brown tone to it a sign of an Ogre.
A massive mace swung down in violent arcs, clashing against Max's broad sword with explosive sparks.
Each impact sent a shockwave through the room, stone dust drifting from the ceiling.
The two combatants were face-to-face, barely nineteen centimeters apart.
Max grimaced subtly as the ogre exhaled its foul stench directly into his face.
The ogre roared, spittle flying, and Max suddenly pivoted.
Using the force from the sword-mace clash, he leapt back two meters in a controlled retreat.
The beast charged immediately to close the distance, pounding the ground with enough force to fracture the stone.
Max lifted his broad sword above his head with both hands. His eyes narrowed.
"Aether Armament."
A yellow, translucent glow bloomed from his chest, spreading outward like liquid light until it wrapped around his entire body in a shimmering aura.
Max swung downward. The sword met the ogre's mace—no, cut through it—like a hot knife slicing through butter.
The severed mace head clanged to the floor. The same strike carved a long diagonal wound across the ogre's shoulder to its waist.
Not deep enough to kill, but deep enough to enrage.
The ogre staggered, panic flickering in its eyes.
It kicked heavily at the floor, trying to leap backward, but Max had already closed in, blade drawn to his side in a horizontal slashing stance.
Kael's thoughts spiraled instinctively.
Aether, he recited mentally.
Also known as the manifestation of physical energy. It is the mixture of physical energy, mental energy, and mana in a ratio of 3:1:2 respectively.
It requires more physical strength than mana to use.
That's why true Aether fighters are physical monsters.
Aether can enhance attacks, defend, boost reaction time, increase strength, speed, durability—almost anything.
Only with extreme mastery and precision can it be used for healing.
And just because it requires a balance doesn't mean beasts can't use it.
Monsters with little intelligence but high combat instincts can activate it through primal instincts. Just like… now.
Max's sword swung. Just as it was about to connect—
A red translucent light exploded from the ogre's chest, wrapping around its body with frightening speed.
The blade carved only a shallow cut across the creature's abdomen.
The ogre bellowed in rage. Its aura thickened, pulsing with red energy.
It lunged at Max with blinding speed.
Max blocked the first punch with the flat of his broad sword, expression neutral despite the force.
But the beast's second punch—thrown with its free hand—still connected.
Max attempted to defend, releasing one hand from the sword to divert the hit, but the impact blasted him off his feet.
He slammed into the tunnel wall with a bone-rattling crash.
Dust exploded outward, obscuring him from view.
"Still playing, Maxxy?" Lena's teasing voice drifted through the haze, unfazed.
A soft burst of Aether surged from Max, dispersing the dust like a gust of wind.
He stepped out of the small crater in the wall, armor coated in dust, hair disheveled, expression pure annoyance.
But aside from his appearance, he was entirely uninjured.
"Damn ogre," he growled.
Across the chamber, the ogre crouched low in a lunging posture, Aether coating its fists with a thick crimson sheen, almost like blood-red armor.
The creature pounded the ground once, cracks splitting outward.
Max exhaled deeply.
Flames flickered along his breath.
He raised the broad sword above his head with both hands while activating magic.
Fire spiraled up the blade like serpents awakened.
Kael's thoughts drifted again.
Magic—the manifestation of mana. The mixture of physical energy, mental energy, and mana in a ratio of 1:2:3 respectively. It allows us to create and control the elements.
Back to Max. Hot, scorching flames burst outward, wrapping around his sword. The flames maintained a yellow outline—evidence of Aether reinforcing the raw mana. The blade shimmered with a deadly brilliance.
The ogre charged.
Max charged.
They met in the middle in a thunderous collision—
The beast's left fist swung forward with lethal force—
And Max's blazing sword came down to meet it.