Under the silver glow of the moon, the city of Veldrathar lay in a hushed slumber, its cobblestone streets whispering secrets of ancient magic and untold adventures. Kier Veyne's dark clothes blended into the shadows, though his white hair stood out like a sore thumb. Kier wandered aimlessly, his mind a whirlpool of thoughts and frustrations. The red sash around his wrist fluttered gently in the cool night breeze, a constant reminder of his unique abilities and the burden they carried.
As he strolled through the narrow alleys, Kier's attention was drawn to a flickering light in a nearby alleyway. It was unusual for any flame to dance so freely without a source, and curiosity tugged at him. He approached cautiously, his greenish-blue eyes narrowing as he tried to discern the nature of the glow.
There, nestled between two old barrels, was a small fire spirit. It's form was delicate, a flicker of flame that shimmered like molten gold. It seemed to be struggling, it's light dimming with each passing moment.
"A spirit? Those are rare up here, especially fire spirits." Kier thought as he looked upon the spirit curiously.
The spirits. They were born inside the dungeon. Most spirits stay in the dungeon, with their sole purpose to stop Dungeon Raiders from advancing. But some aren't born with a contract to the dungeon, these spirits who aren't are also born with a higher intelligence level. With the heightened intelligence, they seek human contracts, which they need to survive since they feed off of mana. And even with the 133 years dungeons have been a part of life here, nobody knows why this phenomenon happens.
"It's… fading? Can't it contract with anyone? She's smaller than the others I've seen, but still…"
His already sollum face scrunched up even further. He felt a weird kind of familiarity with how this spirit was acting.
"She got rejected huh…" Kier guessed. The thought of this spirit fading away like this…it tore at his heart.
And before he knew it, his legs began to move on their own.
He knelt down in front of the spirit, his white hair reflecting in the moonlight.
"Hey there…" He tried to make subtle conversation, albeit awkwardly. "You got rejected huh?"
The spirit shifted up and down, as if to say 'yes', a little light coming back to it. "I see. I also got rejected, multiple times in fact." He admitted, emitting a dry laugh.
"But im still going to try my best." Kier said with a slight smile. "My magic is feared because of an incident that happened a while ago…it's unfair, really."
The spirit seemed to sympathize with him, its light dimming as he talked. With a light chuckle he continued, "No need to worry about me. I'm just saying you shouldn't give up. I promise, someone out there will surely contract with you." He said, starting to stand up.
The little spirit twirled in the air, a flickering ember against the night sky, its movements brimming with unspoken gratitude. Kier watched, his smile widening despite the dull ache in his chest. With a soft exhale, he turned away, shoving his hands into his coat pockets as he started down the cobblestone streets.
"Hey, at least I'm good at cheering people up, I guess." The thought was laced with quiet self-deprecation, a bitter chuckle barely escaping his lips.
The night was cool, the air crisp with the lingering scent of rain from earlier in the evening. His boots clicked against the stones as he walked, each step a slow, aimless wander through the slumbering city. Lanterns cast pools of light onto the street, their glow failing to reach the deeper shadows lurking between buildings.
He tilted his head back, gazing at the vast expanse of the sky, and something in him twisted. The weight in his chest pressed harder, swelling until it ached behind his ribs. Before he could stop it, a single tear slipped down his cheek, cold against his skin.
Kier wiped it away quickly, as if denying it had ever fallen. But the feeling remained, gnawing at the edges of his heart, an emptiness he couldn't quite name, a longing he couldn't quite place.
Of course, he was happy about giving advice to that little spirit. Doing things for others always made him happy. Most of the time that was his main motivation for things anyway.
But doing small things like that compared to the four years of rejection an alienation he experienced because of his blood art couldn't completely make up for the loneliness. Everyone of the dwarves, which were the only people he could call friends, saw him as this great, kind person who didn't get fazed by what people saw in him. But they couldn't be more wrong.
He never showed it, but every whispered comment, every rejection, every name he'd been called, it all hurt. It hurt so, so much. But despite that, he was always seen smiling. He was even seen smiling more than the average person. Maybe it was because he never wanted anyone to see him like that, maybe it was because he wanted to convince people from his expression that he wasn't a bad person, or maybe, he was so broken he had to keep smiling to not let the tears fall.
Whatever the case, he was not what they saw him as. In reality, he wasn't what anyone saw him as. A monster, or a person with an indomitable spirit. He wasn't that. He was never that. He was just…Kier Veyne, the kid with a talent for blood manipulation, nothing more, nothing less.
"Why…why can't anyone understand…why cant anyone at least try to understand me? Am I…really that bad…?" The thought sounded so lonely…and in that empty street with the moons soft glow, he reflected those lonely thoughts.
Another tear fell, streaming down his cheek. He quickly brushed it away. But another tear picked at his eyes, not letting him get away with bottling his emotions any longer.
"D-Damnnit…I usually don't get this emotional…!" He cursed himself and shook his head, beginning to walk again.
"Huh…?"
But Kier felt something on his cheek, where another tear slid past his defenses. A heat. It made his skin stand on end. He stepped back, in a bit of a panic, and there, floating where he whipped his head away, was the spirit. He stood still for a moment, not sure if he was going crazy.
"Why…are you here?" Kier said with a soft sniffle.
The spirit didn't answer, but it floated closer, its glow pulsing softly. Kier didn't move as it approached. He felt a light heat as it nestled in his palm, the spirit small enough for him to crush it right there in his hand. Before he made any action, it spun around his finger, as if to say: Im not leaving.
"What do you want…?" He voice had a weird sound to it, hope. Did he secretly want this spirit to contract with him? Did he really want some other person or being to accept him that badly? Could he really be that selfish…?
It nudged his palm, looking up at him and flashing its lights.
Nudge, nudge, nudge.
Kier understood what the spirit wanted. But for some reason, it was hard to accept.
"Do you really want to contract…?" He asked, his tone more childish than what a 14 year old should sound like.
The spirit glowed intensely in response.
"Y-Your fine…i-if its me?" For the first time for a while, he smiled without having to force it, because even though he asked the question, he knew the answer. He wasn't that dense…except for matters of romance.
The spirit bobbed up and down, signaling a 'yes.'
"Do I…deserve this? My own parents detested me, so should I even have the privilege to be next to this spirit?"
He looked at the spirit harder. It was still fading, but it wouldn't give up.
"I guess it took my advice…"
"O-okay…" He took a deep breath, calming his beating heart. "If your really willing to contract with me…I accept."
With those words, the spirit glowed brighter than it ever had before. It was the happiest anyone has been from his words.
That night, a contract, formed from blood and fire, was engraved into history. And the two would never fall off their path, the path to change the views of the people in this world.
That night, Kier Veyne truly felt himself, if only for a moment, all of his worries were washed away. And for the first time in years, Kier fell asleep with warmth in his chest, and not from the fire.
The morning sun streamed through the tiny apartment, casting a warm glow as Kier stirred from his slumber. His short, tousled white hair shimmered in the light, similar to the vibrant spirit perched atop his head like a bird nestled comfortably in its nest. The spirit radiated with an intensified glow, marking the dawn of their first day together. And he would be lying if he said he didn't feel absolutely perfect this morning.
"Hey… do you have a name?" Kier asked hesitantly while still laying on his bed, his voice tinged with curiosity. The spirit swayed gently from side to side, signaling a silent 'no.'
"Would you like a name?" Kier ventured, extending his hand awkwardly. In response, the spirit flared with a bright, fiery glow, her excitement palpable.
With a soft chuckle, Kier pondered over a fitting name. He sought something strong yet endearing, trusting his instincts that whispered the spirit was female. "Hmm… how about Veyla?" he suggested.
At the mention of the name, Veyla's flame surged with vigor, and she twirled joyously around his head, expressing her gratitude in a radiant dance.
"Alright then, Veyla, let's set out on our first adventure." Kier declared. With a sense of pride, Veyla settled back into her rightful throne, nestled in Kier's hair. Kier rose from his makeshift bed, the early morning light casting a soft glow through the cracks in the wooden walls of his humble abode. He stretched, feeling the satisfying crack of his joints, and let out a low grunt as he shook off the remnants of sleep. The cool air nipped at his skin, prompting him to quickly pull on his black, tight-fitting compression shirt. It clung to his muscular frame like a second skin, providing both comfort and a sense of readiness for the day ahead.
Next, he donned his red light armor, the metal plates slightly scuffed and worn from previous battles. Though it was cheap, each scratch and dent told a story of survival and resilience. Kier ran his fingers over the armor, feeling the cold, hard surface that had protected him time and again. He adjusted the straps, ensuring it fit snugly over his shirt, allowing for ease of movement without sacrificing protection.
His gaze then fell upon his most prized possession: his axe. The weapon was a masterpiece, with a dragon emblem intricately etched into the blade, glinting in the early morning light. The dragon seemed to come alive, its eyes fierce and full of fire, a symbol of strength and power. But more importantly-
"Aunt Sylphy…" Kier said softly as he looked at it. The axe was a gift from his aunt to him, after he made the most important promise of his life. Kier carefully lifted the axe, feeling its familiar weight in his hands, and secured it onto his back using the criss-crossed strap he had crafted himself. The strap was a labor of love, made from sturdy leather and reinforced with metal rivets, ensuring the axe stayed firmly in place during his travels.
With a final glance around his modest dwelling, Kier stepped out into the world.
The streets of Aldrathar were already alive with the morning bustle. The scent of fresh bread and roasting meat wafted from street vendors, mixing with the crisp air. Kier adjusted the strap on his axe and started toward The Embered Anvil, the only place in the city where he felt truly welcome.
Dwarves ran the tavern, and they were the only ones who treated him like a person rather than a menace. Maybe it was because they respected strength more than anything else, or maybe they just didn't care about human prejudices. Either way, Kier appreciated them.
As he approached, the tavern's heavy wooden door creaked open, releasing the scent of spiced ale and sizzling meat. Laughter and deep, hearty voices filled the space, a stark contrast to the cold reception Kier usually got elsewhere.
"Oi! The whelp's here!" A booming voice called out from behind the bar.
Kier smirked as he spotted Gorim Ironbrew, the burly dwarven owner with a thick brown beard that had more braids than Kier had fingers. Gorim was cleaning a tankard with a rag, his muscular arms flexing with each wipe. His piercing dark eyes locked onto Kier.
"Thought ya got yourself eaten in that cursed dungeon, lad." Gorim set the tankard down and leaned on the counter. "Yer later than usual."
Kier chuckled, making his way to his usual spot at the bar. "Got a little distracted." He lifted a hand, and Veyla peeked out from his snowy hair, glowing softly.
The moment the spirit revealed herself, the room quieted slightly. Dwarves were used to magic, but a fire spirit choosing a blood mage? That was something new.
"Well, I'll be damned," Gorim muttered, rubbing his beard. "Didn't think ya had it in ya to bond with a spirit."
"Neither did I." Kier leaned on the counter, tilting his head up as Veyla swirled around lazily. "But here we are."
A heavy hand clapped Kier on the back, nearly knocking the wind out of him. He turned to see Thrain Prumner, one of the regulars, grinning with his thick, calloused fingers still on Kier's shoulder. "Ain't that somethin'! Maybe yer luck's finally turnin' 'round, eh?"
"Maybe." Kier said, though his voice lacked conviction.
"Bah, enough gawkin'!" Gorim barked, waving at the barmaids. "Get the boy some food. Ya still eat like a damn horse, right?"
Kier grinned. "Only if you're paying."
Gorim snorted. "Fat chance."
Despite his words, a plate of thick-cut bacon, eggs, and buttered bread was placed in front of Kier not long after. His stomach growled in appreciation, and he wasted no time digging in.
As he ate, the dwarves resumed their chatter, though he could feel their occasional glances at him and Veyla. He didn't mind. If anything, this was the most comfortable he'd felt in days.
In a quieter corner of The Embered Anvil, away from the boisterous laughter and clanking mugs, two barmaids worked near the kitchen entrance. The elder of the two, Sierra Skye, a nineteen-year-old woman with deep-green hair tied back in a loose braid and blue eyes, wiped down a wooden tray as she spoke.
"That's Kier Veyne over there." She murmured, nodding toward the white-haired boy at the bar. "The one with the fire spirit."
The younger girl, sixteen and newly hired, glanced over cautiously, her red hair swaying slightly. "The blood mage?" she whispered, barely hiding her unease. "I've heard people say—"
"People say a lot of things." Sierra interrupted, shaking her head. "But they don't know a damn thing about him." She set the tray down with a soft thud and met the younger girl's uncertain gaze. "Kier's been coming here for a while. Keeps to himself mostly, but he's got more manners than half the regulars."
The younger barmaid frowned, sneaking another glance at Kier. He was eating without much thought to the room, but now and then, he exchanged words with Gorim and the other dwarves. The warmth in their voices didn't match the image of a monster that some townsfolk whispered about.
"But the blood arts—"
"Don't mean a thing if he's not using them to hurt people." Sierra said firmly. She leaned against the counter, arms crossed. "You know what I've seen? A kid who comes in battered, like he's barely made it back from the dungeon, but never complains. A kid who takes every insult on the street without looking twice. A kid who—" she huffed, shaking her head. "Hell, I saw him give his last coin to a beggar once. Didn't even hesitate."
The younger girl was quiet for a long moment.
"I just… I don't get it." She admitted. "Why does everyone hate him so much?" She asked, her red eyes reflecting sadness for the poor boy.
Sierra sighed. "Because people need something to be afraid of. And it's easier to fear someone like Kier than to see him for what he really is." She grabbed another tray, straightening up. "You'll see soon enough. Just watch how he treats people. That'll tell you more than any rumor ever could."
The younger girl nodded slowly, thoughtful as she stole one last glance at the boy at the bar. Maybe, people had been wrong about him.
Kier leaned back slightly, letting out a satisfied sigh as he finished the last of his bacon. He wiped his mouth on his sleeve, earning a scoff from Gorim, who tossed a rag at him. Kier caught it with a smirk and halfheartedly wiped his hands before tossing it back.
"Yer manners are still as piss-poor as ever." Gorim grumbled, shaking his head.
Kier shrugged. "I save my energy for more important things."
"Like nearly gettin' yerself killed in that damn dungeon?" Thrain Prumner chimed in from a few seats down, nursing a tankard of ale. "Word is, ya got knocked 'round good on floor nine."
Kier exhaled sharply through his nose. "Yeah, you could say that. You ever fight a ten-foot pile of angry mushrooms before?"
The surrounding dwarves chuckled, and one of them, an older dwarf with gray streaks in his beard, stroked his chin. "Mmm. Shroom Golem, aye? Nasty buggers. What got ya in the end? The spores or the stomp?"
"Both." Kier admitted. "First it put me on my ass with an earthquake, then it tried to smother me with those damn spores. I had to burn my way out."
That got an approving nod from the older dwarf. "Smart lad."
"I am capable of strategy." Kier said dryly.
"Aye, an' I'm the bloody king of the mountain." Gorim retorted. "Face it, boy. Ya throw yerself into fights and hope yer fancy magic carries ya through."
Kier smirked. "Well, it's worked so far."
Before Gorim could fire back, a new voice hesitantly spoke up.
"Uh… he-here's your water."
Kier turned to see a younger girl, probably a year or two older than him, standing there with a wooden cup in hand. She had vibrant red hair, tied back but with a few loose strands framing her face. Her grip on the cup was steady, but there was a slight stiffness to her posture. She was nervous.
Kier accepted the drink with a nod. "Thanks."
The girl hesitated, then, as if gathering courage, blurted, "You're Kier, r-right?"
He blinked. Most of the time, people knew exactly who he was before he even opened his mouth, and they weren't usually this polite about it.
"Yeah." He said, tilting his head. "You're new here."
The girl nodded quickly. "I…Just started this week."
Kier tapped his fingers against the wooden cup, thinking of something to say. He wasn't great at small talk, but she seemed nervous enough already, maybe he could ease that a little.
"Gorim hasn't scared you off yet?" he asked with a half-smile.
She blinked, then let out a small, surprised laugh. "Not yet. Though he does yell a lot."
"Aye." Gorim said gruffly from behind the bar. "An' ya'd do well to listen, girl."
The redhead straightened slightly. "Y-Yes, sir."
Kier smirked. "If it helps, he yells at me more than anyone else."
She glanced at Gorim, then back at Kier. "I guess I shouldn't be surprised?"
That actually got a chuckle out of Kier. He took a sip of his water, then nodded toward her. "What's your name?"
She hesitated for just a second before answering. "…Elara."
"Well, Elara…" Kier said, setting his cup down, "welcome to The Embered Anvil. It's not a bad place to be."
She gave a small smile. "I think I'm starting to see that."
A loud thwack sounded as Thrain smacked a hand against the counter. "Oi, are we gettin' refills or what?"
Elara startled, then quickly turned back toward the bar. "R-Right! Sorry, coming!"
As she hurried off, Kier watched her go, then turned back to his meal. The dwarves had already moved on to their next rowdy topic, but for the first time in a while, Kier felt something small shift in his usual routine.
Maybe things were changing. Just a little.
Kier finished his meal and pushed the empty plate away, leaning back in his seat with a contented sigh. His hand brushed over the axe at his side, then absentmindedly scratched at the back of his neck as he looked over at the dwarves.
"Hey kid, you headed to the dungeon today?" Gorim asked.
"Yeah." He said, addressing the group at large. "Can't resist the call, not with Veyla by my side now."
At the mention of her name, a small flame flared from his shoulder, glowing brighter for a second before fading back into the soft warmth of her presence. Veyla, the little fire spirit, appeared from behind his hair, her glowing form flickering in the dim light of the tavern. She spun lazily around him, her ethereal shape dancing in the air like a lively wisp of fire.
"Sigh…of course he is." Sierra muttered to herself which Elara caught.
"Does he go often?" She asked, genuinely interesting in his character. He was no where near what anyone said about about him, he even seemed a bit nervous around her. She honestly found their little conversation a bit cute if she was being honest.
"Unfortunately." Sierra said with another sigh. "And everytime, he finds himself in the worst positions. His luck is seriously the worst."
"What do you mean?"
"Everytime he goes down there something wild happens to him. Whether it be fighting unusually large groups of monsters, or getting caught in the cross-fire of two Raiders' Parties fighting over loot…he's been through it all." Her expression softened as she spoke, as if recalling countless precious memories.
Elara listened intently, her red eyes flicking back toward Kier as he spoke with the dwarves. There was a casual ease to him here, something almost at home in the way he leaned against the counter, bantering with Gorim and the others. And yet, beneath that, she could see something else, something tired.
"So why does he keep going?" Elara asked, voice quiet.
Sierra sighed. "Because he has to."
Elara frowned. "What do you mean?"
Sierra wiped down the counter absently, glancing toward Kier before responding. "For someone like him, there aren't many choices. The dungeon's dangerous, yeah, but it's also the only place he can prove himself. Blood magic's got a bad rep, and Aldrathar doesn't forget its fears easily. If Kier wants to be seen as more than just another cursed mage, he has to climb that dungeon higher than anyone else."
Elara processed that, watching as Kier laughed at something Thrain said. The way he threw his head back, the way his fingers absentmindedly tapped against his axe, he looked comfortable, but only just.
She turned back to Sierra. "And if he doesn't?"
Sierra's expression darkened slightly. "Then he'll always be the outcast people say he is."
Elara fell silent at that, a strange weight settling in her chest.
"And he's only fourteen…" She muttered under her breath.
The room fell quiet for a moment as the dwarves watched Veyla twirl around Kier with varying degrees of fascination.
Kier smiled, his eyes following Veyla's movements as she flickered happily. "She can't wait to burn her way through the dungeon. She's got a fire to prove herself, I think."
Veyla responded with a series of bright flickers, sending sparks up into the air in quick bursts before circling around Kier's head, her gestures eager and playful. She darted forward and then looped back, almost like she was showing off her agility and energy. It wasn't so much a traditional response, but one that conveyed her enthusiasm all the same.
"I swear, she's more excited than I am." Kier chuckled, running a hand through his hair as Veyla flickered close to his face, her warmth a gentle reminder of her presence. "I used to go into that dungeon alone, but now? I don't think I could handle it without her."
Gorim gave a grunt, the deep rumble of his voice cutting through the silence. "Aye, I've seen it. Never thought I'd see the day a blood mage bonds with a fire spirit, but here ya are. You and her might just make a good team."
Thrain snorted. "Couldn't have put it better. You'll need every bit of help ya can get on floor nine, and after that, it only gets worse."
Kier tilted his head, his smirk returning. "You've been telling me that for weeks, Thrain. You know, I think you might be getting a little too comfortable with the idea of me not coming back in one piece."
Thrain just shrugged. "Well, it wouldn't be the first time a kid thought he could conquer Aldrathar's dungeon. But I'll tell ya, there's somethin' about the way you're movin' with that little spirit. Maybe you won't just make it to the tenth floor after all."
Kier leaned forward, resting his arms on the counter. "I'm planning on it."
As the fire spirit danced in front of him again, her brilliant embers tracing a circle around his head, he couldn't help but feel a flicker of something more than determination. Veyla had brought a lightness to his journey that had been absent before. They were more than just companions, they were a team, one he had never imagined possible.
"Well." Kier said, grinning as Veyla playfully darted around his head one last time. "I think I've stalled long enough. Time to see what's waiting for me on floor nine. Maybe this time, I'll get lucky and actually make it to ten."
Veyla responded with another bright flicker, this time sending a burst of sparks straight into the air before dissipating in a warm glow. It was as if she was saying, We'll get there together.
"Guess we'll see, won't we?" Kier said, his tone light, but his mind already turning to the dungeon that awaited him.
Kier weaved through the bustling market streets of Veldrathar, his heart light with newfound hope. Veyla bobbed happily atop his head, her glow drawing curious glances from people passing by. As he approached a familiar stall, the rich scent of spices and herbs filled the air, mingling with the earthy aroma of freshly baked bread.
"Ah, Kier!" boomed a hearty voice. It was Brundar, the dwarven merchant, his beard as thick and bushy as ever. He stood behind his stall, arranging an array of colorful potions and trinkets. "And who's this little flame dancing on your noggin?"
Kier grinned, this time it wasn't forced, gesturing to Veyla. "This is Veyla. We made a pact last night."
Brundar chuckled, his eyes twinkling with warmth. "Well, it's about time you found yourself a friend, lad. And a fiery one at that! She'll keep you warm on those cold nights, eh?"
Kier laughed, feeling a sense of belonging that was rare outside the dwarven community. "Yeah, I think we're going to make a great team."
The dwarf nodded approvingly. "You've always been welcome here, Kier, blood magic or not. We dwarves know a thing or two about being misunderstood. Now, what brings you to my stall today?"
"I know, you were always so kind to me. But we're heading to the dungeon." Kier replied, his voice tinged with excitement. "Going to try for the tenth floor this time."
Brundar raised an eyebrow, impressed. "Ambitious, aren't we? Well, take this." He said, handing Kier a small vial filled with a shimmering liquid. "A little something for luck. And remember, the deeper you go, the more you'll need to rely on each other."
Kier accepted the vial with gratitude, tucking it safely into his pouch. "Thanks, Brundar. We'll be careful."
With a final wave, Kier and Veyla continued through the market, the crowd parting easily for the boy with the fiery companion. As they approached the entrance to the dungeon, Kier felt a familiar thrill of anticipation. The stone archway loomed before them, a gateway to the unknown.
"Ready, Veyla?" he asked, feeling the warmth of her flame on his snow-white hair.
The dungeon entrance loomed like a beast's maw, carved into Veldrathar's foundations. Jagged black stones framed the archway, its glowing runes pulsing like a heartbeat. A massive iron door, etched with shifting sigils, stood slightly ajar, whispering of those who had never returned.
Above, an ancient inscription shimmered in an ever-changing script, revealing its meaning only to those who dared step closer. The air was thick with old magic, damp stone, and the faint metallic scent of dried blood.
Beyond the threshold, worn stone stairs spiraled into darkness, flickering torches casting restless shadows. A silent pull urged them deeper. Veyla flickered with excitement, and with their shared bond, they stepped forward.
The initial floors were always easy for Kier. He didn't even need to rely on his hemomancy powers, which he was grateful for. The less he needed to use that power, the better. So, he chose to hone his skills with fire magic. Although his affinity for fire was modest, it was a rare gift to possess more than one affinity. The strongest Raider, known as the Apex Reaver, had five elemental abilities and commanded six Advanced-Spirits. which was the maximum amount of spirits a human could hold.
There were three categories for magic, Elemental, which was the most common. Enhancement, which allowed the user to amplify parts of their body and others, and in some cases, allowing them a full transformation. And there was Vitalism, where the user could control parts of there body, such as blood and even control parts of their bodies. Of course, each of these had sub-categories, like Hemomancy, which was Kier's ability, that allows the user to manipulate their own blood.
With a surge of energy, Kier conjured a blazing fireball and hurled it at a Two-Fanged Wolf. The creature didn't stand a chance; the fireball obliterated it instantly, leaving no trace behind. "Wow, my fire magic has improved a lot, thanks to you, Veyla." Kier praised his spirit, who playfully swirled around his finger. Taking that as a gesture of gratitude, Kiersmiled and continued onward to the sixth floor.
Here, the walls were adorned with roots and vines, their light blue glow casting a dreamy light that made the passage feel otherworldly. Kier had been exploring the dungeon for about a year and four months now, and the surreal beauty of this place still took him by surprise.
The sixth floor marked the beginning of the dungeon's true challenges. Its maze-like paths were easy to get lost in, and the sheer vastness of the floors below served as a warning to tread carefully. This was where the unprepared, those who overestimated their powers, and those trying to show off, met their quick end. Kier steeled himself, knowing that his journey was only just beginning.
He whipped his head around as he heard a snarl coming from a hallway to his left.
"Veyla, lets go." Kier said brimming with confidence. The fire spirit glowed brighter in response, as if matching his energy.
Veyla streaked toward the source of the snarl, her flames flaring in anticipation. The glow of her body illuminated the dark corridor just enough for Kier to make out the outline of the creature lurking within the shadows. It was a Duskrunner, it was similar to a wolf with sleek black fur, glowing silver eyes, and razor-sharp claws built for quick, deadly strikes.
Veyla launched herself at the creature, her fire intensifying as she spiraled through the air like a blazing comet. The Duskrunner reacted instantly, darting backward with unnatural speed, avoiding the first burst of flame. She twisted midair and flared outward, sending a controlled explosion of embers across the stone walls. The flames licked at the beast's fur, causing it to snarl and recoil.
Kier seized the opportunity. Gripping his axe, he dashed forward, channeling a small amount of his fire magic onto the tip of the blade. With a trail of fire streaking behind him, he swung his weapon in a precise arc, aiming for the creature's exposed side. The Duskrunner barely had time to react as the axe connected with a sickening crunch, cutting deep into its flank, searing its flesh. It howled in pain and attempted to retreat, but Kier wasn't about to let it escape.
"Veyla, again!" he commanded.
Veyla spiraled around him before launching a concentrated jet of fire at the Duskrunner's face. The flames struck true, and the beast let out a final, agonized screech before collapsing into a smoldering heap. Kier exhaled sharply, wiping a bead of sweat from his forehead. The beast quickly tuned into nothing but a sharp, silved laced fang. The fight had been quick, but he could tell the deeper floors wouldn't be so forgiving.
"Nice work," he said, giving Veyla an approving nod. She twirled happily in response before settling onto his shoulder, her warmth reassuring. "Didn't expect to get a drop from that, I kinda just wanted the Soulshard." Kier picked up the beast fang, tucking it into his pouch with a shrug.
As Kier and Veyla descended deeper into the dungeon, the air grew heavier with an eerie stillness. The eighth floor was unlike the ones before. A faint mist clung to the ground, and the once-glowing roots from the sixth floor had faded into gnarled, blackened tendrils that coiled along the walls. The atmosphere was thick with mana, making Kier's skin tingle with unease.
Veyla floated slightly ahead, her glow casting flickering shadows along the passage. "We're not alone here." Kier thought, tightening his grip on his axe.
A low growl rumbled through the tunnel, followed by the soft patter of multiple paws. Kier's pulse quickened as his eyes darted through the dimly lit surroundings. Then, from the mist, they emerged.
A pack of Shadowfang Stalkers, sleek, midnight-black wolves with jagged, glowing violet markings along their limbs. Their red eyes shimmered with hunger, and the faint crackle of dark energy pulsed between their fangs. There were five of them, circling like vultures, their bodies low to the ground, moving in perfect harmony.
Kier exhaled slowly. "Veyla, we're in for a fight."
The lead wolf lunged without warning, its body a blur of speed. Kier barely had time to react. His body responded instantly, propelling him backward just as the beast's claws sliced through the air where he had stood just a second before.
Veyla responded with a whip of flame, forcing the wolf to recoil, its fur singed by the heat. But the other wolves didn't hesitate. Two more darted in from the sides, their dark energy trailing like wisps of smoke.
Kier gritted his teeth and spun, using his speed to sidestep their attacks. As one of the wolves lunged past him, he twisted his axe in his grip and slammed the blunt end against its ribcage, sending it skidding across the stone floor.
Too many of them to take head-on. He needed to thin their numbers.
"Veyla, light them up!" He called out.
Understanding his intent, Veyla soared high above, flaring brightly before releasing a burst of fire. The flames spread outward, igniting the mist and briefly illuminating the entire chamber in a golden blaze. The wolves howled, their dark energy clashing against the sudden surge of fire.
Kier took advantage of their disarray. He lunged forward, slashing his axe in a downward arc. The closest wolf barely had time to react as the blade cleaved through its shoulder, splitting flesh and bone. With a strangled whimper, the beast crumpled.
"One down."
But there was no time to celebrate. Another wolf leaped at him, its fangs crackling with dark energy. Kier raised his arm in defense, and pain seared through his forearm as the creature's fangs bit deep into his flesh.
With a grunt of frustration, he channeled his fire magic and he drenched his opposite fist in flames.
"NYEEEAA!"
With an intense shout, Kier slammed his fist into the wolf's skull. After a split-second pause, the air crackled with energy, an explosion full of red, orange, and yellow light erupted from his fist.
BOOM!
The sickening crunch of shattered bones echoed throughout the dungeon. Shortly after, the beast slammed into the cobblestone wall, cracks spiderwebbed out, and some of the embedded roots fell in from of it before it turned to nothing but a crystal. The beast didn't even get a death cry.
Kier staggered back, his breath ragged. His arm throbbed, but he had no time to dwell on the wound.
"Veyla, focus fire on the leader!" he commanded.
Veyla whirled in the air, locking onto the pack's alpha, the largest of the group. She flared brilliantly before shooting forward, her body twisting into a fiery spiral. The lead wolf bared its fangs, dark energy crackling to form a barrier, but Veyla's flames burned through it, slamming directly into its chest.
Kier capitalized on the opening. Blood still dripping from his wound, he gripped his axe tighter and rushed in. With all his strength, he brought the blade down upon the alpha's skull. The crunch of cut flesh echoed through the cavern, and the beast head hit the ground with a gut-wrenching splat.
The leader was dead.
The remaining wolves hesitated, their glowing eyes darting between Kier and Veyla. Without their alpha, their coordination faltered. One let out a sharp yelp and turned, disappearing into the darkness. The last two followed, their bodies slipping into the mist like shadows retreating from the light.
Silence fell.
Kier exhaled heavily, lowering his axe. His arm ached, blood dripping steadily onto the stone floor. Veyla hovered closer, her glow dimming slightly as if exhausted from the fight.
"Yeah… we're gonna need to patch this up." He muttered, glancing at his wound.
Kier picked up his small purple crystal as a reward, and turned to press onward, deeper into the dungeon.
As Kier stepped onto the ninth floor, the atmosphere shifted dramatically, the air thickening with a weight that pressed down on him like a physical force. There were no more glowing vines imbedded on the walls of this floor. There were only dimly lit sigils, and the occasional pulsing rune on the wall. Here, the corridors stretched out in eerie silence, dimly lit by the faint glow of blackened crystals embedded in the jagged, uneven walls. These crystals pulsed intermittently with residual mana, casting ghostly shadows that danced across the barren stone.
Kier wiped the blood from his arm, grimacing as the wound throbbed. "Well, I guess I have to use my power at some point." He muttered, closing his eyes and focusing on his blood flow. Hemomantic energy flared within him, a warm, tingling sensation that spread through his veins as he directed his blood to heal faster. His red blood cells worked overtime, accelerating the healing process until the gash stitched itself together with unnatural speed. But the toll was immediate, his breathing became shallow, and his limbs felt heavier, as if weighted down by invisible chains. Kierstaggered to his feet, the last of the healing fire searing shut the gash on his thigh. The stench of burnt flesh and rot hung thick in the air. He swayed, then caught himself. No time to fall now.
"Blood Healing is effective, but I can't rely on it too much, but I don't want to rely on the ability and it's entirety anyway." Kier muttered, steadying his breath before sharpening his senses. "Well, while I'm already using it, might just use this as well."
"Blood Sense."
The ability had saved his life more times than he could count, even if he hated to admit it. It allowed him to feel the pulse of living beings around him, their heartbeats painting a map in his mind.
Ba-dump. Ba-dump. Ba-dump. Ba-dump.
"Four… If they're low-level, I can take them."
He advanced swiftly, but something felt off. Three of the four heartbeats suddenly spiked, becoming rapid, frantic.
Then, he felt it. A ripple through the blood-tinged air.
Thoughts. Fear.
Humans. Below.
Ba-dumpBadumpBadumpBadumpBadump!
Panic, or more accurately, fear.
"Wait… Magic beasts don't get scared like that…!"
The realization hit him like a jolt of lightning. Three of those heartbeats weren't monsters. They were human.
Then, a guttural roar tore through the corridor.
"RROOOAAARR!!"
Veyla flared up in front of him, crackling with urgency. The air felt heavier. Danger loomed.
He felt a dark feeling, a feeling that something here shouldn't have been here. He tried to get ominous feeling out of his chest as he started running through the massive maze, but it wouldn't leave.
"Were in for some trouble…! I hope your ready for out first big fight Veyla!" Kier thought as he raced toward the sound, ready to take on whatever he was about to face.