The armor of the orcs clinked as they slowly spread out around me, their plated boots striking the ground with solid thuds.

  Two of them brandished swords and shields, one aimed a long glaive at me, and another hefted a hulking falchion with a vicious cleaver-like head. These were definitely better equipped.

  Maybe they are veteran Orcs? That would make sense for a challenge like this.

  I used Identify on the largest orc, the one with the falchion. He didn’t flinch.

  Elite and Blackguard. I had no idea what either of those meant. But his stats seemed impressive compared to the level 7 mimic. His [Atk] and [Def] were also both higher than mine.

  And there were four of them.

  Isn’t this a little excessive for a split party?

  None of the orcs charged. They moved in careful measured steps, in sync with one another. They were assessing me, eyes searching my reactions and stance for an opening.

  These orcs weren’t the mindless brutes from before. They felt like an entirely different race.

  I now had some idea of what Elite stood for. Their motions as they circled were setting off alarms in my battle sense: the way they transitioned from one stance to another, and smoothly adjusted the grip of their weapons. They were skilled.

  But their stats should still be lower than mine with my spells. My [Shadow Sword] and [Shadow Shroud] should carry the day.

  In the other rooms, Gorian was facing off against the Ogre, slowly circling the behemoth. A ball of flame floated in Justin’s hand as he stood back-to-back with Serina, nocking an arrow as the goblins circled them in turn. And then there was Zadina, already charging at the skeletons.

  The orcs all glanced toward the falchion wielder, most likely their leader. As he shifted, a strange, glossy black film flickered over the whites of his eyes, like oil sliding across water.

  Gorian was right. My senses were now giving off warnings as well.

  Still, I had to finish this quickly so that I could help the others. I stepped forward and dropped into the lead orc’s shadow.

  Instead of panicked shouting and screams, the four of them methodically backed into a circle, facing outwards, their eyes scanning the room.

  Since their shadows moved with them, I emerged behind them in the middle of the circle. But before I could strike, they all spun toward me. Vibrations jarred my hand as my sword struck a shield and carved along its surface.

  I leaned away from the riposte, and the fabric of my shroud deflected the sweeping glaive.

  [Shadow Shroud] provided a [Mental] boost to my [Def] upon being attacked. That boost should be enough to keep me safe against them.

  I ignored the falchion leader charging at me from the side and sidestepped the stabbing sword of the other shield bearing orc. My blade sliced through his arm.

  “Death Strike!”

  The Orcish shout thundered through my body, vibrating in my bones. All my senses fired at once.

  This was a skill, a powerful one.

  I kicked off the shield, desperately twisting my body away.

  The blade of the massive falchion shrieked, cleaving through the air, through the swirls of black fabric attempting to deflect it. Pain exploded as the metal bit into my shoulder.

  Clang!

  The strange, unnatural sound of metal grinding against metal rang out as the blade carved deeper, hitting bone. My [Def] had been breached.

  I completed my twist away, leaving a trail of blood in the air.

  His skill, it must have boosted his [Atk]!

  “Korgon’s Smash!”

  Another orc voice rumbled. Before I could react, the shield hit me like a speeding vehicle.

  CRUNCH!

  Stars burst into my vision. Pain detonated along the side of my face, like my flesh was being pulverized. My teeth jarred loose.

  The HP indicator blinked furiously off the corner of my vision. I checked my status and I had lost over 60 HP instantly, plus 3 Wounds to boot.

  I dove into the shadows and was immediately assaulted by ice piercing my shoulder.

  Bleeding into the shadow realm was a bad idea, excruciatingly so!

  My body surged up out of the edge of shadow far from the orcs. Wiping away the shadow fabric revealed that frost had lined the ridges of the ghastly gash running down my arm.

  At least the bleeding had stopped.

  There was an even more pressing problem.

  When I looked at the shield-bearing orc I had just disarmed, the stump of his arm wasn’t bleeding red. Instead, trails of black tar dripped from the wound, latching onto the severed limb on the floor.

  The tar tightened, pulling the arm back up. With a wet slop, it reattached itself.

  The orc’s eyes were now pitch-black marbles.

  I knew exactly what they were…

  Ichor Ghouls.

  While Wraith Knights were the guards for the Donkey Master, Ichor Ghouls were the grunts. They were cursed undead as well, but not as resistant, though still near impossible to kill because their ichor would just reform their bodies.

  And not just that…

  My sword cut into the neck of the glaive orc just as I ducked under his swing.

  Squelch.

  Pitch-black tar wrapped around the blade, attempting to pry it out of my grasp. I yanked it free, just in time to sink into the shadow, avoiding another Death Strike from the lead orc.

  Their bodies try to grab hold of weapons used against them.

  Many of my men had fallen into the trap, yanked to their deaths when they refused to let go.

  A thought struck me as I sliced off another arm. Are the others fighting hybrids as well?

  My [Shadow Fingers] confirmed my suspicions.

  In the adjacent room, Gorian was in the middle of a tug-of-war, attempting to pry his sword loose from the lines of black goo that stretched from the ogre’s sliced-open midsection to his blade.

  Kamuel swung his staff at the Ogre from the side, but a massive fist sent him flying into a wall. He slid down against the stone, his body limp.

  Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

  The Ogre grinned, raising its greataxe over Gorian, still trying to extricate his sword.

  No!

  I formed [Shadow Spike] from my lurking fingers and fired it at the Ogre. It blew a hole in the giant, distracting it enough for Gorian to pull his sword free. But black goo quickly welled up around the wound, and the Ogre was whole again.

  The falchion whistled toward my head, and I rolled away.

  I had to stay focused here, and so I cast [Mana Bolt] using thought words instead of manually forming it.

  It had worked against the normal wraiths, so maybe it’d be fine too here.

  But the spell fizzled as my [Shadow Fingers] aimed it at the Ogre.

  Spell failure. I probably shouldn’t cast normally while maintaining multiple [Shadow Fingers].

  I was about to [Dazzle] the orcs, but then paused.

  They were undead, even if hybrid, I was sure they’d be immune to mind spells. I remembered one spellcasting general failing spectacularly when she attempted to charm them. She was not pleased.

  Zadina was faring better. Her hammer glowed white-hot as she repeatedly smashed a skeleton to the ground. Nearby, black goo quivered beneath a mound of crushed white dust. Another pile of bones was in the midst of reforming beside it, but the lines of ichor had only managed to pull the legs back together.

  Serina had switched to firing explosive arrows at a charging goblin. Trails of black fluid oozed from the multitude of arrow shafts riddling its body. Two other goblins lay charred in Justin’s trusty wall of flames, while the last pair had their legs hobbled by ice traps.

  It seems the two of them prepared ahead of time.

  Gorian was running from the Ogre instead of engaging now, trying to buy time. He knew his attacks were worse than useless. The only thing he could do was wait for help.

  He knows I’m watching.

  I sliced away two more arms from the shield and glaive orcs, buying some breathing room.

  Manually forming a [Mana Bolt], I fired it at the ogre.

  Boom!

  The full-force bolt struck its chest, blowing a hole in the behemoth. But that only staggered it. It stumbled a few steps and roared, the hole already closing up.

  Indicators flashed all over the bottom corner of my vision. My mana was now low along with my HP. I had expended too much mana casting while I kept watch over everyone else.

  Salty blood pooled in my mouth. My lips were split on one side, and the right side of my face was swollen, pinching my eye shut.

  The orcs gathered before me, lines of black pulling their arms back together. On the other side of the wall, Gorian was cornered. He turned to meet the oncoming assault, shouting.

  “Iron Wall!”

  No more hubris. Time is running out.

  For me there was one sure way of destroying these things, and everything else.

  I spat blood on the ground. Directing the flow of magic, I formed a void sphere in the palm of my hand.

  Once again, a connection was established with the depths inside me. I was unsheathing. The pain, my emotions were pushed back. I felt myself detaching.

  The orcs stiffened, perhaps sensing my miasma spilling out. Like the Wraith Knight, they knew what to fear.

  My hand slowly spread the void over my sword, forming the [Void Blade].

  “Stop her!” the leader screamed in Orcish, pointing a clawed finger at me.

  They surged at me, but I took my time finishing my spell, perfecting my blade of destruction.

  The shield-bearer’s sword crashed down into the ground where I had stood an instant before. I slipped around him. The [Void Blade] was complete, but I was too close to swing it.

  That wasn’t a problem though, because I was a sword. My hand stabbed into the seam in his armor. My fingers sharpened, piercing through his soft liquid body, into the core of his soul.

  The orc sank to his knees and crumbled into a dried-up black dust.

  Warmth filled me as Soul Points poured in. Like the others down here, it was bland and tasteless.

  Like the soul equivalent of gruel.

  I brought my sword down upon the glaive wielder, who was in the middle of calling upon a skill. But my blade split his head, neck, chest and words in two, right down the middle. I pushed my hands into his parted chest and siphoned his soul as well, more tasteless gruel.

  “Death Strike!”

  The lead orc shouted, his falchion hissing through the air at me. I dashed past him, my blade slicing cleanly through both his sword and his body. After his body fell away, points of light drifted up from the severed torso to me.

  For the last orc, I stabbed right through its shield. My sword pierced its core, annihilating its soul.

  A waste. But I had grown tired of gruel.

  I shifted my attention to the others.

  The skeletons and goblins were done. All crushed or burned to ash on the ground. But Gorian was taking a beating. His armor was dented all over. Blood trailed down his arms and legs.

  Clang!

  He barely deflected an axe aimed at his head.

  I could leave him to die. Even better, I could walk in just before the finishing blow, and take it myself, letting me savor the despair in his soul.

  My insides rattled.

  Was it the chains? Or did that part of me actually perceive that as wrong?

  I picked at the dirt lining the grooves of my nails.

  But let’s examine it objectively. If they all died here, I wouldn’t have to worry about them reporting on me. I could just say they succumbed to the dangers and no one would be the wiser. I would still be hidden afterwards and keep to my commands.

  And there’d be nothing stopping me from finishing the dungeon solo and gaining the power that I wanted. In fact, I would gain more experience and more levels if I were to go at it alone.

  Not to mention, I’d get a taste of all their delectable souls.

  The rattling inside me grew fierce.

  “Calm down, we will play pretend a little longer.”

  I took one last look at the statues of sand on the ground.

  “An interesting puzzle… Split the party into four and flip our numbers against us… but…” My gaze flicked over to the entrance where the wall was slowly sliding open. “Didn’t this game give us plenty of potential friends outside? If only we weren’t so broken up…”

  I clicked my tongue. “Tsk.”

  A smile played over my lips. “Remember now, if you ever need an unrestrained perspective... I’m always here."

  I sheathed myself.

  The emotions slammed back in. Gorian!

  He had just been knocked to his knees. In his hand was a red potion. He drained it and staggered onto his feet. There was a fatal finality in his eyes.

  I looked behind me. The entrance to my room had reopened, but Gorian’s room stayed closed. Even if I figured out a way to open it, running all the way around would take too long.

  It’d be too late.

  I ran to the wall separating us. He was just in the adjacent room. Only a few feet of stacked skulls divided us.

  No.

  I stabbed my sword of annihilation into the wall. Bone disintegrated into the deep-black void of the blade. It didn't carve; it erased. Once an entire block had been cut out, I kicked away the section of wall.

  “Took you long enough, lass,” Gorian grunted as the axe arced toward his head.

  I charged all that I could into [Hasted Steps], and my surroundings blurred.

  WHOOSH!

  My body tore through the air, zipping in between the Ogre and Gorian. My blade carved through the haft of the axe, sending the vicious head spinning away.

  The mountain of a monster turned to me, but I was already streaking back toward it. I planted my feet and swung upwards. My sword sliced it open vertically from the crotch up.

  I jumped onto its potbelly stomach and stabbed my hand through the black tar lines attempting to pull the two halves of its body back together. My fingers pierced its core, siphoning the soul.

  I ignored the taste. My Soul Points were now at:

  The Ogre sank to its knees beneath me, its body drying into black sand.

  The ground shuddered. The walls separating the rooms groaned and sank into the ground, revealing the rest of the party standing over their kills.

  A hole opened up in the center of the large, combined room, a spiral staircase peeking out from the darkness below.

  Justin and Serina were leaning against each other, breathing hard, with cuts over their armor and faces. Zadina stood amidst a pile of shattered bones, her white armor pristine, as if she hadn’t been touched.

  Spotting Kamuel on the ground, the others rushed over. A few pats on the face from Serina and he gasped, sitting up.

  I hopped down beside Gorian. He plopped into a sitting position on the ground.

  “It looks like we all made it,” he remarked, his voice raspy. He dug his pipe out of his pouch and lit it with a match, his hands trembling.

  That familiar sensation of a battle recap flashed through my mind. The surge of leveling up coursed through me, but my tired body barely registered it.

  Gorian took a drag on his pipe and puffed out smoke.

  “You want this, lass? It’s bitter as heck, but it should heal you.”

  He held out a red potion to me.

  I looked over the wreckage of his armor, the places where the axe had ripped the steel open and left deep, bloody gouges in his flesh.

  For some reason, I thought back to the flashback I had the other night under the moonlight, of me walking, alone, away from the castle, my body broken in twisted armor.

  “You should take that. You’re still bleeding all over.”

  Gorian laughed, spitting out smoke. “Lass… Your beautiful face…” he groaned, taking another drag on his pipe. “Winthrop will absolutely murder me.”

  The others trudged toward us. When I turned to them everyone winced.

  The right side of my face throbbed, the swelling further sealing my eye in pulsating darkness. More blood from my broken lip filled my mouth. The pain from my shoulder flared.

  Zadina went sheet-white. The blood drained from her face as her icy eyes met my single good one. Her hammer and shield slipped from her grasp.

  CLANG!

  “My Lady!” she gasped, racing toward me.

  “Oh man… you look like shit.” Justin blurted out.

  As usual, he didn’t hold back.