The trip back up the long corridor took significantly longer than descending. Sam’s mind was still reeling from his confrontation with the [Draug Lord], and his body was screaming at him in protest.

  Angrym’s ‘blessing’ turned out to be a chunk of clear white stone. At a command, it has risen above the grisly skeletal hand and floated over Sam’s head, bathing him in a pool of soft light.

  “This [Mooneye Gem] is a great treasure among our people,” the Lord had said. “They say the light it casts is that of the loneliest star, for it shines for its bearer alone. You could walk in total darkness, but for you, it would be clear as day. None of your enemies shall see its light, giving you strength in the shadows.”

  Sam had been shocked by the gift, but hadn't complained. No longer needing to worry about ever-dwindling torches would make the trip significantly easier. He could take his time, plan his route, and still strike with some measure of stealth.

  He’d thanked the Necromancer before departing, but was still keenly aware that he was being watched. He didn't trust the ancient Var, but he couldn't pass up such a fantastic opportunity for spira. The quest to kill the Matriarch alone was more than he could hope to make in days on the surface.

  With this new quest secured, he could still follow his original plan. The Ghūl were likely better targets, given his spear's lack of effectiveness against the armoured draug. He’d continue to grind over the next few days, pushing at least a few of his skills to Tier 5, then he’d make a play for the Matriarch with his first set of skill evolutions.

  Nodding to himself, he departed through the gate and once again found himself staring up at the cavern ceiling high above. The fog was almost entirely absent; somehow, the [Mooneye Gem] lessened its presence to the point that he barely noticed it. The stone floated about three feet above his head, keeping a steady distance regardless of his pace. He’d tested it in the long spiral hallway, spontaneously breaking into a jog to see if it could keep up. It did so handily.

  On a whim, he checked the timer that always hovered just on the edge of his vision.

  [Ring Purge Initiates in 46:11:23:43]

  He’d left Homst about fifteen hours prior and had already racked up over 3,000 spira. If he kept up the pace, he’d just barely be able to afford Arther’s vigorous spending targets, as well as securing the gate toll. The fight had given him the amount he needed for his next purchase, and he was waffling between a few different selections.

  [Basic Mental Resistance - Iron - Common - Upgradable]

  The mind is the final sanctuary, a mortal’s last bastion.

  Gain resistance to mental-based attacks and [Divine Skills].

  Cost: 2000 Spira

  [Light Armour Proficiency - Iron]

  Grants additional protection when wearing light armour. Increase the effectiveness of all cloth and simple leather armour. Decreases enchantment cooldowns.

  Cost: 2000 Spira

  [Appraisal - Iron - Upgradable]

  Gain the ability to appraise Monsters, Warriors, and Vegetation. Appraisal provides basic information, allowing you to see the subject’s tier.

  Cost: 1500 Spira

  Normally, light armour wouldn't be overly appealing, but it was a prerequisite to purchase medium and heavy armour specializations down the road. Unlike in video games, you could wear whatever armour you wanted, but you wouldn't receive any bonuses to them unless you had the [Mastery Skill].

  Arther had mixed feelings on the subject. While he was obviously predisposed to favour heavier arms and armour, he couldn't deny that the Arbiter tended to imbue lighter armour with more mage-focused bonuses. In the right party composition, there could absolutely be a situation where a dedicated caster wore almost no plate armour at all, instead relying on the additional perks granted by enchanted cloth.

  [Basic Mental Resistance] felt like a must, given that he was about to set out into the Ghūl-controlled portion of the Crypts. While [Apostate] offered a modicum of protection, he was still woefully outclassed if it came to fighting the ghouls in any significant numbers.

  [Appraisal] was interesting. While it didn't feel nearly as pressing as the other two, he couldn't deny that the utility would come in handy. Being able to see his opponent's tier could be the make-or-break factor in deciding whether to fight or run. He was also curious how the skill would evolve. Would he be able to glean more information about monsters and their weaknesses? Being able to spot a critical opening could be the difference between life and death.

  He minimized the screen and continued forward, awkwardly retracing his steps as he marched back towards Ghūl-controlled territory. As a final gift, the [Draug Lord] had shown him a basic map of the Crypts. The area was roughly rectangular, covered in a dense series of lines representing the labyrinthine layout. The map was washed in bright green and red, highlighting faction control.

  The Ghūl occupied roughly seventy percent of the Dungeon and were slowly gaining ground. Though he hadn’t admitted it, Sam got the sense that the source of the Necromancer’s power was slowly draining. The font likely wasn't endless, and Sam had seen the energy being corrupted by the Ghūl as they resurrected their own soldiers.

  Though how an already evil power could be further corrupted, Sam wasn't entirely sure. In either case, it was the perfect opportunity for him to rake in the spira. He continued through the maze, being sure to choose the path with the least remnants of the ever-present fog.

  He turned a corner and nearly ran into a Draug patrol. The two [Draug Warriors] didn't even react as he skidded to a halt in front of them. As promised, the undead Var forces no longer attacked him on sight, and he let out a sigh of relief as the shambling corpses continued down the corridor.

  He summoned a piece of jerky from his inventory as he trekked—making a mental note to cook a large stock of grilled meat that he could eat on the go. There had been a great kebab place not too far from his apartment in Vancouver, and he was curious whether he could replicate the recipe. The protein would be…different, and the seasoning almost non-existent, but anything that reminded him of home would be welcome in this alien world.

  His body ached as he walked, though at least he was no longer bleeding all over the floor. Most of the cuts on his arms had closed, and he had regained basic movement in his shoulder. At least the bone wasn't broken. His new [Enchanted Pugilist Bands] offered more protection than he’d expected.

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  The hallways retained their stark, liminal quality, even as he turned what must have been his hundredth corner. The map hadn't made the Crypts seem that large, but Sam knew they must have been dozens of kilometres across. He couldn't fathom the time it must have taken to excavate a cavern of this size. Even if they had access to magic, it likely would have taken generations.

  He wanted to find a place to stop and camp, but he didn't relish the idea of simply lying down in a corridor. While the idea of sleeping inside one of the buildings was only marginally more appealing, at least it would put a roof over his head as a layer of defence against the [Nightseekers]. He hadn’t seen a single exposed crypt in Draug territory, and so he was forced further into the decaying realm of the Ghūl.

  The only indicator that he’d entered Ghūl territory came in a subtle shifting of the light. The werelights that crowned the taller mausoleums had grown sparser the farther he’d gone from the Court of the Primordial Dawn. The flickering green flames cast scant illumination, leaving only the impression of a putrid twilight. The glow gradually took on a sanguine cast, the light bleeding into a bruised purple.

  Sam noticed small mounds of dust forming in the corners and around the bases of the blocky tombs. The mausoleums themselves showed signs of wear and decay, and he occasionally spotted holes in their usually pristine exteriors. The darkness beyond leered at him as he passed. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end, and he had the distinct feeling that he was being watched.

  Crimson vines, like creeping tendrils, wove their way among the ruins. Sam stopped and tried to break off a leaf, but found them incredibly stubborn. They secreted a sticky sap that smelled suspiciously like blood, and he hastily wiped off the residue on his tunic.

  The farther in he got, the more it felt like stepping into another world. The vines grew in size, enveloping the Crypts like an invasive parasite. Reflexively, he found himself avoiding them as they grew underfoot. Some were as large as his forearm, and he was quickly reminded of childhood evenings playing ‘the floor is lava'.

  The feeling of being watched grew with every step. He was constantly having to readjust his grip on his spear and shield; his hands were so slick with sweat. His breath quickened, and the flat light from the [Mooneye Gem] had him leaping at every shadow.

  A creeping suspicion gnawed at his gut, and he checked his HUD, letting out a soft grunt as the indicator for [Apostate] lit up under his list of active skills. It was somewhat reassuring to know that the anxiety wasn't completely natural. Yet it confirmed his suspicion that he was being tracked and that [Divine Skills] were actively being used against him.

  He stopped in the middle of the hallway, forcing himself to take deep, even breaths. His pounding heart steadied, pulse slowing as his ears strained for even a hint of movement. He was rewarded by a faint scratching noise coming from high overhead. He pretended not to notice.

  [Basic Perception] honed in on the furtive movement. He kept his eyes straight ahead, tracking the sounds with his ears alone. They stopped around thirty feet away, both parties locked in a stalemate. Silence enshrouded the hallway like a physical weight, pressing him down into the cold, stone floor.

  Sam stood for what felt like hours, but what was probably only ten or fifteen minutes. His stalker hadn't made so much as a peep, and he was wasting precious time. The pangs of fear he’d experienced had steadily decreased, and he wondered if there was some sort of cost to using the [Divine Skill].

  He decided to force its hand.

  He stored his weapons and went down on one knee, trying to give the impression that he was adjusting the strap on his boot. The rugged footwear had seen better days. The toughened leather was marred with dents and scratches, and stained with multiple kinds of blood: some of it his own.

  With his back now fully turned to his pursuer, the sounds began again, this time faster, more urgent. The scratches moved from crypt to crypt, and he stole a glance upward, but saw nothing. Despite all of his senses warning him that an enemy was perched just overhead, his eyes were staunchly betraying him.

  He returned his focus to the ground, firmly ignoring the presence hovering just above him. He waited, senses strained to the limit, all to hear that all-important sound.

  The drop.

  The rush of wind reached his ears, and he dove to the side, narrowly avoiding a set of slashing claws. The beast smashed into the cobblestone with a flash of sparks, illuminating the outline of a wire-thin ghoul wearing a fluttering grey cloak.

  The more he focused on it, the less Sam understood what he was looking at. The cloak seemed to be an extension of the beast’s skin, rippling outwards from wrinkled folds at its neck. It refracted the light like oil-slicked water, a slight shimmering that blended into the monotone grey and black walls.

  Natural camouflage. Sam wasn't sure if it could be considered a [Divine Skill] or simply an organic mutation, but he was already struggling to keep track of the creature as it lunged at him in a rush of slobbering fangs.

  His shield caught the edge of the ghoul’s claws, moments before they would have shredded his torso. He used the beast’s momentum against it, leveraging it sideways and stabbing it in the gut with his [Warrior’s Side Knife].

  He was getting better at juggling the various weapons in his inventory. The process of summoning and dismissing them was becoming second nature, and he couldn't help but grin as the ghoul stumbled backwards, black blood gushing from a deep wound in its side.

  It let out a low growl, and Sam could see a fierce intelligence in the glowing red eyes. He mentally re-evaluated his perception of the Ghūl. While the average foot soldier may be a drooling mass of rage, these more seasoned warriors were much more calculating.

  The beast tore a shred of skin from its cloak and pressed it over the wound. A subtle red glow leaked from between its bladed fingers, and Sam’s grin died as he saw the injury had been completely sealed. The ghoul let out what could only be considered a chuckle and began circling, taking advantage of the wide corridor.

  Sam summoned his spear and let out a few cursory jabs, testing his opponent’s speed. It was faster than his own, but its limited reach meant it had to take a risk in order to close the gap. Sam dismissed his shield and took up a two-handed stance, matching his foe’s posture and bringing all the weight of his newly-refined constitution to bear.

  His shoulder still throbbed, but he was rewarded with a set of light slashes on the beast’s chest and arms. While the knife wound was no longer bleeding, Sam could sense that there was still some internal damage that the ghoul had been unable to mend. It walked with a slight limp and didn't display the same frenzied rush as it had upon first landing.

  Intermittent waves of panic washed over him, and he quickly pushed them down. It was easier being able to stare his enemy in the face, and he could sense the ghoul quickly growing frustrated by its inability to gain ground.

  It backed off, wrapping its cloak around itself, completely covering its face. Space warped and rippled, and Sam’s vision reeled with a sudden pang of vertigo, mind unable to track the ghoul’s sudden disappearance. He jumped backwards, spear flashing in wide arcs in front of him, the leaf-bladed head catching the dim, purple werelight.

  The hallway grew still, and once again Sam was forced to trust in his lesser-used senses. His ears strained, searching for any hint of sound. His hands moved in steady swings, using his spear like a blind man would his cane.

  In the end, it was his nose that saved him. A small gust of wind brushed past him from behind, bringing with it the distinctive odour of rotting meat. The pungent smell was sharper than the lingering scent of decay, jolting his senses. He spun, the haft of his spear connecting with a solid mass.

  The creature had almost been able to fully enter his guard, but the strike redirected its jagged claws, sending them wide. They still scored a fierce gash just above his collarbone, slicing open the top of his shoulder, just missing the key arteries in his neck.

  He screamed in pain as he dismissed his spear and grappled the ghoul, trying and failing to keep the wiry fiend under control. Without the spear, his inherent combat knowledge swiftly departed, leaving only half-remembered karate lessons from his youth.

  The fight devolved into a deadly game of tug of war as he struggled to keep the creature’s snapping jaws away from his face, while simultaneously keeping its free arm pinned to its side.

  He wasn't consciously aware of kicking it in the balls. Hell, he wasn't even sure if it had balls. But the effect was immediate and satisfying. It let out a bloodcurdling shriek and stumbled backwards, tripping over one of the blood-vines. Sam followed in a tangle of limbs, taking a few shallow cuts to his breastplate. He re-summoned his knife and drove it up under the beast’s chin, twisting the blade until its brains were reduced to a wet slurry. The light in its eyes went out almost immediately, but he stabbed it a few more times for good measure.

  He leaned back, still straddling the bony corpse. He stored it with a thought and went and sat against a nearby wall, too tired to care if he was exposed. He’d heard another chime as the ghoul gave up the ghost, and he had a sneaking suspicion what it might be.

  Checking his stat sheet, he was rewarded with an influx of spira and another level, one he’d been desperately waiting for.

  He rested his head against the cold stone, breathing in deep despite the lingering odour.

  It was time to upgrade his first skill.