Dane froze as he spotted Ada kneeling beside Amelia, frantically casting Minor Heal. Sweat streamed down her temple, catching in her frizzing, static-charged hair, crackling with magic. The air was charged, and the putrid smell of ions like ozone. Amelia lay crumpled against the wall, barely recognizable from the last time he saw her. The once beautiful elf was ruined. Three jagged scars slashed across her face. Her eye was gouged out, and now only an empty socket remained where the left eye should have been. Dane's blood boiled. He couldn't comprehend why someone in his care had been hurt so badly. The feeling of inadequacy sank in. He didn't have time for self-deprivation; he had to kill this wolf again. That walking corpse lived on borrowed time; it would burn and set things right.

  Dane hastily cast gravity magic; he didn't have the luxury to discriminate, and Amelia was caught in the purple field. The magic spread like veins in a body. He could not believe how much he wanted to grind this wolf into paste. But if he unleashed the full fury of his gravity spell, he would kill Amelia, who was already gushing blood on the floor from the increased gravity. Instead, he held up the TC9 and fanned the gun, as if his name was Roland. Holes tore through the monster, ripping the rotting flesh off the bone like a grotesque portal to its insides. The foul blood and pus sprayed on the wall behind the beast.

  Dane saw a close grouping of arrows dead center in the chest and thought he would shoot that next. He had to take a moment to reload. He flipped open the latch on the side and held the gun back. The spent cartridges hit the floor with an empty clank on the stone floor. The sound reminded him of his father. He always wondered why going to the shooting range was a part of his wrestling training. Dan had told him he needed better focus, and shooting was the best way to build concentration. Only now did he realize that his father hadn't trained him for sport. Dan was teaching his son for the worst-case scenario, an apocalypse. He chuckled to himself. He laughed along with his friends at Doomsday Preppers. He wondered if they were alive anymore.

  Dane would have to investigate altering the gun to have a speed loader option because while the slow, repetitive loading of the firearm did wonders for meditation, that was only when there wasn't a King Kong-sized monster on the other side of the barrel.

  He retook his aim and analyzed it with Huntsman. His instinct was to shoot at the heart, but the skill glowed red around the abdomen. He shot into the pinned beast, slowing breathing, pulling back the hammer, and aiming down the sights. He only had 25 more bullets; he knew he needed to conserve them until he could replenish his stores, despite how badly he wanted to keep shooting like a cowboy. He fired another six rounds into the abdomen, shattering the vertebrae and severing the spinal cord. The beast began to shake violently, and Dane almost felt like he could hear a snarl.

  Dane began to chuckle. He had virtually bypassed this miniboss and was now fighting an upgraded version of it. It was poetic, almost like the dungeon was trying to teach him the folly of his shortcut. But he still felt like he was cheating. The beast was weakening, as the monster gave off the final kicks of its back legs. Dane felt the familiar warning headache of low MP. He released the spell, and the now headless wonder ran at him like an ostrich in the desert. It swiped at Dane, and a single claw found his neck, dragging across. Now, his headache from low mana was accompanied by the pulsing of blood draining his HP. He had no time to reload and reached into his backpack, clutching blindly at anything. He rolled from another huge strike, interrupting his desperate fumbling. The bag burst open, spilling its contents beneath the wolf.

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  A sharp pain jabbed into his thigh. It was the first bone knife he had made after being mana-starved. He had put it in his pocket after taking his shot at the shadowman. Perfect. Bleeding from the neck, and now I've stabbed myself too. Dane thought with annoyance and pain from the wound. Grabbing the knife by the sinuous hilt, he pulled hard. He yanked the blade free, warm blood spread down his leg, soaking the black tactical pants beneath the stolen armor.

  At least he still had a means of defense. Dane triggered Huntsman; tendons lit up like veins of molten light. The skill marked it an ankle, but it looked more like a knee to Dane. There was no time to question it. He activated his Meteorite skill and ran at the torso. He tore through glowing sinew like the Tasmanian Devil, flailing, spinning, slashing. He ripped at it wildly.

  The body collapsed. The red glow faded. Dane had heard the kill notification and felt the cosmic energy rush into his body. But Dane didn't stop. He ripped. Tore. Slashed until his blade snapped. Then, with his bare hands. Until they bled. Until his nails were gone. He collapsed to his knees and began to sob. He had eliminated the threat, but still felt weak and powerless. He couldn't even protect his party.

  Warmth seeped into his broken body, healing magic. Then, he felt Ada's arms wrapped around him tightly. She held him and made him feel human again. Dane couldn't remember the last time he was held. For so long, his life had been one starved of affection. He felt his body give in to the gesture.

  "Ada, I'm still too weak." He let his emotions come flooding out.

  "I can't do it, it's too much." He spoke in broken sobs.

  Ada had no words. If Dane was weak, what hope did they have? So she did the only thing she could. She held him. A boy trying to carry a man's burden. He was barely 18, and for the first time, Ada saw that so much weight must be on his shoulders. He was breaking under the pressure. Ada was 28 and still felt like a child and couldn't imagine how he was dealing with all of this. She held him until the sobs stifled into labored breathing of sleep.

  "Put him down, Ada. Unless you want the whole floor waking up again." Amelia barked out the order.

  Ada just wanted him to feel okay, but eventually relented and set him down on the freezing stone floor. He then set out with Amelia to rid the floor of the cadavers that could become undead.

  Amelia had picked up Dane's spatial bag and all of its contents. It wasn't ideal, but it would have to do. A dozen bone knives were enough to put down an undead in a pinch. The rest? Junk-rocks and crystals that were worth less than copper, and even less down here, where they were plentiful. She didn't crawl into tunnels; she collapsed them, raining down pickaxe blows. Ada helped find the weak points in the walls that would collapse if hit.

  Amelia trailed behind the support class, shame making her cheeks hot and anger flare. Ada shouldn't be faster. Not at her level. She pushed her body to the limit and felt the familiar feeling of leveling up after killing 120 undead in the tunnels. She looked at her free points and lost her breath. Her class granted five free points. Twenty-five flashed on the screen. She quickly went to assign them, but was met with a notification.

  You must receive approval from your Master or his second in charge, Ada.