A bead of sweat rolled down the length of Dane's nose. His face was caked with a mix of blood and dirt. He hadn't been able to use the experience he'd accumulated over the last few floors. The monsters were getting stronger, and unfortunately, he wasn't. He was still upgrading his skills, which suggested that understanding the skill mattered more than the experience points he pumped into it. The Earthbound System was greedy.

  A faint tug pulled at his mind, brushing his subconscious...and then a notification appeared.

  Rachel Lindstrom has accepted your rule and the Earthbound system.

  Initiating Tutorial....

  What is your message, Baron Dane McAllister?

  "Welcome to Dusk's Fury. I am Dane McAllister. Train hard, Rachel, and we will break the chains."

  Dane had grown tired of the inductees. He wished he could set an automated message so it wouldn't drag him from combat. He was nearing the 50th floor and needed to keep clearing floors to fuel the inferno that sparked the rebellion. At first, there had been a trickle of new candidates, an inventor named Jason, then a berserker named Anthony. After those two, who pulled the most resources, Dane stopped keeping track. Everyone else was a drop in the bucket. He hadn't seen the minimal settings warning since they joined.

  The 49th Floor

  Three heads drooled slobber down their chins. Dane saw the vicious shape of a Cerberus, the mob on the floor. One head looked like a German shepherd; the other two looked like zombie Dobermans, skulls visible through holes in their rotting skin. This floor was themed the Greek underworld with jagged stone walls, ethereal spirits pooling in haunting green water.

  Dane grabbed the hilt of his boarding axe as if it might sprout legs and run if he didn't hold tight. The beast lunged. Dane rolled left, narrowly escaping the snapping maw.

  His gut knotted as the dogs howled again, calling for reinforcements. Dane charged, planting his left foot hard and swinging an overhead chop into the right neck of the beast, lopping the head off. The remaining heads whimpered, like puppies crying for their mother.

  The left head blew a gust of breath, and the middle clicked its teeth, igniting the gas. Dane's arm tightened, skin splitting with burns. He'd been numb to pain for the last 13 floors and had been mutilated so many times his senses dulled. He inhaled deeply and swung again with a horizontal slash, finishing the decapitation.

  Hot breath hissed against his back, and he heard quick sniffs that rattled debris and rubble across the floor.

  "I guess that's the Boss," Dane said, voice steady.

  Before him stood a dog straight from legend. He drew his revolver, down to his last two bullets. He'd have to resupply at the camps Amelia and Ada had set up.

  The Hellhound stood twenty feet tall. Its face twisted in impossible folds, like it was folding in on itself. Bony protuberances adorned its head like a crown fit for a demon.

  "So it is you who have slain my pups. Slaughtered like common dogs. You will not live to tell the tale of your deeds."

  Dane let off two shots so fast they sounded like one. Both struck home in the monster's nasal passages as it inhaled. Wind galed and howled, ripping through the snout.

  The dog chuckled, a yip mixed with a jackal's taunt.

  Dane phase-stepped and slashed at the tendons above the paws. He ripped and tore with the boarding axe, but it wasn't enough. Claws shredded into his back, pressing him into the floor, holding him down like a rambunctious toddler.

  Gritting his teeth, Dane turned his head as far as he could. The beast savored its triumph.

  "You should have gone for the kill, you stupid dog." Dane phased through the claw, pinpoint precision earned through a lifetime of combat. He split into two, circling the Boss. He moved gently, flowing from one position to the next.

  He leaped to attack but was batted away like a fly. The afterimage faded with his decoy taking the blow.

  His real body stood behind the canine and unleashed a blast from his water geyser. Usually the size of a firehose, he choked the nozzle down to a laser dot. The high-pressure stream ripped through skin and muscle, stopping only when it hit titanium-like bones.

  He dragged the water cutter across the legs, finishing the work on the tendons and dropping the beast. Dane lost control of the pressure and canceled the spell.

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  The monster was half-dead and pissed off. A blood-curdling howl rose, flames licking from the stone itself and curling around Dane. The fire kissed his hair and eyebrows. He felt the drain on his health pool.

  The immobilized monster snapped at him, licking its chops between lunges.

  Dane walked through the devil's fire. He plunged the back of the boarding axe through the skull and pulled hard, ripping from just above the eye down to the snout. The dog snapped and bit, flailing aimlessly as Dane clung to the blind spot.

  He swung again, but his edge alignment was off. The axe twisted free and flew from his hands. No time to fumble, he drew his obsidian blade and shark tooth dagger. Using the knives, he climbed up the monster's head to mount its neck.

  The dog began to roll, crushing one of Dane's arms beneath its massive carcass. It was the beast's last act of defiance.

  The monster turned to ash. What pinned Dane's arm was now a heavy chest. Dane planted his feet firmly and pushed off.

  He unlatched the spiky midnight chest and pulled it open. Inside lay the Hellhound's core, glowing with molten heat like a trapped star. Dane's fingers tingled as he reached in and felt the warmth burning right through his gloves. The power felt raw and dangerous.

  His vision flickered with memories of every floor. The fights, the pain, the losses. This core was more than an object. It was a key.

  The cavern rumbled low. The spirits in the green pool stirred, drawn to the dying beast's essence.

  Dane yanked the core free. The molten light flared bright, syncing with his heartbeat. The Earthbound System buzzed in his mind, and he finally leveled up again, receiving skill points, status updates, and notifications all at once.

  He had fought for every inch, every ragged breath down here. Now with the core strapped tight to his belt, something deeper stirred inside him.

  The chamber darkened, shadows stretching out like claws from jagged stone walls. Dane didn't hesitate. He tightened the strap and took a steadying breath. The floor ahead twisted into darkness, calling him forward.

  No turning back now.

  He cracked his neck and his eyes burned with fresh fire.

  The 15th Floor, Amelia Tudor

  The dim glow of the flickering torches cast long shadows on the rough stone walls of the 15th floor, but Amelia's sharp voice cut through the stale dungeon air like a blade.

  "Line up! Shoulder to shoulder!" she barked, pacing in front of the ragged group of former slaves. Their clothes hung loose on bodies still stiff from years of captivity, eyes wide with a mixture of fear and fierce hope.

  Amelia's gaze swept over them, taking in every hesitation, every faltering step. "No slacking. You survived chains and hunger, now survive each other."

  She raised her voice over the low murmur of uncertainty. "Humanoids don't fight fair. They strike fast, they feint. But here? We fight smart. We fight as one."

  The recruits shifted nervously but matched their shoulders as instructed. Amelia's hand moved in a sharp arc, signaling the formation to step forward.

  "Advance in wedge formation. Spear-bearers up front, shield-bearers flanking, archers in the rear, remember your place!" Her voice was iron, but beneath it, a pulse of determination thrummed.

  A dozen pairs of eyes fixed on her, some trembling. But each moved, weaving themselves into the shape she demanded. Amelia strode among them, checking grips on battered spears and cracked shields.

  "Don't just hold your weapon, own it! It's your lifeline now." She caught the eye of a thin young man whose knuckles whitened around his spear. "You're not the slave you were yesterday. You're the soldier you will be tomorrow. Believe it."

  A murmur rippled through the group. Amelia pressed on.

  "Form tight. When one falters, the line bends but never breaks. Shield locks, step together, push forward like the tide."

  She barked out commands, quick and relentless: "Left flank, shield up! Spear, ready! Archers, hold fire until I give the signal."

  The recruits moved like a single beast, stumbling at first, then they became steadier. Amelia caught a flicker of pride in their eyes.

  She demonstrated a maneuver herself, pivoting with precise, economical grace. "See this? Your feet decide your fate. Plant firm. Strike hard. No wasted motion."

  "Again!" she shouted.

  The wedge pressed forward, shields clanging, spears thrusting into empty air as Amelia called out imaginary strikes. Her voice grew fierce, a rallying cry. "Fight for yourself, yes, but fight for each other more! Every fallen comrade leaves a gap the enemy will exploit."

  A recruit stumbled, nearly falling, but another grabbed his arm, steadying him. Amelia nodded approvingly.

  "Good. That's what I want, watch each other's backs. Remember, trust isn't given. It's earned every second you hold the line."

  She paused, eyes scanning the group. Their ragged breaths mingled with the echo of their movements. The dungeon felt less like a prison and more like a proving ground.

  "Listen carefully." Her tone softened slightly, but the steel never left her voice. "This dungeon won't wait for you to be ready. It will crush the weak and devour the unsure. But I see strength in you, buried deep, yes, but it's there. And I'll pull it out if I have to drag it from your bones."

  A collective breath filled the chamber. Amelia knew it was harsh, but mercy was a luxury none of them could afford.

  "Today, you practice. Tomorrow, you fight for your freedom. For your lives. For the future we're building, one hard-earned step at a time."

  The recruits straightened, some nodding fiercely, others wiping sweat and grime from their faces. Amelia's chest swelled with a fierce pride.

  "Last run! Push the wedge forward to the edge of that hall, hold it against a simulated attack, archers cover, shields brace, don't let your guard down, not even for a heartbeat."

  They moved again, more sure, their steps falling into a rhythm of survival. Amelia watched the line hold steady as they pressed forward, voices echoing in unison with shouted commands and the clash of weapons.

  When they finally halted, chests heaving and hands trembling, Amelia's sharp gaze softened just enough.

  "You did well. Not perfect, but well. That's progress. Tomorrow we push harder."

  She stepped back, allowing them a moment to breathe, to feel the weight of what they'd done.

  "Remember this. Each day you train, you reclaim a piece of yourself the dungeon tried to steal. You are not broken. You are warriors in the making."

  A chorus of murmurs rose, a flicker of hope blazing in their eyes.

  Amelia's jaw tightened. "Get some rest. Tomorrow, we take back the 5th floor."