Marcus rolled his shoulders, the joints cracking slightly as his muscles responded with slow-burning heat. His body was far from perfect—but it had clawed its way back to the bare minimum condition to fight again. Beneath him, his feet ignited with renewed vitality, the familiar flare of flaming jets roaring to life with a surge of confidence.
"Let's do this, Marcus!"
He shouted into the echoing halls, voice carrying a sharp edge of excitement. With a burst of fire, he glided forward like a missile, tracing the blackened paths he'd scorched into the corridor's bones earlier—his own destruction now repurposed as a runway.
Then he saw them—two figures emerging from the mist of the corridor, and like twisted echoes from a past life, both were unmistakably familiar. Assassins. People he had once known, once feared. Now standing in front of him again like death's reflection in the glass.
"I'm not gonna waste my time this time…"
His words came low, quiet and cutting as he immediately activated his triple rune combination, mana surging like a wildfire through his core. The improvements from his recent evolution pulsed within him—his new mana regeneration like a tide that refused to recede. He could afford to cast recklessly now—and he would.
The two figures, perhaps recognizing the aura of death he now wore like a cloak, reacted instantly. One sprinted forward with a dark spear, its blade shadowy dark like the daggers of the previous one.
The other ducked low, dual pistols pulsing with dark as well and already opening fire, bullets howling through the air like snapping bones.
"If you two were the ones who fought me first, I would've lost—but too bad that isn't the case!"
He roared, arms spreading wide as he shot forward on jets of fire, flames trailing behind him like wings torn from a comet. Bullets screamed toward him—but some never made it. The jets curled and lashed, mini-flares intercepting the projectiles mid-air, incinerating them in mid-flight.
One shot scorched past his cheek, leaving a sizzling line across his jaw. Close. Too close. But that was all they got.
"Combustion and Necrotic Rune!"
He yelled the invocation, and his palms glowed violently. The two runes surged outward from within, not just appearing—but fusing, spiraling together like twin stars collapsing into a singularity. The weight of raw elemental death gathered in his grasp.
"Do me a favor and die immediately!"
"Blightful Cinders!"
He bellowed the name, born on the spot in a moment of inspiration—or instinct. A massive pulse of corrupted green fire erupted from his hands, a wave of death-riddled heat and pressure, racing through the air like a plague given wings.
The assassins stopped cold. Too late.
The blast caught them both in the chest—dead center. A thick mist of necrotic fire and bone-ash exploded outward, swallowing them whole.
"Bullseye!"
But Marcus wasn't done. The green mist billowed—twisting, obscuring.
He clapped his palms together, the lingering runes still pulsing with energy. The impact was deafening—a thunderclap of magic that sent a reverberating shockwave roaring across the hall. It slammed into the mist with devastating force, shattering it apart like glass under a warhammer.
He skidded to a halt, boots dragging against scorched stone, and narrowed his gaze.
The smoke parted.
The two assassins were visible once more—but they didn't stand. They lay motionless, bodies crumbling, disintegrating, becoming ash. They were already defeated. Already dead.
"Woah… they died before they even got near me."
[EXP: 2,000]
[Novice Robe of Necromancy Passive Activated: Reanimate]
[Error: Changing Item]
[Adept Robe of Necromancy Passive Activated: Master of Death]
[Soul Loom Activated]
[Store Soul or Absorb Soul?]
Marcus let out a low, amused chuckle, the kind that followed triumph. The system prompt blinked before him like an invitation from beyond.
"Store the spear-user. Absorb the pistol-user."
The response was instant.
[Soul Stored: 1/5]
[Soul Absorption Activated]
[Absorption Complete]
+1 Rune Creation
+3 Boost to Mana (Due to high mana usage during battle)
+1 Twin Pistols
"Great, now I have ranged weapons that don't rely on mana," he muttered with a grin. "And as for the other rewards…"
His fingers danced over the glowing interface.
"It's quite low, but I guess it makes sense after already leveling up."
He smirked, then opened his mouth slightly as he tested a theory aloud:
"I wonder if this is how it works. Equip Twin Pistols."
Without fanfare, the pistols materialized in his hands, solidifying from ether into gleaming metal and runic alloy. One blazed bright red, flame-etched and glowing like molten magma. The other was a dark green, its metal warped and pulsing subtly like it had been forged in the shadows of the dead. Both were revolvers, deadly and elegant.
"Come to think of it… my robe's passive activated without me even wearing it…"
His gaze shifted down to his shoulder—bare skin. The robe was not present, yet the system still treated it as equipped.
"I guess it counts as equipment with the cosmetic option off."
He shrugged it off casually, twirling the pistols before holstering them with a flick of each wrist.
Ahead, the corridor yawned open like a beast's throat, shadowed and cracked, and Marcus felt hunger stir—not his own, but something deeper. Not just for survival… but for dominance.
Finally, some massive progress.