The stale, mineral-laced air of the 7th level was a familiar, suffocating blanket. To Vice-Captain Shirlene of the Iron-Hand unit, the deep dungeon was a place of ghosts, its every damp stone a cold reminder of her deepest failure and endless fury. The memory of her younger sister, Lana, was a constant, raw ache. Lana, who was only nine and had a laugh that could outshine the sun, had died on the 4th level during the Crimson Night. The heroic Auditors—the Capital Guard officers who carried themselves with untouchable authority—had fled, leaving Lana to be torn apart by a monstrous Fire Bear. "A Devil is near! Get out!" were the last frantic words Lana had screamed, a desperate warning no one had heeded. That betrayal, that feeling of watching true, immense power walk away from innocence, had forged Shirlene into the relentless, furious warrior she was today, always seeking out the fight, always looking for a battle to justify her own survival.
Leornars strode through the labyrinthine tunnels not with caution, but with an almost bored indifference, his footsteps silent on the damp stone. He wore the dark, arrogant uniform of a high-ranking officer, an Auditor from the Capital Guard, and carried himself with the unnerving weight of a man who served powers beyond the common eye, a man who, if asked, would state his purpose simply: he served Avrem the White Plague. His path was direct, his purpose secret, his expression a mask of cold, infinite precision.
He turned a corner and found his path momentarily blocked by a sudden flash of silver. Vice-Captain Shirlene was already there, having just ended a frantic, messy skirmish. She stood over the twitching, freshly severed head of a tunnel goblin, her ancestral sword, Aegis-Breaker, dripping black blood onto the rock. She was breathing hard, her eyes blazing with fierce concentration, the lingering tension of combat tightening her jaw.
Leornars paused. He didn't flinch or look away from the gore.
"Impressive dispatch," Leornars stated, his voice flat, precise, and utterly devoid of regional warmth. "But messy. You are Vice-Captain Shirlene of the Iron-Hand unit. You are too far down and too exposed for this level of uncoordinated violence."
Shirlene turned, her sword held ready, and instantly recognized the Capital Guard insignia. She frowned, the sight of his unearned authority instantly grating on her soul. "And you," she retorted, wiping her blade on the goblin's tunic with a sound of disgust, "are alone, uninvited, and walking around like you own the place. I don't care what status your uniform grants you on the surface—down here, we have rules." She crossed her arms, a muscle twitching in her jaw. "Where's your party? Your mage? Your rear guard? What is an Auditor doing on the 7th level without escort, ignoring every known tactical doctrine?"
Leornars finally turned fully, his expression unreadable. "I am Leornars. And I am always where I intend to be. My party is not required." His focus narrowed on her. "Your concern for procedure is noted. It is irrelevant."
Shirlene took a step closer, the temperature of her voice dropping with fury. "Irrelevant? You have the audacity of every gold-braid on the surface! Down here, procedure is life. Down here, power means nothing if you aren't there when needed." Her voice dropped to a fierce, wounded whisper, all the years of pain suddenly laid bare. "I survived the Crimson Night because I ran. I was twelve years old, and I ran while Lana, who had the most wonderful, genuine laugh in the world, who used to wear my armor helmet and pretend to be the 'Greatest Knight of all,' was right there. I watched her—I watched her—get torn apart by a Fire Bear because the so-called heroes like you were too slow and too scared to engage until it was too late. She was screaming for me. For anyone. And no one came." Shirlene gripped her hilt until her knuckles were white. "So I ask you again, Auditor—where is your strength when it matters?"
Leornars looked at her, and the faint, almost imperceptible shadow that fell across his eyes was the first sign of anything other than boredom. "A compelling anecdote, Vice-Captain. It addresses your lack of respect. It does not change the reality of my strength." Without another word, he dismissed her, turning to continue his path into the deeper dungeon.
"Wait a—" Shirlene began, but a sound like a thousand wet drums beating simultaneously erupted from the tunnel Leornars had been walking toward. A roar that shook the very dust from the ceiling confirmed the sound was not distant; it was right on top of them.
Leornars, his expression unreadable, stood as a pillar of ice between the vice-captain and the slavering horde.
"Vice-Captain! Are you insane?!" Shirlene roared, already yanking her ancestral sword, Aegis-Breaker, halfway from its sheath. "Don't be a fool! This isn't a scouting party, it's a stampede! Get behind me, now, before you're-"
Leornars turned his head, and the faint, almost imperceptible shadow that fell across his eyes made the world's natural sounds—the dripping water, the scuttling of the smaller creatures—instantly vanish. The air around him didn't just feel cold; it felt edited.
He looked at her, and the gravity in his voice made her half-drawn sword tremble in her grip.
"Do you know," he said, the words slow and dripping with a power she couldn't comprehend, "who you are talking to?"
Before she could process the audacity of the question, a shimmering, dark-blue wave of sheer, overwhelming Authority erupted from his body. It wasn't a blast of energy or fire; it was a fundamental denial of the surrounding reality. The air itself began to vibrate with a low, resonant hum, and the very laws of the dungeon seemed to bend to his will. The scent of ozone and the taste of metallic dust filled Shirlene's mouth.
Skill Activation: Auditor}
Leornars raised a hand, not in an offensive gesture, but like a silent, indifferent king commanding his unruly subjects. He spoke a single, resonating syllable that echoed not in the cavern, but within the very core of every monster's mind:
"Move!"
It was a decree, not a request.
The effect was instantaneous and absolute. The hundreds of monstrous eyes, moments ago filled with bloodlust, were now wide with paralyzing, primal terror. Their predatory instincts were utterly silenced by a command from a being they somehow recognized as infinitely superior. They didn't retreat; they scattered, a disorganized, panicking tide of flesh and claws that fled into the tunnels, desperate to escape the unbearable presence. In five heartbeats, the vast cavern was utterly silent, save for the heavy, ragged sound of Shirlene's breathing.
He... he didn't fight. He merely told them to leave.
Shirlene stared at the empty space where the horde had been. The memory of her sister, nine years old, screaming as the Fire Bear tore her apart, flashed into her mind. If someone had that power... why wasn't it there for Lana? A tremor of resentment and awe mixed in her chest. She looked at Leornars, her voice a cracked, raw whisper.
"...I wish you were there when my sister needed you."
Leornars heard it. He felt the accusation like a feather-light brush against a scar. He didn't acknowledge it. He didn't have to, for at that very moment, the light died, replaced by a suffocating, ancient shadow.
A figure materialized from the deepest gloom of the cavern—a towering warrior in pitch-black, jagged armor, its shoulders adorned with wickedly curved, obsidian horns. It moved with a silent, terrifying grace.
"A Devil...!" Shirlene gasped, her training overriding her shock. "It's one of the High-Tier Fiends! It must be controlled by someone... a Witch, maybe, or a powerful Summoner!" She remembered her sister's frantic warning just before the end. A Devil is near! Get out!
Driven by a lifetime of regret and rage, Shirlene didn't wait for Leornars. With a desperate, feral cry that was a prayer and a curse all in one, she exploded forward, her sword a silver streak aimed at the Devil's throat.
The Devil didn't flinch. It merely moved its armored right hand, a gesture of casual dismissal. A black-bladed rapier, unseen moments before, erupted from its palm, intercepting the charge. The wicked point plunged into Shirlene's abdomen, slicing through her reinforced leather and biting deep into her guts. A choked scream escaped her lips as she was brutally flung against the cavern wall, her Aegis-Breaker clattering to the ground.
Leornars finally moved. He walked past the wounded vice-captain, his eyes locking onto the two glowing, blood-red slits in the Devil's helmet. His voice was cold, a perfect glacier of fury.
"You ruined my plan."
As he spoke, a soft, emerald glow pulsed from his hand, enveloping Shirlene. A powerful Greater Regeneration spell took hold, the torn flesh and ruptured organs knitting themselves together at an impossible speed.
But Shirlene, her eyes fixed on the Devil, was beyond waiting. The pain was gone, but the rage—the fuel of her life—remained. Even as the healing power surged through her, she gasped the incantation, the name of her ancient family's most sacred spell:
"Chain-Breaker: Reverta Leorganels!"
A brilliant flash of golden light erupted from her body, sealing her wounds and pushing her pain aside. She was whole. But more than whole: a volatile, raw energy—the wellspring of her magical lineage—surged, coating her entire body in a shimmering aura of defiant, golden light.
She launched herself at the Devil, Aegis-Breaker now singing as it met the Fiend's rapier. The impact was deafening, a shriek of tortured metal, but Shirlene was no longer relying on just her strength.
"Get out of my way, Fiend!" she roared, her voice amplified by her power.
Aegis-Breaker, fueled by the Reverta Leorganels spell, was not merely steel; it was a conduit for her magical might. She didn't just slash; each strike left a visible wake of crackling, golden energy, forcing the Devil to abandon its casual deflection and actually defend.
The Devil countered her ferocity with sinister, measured strikes. Its black rapier moved like a serpent, faster and heavier than any mundane weapon. Shirlene ducked a thrust aimed at her head, the rapier whistling past, and immediately dropped into a low crouch.
"Now, break!"
She slammed her free hand onto the cavern floor, unleashing a concentrated blast of pure kinetic Force magic. The spell, Earth-Quake Seal, didn't shatter the ground but instead channeled the force into a single, sharp jolt that traveled up the Devil's armored legs. The massive Fiend staggered, its footing momentarily lost.
It was the opening Shirlene needed. She twisted, her momentum carrying her into a two-handed diagonal slash aimed at the Devil's helm. The blow connected, and the golden energy on her blade ignited, sending sparks showering across the cavern. The Devil was thrown back a step, a visible, glowing fissure briefly appearing on its obsidian helmet.
He's too heavy! The armor's too strong! Shirlene realized, but she didn't slow.
The Devil recovered instantly, its eyes blazing with new, frustrated intensity. It responded with a flurry of blindingly fast stabs. Shirlene met them with the rapid, defensive whirl of a master swordsman, the clash of metal now a continuous, frantic storm. As she blocked, she wove small, crackling threads of lightning into her blade, discharging them with every parry. The shocks didn't injure the Devil, but they caused its movements to twitch and stutter, buying her crucial milliseconds.
Suddenly, a weaker, shadow-cloaked monster—a mere pawn—darted from the darkness and clawed at Leornars' side, a distracting nuisance. Leornars turned, his attention divided for a fraction of a second.
It was all the Devil needed.
The Devil ceased its feints and pulled back its rapier for a singular, unstoppable thrust. Shirlene saw it coming, recognizing the finality in the movement, but she had nothing left to parry with. Her magical energy was spent, her arms screaming with fatigue. She couldn't dodge.
With a horrifyingly rapid strike, the black rapier drove straight through Shirlene's chest, its tip erupting from her back. Before she could even gasp, a slow, peaceful smile stretched across her lips—a final, fierce victory, as if she knew this death would finally settle the score with the Devil she had been chasing since Lana's death. The Devil wrenched the blade out, its gauntleted hand punching deep into the wound. With a sickening, squelching sound, it ripped out her heart—a wet, crimson prize—and contemptuously tossed her lifeless body away.
The Devil brought the still-beating organ to its helmeted face. The crimson heart of Vice-Captain Shirlene was consumed, dissolving into a black mist that swirled around the Devil's armor before sinking into it. A low, gratified rumble of power emanated from the fiend.
The Devil turned its glowing eyes to Leornars, now facing him, its regeneration fueled and its power momentarily peaking.
" I don't think I have the mana needed to beat this .....THING!!!" Leornars hissed