**STATUS SCREEN**
**World: Crimson Eclipse**
**Objective: Eliminate High Priestess Veyla**
Dean materialized mid-stride, his boots sinking into ankle-deep swamp water. The air reeked of rotting vegetation and something sharper—ozone, maybe. Above him, twin moons bathed the landscape in a sickly violet glow. No time to acclimate. His **STATUS SCREEN** flashed a warning:
**Hostiles Inbound: 200m**
He didn't wait. Splashing forward, Dean unslung the rifle he'd looted from Valhalla Drift. The scope was cracked, but at this range, he wouldn't need it. Three figures emerged from the mist—cultists, their robes sodden with swamp filth, jagged sacrificial knives glinting. Enhanced Reflexes made their movements look like stop-motion. Three pulls of the trigger. Three bodies hitting the water.
**Words spent: 120**
No ceremony. Dean waded past them, toward the distant glow of torches. The cult's temple loomed ahead, a ziggurat of black stone slick with algae. His **STATUS SCREEN** updated:
**Optional Objective: Sabotage Ritual**
Dean's lips curled. More time meant harder enemies later. He tapped the grenade on his belt. "Or I could just blow the whole thing."
---
The temple's interior was a slaughterhouse. Blood ran in rivulets down glyph-carved steps, pooling around the bare feet of chanting acolytes. At the center, High Priestess Veyla raised a serrated dagger above a bound prisoner. Dean didn't announce himself. He lobbed the grenade into the ritual circle.
The explosion sent bodies flying. Veyla staggered but didn't fall—her eyes locked onto Dean, glowing crimson. "Interloper!" she shrieked.
Dean shot her in the throat.
Or tried to. The bullet stopped inches from her skin, disintegrating into ash. His **STATUS SCREEN** blared:
**Ability Detected: Arcane Ward (Tier 3)**
Veyla smiled, her teeth too sharp. "You'll make a fine sacrifice."
Dean ejected the spent magazine. "Yeah, no."
---
He fought dirty. When fireballs scorched past him, he ducked behind a sacrificial altar—then flipped it onto two acolytes. Their screams were cut short by crushing stone. Veyla advanced, her ward deflecting every round. Dean's **STATUS SCREEN** flickered:
**Pain Suppression Overload: 60%**
A fireball clipped his side. He smelled burning leather before the pain hit—then didn't. Tier 1 suppression wasn't perfect, but it let him roll behind a pillar, breathing hard.
Think.
His eyes landed on the prisoner's bindings—etched with the same glyphs as Veyla's ward. Dean lunged, slicing the ropes with his combat knife. The second the bindings snapped, Veyla's ward flickered.
Dean shot her between the eyes.
---
The temple shuddered. Without its priestess, the ritual collapsed—reality itself warping. Dean's **STATUS SCREEN** flashed gold:
**Objective Complete!**
**Reward: Bloodthorn Dagger (+15% Critical Chance)**
The world dissolved before he could grab it.
**STATUS SCREEN**
**Next Jump: Shattered Veil**
Dean exhaled. "Getting faster."
The voice chuckled. **"Too fast, perhaps."**
Dean didn't care. Speed was survival.
---
Shattered Veil was a frozen wasteland. Dean's breath fogged the air as his **STATUS SCREEN** updated:
**Objective: Hunt Frostborn Alpha**
A howl echoed across the tundra. Dean grinned and palmed his knife.
**Words left: 5850**
No time to waste.