The cold stone beneath Michael's boots felt heavier with each step as he and Valencia descended deeper into the dungeon. The air had grown thicker, almost tangible, as though it was pressing down on them, suffocating in its intensity. Valencia, with her new vampiric nature, seemed unfazed, but Michael found himself feeling more strained. It wasn't just the atmosphere. It was the weapon in his hands.
The coilgun, crude and unrefined, rested lightly in his grip, a contrast to the burden it placed on his mind. Its dark metal coils gleamed faintly in the dim light, the runes on its surface shifting subtly as though alive. Despite its rough, patchwork appearance, the weapon worked flawlessly, unleashing powerful blasts with precision. Yet, it was far from perfect. Michael could sense it—sense that it was absorbing something from him, feeding off his mana in ways he didn't fully understand.
Each pull of the trigger felt like more than just firing a shot. There was a tug at the core of his being, a subtle drain as the weapon absorbed his dark mana, channeling it into something more. At first, it seemed inconsequential—just a byproduct of his power. But now, after days of using it, he could feel it altering, evolving.
"What's wrong?" Valencia's voice snapped him from his thoughts. Her crimson eyes glowed faintly in the gloom, sharp and perceptive.
Michael shook his head. "Nothing. Just... this thing," he muttered, raising the coilgun slightly. "It's been feeling different. Like it's changing."
Valencia arched an eyebrow. "Changing how?"
Michael hesitated, unsure how to put it into words. "It's absorbing more of my mana than before. And when it does, it feels... alive."
A faint smile tugged at her lips. "You said it yourself. Your powers are connected to death, and that weapon of yours is an extension of that power. It's no surprise it's reacting to your dark mana. Maybe it's growing stronger."
"I thought that too," he admitted, "but it's not just getting stronger. It's almost like it's adapting, evolving as we move further down."
Before Valencia could respond, the faint sound of shifting stone echoed from deeper within the passage ahead. Both of them tensed, their senses sharpening. Michael tightened his grip on the coilgun, feeling its coils hum faintly as it prepared for battle.
They stepped forward cautiously, emerging into a larger cavern. The space was dimly lit by bioluminescent moss clinging to the walls, casting eerie green light across the stone floor. In the center of the chamber, a group of armored constructs stood in formation. Their heavy metal frames gleamed dully in the light, and their eyeless faces seemed to focus on Michael and Valencia with silent malice.
"More of them," Valencia whispered, her voice laced with disdain.
These constructs were different from the usual dungeon monsters. Their armor was thick, enchanted to resist physical damage, and their movements were unnaturally smooth for beings made of metal and stone. Michael had encountered them before on previous floors, but something about these felt different. Stronger. More dangerous.
Without warning, one of the constructs moved. Its massive arm swung out, releasing a wave of magic energy that crackled toward them. Michael dodged to the side, rolling across the stone floor as the blast struck where he had been standing.
"Careful!" Valencia shouted, summoning a shield of radiant magic to deflect a second blast.
Michael gritted his teeth, frustration bubbling up. His usual spells would take too long to wear down these armored monstrosities. He needed something faster, something more direct. His eyes flicked to the coilgun in his hands. It hummed softly, almost as if it was waiting for him to use it.
He raised the weapon, aiming at the nearest construct. Dark mana surged through him, channeling into the coilgun. The crude, makeshift coils glowed with a faint purple light as they spun, building up energy. The moment felt different from before—like the weapon was pulling more from him than he had intended. The drain was sharper, deeper, but it was too late to stop.
He pulled the trigger.
A bolt of concentrated energy shot from the coilgun, striking the construct squarely in the chest. There was a brief pause, a moment where nothing seemed to happen. Then the construct's armor cracked. The energy pierced through, shattering the enchanted plating like brittle glass. The construct crumbled, its core disintegrating as it collapsed into a pile of metal shards.
Michael blinked, surprised by the power of the shot. He hadn't expected it to be that effective.
Valencia, too, looked impressed. "That's new," she remarked, her voice calm but curious.
Michael frowned, feeling the weight of the weapon in his hands again. It was still light, deceptively so, but the mana it had just consumed was significant. More than he had anticipated. He could feel it, lingering in the air around the gun, a dark aura that seemed to pulse in time with his own heartbeat.
Another construct charged at him, its massive sword raised high. Michael reacted instinctively, firing another shot. This time, the coilgun's energy twisted in the air, the bolt curving mid-flight to strike the construct in its exposed joints. It collapsed, its limbs falling apart like marionette strings cut by an unseen hand.
"That's definitely new," Michael muttered under his breath.
The last of the constructs fell, and the chamber was silent once more. Valencia approached him, her eyes lingering on the coilgun. "It's evolving," she said, her tone more serious. "The more you use it, the more it absorbs your mana, and the more it changes."
Michael nodded, his mind racing. He had noticed it too—the way the weapon seemed to be adapting, refining itself with each battle. But what concerned him wasn't just the changes in the weapon. It was the way it felt. The way it resonated with him, as though it wasn't just a tool, but something more... intimate.
"Let me see it," Valencia said, holding out her hand.
Michael handed her the coilgun, watching as she examined it closely. Her fingers traced the faint runes etched into the metal, and her eyes narrowed in thought. "These runes weren't here before," she said. "At least, not like this."
Michael leaned in, looking at the weapon more closely. The runes had indeed changed. Where once they had been simple, almost rudimentary markings, they now glowed faintly with a darker, more intricate design. They pulsed with a rhythm that matched his own mana flow, as though the coilgun was synchronizing itself with him.
"It's becoming something else," Valencia murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. "It's not just absorbing your mana. It's transforming."
Michael took the coilgun back, feeling its weight in his hands once more. The lightness remained, but now there was an underlying heaviness—an awareness that this weapon was far from finished. It was still crude, still rough, but it was evolving with him, feeding on his power and shaping itself to his will.
"We need to be careful," Valencia warned, her eyes meeting his. "The more you use it, the more it could change. And I don't think it's just a weapon anymore."
Michael nodded, but a part of him couldn't help feeling intrigued. There was a power here—something deeper than he had imagined. The coilgun was becoming more than just a tool of destruction. It was becoming a part of him.
As they moved deeper into the dungeon, Michael couldn't shake the feeling that the coilgun was watching him, waiting for its next chance to evolve.
And he wasn't sure whether to be excited or terrified.