The 22nd floor of the dungeon was eerily quiet. Shadows clung to the jagged stone walls, and the faint drip of water echoed in the distance. Michael's boots crunched against the brittle, frozen remains of his previous foes as he led the way forward. The faint glow of his cracked halo cast long, distorted shadows, while the protective orbs from his newly acquired Seraph's Ward hovered close to his head, their golden light illuminating the dim path ahead.
Valencia trailed just behind him, her crimson eyes watchful, her presence a dark and dangerous force lingering at his back. She had always been a lethal ally, but ever since their bond deepened—and her transformation into a vampire—her demeanor had shifted. Her once soft-spoken affection now held a simmering intensity that bordered on obsession. It wasn't just about keeping Michael safe anymore; it was about making sure no one else ever dared approach him.
He could feel her gaze on him now, as they walked deeper into the dungeon's belly. Her possessiveness was palpable, like a tangible weight pressing into his spine, but he ignored it for the moment. His mind was elsewhere, turning over the idea that had struck him during their last battle.
If Bone Chill could be fused with his coilgun projectiles, what else could he integrate? The possibilities seemed endless. His repertoire of spells was growing with each new floor, and now that he had broken through a new level of mastery, his imagination ran wild.
But something kept tugging at the edges of his thoughts—the knowledge that power came at a cost. The more he pushed, the more he felt his cracked halo thrumming, as though straining under the weight of his ambition.
"Valencia," Michael said after a while, his voice cutting through the silence.
She stepped up beside him, her eyes sharp and ready. "What is it?"
"I've been thinking about how to push this further. The spell infusion with my projectiles—it's just the beginning. There's more I can do with it."
Her lips curved into a slow, almost dangerous smile. "I expected nothing less from you."
He raised an eyebrow. "Is that so?"
She nodded, her fingers brushing the edge of her cloak as if readying herself for whatever danger might emerge next. "You've always been different, Michael. Stronger. Better. The only one worthy of power like this." Her gaze flicked to the hovering orbs around his head, and her smile deepened. "You're evolving beyond what even the dungeon gods could have imagined."
There it was again—that edge of possessiveness in her voice. Michael didn't respond immediately, instead letting her words settle over him as they continued forward.
Eventually, the corridor widened into a vast chamber. The ceiling stretched impossibly high, disappearing into darkness, while jagged pillars of stone thrust up from the ground like the broken teeth of some long-dead beast. The air here was colder, more oppressive, and as they stepped into the room, the faint, distant sound of movement echoed from the shadows.
"Get ready," Michael said, scanning the room. His wings flared behind him, the gray feathers rustling with tension.
Valencia was already ahead of him, summoning a barrier of radiant light around herself. She grinned, her fangs flashing. "Always."
A rumbling sound filled the chamber, followed by the distinct shuffle of something large and lumbering moving in the darkness. Then, from the far end of the room, a monstrous figure stepped into the light—a towering golem, its body composed of cracked, ancient stone, its eyes burning with fiery red energy. It moved slowly at first, its massive stone fists dragging along the ground, but its pace quickened when it spotted them.
Michael tensed, his mind racing. The golem's sheer size made it a daunting opponent, but its slow movements and predictable attacks could be exploited. He gripped the coilgun tightly, ready to engage, but then another thought struck him—a new idea for his spell integration.
What if, instead of just applying Bone Chill, he could infuse another spell into the projectile? Something that would amplify the damage, disorient, or even destroy the target's mind?
He glanced at Valencia, who was already in position to strike, her magic crackling in the air. "I'm going to try something new."
Her eyes gleamed. "What are you thinking?"
He didn't answer immediately, instead channeling his magic into the coilgun. This time, instead of Bone Chill, he poured in the essence of a different spell: Mind Flare—a magic designed to scramble the mental processes of its target, sending waves of debilitating pain and confusion through their psyche.
The coilgun hummed with energy as the projectile formed, a crackling, blue-and-black orb of concentrated chaos magic. Michael leveled the weapon at the golem's chest and fired.
The shot zipped through the air with a sharp, high-pitched whine, striking the golem squarely in the center of its massive torso. For a moment, there was no visible effect—the stone giant barely seemed to register the hit.
Then, the magic took hold.
The golem staggered, its movements growing erratic. Its burning red eyes flickered, the light within them dimming as it let out a low, rumbling groan of confusion. Its fists swung wide, missing Valencia by a wide margin as it stumbled back, disoriented.
Michael watched with satisfaction as the golem's movements slowed, its coordination faltering as the Mind Flare worked its way through the creature's psyche. It wasn't just a physical attack anymore—it was psychological warfare. He could see the effect rippling through the golem's form, each of its heavy, slow steps becoming more labored.
But even as Michael observed the golem's decline, he felt a sharp, stabbing pain in his head. His halo—the cracked gray ring hovering above him—flared with light, the fracture lines glowing a blinding white. The pain intensified, growing into a throbbing ache that pulsed behind his eyes.
"Michael!" Valencia's voice snapped him back to the present. She was at his side in an instant, her hands glowing with healing magic as she reached for him, but he waved her off.
"I'm fine," he muttered, though the pain had yet to subside. His halo pulsed again, sending another shockwave of agony through him, but he forced himself to focus. The golem was faltering, and now was their chance to finish it off.
Valencia, however, wasn't so easily convinced. Her eyes blazed with an intensity that sent a chill down his spine. "Don't push yourself too hard," she warned, her voice thick with something more than concern. "You're not invincible."
Michael gritted his teeth against the pain, his wings flexing in frustration. He knew she was right, but he couldn't let that stop him. Not now.
He raised his coilgun again, charging another shot. This time, he infused it with Bone Chill once more, determined to end the fight. The projectile crackled with freezing energy, and as he fired, it slammed into the golem's chest, exploding in a burst of icy tendrils. The freezing magic snaked through the golem's body, binding it in place as frost spread across its stone surface.
The golem's movements slowed further, and finally, with a deafening crack, its body shattered under the weight of the freezing magic. The pieces of stone crumbled to the ground, lifeless.
Michael lowered the coilgun, exhaling slowly as the pain in his head began to recede. He could still feel the lingering throb of his halo, but it was manageable—for now.
Valencia stepped closer, her expression unreadable. "You're pushing yourself too hard," she said softly, her voice dangerously calm. "I can't lose you, Michael. Not to this dungeon. Not to anything."
Her fingers brushed against his arm, and he could feel the possessiveness in her touch, the unspoken threat beneath her words. She wouldn't let anything come between them—not even his own ambition.
Michael met her gaze, his expression hardening. "I'm fine," he repeated, though they both knew the truth was more complicated than that.
But for now, the fight was over, and the dungeon awaited.
As they stepped over the shattered remains of the golem, the cold, echoing silence of the dungeon swallowed them once more.