Cyrus and Layla's group burst into the cavernous chamber just as the battle between Eltric's crew and the fire ogre reached its peak. The air felt suffocatingly hot, waves of heat rolling off the molten-skinned beast at the center of the room. The stone walls around them glowed a faint red, reflecting the intensity of the flames radiating from the ogre's massive body. It towered over everything, a creature of pure fire and rage, its muscles rippling beneath armor enchanted with glowing green runes. The intricate designs pulsed with menacing energy, and though most of its grotesque face was hidden beneath the helm, its burning eyes and tusks curling up from its lower jaw glared out like symbols of impending doom.
Eltric, Eon, and Will lay scattered across the stone floor, bruised and beaten by the ogre's relentless attacks. Will's daggers lay discarded, while Eon struggled to breathe, his illusions no longer distracting the fiery behemoth. Eltric, usually confident and arrogant, was trembling, barely able to cast a stream of water from his wand that fizzled out long before it reached the ogre. They were outmatched.
Cyrus stood at the edge of the chamber, his eyes narrowing as he took in the scene. His mind was sharp and calculating, analyzing the ogre's movements. It was powerful, far more than any of them had anticipated, but there was a pattern to its attacks—predictable if you knew where to look.
"It's angry. But its movements are sloppy," Cyrus thought, watching as the ogre swung its massive arms in wide arcs, the flames licking dangerously close to the walls. "We have a chance, but we have to strike at the right moment."
"Let's go!" Layla shouted, snapping Cyrus out of his analysis. She rushed forward, her wand already in hand, determination blazing in her blue eyes. "We can't just watch!"
Siera wasted no time, her silver hair catching the firelight as she raised her wand. "Aquam Serpentes!" she shouted, her voice cutting through the chaos.
A water serpent burst from her wand, coiling swiftly toward the fire ogre. It struck with force, steam erupting as the water clashed with molten skin. The ogre staggered, its flames flickering under the assault, but it let out a guttural roar, flexing its massive muscles. In seconds, the serpent evaporated in the heat, and the flames surged back, stronger than ever.
But the battle wasn't over.
With a guttural roar that shook the chamber, the ogre slammed its fists into its chest, breaking the water's grip. Its molten skin glowed brighter as the flames reignited with fury, flaring hotter and more violently than before, the heat radiating off the ogre in pulsing waves.
Layla's eyes narrowed. "Not enough to stop you, huh?" she muttered through gritted teeth. Without missing a beat, she flicked her wand, summoning a spear of ice. "Glacies Lancea!"
The ice spear shot through the air, striking the ogre's shoulder with a deafening crack. This time, the impact was undeniable. The ogre staggered, a deep, earth-shaking growl escaping its throat as molten blood oozed from the wound. It clutched at the spear embedded in its flesh, trying to wrench it free, but the ice clung stubbornly to its molten skin, hissing and sizzling as it tried to melt.
The creature let out a savage howl, wrenching the spear from its body with a sickening crack, but the damage was done. Its movements were slower, more erratic, and the once-brilliant flames flickered as if starved for air. It stumbled slightly, molten blood pooling at its feet, its fiery glow dimming with every labored step.
Layla, breathing heavily, watched the ogre's reaction with a mix of satisfaction and dread. "It's hurting," she muttered, eyes locked on the massive creature. "But it's not going down easy."
"It's not enough!" Thalon shouted, stepping forward with grim determination. His frost-blue hair clung to his forehead, damp from the heat. Raising his wand high, he slammed it into the ground. "Terra Vinculum!"
The stone floor trembled beneath them, and suddenly, massive walls of rock erupted from the ground. They encircled the ogre, forming a prison of stone that locked the beast in place. The ogre let out a furious growl, its molten fists slamming into the stone walls as it struggled to break free.
Teef stepped forward, hands trembling but determined. "Radices Vinclorum!" he shouted. Thick roots erupted from the ground, wrapping around the ogre's legs, holding it in place as it fought against its bindings.
For a moment, it seemed like they had the upper hand. The ogre was trapped, bound by stone and roots, its flames weakened by the lingering water clinging to its enchanted armor. The chamber was filled with the sound of the beast's growls, but it was contained, for now.
But Cyrus, watching from the sidelines, could see the cracks forming in their plan. His sharp eyes picked up on the subtle shifts in the ogre's movements, the way the flames were beginning to pour from the cracks in its armor, seeping out like molten lava ready to erupt.
"It's not going to hold," Cyrus thought, his body tensing. He could sense the dark magic pulsing through the ogre's armor, feeding its strength. The stone walls were heating up, glowing red-hot from the intense heat building within the ogre.
With a roar that shook the chamber, the ogre slammed its fists into the ground. The stone walls shattered in an explosion of debris, sending chunks of rock flying in every direction. The roots that had bound its legs burned away in an instant, consumed by the heat.
"Watch out!" Cyrus shouted, stepping back as pieces of stone flew past him. He watched, calculating his next move. If he revealed too much of his power now, he risked exposing himself. But if they didn't act fast, the ogre would crush them all.
The ogre shattered its stone prison with a deafening roar. Flames poured from its body as it charged forward. Dale reacted fast. "Tempestas Vorticus!" he cried, summoning a fierce tornado that whipped around the ogre, fanning its flames but blinding it in the whirlwind of debris.
A powerful wind surged through the chamber, swirling around the ogre in a fierce tornado. The winds whipped at the flames, causing them to flicker and twist as the ogre howled in frustration. The tornado trapped the beast in its eye, debris swirling around it, and for a moment, the ogre's vision was obscured.
Eltric and his cronies, still bruised and barely able to stand, struggled to regain their footing. Eltric's usual arrogance had vanished, replaced by fear and desperation. He gripped his wand tightly, his hands trembling as he tried to cast another spell. Eon clutched his side, blood seeping through his robes, while Will panted heavily, struggling just to stay upright.
"Get up, Eltric!" Cyrus shouted from across the chamber, his voice sharp. Though his words were commanding, they weren't cruel. He couldn't let them fail—this wasn't just their battle anymore.
But as Cyrus watched, his eyes flickered with something deeper. He could feel the magic in the air, the dark energy that clung to the ogre's enchanted armor like a shadow. His senses, always finely attuned to the magic around him, picked up on the unnatural aura that had twisted the ogre's power.
"The armor's the key," Cyrus muttered under his breath. "If we don't destroy it, this fight will never end."
He kept his body tense, his mind working quickly to devise a plan. The others were doing everything they could, but the ogre was growing stronger with every passing moment. Cyrus knew he would have to step in—and when he did, the fight would turn.
The fire ogre roared in rage, its fury shaking the very walls of the dungeon as it broke free from the walls and roots that had restrained it. With a terrifying surge of strength, the massive creature leaped high into the air, its immense body casting a dark, foreboding shadow across the chamber. Time seemed to slow as the ogre slammed back down with devastating force, its molten fists shattering the stone floor beneath it.
The impact sent shockwaves rippling through the dungeon, the ground cracking and trembling beneath the force. Cyrus was thrown hard against the cold stone wall, the breath knocked out of his lungs as his back collided with unforgiving rock. All around him, his companions hit the ground with bone-jarring thuds. Groans of pain echoed through the chamber as dust and debris filled the air, choking the space with the sound of crumbling rock and heavy breaths.
Though dazed, Cyrus was the first to recover. His sharp instincts kicked in, forcing him to push himself up even as his body screamed in protest. He scanned the room quickly, assessing the damage. Dale and Teef were struggling to get to their knees, clearly shaken from the ogre's blow. Siera and Layla were crawling toward Thalon, who was pinned under a large boulder, his face contorted in pain as his ankle lay crushed beneath the stone.
Eltric, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth, spat onto the ground, fury and fear warring in his expression. His eyes darted to Cyrus, who had already managed to stand. "What is that idiot doing?" he growled, frustration clear in his voice. "How is he even moving?"
Eon, leaning against the cracked stone wall, struggled to pull himself up, his body trembling from the impact. His frost-blue eyes widened as he saw Cyrus regain his composure. "No idea," he wheezed, his breath ragged, "but something about him is off."
Cyrus's gaze was locked on the fire ogre, the enchanted armor still glowing ominously as the creature roared in triumph. As his eyes swept over the beast, something caught his attention—the green gems embedded in the armor. Each piece, from the gauntlets to the chest plate, held a glowing gem that pulsed with dark energy, feeding the ogre's strength and reinforcing the armor's magic.
"The gems," Cyrus thought, his mind racing. "They're the source of its power. That's how it's resisting everything."
His hands twitched as a familiar crackling sensation began to build within him. The air around him hummed with a quiet, dangerous energy as his thoughts shifted. He had been careful to conceal his true abilities, but now, with the situation growing desperate, he had no choice. His rare lightning magic, a power so deadly it had been his greatest weapon in the Crow's End, was something he could no longer afford to hide.
A faint spark flickered between his fingertips, the charge building as the atmosphere in the chamber grew heavy with tension. Those still conscious—battered and struggling—felt the shift in the air, even if they didn't fully understand it.
Teef, barely managing to stand, glanced up just in time to see the spark of electricity flicker around Cyrus's hands. A chill ran down his spine, and his voice wavered with uncertainty. "What... what's he doing?"
Dale, groaning as he pushed himself to his feet, shook his head in disbelief. "I don't know... but it doesn't look good. He's not like us, Teef."
Across the room, Layla was also watching Cyrus with wide eyes, her heart pounding as she tried to process what she was seeing. Struggling to stand, she shouted, "We've got to help him!"
But Dale and Teef grabbed her arms, holding her back.
"Don't!" Dale warned, his voice strained. "I don't know what he's about to do, but if we get in the way, we'll only make things worse."
Frustration flashed across Layla's face, but she didn't resist. Her gaze remained fixed on Cyrus, a mixture of awe and confusion clouding her thoughts. "Damn it, I hate just standing here."
Eltric, blood dripping from his split lip, sneered as he watched Cyrus move. "He's insane," he muttered. "He's going to get himself killed."
Will, barely able to stand, squinted at Cyrus, his eyes filled with disbelief as he saw the white-haired boy begin to advance on the ogre. "What is he doing? That's not a normal speed spell..."
Cyrus wasn't casting a speed spell. His movements were precise, fluid, and impossibly fast—honed by years of training under the harshest conditions with the Crow's End. He darted toward the ogre with inhuman grace, moving as a blur of motion. In the blink of an eye, he was standing before the massive creature, their eyes locking in a moment of silent challenge.
The ogre, taken aback by the sudden appearance of this small, fearless figure, let out a deep, rumbling growl. Its fiery breath blew back Cyrus's white hair, but he didn't flinch. Instead, a dangerous smile tugged at the corners of his lips as the ogre raised its molten fist, ready to crush him into the ground.
At the last second, Cyrus moved, twisting his body into a backflip just as the ogre's fist slammed into the floor with a deafening crash. Sparks of electricity danced along his hands as he leaped into the air, aiming for the gauntlets. With a lightning-infused punch, Cyrus struck the gem embedded in the ogre's gauntlet. The electric energy surged through the armor, and with a loud crack, the gem shattered into pieces. The green glow from the gauntlets faded, and the molten metal began to crumble away, exposing the ogre's massive hand.
The ogre howled in fury, swinging wildly at Cyrus, but he was already gone, dashing to the side with incredible speed. He dropped low and struck again, his electrified fist smashing into the gem embedded in the leg guard. The green light flickered and died, and the enchanted armor disintegrated into dust.
The beast, now enraged beyond reason, roared with fury, its molten eyes blazing as it tried to grab Cyrus with its remaining armored hand. But Cyrus dodged effortlessly, his movements a deadly dance of precision and power. He was no longer holding back, the full extent of his training revealing itself in every swift, calculated strike.
"He's... destroying the armor," Layla gasped, her voice barely above a whisper. "He figured it out."
The others stood frozen, a mix of awe and dread in their eyes. They had fought alongside each other, but what they were seeing now was something beyond them. Cyrus wasn't just a student—he was something far more dangerous.
Layla's knees almost gave out, not from exhaustion, but from the sheer magnitude of the power she had just witnessed. "He could've ended this without us," she murmured, her voice shaking with disbelief.
Dale exchanged a look with Teef, both of them unnerved. "I don't know what kind of training he's had... but I'm not sure I want to know."
Eltric, though still weak and bleeding, sneered through his fear, trying to hide his unease behind bravado. "Who the hell does he think he is? This isn't over."
The ogre, now stripped of most of its armor, let out a final, desperate roar. Its flames sputtered and dimmed, and it lunged at Cyrus in a reckless attempt to end the fight once and for all.
But Cyrus was ready.
Cyrus gathered the last of his energy, his hand crackling with fierce lightning. The intensity of it made the air hum with raw power, causing even the flames around them to flicker and warp. Layla instinctively flinched, covering her face from the heat and force radiating off him.
Siera shielded her eyes, unable to look directly at the surge of power. "I've never seen magic like that," she muttered, almost afraid to witness it.
Teef stumbled back, his mouth dry. "That's... not human."
With a burst of impossible speed, Cyrus leaped into the air, his fist glowing with lightning. He slammed it into the last gem on the ogre's chest plate, the sheer force of the strike causing the chamber to tremble. The impact shattered the gem, the light fading as the ogre let out one final roar.
The beast lay crumpled on the ground, its massive form reduced to a smoking pile of ash and stone. The room was still thick with the stench of molten rock, and the lingering heat of the fire ogre's fury filled the chamber. The air was heavy and silent, save for the labored breathing of the students who had barely survived the battle.
As the dust began to settle and the chaos of the battle faded, something in the remains of the ogre caught Cyrus's eye. Amidst the debris and ash, a singular green stone gleamed brightly, untouched by the destruction surrounding it. It pulsed faintly, the same eerie green glow that had powered the ogre's enchanted armor, though now it seemed weakened, as if the battle had drained it of its once terrifying power.
Cyrus moved forward, his footsteps soft in the heavy silence of the dungeon. He knelt down and gently brushed his fingers over the cool surface of the stone. The moment his hand closed around it, a deep, disembodied voice echoed through the dungeon, booming and hollow, shaking the very walls.
"Congratulations, you have completed Level 1. You may now proceed to Level 2 by entering the left door, or exit the dungeon by entering the right door."
With a soft rumble, two doors materialized at the far end of the chamber, seemingly carved from the stone itself. One shimmered faintly with an inviting, almost otherworldly glow, while the other stood in ominous darkness, its very presence exuding danger.
Eltric, bloodied and battered, pushed himself to his feet with a furious scowl, his blue hair slicked against his face. He trembled not just from the pain, but from the humiliation of his defeat. His sharp blue eyes flicked to Cyrus, filled with seething frustration and disbelief. "What the hell are you?" he spat, his voice dripping with venom, but this time there was no fear—only rage. The arrogance wasn't gone, merely simmering beneath the surface, waiting for a chance to strike.
Cyrus met his glare, calm and unflinching. His silence was louder than any words, and Eltric felt it—Cyrus was someone he couldn't understand, someone who had just taken away his victory, his moment to shine. The fire in Eltric's eyes flared, not from fear, but defiance.
"You think this is over?" Eltric sneered, wiping the blood from his lip with the back of his hand. "Think again, Cyrus. You're not the only one with secrets. I'll remember this." His voice dropped lower, more menacing. "Next time, you won't get so lucky. You'll see who's really in control."
Cyrus remained still, watching as Eltric's fury bubbled over. He allowed the threat to linger in the air for a moment before speaking. His voice was quiet, but the edge was unmistakable. "Just a merchant's boy," he said, tucking the green gem into his pocket. "And if you get in my way again, you'll end up like the ogre."
Eltric clenched his fists, his nails digging into his palms. His face twisted with anger, but instead of lashing out, he sneered, stepping back as Eon and Will, both exhausted and beaten, came to his side. Eon's expression was grim, his frost-blue eyes sharp with warning. Will, still breathing heavily, shot Cyrus a dark look but said nothing.
"I'm not finished with you," Eltric muttered as they turned toward the exit. His voice, thick with malice, echoed through the chamber. "This isn't over. Not by a long shot."
With that, Eltric limped away, his head held high despite his injuries. His arrogance wasn't crushed—it was smoldering, waiting for the right moment to reignite.
"Leave it," Eon muttered, wincing from his injuries. "We're done here." Will nodded, his face pale with exhaustion. The three of them exchanged a look—defeated but knowing this was not a fight they could win. Eltric, though still brimming with anger, sneered one last time before turning toward the exit door, muttering curses under his breath as he hobbled away with his cronies.
Cyrus watched them go, his expression unreadable, the tension in his body easing slightly. Yet, his mind remained alert, always calculating the next move.
A groan from behind pulled Cyrus's attention. Thalon, who had been trapped beneath a boulder, was still in pain, his ankle badly broken and swollen. Teef and Dale, despite their own injuries, worked together to lift the heavy rock off of him. Thalon gasped in relief once freed, though his face twisted in agony as he attempted to stand.
"You saved our lives," Thalon said through gritted teeth, his voice thick with gratitude. His eyes flicked to Cyrus, filled with a new level of respect. "I don't know how you did it... but we owe you."
Cyrus nodded slightly, saying nothing. He wasn't one for receiving gratitude—he had done what he needed to do.
Siera, her silver hair tangled and matted from the fight, approached him quietly. She walked past him with a playful smirk, her fingers brushing his shoulder as she went. "You really are a strange kid," she remarked softly, her teasing tone hiding an undercurrent of curiosity.
Cyrus said nothing, only watching her out of the corner of his eye as she joined the others.
Layla gasped for breath, her body trembling from the strain. She stared at Cyrus, her mind reeling not just from the exhaustion of battle but from the overwhelming realization of what had just unfolded in front of her. This wasn't the first time Cyrus had saved her—far from it. She had seen him step in before, strong, decisive. But this... this was something else.
She stood frozen, the heat of the ogre's smoldering remains swirling around them. How did he do it again? Her mind flashed back to that first moment—Cyrus appearing just in time, pulling her from danger like it was nothing. He had been calm then, too, his power just beneath the surface. But this time... this time, he had unleashed something far greater.
Her chest tightened. Was he always capable of this? Or has he been holding back?
"Cyrus..." she finally managed to say, her voice raw, barely more than a whisper. She took a step forward, but her legs wobbled beneath her, too weak to hold her up. The scene played over in her head—his lightning strikes, the way he moved with terrifying precision. It was all too much to process. Who are you, really?
She faltered, her body betraying her exhaustion, and before she could hit the ground, Cyrus moved swiftly, catching her with the same ease as before. Their eyes met, and for a moment, Layla was pulled back to that first time—when his calm had been reassuring, when she hadn't questioned his strength.
But now, everything felt different. She could feel it in the tension of his grip, in the quiet intensity behind his gaze. There was something more dangerous here, something far beyond what she had ever imagined. And yet, there was still the same calm, the same control.
"How the hell did you..." she started, but her voice faltered. The words were stuck, her mind racing too fast to form the question properly. There were too many things she didn't understand.
Cyrus remained silent, his expression unreadable. He held her steady, offering support but no answers. It was the same as before—he had saved her, but she was left to make sense of the mystery that followed.
"Thanks," Layla murmured, her voice softer now, almost resigned. The awe, the confusion, the questions—they were all still there, but she wasn't sure if she was ready to hear the answers.
As he helped her back to her feet, a part of her couldn't help but wonder if she had known all along, on some level, that Cyrus was different—that this wasn't just the quiet, capable boy she thought he was. She had seen glimpses of it before, but now... now it was undeniable.
How many times will he have to save me before I figure out who he really is?
As the group made their way toward the exit, Cyrus felt the strange weight of the moment settle on him. He hadn't come to Ebonspire to make friends or allies. His mission had been clear from the start—stay hidden, remain unnoticed. And yet here he was, drawn deeper into the lives of these students, entangled in a way he hadn't anticipated.
The air felt different as they approached the dungeon exit, the temperature cooling but thick with tension. As they passed through the archway, they were greeted by Thaddeous, standing tall and imposing at the far end of the dungeon corridor. His arms were crossed over his chest, his expression hovering between amusement and something colder, harder to read. The glow of the enchanted torches lining the walls cast deep shadows over his face, sharpening his features and making the gleam in his eyes seem almost predatory.
"My, my," Thaddeous said slowly, his voice carrying the weight of authority. "You foolish students." His tone was scolding, but the glimmer of something darker flickered in his gaze as he surveyed the battered group. "What a mess you've gotten yourselves into. But I suppose congratulations are in order—you survived the dungeon." His eyes, however, didn't linger on the injured or those being escorted by the nurses. His gaze fixed on Cyrus, sharp and calculating, lingering just a second too long.
He waved his hand, summoning two nurses from around the corner. Layla, Thalon, Teef, and Dale were quickly escorted away to the nursing wing, their wounds needing immediate attention. Yet the weight of Thaddeous's stare remained on Cyrus, watching, studying, as if searching for something.
The nurses moved to assist Cyrus, but Thaddeous raised a hand, halting them with a simple gesture. "Not you, Cyrus," he said, his voice lower now, more deliberate. "You don't appear to be injured at all."
The way he said it made the air grow thicker, the silence between them louder than any spoken word. Cyrus met Thaddeous's gaze, unflinching, though his instincts screamed to be on guard. There was no warmth in the man's eyes, only curiosity laced with suspicion, as if he were sizing Cyrus up, peeling away layers of what he had seen in the dungeon.
Thaddeous let the silence stretch, his eyes never leaving Cyrus. "Strange, isn't it?" he mused, taking a step forward, his voice quiet but tinged with an edge of something ominous. "That you came out of that battle without a scratch."
Cyrus remained still, his expression a mask of calm. But he could feel the tension thickening, the pressure of being scrutinized. Thaddeous was no fool. He had noticed more than just the lack of physical injuries. He had seen what Cyrus did, how effortlessly he moved, how unnatural it seemed for a mere student to possess that kind of power.
"Magnus has requested your presence," Thaddeous said, his voice dropping lower, as though the very name carried weight. "Immediately."
A cold chill seemed to settle over the corridor as the words hung in the air. Magnus. The headmaster's name wasn't just a summons—it was a signal. Something had shifted, and Cyrus could feel it. The display of power hadn't gone unnoticed. Thaddeous's gaze was almost a challenge, daring Cyrus to react, to show something more than the composed exterior he wore.
"You've caught his attention," Thaddeous added, a ghost of a smile tugging at the corner of his lips, but it didn't reach his eyes. "And trust me, boy… that's not something that happens often."
For the first time since the battle ended, a flicker of unease crawled up Cyrus's spine. He gave a short nod, but even that small motion felt heavy under Thaddeous's watchful gaze. Without another word, he followed as Thaddeous turned and led him down the dim corridor, each step echoing through the silence like a countdown to something inevitable.
The weight of everything that had just happened—everything he had revealed—hung heavy on his mind. Whatever awaited him in Magnus's office, it wasn't just a simple meeting. It was another test, and this time, the stakes felt far more dangerous.