The sounds of battle echoed through the dungeon, the clash of steel against steel and the desperate cries of Tamers filling the air.
Alan's muscles burned with each movement, his breath quick and ragged as he parried a goblin's slash.
The goblin's rusty sword scraped against Alan's steel blade with a screech, sending a jolt of vibration up his arm. Yet he was able to strike down the goblin easily, decapitating it's head in an instant and taking hold of the core.
His eyes darted around the battlefield, scanning for threats. A few of the others were engaged in fierce combat with goblins, but the situation was growing more intense.
These goblins were different — faster, stronger, and more cunning than the ones they had encountered earlier in the dungeon.
Alan's grip tightened on the hilt of his sword. He could feel the weight of his exhaustion, but he couldn't afford to stop. He had a job to do.
His attention shifted behind him. A goblin, small but quick, raised a rusty bow and nocked an arrow.
Its beady eyes locked onto Alan, and with a hiss, the goblin pulled the string back.
Alan barely had time to react. Before the arrow could fly, a blur of motion shot past him, and the goblin was suddenly tackled to the ground by a large shadow.
The Nighthound, the massive black-furred beast with glowing eyes, let out a triumphant howl as it pinned the goblin beneath it.
With a snap of its jaws, it crushed the goblin's neck, then unleashed a pulse of dark energy from its mouth, obliterating the creature in a shower of sparks.
Alan could only watch in relief as the Nighthound stood, its maw raised, the air still vibrating from the dark pulse.
The beast's eyes met Alan's, its gaze steady and knowing. It was a bond they shared — a connection that went beyond words.
"Thanks," Alan muttered, his voice low.
Alan turned his focus back to the battle in front of him.
His eyes narrowed as he saw another goblin charging toward him, its teeth bared and its sword raised high.
The goblin was fast, and Alan could see that this one was more skilled than the others. His grip on his sword tightened once again, his muscles coiling in preparation.
The goblin struck first, its rusty blade flashing toward Alan's side. Alan stepped back, dodging the blow with a fluid movement.
He could feel the energy in the air change, crackling with the tension of the fight. He raised his sword in defense as the goblin attacked again, but this time, Alan was ready.
With a low grunt, Alan drew upon his own power. Dark energy began to swirl around his blade, coiling and writhing like smoke, until the sword was engulfed in black flames that flickered and hissed.
His body surged with power as he took a step forward, his movements swift and decisive. The goblin struck once more, but this time, Alan was faster. He parried the blow, then spun, slicing through the goblin's sword like it was paper.
The goblin's eyes widened in shock just before Alan's blade cleaved through its skull.
The goblin crumpled to the ground, lifeless before it even hit the floor.
Alan's breath came in sharp gasps as he glanced down at the fallen creature, his heart still pounding in his chest.
He didn't hesitate. His hand shot forward, scooping up the glowing orb that lay amidst the brain matter and blood in the goblin's head.
He couldn't afford to leave any of them behind. Each orb, each core, was a vital resource, a key to his survival and progress. He needed them all. Every single one.
It wasn't long before the last of the goblins fell, their bodies scattered across the rocky ground like discarded dolls.
Alan wiped the sweat from his brow and sheathed his sword, his heart still racing from the adrenaline of the fight. The others gathered around, catching their breath, exchanging quiet words of victory.
Alan sat down on a nearby rock, the weight of his exhaustion finally catching up to him.
His muscles ached, but he didn't mind.
The Nighthound curled up at his feet, its warmth a welcome comfort. Alan reached down, running a hand through the creature's dark fur, and let out a sigh of relief.
"You did great, boy," he muttered, giving the Nighthound a gentle scratch behind the ears. The beast let out a low rumble, content in his presence.
As he rested, Alan couldn't help but feel a sense of pride. This was his first dungeon raid, and he was surviving.
Not only surviving, but fought with a strength he hadn't known he possessed. The power that flowed through him now felt different from what it had been before — sharper, more focused. But there was still so much more to learn, so much more to gain.
"Hey," a voice called from behind him. Alan turned to see William, the young man who had saved him earlier.
William's boots made a soft tapping sound as he approached, his smile wide and easy.
"You did good," William said, his eyes glancing at the fallen goblins. "Really good. I heard this was your first dungeon raid. How's it going so far?"
Alan looked at him, trying to read the younger man's intentions. Why was he trying to strike up a conversation? Was this just casual small talk, or was there something more? Alan couldn't quite tell, but he didn't mind.
The tension of the battle was starting to fade, and he welcomed the distraction.
"It's going well so far," Alan replied, trying to keep his voice casual. "Honestly, I thought I'd be a bit more battered up, but I guess goblins aren't much of a problem."
William chuckled, shaking his head. "This dungeon's pretty weak, if I'm being honest. Not at all like the ones we're used to. You'll see when we go deeper."
Alan raised an eyebrow, intrigued. But before he could respond, the air in the dungeon shifted.
A heavy weight pressed down on the atmosphere, like the very air itself was thickening. The ground trembled beneath them, and cracks began to spread across the stone floor, glowing with an ominous light.
The temperature dropped, and a strange, unholy energy began to pulse through the dungeon's walls.
"What's happening?" Alan asked, his voice tight with apprehension.
William's face went pale. "Something's wrong."
The dungeon around them groaned as the very ground began to shift and change.
The familiar rock walls that had surrounded them started to twist and warp, and the once stable path ahead now seemed to distort.
Alan stood, his sword at the ready, his senses alert. Whatever was happening, it was big.
And they were right in the middle of it.