Guildmaster Dorn presses his fingers to his temples. His scowl deepens with every coin that clinks onto the table. He lowers his hand and speaks loud enough to cut through the noise.

"No more bets unless you're gambling on the boss," he says. "Everything else is closed. This has gone on long enough."

His tone is sharp, carrying over the crowd. He does not want to lose more money, and the regulars are aware of this.

A Gold-ranked adventurer calls out,

"Did the kid really kill the Shadow Mimic?" His voice cuts through the noise. The others turn to look at the projection, waiting for confirmation.

Felisia lets out a long breath. She presses her palms flat against the table and shakes her head, finally relaxing her grip.

"He did it," she says, not quite believing her own words. The tension leaves her shoulders, and she slumps a little.

Sir Greyson watches the map, silent, but the way his mouth sets shows a hint of satisfaction. The crowd erupts in low conversation, people repeating the same question again and again—how did the kid survive, and what comes next?

A merchant's son elbows his way forward.

"He killed it, but how strong is he now? That's a level seventy-five monster."

A scribe pipes up from the back.

"He fought in there for hours. If he beat a mimic, what does that make him? Some kind of prodigy?"

Guildmaster Dorn rolls his eyes, but he does not look away from the map.

"Doesn't matter how strong he is. Surviving a mimic fight means you've got Skills, but it doesn't mean you can walk out alive. There's still a boss between him and the exit. Don't count your coin yet."

Someone else calls out, "What do you get for killing a Shadow Mimic? Does it always drop something good?"

Everyone turns to Guildmaster Dorn, waiting for an answer.

Guildmaster Dorn snorts. He scratches the side of his nose, then leans on the table so everyone can hear.

"Nobody can say for sure. Shadow Mimic chests are always unpredictable. Sometimes you get trash, sometimes something worth more than everything in the Dungeon. I've seen mimics spit out Skill Crystals, cursed weapons, rare loot, or just shards and nothing else. Most of the time it's random—so random that even the best Knights can't plan for it."

A Silver Rank interrupts.

"But I heard some knights train for these things. Isn't there a way to force a better drop?"

Guildmaster Dorn shrugs.

"There are a few, yes. Some Knights spend years learning how to bait horror drops out of those chests. They use special rituals or enchantments to pull something rare, but you need real training, and you need the right build. Nobody gets that kind of loot by luck alone. If the kid pulls anything more than shards or junk, he's luckier than any of us."

The crowd mutters, weighing the odds. Some hold out hope, but most know how Dungeon luck works.

One merchant grumbles, "So, Jacob Cloud just risked his life for a chance at garbage?"

Guildmaster Dorn shrugs again.

"That's how it goes. If Shadow Mimic chests always dropped something good, every Knight in the world would hunt them. But it's mostly disappointment, and the rare lucky strike just keeps the stories alive."

A junior clerk steps up to Guildmaster Dorn.

"Should we start taking odds on the boss fight?"

"Yeah," the grizzled man clenches his jaws. "Do that."

But even if that ratty bastard gets killed against the Boss, the losses I'm incurring…

He cleaned up a Secret Room, a Shadow Mimic…

What else is he going to do? I should hire someone to…

Before Guildmaster Dorn can finish the thought, the door of the Adventurers' Guild opens, and the most oppressive aura has everyone silent in the blink of an eye.

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

"Sir Renquell," Guildmaster Dorn scrambles up to his feet and goes to greet one of the famous Wandering Knights. "What brings you here?"

Sir Renquell takes out a chair and sits in it, ignoring the man and instead looking around the whole room.

"I'm here for the show. I like the kid. I wouldn't want anything to happen to him."

The message rings loud and clear among those who had already been thinking of robbing Jacob Cloud blind as soon as he comes out of the Dungeon.

* * *

The chest sits at the center of the wreckage. Its lid is forged from black glass and marked with veins that pulse with faint purple fire. I watch the glow move in time with my heartbeat. My bracelet, cold and heavy on my wrist, starts to pull. The sensation is not painful, but it drags at my attention and drags at my mana.

I step closer, drawn by the pull.

Every shard of broken glass on the floor points toward the chest for some reason as if there was a magic pull from it.

I crouch down and touch the lid. The surface is slick and cold, and the purple fire runs down my arm in thin threads.

The lock clicks open.

Inside, I see only one thing. A jagged crystal shard sits at the bottom. Black lines run through its core, twisting into patterns that make my skin crawl. The bracelet on my wrist pulses in time with the light inside the shard. I reach in and pick it up.

[Skill Crystal Shard (1/2) – ???]

The system does not give a name. My heart starts pounding harder as the bracelet tightens, squeezing my wrist. The Grimoire flickers in my mind, and a fresh page tries to load. At first, only static fills my vision. Then the Grimoire locks onto the shard and pushes through.

[Analyzing…]

[Skill Crystal Shard (1/2) – Ancient Signature Detected]

[Legacy Skill: Dark Blade (Gold – Offensive Skill)]

[Warning: Crystal is incomplete. Absorption not possible. Seek the second half.]

[Skill Effect: Data Corrupted. No records available.]

I stare at the shard, feeling the weight of something much older than this Dungeon. I have never heard of Dark Blade.

Is this an Infernal Skill? Is that why the bracelet from King Baalrek was reacting?

The bracelet cools down. The pull fades. I tuck the shard away, and I run my thumb over the bracelet's markings, wondering if it will react again if I get closer to the other half.

I scan the chest again, but there is nothing else inside. The system message blinks out. Only the faint light from the veins remains.

Dark Blade? But… even if it was an Infernal Skill, why is it Dark Blade? Don't I have Hell's Sword for that already? Would they, what, combine?

And what does Legacy Skill even mean?

"A mystery for another time," I mutter, pocketing the Skill Shard.

* * *

I move through the Fifth Floor with an irritated feeling growing in my guts.

There's one person that comes to mind while I fight, the face of a woman that, despite my best efforts, haunts me.

She doesn't care. Stop it.

While I was in the mines, while I spent time with my father, I never bothered thinking much about her. But now, for some reason, now that I'm closer than ever to become a Knight, I feel an ache in my chest at the thought.

No. You've done this all by yourself. Don't think about her. You don't need her love.

I drive the thought out of my head and pick up my pace. My boots crack over the glass floor while the air burns with heat.

The Fifth Floor has flames inside the crystals, something extremely weird if you ask me.

Glass Golem Soldier [Empowered] – Level 70

A Silver Rank golem bursts out from behind a wall, swinging a blade the size of a wagon. I keep my grip tight on Hell's Sword and let it come. The first strike hammers down. I roll forward and cut through the golem's knee with a sharp upward slash. Its whole leg comes off and hits the floor with a crash.

I do not give it time to recover. I smash an Hellspire right through its chest. With my Attributes grown so much, I don't need glaring flaws, just little weaknesses that can be found anywhere on their bodies thanks to the Grimoire and Architect's Insight.

The light inside flickers out, and the whole thing drops, dragging the broken wall with it.

Another one rises from a pile of rubble, larger than the last, with arms made for crushing stone. I slide past its first swing, cut across its waist, and carve a line up through its chest. The blow splits the body in two. Shards of glass rain down, some hitting my shoulders, but I shake them off and keep moving.

Three more golems block the next hall. They try to work together, moving in tight formation, using their shields to protect their cores.

I know it's stupid, but I fight angrily, with the kind of recklessness that would have gotten me killed if I hadn't leveled up this much.

I do not wait for an opening. I pull mana from my core and send Fire Slash straight into the first golem's shield. The glass melts, and the shield arm drops to the ground. I jump in, driving Hell's Sword through the gap and taking out the core.

The next golem swings low, trying to catch my legs. I leap, twist in the air, and come down with a clean cut through its head. The last one backs up, but I pin it against the wall with an Hellspire through the shoulder and finish it with a single thrust through the chest.

"AHHH!" I say, having the edge of Hell's Sword blaze blue, pouring as much mana as I can into it and destroy the monster's core.

The creature collapses into a spray of glass on the ground and I remain alone, standing and panting at the edge of the room.

I stand over the scattered remains and catch my breath. Shards of glass crunch under my boots as the flames inside the walls flare higher, throwing long shadows across the floor. For a second, there is nothing but silence. Then the entire chamber starts to rumble.

A grinding sound rolls through the room. The floor shifts under my feet. I step back, sword at the ready, as a seam opens in the far wall. Two massive doors push outward from the crystal, each slab thicker than my arm and taller than any golem I have fought. Runes burn across the surface, flickering with blue and red fire. I watch as the doors settle into place, locking with a heavy clang.

The doors stretch all the way to the ceiling.

"The Boss Room," I say under my breath, sitting down and activating Meditation.

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