Rest Floor
The descent through the dungeon felt endless, each new floor merging into the next like a never-ending nightmare. The flickering torches along the walls cast long shadows that danced across the damp stone, but neither Michael nor Valencia paid them much attention anymore. Their senses had become honed, sharp as the blades they carried, and the darkness of the dungeon felt like an old, familiar companion. Time had long since ceased to hold meaning down here—there was only the next fight, the next challenge, the next test of their strength.
Michael moved with deadly precision, his metal disks slicing through enemies like a hot knife through butter. Goblins, skeletal warriors, shadow beasts—none of them could withstand his Death Angel powers. His wings, ethereal and dark, pulsed with an otherworldly energy as they trailed behind him, giving him a ghostly, fearsome appearance. He still couldn't fly, but many enemies didn't need to be fought with arial supremacy.
Valencia was just as lethal, if not more. Her crimson eyes glowed with a dangerous light as she weaved complex spells, her hands flicking through the air with practiced ease. Fireballs, shadow tendrils, and blasts of pure arcane energy erupted from her fingertips, obliterating any foe that dared approach. Her vampiric transformation had only made her stronger, heightening her magical abilities and giving her an edge that no mere mortal could hope to match. And when her magic alone wasn't enough, she'd leap into the fray, her movements impossibly fast as she danced through the chaos, her nails gleaming as they caught the dim light of the dungeon.
The floors blurred together in a relentless grind of combat. There was no room for rest, no time to stop and breathe. They moved swiftly, their motions almost automatic, a seamless partnership forged in the fires of battle. With each passing moment, they grew stronger, more attuned to the power they wielded. And yet, with every victory, Michael felt something change within him—something darker. The power of the Overlord of Death title weighed on him more heavily with each kill, each spell cast in the name of destruction.
—
Michael's Status:
Level: 18
Race: Fallen Seraph
Class: Death Angel
Health: 92/300
Mana Capacity: 1600/2400
Strength: 60
Agility: 240
Defense: 25
Magic Defense: 120
Unused Stat Points: 50
Divine Crystals: 4
—
Michael's health would surge during the most brutal encounters, but it was a fleeting, deceptive safety net. His mana burned at an alarming rate, forcing him to be strategic in every use of his abilities. His wings, though ethereal, required mana to sustain. Each time he unleashed the full potential of his Death Angel form, it cost him dearly. Yet with every monster defeated, the dungeon seemed to grant him more. Divine Crystals, beast cores, rare items—each a testament to the power he was steadily accumulating.
Valencia, too, had grown far beyond what she had been when first revived. Her spells were no longer just tools of destruction; they had become an art form. She could summon fire so hot it burned white, or manipulate blood with such finesse that even Michael was sometimes unsettled by the display. Her healing abilities were chaotic, unpredictable, and often destructive—but effective. She wielded her magic with a confidence that spoke of a deeper understanding of her new nature, her vampiric hunger blending with her magic in a deadly symbiosis.
—
Valencia's Status:
Level: 7
Race: Vampire Progenitor
Class: Chaos Healer
Mana Capacity: 5200/6000
Strength: 10
Agility: 190
Magic Defense: 50
Unused Stat Points: 30
Skills: Blood Manipulation, Vampiric Regeneration, Vampiric Charm, Soul Strike
—
By the end of Floor 7, the two of them were like forces of nature. Monsters no longer stood a chance. Goblins were reduced to ash under Valencia's fire spells, and undead crumbled before Michael's scythe-like strikes. Even the shadow creatures, once so menacing, fell without much resistance.
Yet, despite the ease of their kills, the dungeon grew more oppressive. The deeper they went, the more suffocating the air became, as if the very walls were watching them, waiting for them to falter. Michael's connection to his Overlord of Death title felt more intense here, like a pulse at the back of his mind that refused to be ignored. The further they descended, the closer he felt to something… primal.
On Floor 8, they encountered the first real challenge in what felt like days. A hulking beast, covered in scales that gleamed in the dim light, its tail lashing with venomous intent. It roared as they entered its chamber, the sound vibrating through the stone walls like a war drum.
Michael and Valencia exchanged a glance, a silent understanding passing between them. This was not an ordinary creature—it was a floor boss, a true test of their growing strength.
The fight was brutal. The beast was fast, faster than its size suggested, and it struck with lethal precision. Michael's wings flared as he dodged the beast's venomous tail, his electrically charged disks cutting through the air with deadly intent. Valencia kept her distance, unleashing torrents of fire and shadow magic, trying to weaken the creature's defenses. But the beast was relentless, shrugging off their attacks with a roar that sent tremors through the ground.
For a moment, it seemed as if they might be overwhelmed. But Michael's will to survive, to push forward, was stronger than the beast's fury. He tapped into the darkest part of his power, his wings growing larger, more fearsome, as he unleashed a devastating strike that cleaved through the beast's thick scales.
With a final, echoing roar, the creature collapsed, its massive form hitting the ground with a thunderous crash.
In the center of the room, a chest appeared, bathed in a soft, eerie light. Michael approached it cautiously, his senses still on high alert. When he opened it, he found a divine crystal, its energy pulsing faintly in his hand.
"That makes four," Michael murmured, pocketing the crystal. He could feel its power, a cool, soothing energy that contrasted sharply with the brutality of their surroundings. It was hard to believe how far they had come.
Valencia, wiping blood from her cheek, cast him a sideways glance. "We're getting close, aren't we? I can feel the magic around us shifting."
Michael nodded. "One step closer to understanding this place."
—
Floor 9 was no less treacherous. The monsters here were stronger, smarter, more cunning. The walls themselves seemed to twist and shift, turning the floor into a labyrinth of traps and puzzles. Michael's Death Angel abilities allowed him to bypass the most deadly of the traps, his wings carrying them over pits of spikes and chasms too wide to leap. Valencia's magic, once again, proved invaluable as she unraveled the arcane puzzles that barred their way.
Along the way, they gathered more treasures—four new items, each one a reminder of their growing power:
Ring of Abyssal Vigor – A ring that bolstered defense in low-light environments.
Staff of Withering Flames – A staff for Valencia, enhancing her fire-based spells.
Essence Cloak – A dark, flowing cloak that enhanced agility while in shadow.
Sigil of the Forgotten – A mysterious talisman that could ward off one fatal blow, shattering upon use.
These items would be essential in the trials to come, but for now, they could only focus on surviving the current floor.
—
Finally, they stood before the staircase leading to Floor 10. Michael's instincts screamed that something was off. The air was different here—lighter, less oppressive. He half expected an ambush as they descended the steps, weapons at the ready.
But when they reached the bottom, what greeted them was nothing short of surprising.
The room was vast, but empty—no monsters, no traps, no eerie magic. Just an open space, bathed in a soft, glowing light. The air was calm, peaceful even.
"What… is this?" Valencia's voice held suspicion as she surveyed the room.
"It's… a rest floor," Michael realized, blinking in disbelief. There were no dangers here, no trials, no enemies waiting in the shadows. Just silence and serenity.
For the first time in what felt like forever, they could breathe.