No Allies Needed, Only Minions

The villagers dispersed slowly, their hushed whispers of gratitude carried away by the evening breeze.

Cale stood alone by the remnants of the battlefield, the glow of the village barrier flickering faintly behind him.

Leira's father had promised to meet him in the morning to discuss the ruins, but tonight the matter remained unresolved, left to linger in the air like the faint scent of blood and burnt mana.

Cale wiped his dagger clean on the hem of his cloak, the blade glinting briefly in the moonlight before he sheathed it. He turned away from the village, heading toward the forest outskirts where the shadows swallowed the light. 

The air still crackled faintly with residual mana from the fight, the land itself thrumming with life, but the immediate threat had passed.

He found a gnarled tree and leaned against it, its twisted branches clawing at the sky as though to guard him. The distant hum of the barrier was the only sound, a faint rhythm against the oppressive silence.

Cale sighed and muttered, "System. Stats."

—

[Stats Analysis]

Name: Cale Evander

Class: Dungeon Master

Level: 3 (+2 levels gained)

Health: 85/85

Mana: 32/32

Stamina: 43/60

Strength: 25

Agility: 31

Endurance: 22

—

"Not bad," Cale murmured, scanning the floating text. He wasn't fully accustomed to the system yet, but he could piece things together well enough. The jump in his stats made sense after his fight with the alpha beast. Progress. Slow, but steady. 

At this rate, it wouldn't take too long to claw back to his former strength.

—

[Abilities Updated - New Unlock: Feral Instincts (Passive): Senses heightened in danger zones. Reaction speed +25% in high-stakes scenarios.]

—

He smirked. "Feral Instincts. Fitting, I guess." The system had been generous tonight, moulding him into something sharper, deadlier.

"You've always been feral," came the Core's voice, slipping into his mind like silk. There was amusement there, layered with something he couldn't quite place. "Or perhaps it's just a part of you reawakening?"

"Your smug commentary," Cale shot back. "Shouldn't you be helping me figure out my next move?"

"Then let me simplify it," the Core replied, her tone light, but her words heavy. "You've proven you can dominate. Now you need to expand, you need allies. Stonefang won't wait for you to brood under a tree."

Cale ran a hand through his black hair, his gaze fixed on the horizon where the forest stretched endlessly under the pale moonlight. Bitter memories threatened to stir, but he shoved them aside.

"No. I don't need allies," he said, the words sharp and deliberate. "I've got minions. Reliable ones."

The Core's laughter was soft, but it carried an edge. "How pragmatic."

He thought back to the little devils that had fought beside him earlier. Sure, their competence might've been bolstered by the effects of Commanding Presence, but they'd performed better than expected.

Better than most humans. He'd trust them over any backstabbing flesh-and-blood 'companions' any day.

"Stonefang doesn't scare me," Cale added.

"I never said it should," the Core replied evenly, though her tone carried a subtle shift. A warning cloaked in honey.

Cale frowned. He didn't trust her, not fully. She served him, yes, but her motives were her own. She wasn't a pawn. If anything, she might've been holding the strings.

Allies, enemies—sometimes, there wasn't much of a difference.

"Stonefang might look like a forgotten ruin overrun with beasts," the Core continued, her words sliding into his thoughts like a blade slipping between ribs. "But power doesn't remain hidden for long. Nobles sniff out advantage. Wanderers stumble into opportunity. Nothing is ever truly abandoned, Master."

Her phrasing was as elegant as ever, but the message was clear.

"I know," Cale said, his fingers tracing the hilt of his dagger. His mind churned, weighing risks, plotting paths. "It's more fun when everyone thinks it can kill me, anyway."

The Core laughed again, this time more fully. "As you wish, Master."

—

Morning brought a different mood to the village. Shadows hung long across the ground as Black Hollow struggled to recover from the horde's destruction. Villagers whispered to one another in low voices, their thankful gazes flickering at Cale as he crossed the square.

Leira caught up with him, her expression calmer but no less determined than last night.

"My father's waiting," she said, glancing at the darkened path ahead. "You know... you could leave. Let this mess fade into someone else's problem."

"Tempting," Cale said, striding alongside her. "But then I'd miss out on more potential treasures waiting to be claimed. Besides..." He glanced at her, half a smirk playing on his lips. "Your expression seems a bit too calm for someone who survived the hoarde last night.

Leira hesitated, her cheeks coloring slightly. "I can say the same for you. But... Stonefang isn't like those monsters last night. People don't return from there."

"I am not people," Cale replied smoothly.

She didn't look reassured, but to his surprise, she didn't argue further.

—

Inside the small cottage, Leira's father sat hunched over a worn table. His fingers traced faint lines on a scroll that looked as old as the man himself. His head lifted sharply as they entered

"Here comes the kid poking at ghosts," the old man muttered, his voice gruff with grudging respect. 

"I'll admit, you've got strength, the way you fought that horde. But don't let it go to your head, Stonefang's got a way of leaving only bones behind."

It was clear he wasn't trying to be cruel. The words carried the weight of caution, an unspoken warning to curb Cale's confidence after last night's victory.

"Might leave me bones," Cale agreed lightly, his tone even. "But I don't think you called me in here for a lecture."

The man snorted, folding the scroll and sliding it aside. "No. You want information, and I've got it. But there's always a price."

Cale leaned against the doorway, the faintest smirk tugging at his lips. "That so? Then tell me, old man, what price equals saving your village from last night's rampage?"

The old man paused, his weathered face hardening. Finally, with a grumble, he said, "I hate debt. So, fine. We'll call it even."

"Good," Cale said curtly. "Now talk."

The old man sighed, tracing his fingers over the grain of the table as though conjuring his thoughts.

"Stonefang... it wasn't always ruins," he began, his voice low. "Before the Warlord Era, before empires even looked this way, it was something older. Built by hands that probably weren't human."

"Magic ruins aren't exactly rare," Cale remarked, though his interest was piqued. "Go on."

The old man's eyes flicked toward Leira. After a moment's hesitation, she gave a nod and stepped out of the room, leaving the two alone.

"You're right, magic ruins aren't rare," the man said after the door shut. "But this one's different. Years ago, a noble came through. A minor lord, nothing special. Claimed he was an adventurer. Paid me and a few others a hefty sum to guide him into Stonefang."

"And?" Cale asked, his voice sharp.

The old man's brow furrowed. "He left with nothing to show for it. Said the place had been picked clean. But as we left, he muttesomething... said he felt a presence. Something calling him deeper. He swore there was power hidden in the heart of Stonefang."

Cale raised a brow, intrigued but skeptical. "He survived? Left empty-handed? Nobles don't risk their lives for whispers and hunches."

The old man's lips thinned, his voice growing hoarse. "He left, yes. But not whole. Dragged himself out of there with something stuck to him. Like molten steel, red and alive. It bit into his skin and wouldn't let go."

Cale straightened, his fingers brushing the hilt of his dagger. "And he lived?"

"Not for long," the man said darkly. "He raved about beasts and thrones, about things no one should approach. Said Stonefang wasn't just ruins, it was waiting for something. Or someone."

The room fell silent, the old man's words lingering like a ghost between them. Slowly, a faint smile spread across Cale's lips.

"That…" he said softly, "sounds like something I'll survive better than him."