And even that last grave was barely intact, its edges scorched and cracked from the residual shockwaves of the first two strikes. The skull atop its staff flickered with dim light, as though it, too, knew the end was near.
Ezekiel’s pleading turned into a whimper.
"Wait... please... don’t do this."
His voice cracked like a fraying rope—thin, fragile, about to snap.
I didn’t answer.
I raised my blade.
"No!"
Ezekiel’s scream rang out, raw and helpless.
But it didn’t matter.
I brought Gravefang down with one final, decisive swing.
The last grave split apart, the rune lines cracking like dried veins as the void energy surged through the earth. The staff exploded in a burst of splinters, the skull atop it shattering midair before it could even hit the ground.
And just like that, it was over.
The smoke rolled in thick, swallowing the chamber in a gray fog, and for a mont, all I could hear was the pounding in my own ears. No chants. No pulsing runes. No humming from the staffs.
Just silence.
And then—soft and strained—the ragged gasps of Ezekiel, echoing in the stillness like the last breath of sothing ancient.
"You... you have no idea what you’ve done," he whispered.
"I do," I said, my voice low but steady. "I know exactly what I’ve done. I just made sure you die for real the next ti I slit your throat."
His eyes widened, the words sinking into him like a blade. Panic broke across his face in a wave; he jerked sideways, trying to scramble free.
I moved faster. My hand shot out and clamped around his head, fingers digging into his scalp just enough to make him stop struggling without crushing him.
"Wait—wait, please!" he gasped, his voice rising to a pitch just short of a scream. "You don’t have to do this. Let go and I’ll make sure we never cross paths again. I swear it. Please..."
For a heartbeat, I didn’t move. The chamber slled of scorched earth and cold tal, the runes now dead and lifeless at my feet. His words hung between us, thin and trembling.
"I’m not even a chosen anymore," he blurted out, desperation spilling over. "There’s nothing to gain from killing ."
I tilted my head slightly, watching him. "That doesn’t matter," I said at last.
His lips trembled. "What?"
"You shouldn’t have tried to kill , Ezekiel."
I shifted my grip, drawing Gravefang up until the cold edge rested against the side of his throat. The void energy still pulsed faintly through the blade, a muted heartbeat waiting for my signal.
His breath hitched. "No..."
He tried to pull away, but my hand on his skull held him firm, the blade tracing a shallow line along his skin—not enough to cut, just enough to let him feel how close he was to losing everything.
Then I slit his throat.
A clean, decisive cut. No hesitation.
His eyes widened in shock as blood spilled freely from the gash, bubbling up in thick, uneven pulses. His hands clawed weakly at the wound, as if he could sohow hold his life in—but it was already gone.
He collapsed, twitching once before going still.
I waited, half-expecting the system to ping, a notification to flash across my vision. A level-up. A reward. Sothing.
But nothing ca.
"Huh. No notification," I muttered, wiping the blood from my blade on his ragged tunic. "Guess killing him didn’t give enough experience to push over the edge."
Not that it mattered. There’d be more.
Ariel stepped beside , her flas flickering lazily.
"What next?" she asked.
I didn’t look at her as I answered. My eyes were still on Ezekiel’s body.
"No doubt the goblins heard the noise," I said. "This place isn’t exactly quiet anymore. Soone’s going to check it out. Maybe a few. Maybe their big boss."
I turned to her then, a faint grin tugging at the corner of my mouth. "Doesn’t matter. We take them down. Simple as that."
And as if the world was listening—almost on cue—I heard it.
Footsteps.
Fast. Scattered. Drawing closer.
The sound of claws against stone. Low voices. The clatter of weapons.
A mont later, they appeared—pouring through the entrance in numbers. Not a horde, but enough to raise eyebrows.
Goblins. Maybe seven or eight. All ard. So with rusted swords. Others with bone spears. One dragged a crude club behind him, its edge wrapped in iron nails.
I let my gaze pass over them calmly, then triggered [Analyze].
Nothing special.
Just regular goblins. No titles. No class auras. No unique threats.
I turned to Ariel, tilting my chin toward them. "Go on ahead," I offered.
She looked at the group, then back at . Her grin sharpened.
"With pleasure."
And then she leapt forward—blue flas bursting to life in her wake.
In a blur she beca nothing but motion—one mont crouched low, the next a streak of blue fire cutting across the chamber. She hit the first goblin like a thunderclap, claws raking deep as her flas burst outward, consuming flesh and weapon alike.
The others barely had ti to register what was happening. Her second strike tore through two at once, a sweep of claws and heat that left nothing but smoldering bodies collapsing to the ground. The air filled with the hiss of burning flesh and the tallic tang of blood.
They didn’t stand a chance.
I used the distraction to slip away, keeping low and quiet as I moved toward the far end of the chamber. The oil lamps along the walls flickered like a breadcrumb trail, their light drawing deeper into the passage beyond the graveyard. I followed them without hesitation, each step asured, my fingers tightening around Gravefang.
Hopefully, this path led to sothing worth my ti—a worthy opponent, not just fodder.
I kept walking, the silence of the tunnel broken only by my own footsteps, until it happened.
The air thickened.
A dreadful aura rolled toward from up ahead, so heavy it felt like a hand pressing against my chest. My instincts sharpened instantly, every nerve in my body flaring with alertness. This wasn’t like the low-level trash I’d been cutting down. This was different.
Powerful.
More powerful than the chosen I’d already killed.
That realization sent a jolt of excitent through , quick and electric.
Could it be... the chief himself?
I slowed my...
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