Varrus walked alongside Syra as they entered a vast chamber. Their steps, naturally soft due to their Elven nature, seemed to echo in this hall that could rival the size of over 10 sports arenas.

The ceiling was tall-at least four stories high-and was held up by massive Greek-style columns. Each monumental piece of marble was the width of a bus.

About 50 of these columns were spread throughout this massive room, and gave Varrus a vibe that this was a temple.

Furthermore, a great mural hung overhead depicting an all black, four armed skeleton flanked by a pair of serpents on each side. It had a circle behind it, reminding Varrus of an ouroboros.

Without reading any text, Varrus knew, simply by looking at the mural, that the being depicted in the art piece was known as the Serpent of Chaos. This alien feeling was like looking at an object for the first time in one's life, and inherently knowing what it was called.

It set alarm bells off in Varrus's mind, and had him triple his precautions. Any sudden noise, or feeling would receive a direct attack, no questions asked.

Taking a deep breath to compose himself, Varrus further analyzed the situation.

This singular intact mural was the primary source of light within the entire chamber.

It was light so dim, that Varrus could barely see his feet. Even with his natural affinity to see in the dark didn't do much. When he shot some restoration spells in a direction, his vision was only improved within a foot of the spell. In effect, they only had a murky sight of about 5-10 ft in front of them given the current conditions.

Darkness consumed the temple.

Yet oddly, the pillars, and other objects seemed to possess a faint glow to them, marking themselves out to be partially visible, and clearly magical in origin.

Given the situation, what most concerned Varrus was if he was separated from Syra. In situations like these, you never wanted to split the party. He would have to be extra vigilant over some nonsense like a trap door, or hidden pitfall.

Glancing at the beautiful blonde, she flashed him a confident smile, bolstering his morale.

Winking at her, he decided to press forward, despite his misgivings.

As they slowly, carefully trudged forth, a cold wind-one that felt like the pattern of breathing-fell upon his neck.

Varrus turned around, and instantly unleashed Infinite Light.

He swept the beam attack in a horizontal sweep, and power washed the pillars/ceiling in his area for good measure.

However, there was no visible reaction.

Syra had remained facing forward whilst Varrus checked their back, and was prepared to react at a moment's notice.

Varrus and Syra shared a look out of the corner of their eyes, and pressed forward.

The soft pitter patter of their own steps accompanied by the breath-like wind put him on edge.

He had seen enough horror movies to know that the other shoe would drop soon. It was just a matter of time.

Licking his dried lips, Varrus observed some broken pews, and other objects that corroborated his theory that this was indeed a temple.

Along the way, he saw shattered murals, torn tapestries, and scratched out marble busts periodically lining the walls, or knocked over, and left to deteriorate.

From what Varrus could gather, these pieces of ‘art’ depicted gruesome scenes of violence, torture, and barbarism. For example, skulls seemed to be a popular theme in this chamber, and they were in the symbology of nearly everything.

There were also many dark stains on the floor that began to cake and cling to the bottom of Varrus's shoes. He suspected it was ancient blood, and constantly was casting a cleanse, and Dispel Magic spell upon himself/Syra in paranoia that the sticky substance could be a magical reagent.

Arriving at the back of the temple, Varrus saw that one particular statue did not deteriorate to time. It was large-like the Abraham Lincoln statue-and was a statue of a headless woman drowning five of her children in a washing basin.

Syra paused near the statue, and Varrus noticed a look of seething rage in her expression.

At this place, the light was bright enough for Varrus to see that the statue had a strange, magnetic luster to it that was irresistible to look at.

A set of damaged runes were inscribed upon a plaque at the base of the statue. It had been weathered away by something at some point, and like the name of the mural, was somehow comprehensible to Varrus.

It read:

[Sw••t •ot•er, ••ee• m•th•r, se•d your ch••d un•o me, for the s•ns of the u•worthy mu•• be b•pt•zed in b••od and fear.]

Upon finishing his seemingly unconscious reading of the plaque, it lit up in red lettering, and a summoning circle came into existence floating up near the ceiling.

The circle was likewise glowing red, and contained many runes. What drew Varrus's attention the most was a bright red hand in the center. It evoked old memories, yet he couldn't quite place why it looked so familiar.

As soon as this change occurred, Varrus acted.

He wasn't a character in an anime, and wouldn't stand around doing nothing whilst the enemy did a transformation, or was being summoned from who knows where!

Blasting the summoning circle with a combination of Destruction and Restoration spells, Varrus was disappointed when the elemental and Light based attacks flew right through the hovering circle, and impacted the roof of the temple.

Fire shook the chamber, and debris fell down, forcing Varrus to toss it aside with telekinesis, or side step it so as not to be crushed.

Despite his efforts, the ritual was coming to completion.

Emerging from the portal, a red ghostly shade with an ethereal form, bone armor on its head/upper torso, a floaty wisp of energy replacing its legs, and blades attached to its arms chuckled in delight as it met a stream of Bolide's head on.

A dark crimson shield briefly coated the being, causing the Bolide to completely disappear.

Varrus blinked his eyes in shock.

Every opponent who had a shield, received some sort of feedback or concussive shock when he hit their shields, however, this ghost completely absorbed Varrus's spell, like a sponge sopping up water.

However, Varrus noticed that as soon as his stream of attacks hit, the ghost twisted its body to dodge, and flew behind one of the pillars. Showing that while the being did have a shield that could seamlessly block whatever Varrus threw at it, it only existed for a limited time.

Whilst it dodged Varrus's attacks, it launched a wave of shadows at him. Within the darkened halls, Varrus could barely see the purple black tint of Void energy, and it was only thanks to his magical sight that he picked up on it at all.

Throwing five Mana Stones from his inventory, he worked the Vandercross family magic he had learned, and absorbed what he could.

Two of them were overwhelmed by the onslaught of Void magic, and exploded into thousands of purple shards. A third crystal turned slightly violet, and the other two remained fine.

Varrus frowned at the expenditure, as after the big battle at the Sunwell, he had spent quite a few of his reserves, and he had to hand out a stockpile to feed the entire nation. As it stood, he only had 93 Master tier Mana Stones left.

Based upon their absorbing capacity, he did not want to test his warding skills against that wave of darkness if he didn't have to. The best way forward was to end this fight as soon as he could.

Shooting a Rally spell, as well as Call to Arms at Syra, all of the buffs under the Illusion tree stacked upon her, increasing her health, damage, crit chance, and skill with a blade among other things.

“Stay close.” Varrus muttered towards Syra, only to be surprised by a sudden gush of air.

Rushing towards their flanks, the apparition bore down upon them with speed like a fighter jet.

The author's narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

Varrus felt the cold sensation of death approaching the back of his neck, and turned around in time to witness Syra trade a dozen blows with the monster in a handful of seconds.

The creature's attacks rained down in a flurry. It utilized its gaseous form to twist and turn at unnatural angles, evading each of Syra's incredibly fast swipes of her blade. In return, the shade counterattacked by spinning, like some sort of twister or blender.

Syra was unphased by the onslaught, and instead of retreating, pressed forward!

Her heavy buster sword moved as light as a feather in her hands, and easily batted away any attempt at her life.

The creature let loose an ear piercing howl, clearly frustrated by its lack of a swift kill, and twin violet beams of energy continuously shot at Syra, all the while, the blades on its forearms didn't let up.

Syra had a passive barrier of Holy Void around her, in the shape of a thin, glowing film, to protect against foreign attacks.

However, with his Mana Sight, Varrus noticed that the spectre's attack wasn't breaking her barrier, but instead had found an infinitesimally tiny crack in the defense, and was attempting to corrupt the shield from the inside out!

All this had happened in just a handful of seconds, and Varrus finally had time to react.

Before he could even raise his hands to cast a spell, the perk Warrior's Flame, activated. The perk text meant that a holy fire periodically single targeted himself, Syra, or a nearby enemy.

At that instant, white flames coated the ghastly specter, eliciting a howl of pain, as well as a 0.2 second delay in its next attack as it was caught by surprise.

Capitalizing on this narrow window of opportunity, Syra forcefully grabbed one of the claw-like hands of the creature, and crushed it in her grasp, whilst she blocked an incoming strike with her sword.

“Auuuughhhh!” The phantom howled in pain as its wispy hand tried to reform, yet the combo of Holy and Void in Syra's unique branch of magic prevented any regeneration.

Pulling back, the ghost floated up above a column, and glared hatefully down at Syra.

His wife raised her sword, and pointed it at him in return. The density of her mana promised a violent end.

Whilst the phantom was busy posing like some generic villain, Varrus didn't remain idle, and shot Infinite Light at the thing.

The beam attack scorched the ghost's lower extremities. In response, it threw up a spell shield, and hid behind another column.

Silence greeted Varrus's ears, and the darkness within the temple made it difficult to spot the creature.

However, this moment of freedom granted Varrus the time to observe his surroundings.

It appeared that one of the drowned children on the statue was ever so slightly glowing. Similarly, each of the columns had lit up with more of those alien looking, uet somewhat familiar runes. If his gamer sense was right, then this statue, and the temple must be what was binding this creature to this plane. If he could destroy them, then they would be free from its malice.

By extension, leaving the Kobolds free to join Varrus's new faction.

Deciding to test the viability of his plan, Varrus tossed a Bolide spell at a distant column, ensuring that it would have its 4x dmg modifier due to the increased distance traveled. The fiery meteorite streaked through the black sky of the temple, and impacted the pillar with a heavy thud.

Witnessing a scorch mark, as well as a small bit of damage proved to Varrus that what he had in mind was achievable. It seemed that whoever designed this temple went with a classic supervillains layout. Build a nearly indestructible door, yet the supporting structures aren't nearly so durable.

“Follow me.” Varrus whispered to Syra.

He had a plan to snuff out this troublesome shade, but it was incredibly dangerous.

During this brief interlude, Varrus began to toss out Fire Runes onto every single pillar, and surface, such as the floor and ceiling like it was going out of style. He then deposited all Master tier Mana Stone at the base of the columns they passed by.

The loss of Master tier Mana Stones pained his heart, because he only had 93 on hand, and there were 50 columns within the temple. However, he could always make more of the crystals, whereas he only had one life. When viewed from that angle, the expenditure was well worth it.

He was rushing to slap down as many Fire Runes as possible, and had already finished with half of the pillars, when the specter began to launch waves of shadow at them once more.

Running low on Mana Stones, Varrus knew he had to take this head on if his plan was to succeed.

“Block it!” Varrus shouted at Syra, then counterattacked the wave of darkness with a beam of light.

The Holy Light penetrated the wave of darkness, poking holes, and slowing it down, yet did not stop it.

Tossing up a ward, Varrus believed he could block the now weakened attack, however, there was no need.

Syra stepped forward, and cleaved down with a powerful strike. The Holy Light leaving her sword pierced the shadow, then the Void energy ate away at itself, instantly evaporating the wave of shadow, like a block of ice dumped into an ocean of magma.

However, Syra's attack was too powerful, and it had inadvertently struck one of the Fire Runes along the way.

“Run!” Varrus grabbed Syra's hand, and shouted as he saw the Fire Runes light up in a chain reaction.

Every 0.1 seconds, a Fire Rune would erupt, knocking rocks and debris into the air, which then fell upon a dozen other Fire Runes within the vicinity, continuing ad nauseum.

Over a thousand Fire Runes exploded in less than 10 seconds. Furthermore, all this elemental energy entered the Mana Stones, then overloaded them, resulting in an overwhelming explosion of untold magnitude.

Syra was one step ahead of Varrus, and picked him up in a princess carry. Using her superior speed, she ran incredibly fast, and dashed for the exit of the temple.

The ceiling was rapidly collapsing, and an ever expanding fireball was closing in. Varrus could feel superheated air blast against his robe, and shuffle his hair as imminent demise came closer and closer.

“Darkness.” The spectre's raspy voice echoed within the chamber, then suddenly, every single light in the room vanished, and both Syra and Varrus could only see but a few inches in front of themselves.

Yet the heat from the fire was constant, and Syra did not reduce her speed for an instant!

The moment of perpetual blackness was punctuated by the sound of metal clashing on metal.

Syra's off-hand was swinging furiously during their escape, and he could only surmise that she was in a low-vision death battle with the specter!

Varrus cast Dispel Magic, but it didn't do anything! Whatever magic was cast by the creature was not upon him, but upon the environment!

It was during this startling revelation that he heard Syra gasp, as if the wind had been driven from her. She also paused for half a second in a momentary stumble. He feared she had been struck, and knew he had to do something about it.

Activating the perk Apotheosis, any wound Syra suffered was quickly mended, and the specter was met once more with the pain of Holy Flames.

Apotheosis - Grants the "Apotheosis" power. Once a day, casts Warrior's Flame on all nearby for 20 seconds. Costs 250 Magicka.

Coated in the afterglow of Warrior's Flame, Varrus’s vision was restored, and he got a good look of the phantom.

It attempted to spell shield the Warrior's Flame, however, the spectre's defense lasted only a second or two, whereas Varrus's spell was constant, and swiftly began to eat away at this apparition conjured from the Void.

The phantom's skull mask was constantly regenerating, and melting due to the perk, and a fleshy face reminiscent of some horror monster was grinning at Varrus with a red, sinewy expression of gleeful murder.

Syra wasn't one to waste a good opportunity, and cleaved apart the arm that was missing a hand, then barreled past the phantom in a streak of light.

Looking back, Varrus saw the specter stand still, and continued to eerily grin at him. It pointed up towards the mural of the four armed skeleton, and beckoned Varrus to join it in a praying motion. Yet Varrus ignored the mad ghost, and witnessed the massive fire gush forth like a tidal wave, and consume it.

Bursting out of the temple, Varrus remembered the strength of The Door, and finger flicked it closed with an application of telekinesis.

As soon as they made it past the threshold, a sonic boom imploded on The Door, causing it to crack, and expand like a container under too much pressure. As a result, dust fell from the cavern ceiling, and rocks shook.

Yet they were in one piece, and nothing had collapsed.

As Varrus glanced at The Door, wondering what to do with it, a purple portal swallowed it whole, and revealed nothing but a blank wall behind it.

Varrus frowned, wondering if they had entered a doorway to another plane. However, such curiosities were best left for another time.

Now was a moment in which he appreciated his survival! There really was nothing like the rush of endorphins, and surprised shock after surviving a deadly encounter!

“Hahaaah!” Varrus whooped in boyish glee, and grinned in good cheer.

Glancing up at Syra as she held him in her arms, Varrus began to laugh at his position, as well as their shared appearance, because both of them were utterly caked in grime, and looked a mess.

Syra clunked her forehead onto his, and lowered her lips for a tender kiss.

Varrus basked in the moment, but when he moved to stand up, he found that her grasp was ironclad.

Seeing the look of longing in her eyes, Varrus rolled his eyes, but decided to play along. If it made her feel secure, he wouldn't mind hugging her for a little longer.

Glancing at the Kobold's hanging out on the fringes, Varrus gave them a shooing gesture; he could negotiate their terms of alliance later.

For now, he was reassuring the love of his life that yes, he was alive, and yes, he valued her more than his job!

So shoo!

The Kobolds got the memo, and soon Varrus was alone in the chamber with Syra.

Casting a quick cleanse spell on both of them, Varrus took in her form, assessing her for any injuries, fatigue, or change in mood.

Ultimately finding no fault in his flawless wife, Varrus lowered his guard, and relaxed his shoulders in relief.

He knew that dealing with Void fuckery could be dangerous, but Syra was much more, hm, passionate than some purple goo could corrupt!

“You were swift with the blade as always.” Varrus complimented, and stroked Syra's face with the back of his hand.

The smoothness of her skin sent an electric pulse up his arm, and he found he was unable to stop himself from giving her more attention.

‘Seriously, the smoothness and softness of Syra’s skin should be illegal.’ Varrus thought to himself as he rubbed against her for a time that would be considered inappropriate for any couple on Earth.

Yet Syra leaned into Varrus's palm like a cat rubbing herself against her property, marking it with her scent.

Rolling out a carpet from her mageweave bag, Syra placed Varrus's head on her lap, and gently ran her fingers through his hair.

She hummed a gentle melody, and sang a wordless song. Her beautiful voice was angelic, and music to Varrus's ears. He found himself growing drowsy, and falling asleep with a smile on his face.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~