Standing in the Prophet Sanara’s domain was like stepping into the fire pit. Luke felt like he was being cooked alive inside his armour, the heat seeping through the cracks and searing his skin. The air itself shimmered with the thermal distortion.

That he had his own [Fire] domain didn't seem to matter, as his meagre copper rank paled when compared to hers. In a fight of attrition, Luke was going to end up crispier than overdone steak, so he moved.

With his full attention on his foe, Luke could dodge the next fireball that came his way and block the third with his shield.

Behind him, warriors screamed as the errant fireball detonated in their midst, Sanara clearly unconcerned with collateral damage. Only her red-robed priests could even bear to stand in her aura. All the other warriors in the area twitched on the ground as the hot air scorched their lungs.

Luke's armour and domain granted him some resilience, but each breath was a laboured rasp. He swung at the Prophet with gritted teeth, only for her to summon a shimmering heat shield of condensed aether. Fenn collided with the barrier and slowed as if plunging through molten glass, the hammer's surface glowing with searing heat.

The momentary delay allowed Sanara to retreat half a step, Luke's strike missing by a hairsbreadth. He tried to press the attack, but had to raise his shield as another fireball surged towards him. The flames overwhelmed his defences for a moment as it engulfed him, and Luke felt his skin blister.

When Luke lowered his shield, he saw that another red-robed priest had stepped in his way, to defend the Prophet. He had no problem introducing the elderly priest to the floor. His backswing caught the red-robed viran in the pelvis and shattered the old man’s hip.

Gasping for breath, Luke struggled against the suffocating lack of oxygen, the oppressive heat seeming to burn the air from his lungs. His goal was tantalisingly close, but exhaustion dragged at his limbs as he tried to close the distance. Sanara let out a mocking, imperious laugh at the sight of his struggling.

"You are not worthy to inherit the Veil," she declared, her eyes blazing with rapturous zeal. "By his hand, I shall cleanse you."

At her words, the heat rose again, intensifying with her hatred. The scorching air stole any hope Luke had of offering a witty retort. He could hear the rasping of his throat as he breathed out, even over the chaos of battle. His [Wisdom] made him acutely aware of everything and sharpened his senses.

It was Luke’s sharp hearing that allowed him to hear the faint rumbling of the ground beneath him. That same rumbling had shaken the cavern for several minutes as the transport drills made their exit.

I should have waited longer, Luke thought.

He hadn’t considered the possibility the warband might get called back.

Out of time, Luke used the last card up his sleeve. He allocated his free attribute point into [Will], and the effects of the zealous [Fire] domain diminished as his soul asserted itself against the hostile influence. Even if the effects were minimal, it gave him a moment to breathe.

Instead of delivering a witty retort to the Prophet, Luke feigned a stagger and almost fell to his knees in an exaggerated motion. Though he had no actual skill at subterfuge, the ploy worked well enough to get Sanara to step forward, her guard lowered for a fraction of a second.

Luke burst towards the Prophet with a sprint and channelled most of his remaining aether into a Kinetic Strike. A red shield shimmered in the air, but the momentum of his charge fed into the move and he smashed right through the viscous barrier.

Though her aura was mighty, Sanara’s body was frail, and no match for the sheer brutality of Luke’s downward swing.

His hammer tore through her midsection like wet tissue paper, and the Prophet’s corpse crumpled in on itself like a folding chair. The impact caused an explosion of gore and golden coins scattered all over, followed by a shockwave of ash and embers rippling outwards as her soul collapsed.

Amidst the burnt battlefield, there were only a few dozen viran warriors left standing. The Prophet’s aura had killed almost as many of them as Luke had, and with the deadly flames dissipated he expected the survivors to swarm him in his weakened state. Yet, the death of their leader seemed to break the horde’s wavering morale, and they ran.

Luke was left alone on a street full of corpses as the tremors underfoot grew louder. The drills must have been more manoeuvrable than he had assumed to turn around and return so swiftly. It seemed impossible, but he had no idea what kinds of magical abilities the giant drills had.

Outwardly Luke maintained the appearance of an indomitable juggernaut. Inside, he was still struggling to catch his breath.

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A glance at the charred corpses of the warriors burned by the Prophet’s flames showed how easily Luke had gotten off. As far as fights went, this had been a good match-up for him once he closed the distance, and the battle had demonstrated how valuable Rurik’s armour was.

Every inch of Luke hurt. His skin was blistering, throat rasping, and he was pretty sure that one of the little ratlings had stabbed a spear tip into the shoulder joint of his shield arm. Thinking back, he thought it had probably been the brave warrior he immolated in the fire pit. The wound didn’t restrict his range of motion at all, but it stung like a stuck thorn.

There was a time and place for feeling sorry for oneself. For Luke that was back at the safety of the forge, having an ice bath in the quenching tub.

Wincing, Luke reached forwards to touch the shimmering corpse of the Prophet. He didn’t stop to read the loot description and threw the still forming item into his storage space. In the back of his mind, he could feel a notification itching his brain.

[You have gained enough experience to reach level 10.]

[Class selection available, initiate? Yes/No.]

Luke might spend his attribute points in a slapdash manner, but choosing his class, or path, was a much more significant matter. It was a pivotal decision where he wanted to take his time to consider the options, without the ground shaking beneath him. Now wasn’t the time.

However, even if he was in a rush to escape, Luke’s inner [Murderhobo] wouldn’t let him leave so much loot unlooted. He filled his soul space to the brim, then bought a [Spiderweave Backsack] from the market for an outrageous price. When he put the coins into his soul space they converted directly into credits, and his numbers went up nicely. Luke was loath to leave any loot behind, but he had some self-preservation instincts remaining.

Over in the distance, Luke saw a giant drill breached the surface of the cavern, and a lingering skirmisher fired an aether rifle at him. Luke sighed and jogged towards his escape rope. However, he saw something that made him momentarily pause. Hey look, it’s my distraction.

Lying unmoving, next to a dead skirmisher, was the prisoner Luke had saved earlier. The tailless viran still held Luke’s [Marauder’s Axe] in its hands. It was a good axe, so Luke picked it up. Yet, when he tried to lift the axe off the ground, the prisoner came with it. The little ratling held onto the weapon with an iron grip.

Luke hadn’t considered that the ratling might still be alive. He just wanted his loot back, but the little guy wouldn’t let go. All the other prisoners were dead because of his actions, but perhaps he could at least save one of them.

A snap decision was made, and Luke scooped the ratling up in a shoulder carry. With his strength, carrying the small creature was easy, though it was probably not the most comfortable ride.

An aether blast from a rifle narrowly missed him, and Luke looked back to see the horde pouring out of the drills. He was definitely out of time.

Climbing the rope was awkward, but manageable, and Luke rapidly ascended. When he reached the top, the vanguard of the horde had just reached the rope. They were all elites and wore more shiny metals than the ones that had been left behind. Toward the burning statue, Luke heard a powerful roar that echoed off all four corners of the cavern.

Maruk sounds pissed, Luke thought.

Even at his best Luke wasn’t sure what his odds against the warlord would be, and he was far from his best. To stall his pursuers, Luke tried to put the spiker silk back into his soulspace, but it resisted the pull. The climbing elites and their auras anchored the rope in their physical reality. Instead, Luke pulled out a random [Poison Dagger] and sliced the cord. Proving its durability, Luke had to flex his muscles to cut through the material.

Sending his pursuers falling to the ground slowed them down, but several more started climbing the sheer cliff, using earthly domains to carve out handholds in the rock. He was curious to observe the magic from above, but could feel the powerful aura of the warlord rapidly approaching.

Luke ran to the elevator with his piles of loot and his sleepy friend, opened it with his key, and got inside. When the doors closed, Luke sighed in relief as the elevator climbed up to the city above. The ascent wasn’t as fast as it had been coming down, so he had time to calm his breathing.

When he played back the events of the last half hour back through his head, he almost couldn’t believe his own memories. What was I thinking?

He didn’t know if the horde could use the elevator, but even if they could, he felt relatively safe up in the city above. The Draugsvär weren’t his allies, but according to Rurik the undead were natural enemies to almost all life in the omniverse. Then there was Rurik himself. The forgemaster’s fiery wrath put the prophet's to shame.

When the elevator dinged and doors opened, the stench of the corrupted kraken’s corpse filled his nostrils. Luke didn’t know the exact details of how the dungeon denizens respawned, but it was clearly a slow process. Just to delay any pursuers, Luke bought a cheap [Kelpwood Table], and did his best to jam the elevator with it.

Blisters chafed as Luke then began the long walk through the sewers. He took his time, making sure that he followed the markings on the walls. As much as Luke wanted to rush home, he didn’t want to risk getting lost. He checked his class selection notification several times, but fortunately, unlike accepting an aspect, it didn’t seem to be time sensitive.

The return journey took longer than it otherwise would, because of Luke’s loot, and unconscious companion. Perhaps sensing the potency of his aura, the plague rats didn’t accost him. They gave him a wide berth, despite his weakened state.

Luke tried to rouse the unconscious viran twice, but he didn’t wake. None of the visible wounds looked too bad, so Luke decided he would just wait for the tailless to sleep it off. Next time you can carry me while I catch up on my beauty sleep, eh? Luke thought at the ratling.

A couple of hours later Luke was still feeling sorry for himself, but his spirits lifted as he finally caught sight of the forge.

Home, sweet home.