The absolute darkness enveloped Luke, suffocating and disorienting. It felt like being buried alive, the weight of the void pressing in on him from all sides. He couldn't see, but he could hear the panicked shuffling of the viran warband around him, their claws scraping against the cobblestones.

Luke focused, using his aura sense to orient himself. He could still feel Nemangor's insidious grip on his soul, a nauseating tendril of [Domination] connecting the two of them.

He pushed forward, as the ground shook.

Something solid bumped against Luke's chest with a growl. Without hesitation, he swung Fenn, feeling the satisfying crunch of bone and flesh. Coins jingled as they hit the ground, followed by the familiar system notification that he had killed a level eleven viran warrior.

A heavy thump sounded nearby, followed by a piercing scream that rose into the air high above. The noise echoed through the streets, only to be abruptly cut off by a wet, tearing noise. Two dull thuds sounded in the darkness as panic rippled through the warband.

"Flee and I will flay you myself," Maruk roared.

Then a powerful wave of tyrannical aura washed over them as Maruk asserted his control. The Warlord's guttural roar carried clearly, and he ordered his ranged elites to fire upon the giant with aether bolts, and for the warriors to swarm and tear it apart like ravenous insects.

In the strobe-like flashes, Luke could a tree-sized leg stomp down on half a dozen ratlings. He didn't see the impact, but he heard the crunch.

The shockwave almost knocked Luke off his feet.

Another volley of shots briefly illuminated a dozen of the viran warriors stabbing at the [Nightwalker] legs, and a few brave warriors had even begun to climb the giant.

A nearby snarl alerted Luke to a viran warrior lunging at him from the flashing darkness. He sidestepped the clumsy attack and brought Fenn down in a brutal overhead arc. Bone fragments, brain matter, and gold coins sprayed outwards.

In the chaos it was impossible to see Nemangor amongst the warband, so Luke focused inward. He killed another elite warrior before finally locking onto the [Dominator] domain.

Like a wrecking ball, Luke charged through the warband. He was running on fumes, but had a couple more [Kinetic Strikes] left in him, which he used to clear a path.

His soul was out of aether when Luke reached the [Master].

Brute force would have to suffice.

Luke drove the claw of his hammer deep into Nemangor's gut, pulling the weapon across, slicing him open like a purse.

No kill notification came.

When Luke tried to pull his hammer free, he felt resistance, as the [Master] grabbed onto his hammer with a snarl.

Instead of wrestling for his weapon, Luke shoved Nemangor to the ground with his shield, before sending the piece of wood back into soul storage. With his now free hand, Luke reached into the gaping wound and grabbed a squishy handful of flesh, ripping it out with a savage jerk and giving it a squeeze.

Nemangor's grip faltered, and Luke seized Fenn's haft, yanking it free before bringing the hammer's head down in a series of brutal, bone-crunching strikes, pulping flesh until the kill notification finally flashed. Fenn pulsed happily at the carnage.

[You have killed a Level 14 Viran. Loot Generated from death echo.]

[You have gained enough experience to reach level 11.]

A guttural scream of rage tore through the darkness as Maruk sensed his brother's demise. A massive earth spear slammed into Luke, throwing him against the wall with enough force to shatter his collarbone. Copper filled Luke’s mouth as he coughed blood.

He wasn't going to push his luck fighting the viran leader; Maruk might respawn, but he wouldn't.

However, against his better judgement, he stumbled back to the corpse and touched the shimmering body; Luke just couldn’t leave such a juicy loot drop to spoil.

[Master’s Ring - Rare (Initiate) - A ring imbued with Dominator aether.]

Though it wasn’t as bad as the [Ring of Corruption], Luke was disappointed to get more loot he was never going to use. Even selling such a thing on the marketplace was morally reprehensible.

He had some standards. Perhaps Rurik could use the ring to do something about Frank’s [Thrall] domain.

The little ratling had earned it.

As Luke stood from looting the ring, a viran warrior swung a massive maul at him. It slammed into his shoulder with a sickening pop as the joint dislocated.

Luke managed to just barely stay on his feet.

Time to get out of here, Luke thought.

His Indomitable Dreadnought class granted him three attribute points per level up to spend as he wished, on top of the fixed points in [Strength], [Endurance] and [Will]. Luke allocated one point into [Agility], and one into [Recovery], leaving the last point in reserve.

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The shift in Luke's soul was significant, and he could even feel his [System] seed sucking in ambient aether from the dungeon.

It was a much-needed boost.

As Luke pushed through the riled up warband, blows rained down on him. A club cracked him in the head twice, while a spear thrust almost took his eye. The energy of his visor faltered for a moment, slowing the attack, but not stopping it. Luke turned his head just in time, but acquired a nasty cut to his temple.

Anger drove Luke forwards, and he gave back in kind. As he carved a bloody path he couldn't even stop to pick up the gold, which only made him more incensed.

There was a ground shaking thud , and Luke looked upwards.

Sporadic flashes of aether bolts illuminated the towering form of the [Nightwalker] as it fell to its knees.

Maruk was at the centre of the fray, a blur of stone and steel. Apparently, the [Warlord] had decided the [Nightwalker] posed a greater threat than Luke. Given the dozens of viran strewn across the streets it was a sound judgement.

Luke drew upon the aether filling his soul, using [Brace] to store momentum. As the next few blows struck him, he absorbed the force, and then unleashed it in a powerful dash forwards, launching himself through the crowd and out the other end.

Luke saw five elite viran warriors break off from the skirmish with the nightwalker to pursue him. The towering aetherling had already inflicted heavy casualties on the warband, but Luke hoped it would do more damage before being overwhelmed.

He took off sprinting, taking an evasive path through winding alleys and ruined buildings. Despite having twenty points in [Agility], Luke struggled to put any significant distance between himself and his pursuers. Speed was not his strong suit.

He ran in the general direction of Rurik’s forge, but knew he wouldn’t make it back before the ratlings caught up to him.

With his injuries, Luke wasn’t sure of his odds in a fight, even if he stood a head taller than most elites, and weighed twice as much.

There was a problem; Luke’s shield arm wasn’t working.

With a dislocated shoulder and a broken collarbone, he could barely lift it, and even slight movements sent lances of pain through his body.

Rounding a corner, Luke used [Epicentre] to pull a rusted rooftop railing towards himself. It crashed to the streets behind him, forcing the pursuing elites to dodge the falling debris. It bought him a few precious seconds.

Realising he needed to make a stand, Luke noted he had put enough distance between himself and the rest of the warband that it should just be him against these five elites. Two were ranged fighters, one with an aether rifle and the other with a bladed longbow. The remaining three wielded identical looking swords, with matching attire.

Luke inhaled.

He spent his last free attribute point on Endurance, hoping it would strengthen his [Bulwark] enough for his armour to hold a little longer.

Without preamble, the three sword-wielding viran elites charged him.

He exhaled.

Luke grunted as a ginger-furred viran bashed his injured shoulder with a brutal half-hand strike. The impact tore through him, but he refused to falter.

Before he could retaliate, another elite lunged at his face, blade aimed for Luke’s eyes. With lightning reflexes, Luke hit the flat of the blade with Fenn, shattering the blade.

A third swordsman seized the opportunity and swung his pommel towards Luke’s head in a vicious strike. The impact rattled Luke’s brain inside the helmet.

Luke saw red.

He drove his helmeted forehead into the third swordsman’s face, sending him crumpling to the ground in a heap.

An aether shot slammed into Luke’s side, the impact draining the last of the energies held within his armour. Almost immediately, an infused arrow followed, and punched through his armour plating, burying itself in his chest. It scraped against his ribcage, just above his heart.

Adrenaline and delirium mingled as the ginger elite swung for his dead arm again. Luke hooked the blade with his hammer, and with another savage headbutt, he smashed the ratling’s nose into his head.

The final swordsman lunged with his broken blade at Luke’s visor. By now, the protective energy field had flickered out completely, leaving him exposed. Luke tilted his head forward, letting the sword glance off the crown of his helmet with a screech of metal on metal.

In one fluid motion, Luke delivered a devastating uppercut with Fenn, the hammer’s head slamming into the viran’s pelvis with a sickening crunch of shattered bone. The elite’s body lifted into the air, suspended briefly before crashing back to the ground in a crumpled heap.

A glance towards the distance revealed the archer and riflewoman taking aim once more. Aether condensed around their weapons.

Luke threw himself to the ground, gasping as the motion jarred the arrow already embedded in his chest. Agony lanced through him, forcing back a cry of pain.

Gritting his teeth, Luke pushed himself upright with his good arm, his movements sluggish and laboured now. The archer and riflewoman seemed in no rush, and lined up their next shots.

Luke's vision started to blur from the pain and blood loss, and he channelled [Brace] with the last of his aether.

However, before the archer and riflewoman could release their deadly shots, a blur of motion caught Luke's eye.

Frank ran up behind them, and brought his weapon down in a vicious arc. The riflewoman didn't even have time to react before her head was severed from her shoulders, rolling away as her body crumpled to the ground.

The archer tried to turn and let loose her shot, but Frank was already in motion. He slammed his axe into her side with brutal force, the sharpened edge biting deep. The archer cried out, her shot going wide as Frank's blow staggered her.

The archer tried to slice at him with her bladed bow, but Frank deftly jumped back, then lunged forward and finished her off.

A second head rolled onto the street.

Luke stared at Frank for a moment, his gaze a mixture of relief and confusion. “What are you doing here, Frank?” he asked, grimacing as a wave of pain shot through his injuries. “The plan was for us to meet back at the forge.”

Frank’s ears twitched as he stepped closer, his axe still gripped tightly in his paws. “I followed the scent of the [Dominator], I was going to kill the [Master] myself.”

As he looked Luke up and down, Frank’s eyes narrowed. “You reek of him.”

Luke reached into his inventory and produced the Master’s Ring, holding it up for Frank to see. “I looted this from Nemangor’s corpse after I killed him.”

Frank’s shoulders slumped, his ears flattening against his head.

Pushing past the pain, Luke managed a reassuring smile. “If he respawns, you can have first crack at him,” he promised.

Luke glanced down at the ring in his hand, then back up at Frank. “Let’s head back and have Rurik take a look. I’m going to have a long bath, and an even longer nap.”

Though, we might as well collect all this gold lying around first.