Lucas dropped down, wincing as it pulled at the burned skin and the stab wound that no longer bled. His fingers scrabbled around on the ground, grasping a piece of broken obsidian that cut into the sides of his hand.

There it was again! Broken glass crunched as something trod over it. His blood dripped down onto the floor from the white-knuckled grip he had on the makeshift weapon, but he couldn't feel the pain. A faint growling echoed across the empty space, and then he could see it moving between the pillars. The shaggy black-and-red coat camouflaged it almost perfectly, and four wiry legs held up a body attached to a snarling jaw.

It was what Lucas imagined a hellhound would look like, but starved and much more mangy. Its eyes were locked onto him, prowling low to the ground. It vanished behind a pillar, and then there was silence. He tentatively took a step back and then jerked his head to the side at the sound of clicking claws on glass, the mutt leaping at him from the side.

Lucas raised his hands in front of his face, the shard pointed outwards. It didn't help when fifty pounds of hell-dog crashed into him, jaws snapping shut around his forearm. His head impacted the ground, bouncing off. It eerily reminded him of the 'Prophet' tackling him. The shard he picked up had nicked its side, but it was barely a flesh wound.

He rolled to the side, which seemed much easier than it should be, and shoved his arm further into the mutt's mouth, tearing grooves in it and choking the dog. The shard came up and plunged into its chest, then up again. Pistoning again and again until it stopped moving, the spark of life in its eyes faded.

Lucas breathed heavily, idly wondering why there wasn't any EXP notification with the part of his mind that wasn't in agony. Which, surprisingly, was a large part of it. As he heard more growls behind his back, he recalled that wolves were pack hunters. He exploded into motion, finding it oddly easy. He reached a pillar, and it seemed like he slid up it, flinging himself up with nonexistent handholds. He wrapped around the top, trying not to touch the wicked-sharp point. Was this how it felt to add twenty points to all physical stats? The world seemed to slow, just slightly, and he could see the dogs. They were circling the spot he used to be, one padding forward on near-silent paws and sniffing the corpse before lifting its head up and looking warily at the pillar he dashed to, but not directly at him.

Lucas looked nervously at the next closest pillar. It was maybe fifteen feet away, and he was doubtful he could reach it even with his increased stats. But, it was either that or get ambushed by three mutts who were starting to stalk towards his pillar. He pulled his arms back and kicked off, sending his own body flying towards the next spike. For a second, he was worried he misjudged the distance, but as his arms wrapped around the glass and the rest of his body followed, sliding a little, he breathed a sigh of relief.

He loosened his grip a little, purposefully sliding to the ground now. The sound of him colliding would probably attract them anyway. He darted away as soon as he touched the ground, bare feet a whisper on the ground as he ate up distance with his strides.

The shard in his hand vibrated malevolently, and Lucas hated how everything in this wasteland seemed to be the worst thing ever. He was bent over double, creeping to the side of one of the dogs in a mimicry of the first. He saw it sneeze from the unfamiliar smell, but it was entirely too late by then. His left arm wrapped around the neck, and his right drove the shard into the bottom of its skull, driving up into the head.

It collapsed bonelessly into his left arm, where he slowly lowered it to the ground and winced when the corpse's back claws scraped against the obsidian ground. Then again, he was lucky it provided a warning at all. The smooth volcanic floor was great for stealth if you had smooth feet. He repeated the trick he learned on the second-to-last dog, and advanced to the third.

Lucas knew something was wrong when he started hearing whispers again, and a phantom snarl. Listening to his gut (and his hallucination), he sprung backward instead of going for the kill. He was proven right a moment later as the wolf turned around, snapping its jaws where he might have been in another reality. He silenced the unbalanced wolf by driving the shard into its maw, bright red blood spraying all over his face.

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Congratulations! You have defeated four [F] Rank Scorched Mutts.

Level Up!

Based on your actions during combat, you are eligible for several Tier 1 Classes.

Rouge (Common) [Tier 1] Assassin (Uncommon) [Tier 1] Acrobat (Common) [Tier 1] Hunter (Uncommon) [Tier 1] Warrior (Common) [Tier 1] Ruinglass Warrior (Rare) [Tier 1]

The choices were strange. His Fighter and Fighter II titles should have eliminated any Common choices, and what was Ruinglass? He tapped on the option, and it expanded.

Ruinglass Warrior (Rare) [Tier 1]: A warrior who uses the Ruinglass of Piclifnal Island to fight.

  Do You Wish to Accept This Class?

       Yes/No

Was that what they called obsidian? Then again, no obsidian he knew glowed red or radiated hatred and violence. At least he knew where he was, now. What happened to the island to turn it into the place it was now, though?

Lucas pressed no and then tapped Rogue. He would skip the rest since he had an idea of what they were. If he was right, his Fighter II title would turn it into a Rare class that was less specialized than somebody who fought with 'Ruinglass' weapons.

Rogue (Common) [Tier 1]: A fighter who uses the shadows to their advantage.

Do You Wish to Accept This Class?

      Yes/No

He pressed yes, and was rewarded with a sweet rush of vindication.

Fighter II Synergy! Change Class to Shadewalker (Rare) [Tier 1]

He waited but was surprised when a prompt appeared again. Then another.

Followed Synergy! Change Class to Whisperblade (Epic) [Tier 1]

Ruinmarked Synergy. Change Class to Whisperblade Arbiter (Unique) [Tier 1]

Skills Menu Unlocked!

Equipment Menu Unlocked!

He was startled at the last one but felt the cold shard of Ruinglass in his hand heat up and mold to his grip, the blade lengthening and then coming to a wicked point.

   Executioner's Razor (Unique) [Growth]

A Ruinglass blade forged in a crucible of blood to fit the newest Ruinmarked. It calls for more, Ruinmarked.

How ominous.