The gravedigger sprang up, dagger flashing. Thorne had no time to waste—he kicked the vent cover out and dropped to the floor, landing in a low crouch with his poisoned daggers poised. The gravedigger lunged, blade aimed straight for Thorne's chest. Thorne ducked beneath the attack, rolling away and springing up behind the man. He slashed low, his blade biting deep into the man’s calf.

The gravedigger grunted but spun with shocking speed, his dagger slicing through the air toward Thorne’s throat. Thorne barely parried the blow, his arm jolting with the impact. A surge of panic filled him; this wasn’t some street brawl. These men were trained killers. He couldn’t afford even a single mistake.

The gravedigger sneered, his lips twisting in contempt. "A little rat like you thinks he can take me on?" he spat, circling. Thorne tried to keep his distance, swinging his dagger in a wide arc, but the man just smirked, unfazed. With a sudden snarl, he launched a series of brutal strikes, each one coming faster and closer. Thorne felt himself slipping, his feet scrambling backward, his movements growing less precise. Sid’s voice echoed in his mind, sharp and critical, scolding him for sloppy footwork and reckless swings. But he couldn’t focus—he could barely keep up.

Suddenly, the gravedigger’s blade sliced across Thorne’s arm, and he hissed in pain, stumbling back until he hit the wall. The man’s smirk widened. "You're out of your depth, boy," he taunted, raising his dagger for the final strike.

Fear and desperation surged through Thorne. He feinted left, and then, in a last-second pivot, darted to the right, slashing at the man’s side. His blade met flesh, and the gravedigger gasped in surprise, stumbling as the poison took hold, his movements slowing, his body betraying him.

Thorne didn’t hesitate. He drove forward, slashing low, his blade cutting through the tendons in the man’s leg. With a gasp, the gravedigger crumpled to his knees, clutching his side, his breaths coming in strained gasps as the venom spread. Before his eyes the man transformed, from a fearsome opponent to a man who had trouble to stand up.

For a fleeting moment, Thorne hesitated, the man’s weakened state making him appear almost… human. But he couldn’t afford compassion; the danger was too real. Thorne kicked the dagger from the man’s hand, sending it skittering across the stone floor, and pressed his own blade to the gravedigger’s throat.

The man glared up at him, hatred simmering in his eyes, even as his strength faded. The poison had an even greater effect than he had initially thought. "You think you've won, boy? You're just delaying the inevitable. You’ll die, all of you.”

Thorne’s hand trembled, his grip tightening as he fought to keep his voice steady. "Where’s the key?" he demanded, his voice low and sharp, though his heart hammered with uncertainty.

The gravedigger’s sneer returned. "Wouldn’t you like to know? You’re as good as dead."

Thorne’s patience snapped, and he pressed the blade harder, his voice trembling with fury. "Tell me!"

For a brief second, the gravedigger’s eyes flickered, a flash so quick that if he wasn’t looking intently, he would have missed.

It was enough for Thorne.

His heart leapt at the confirmation. He had a chance.

He quickly knocked the man out with a blow to the head. The gravedigger's eyes fluttered closed, his body going limp. horne hadn’t even noticed he was holding his breath until he let it out, his chest aching as he took in a shaky gulp of air. The shock of the fight still lingered in his veins, every nerve buzzing with leftover adrenaline. He’d won—but it didn’t feel like a victory. His stomach churned at the thought of what could’ve happened if he’d slipped up even once.

He stepped back, his eyes never leaving the unconscious man sprawled at his feet. Another surge of urgency jolted him, snapping him back into focus. He didn’t have time to waste. Every second he stood here was a second closer to Ben’s life slipping away.

Quickly, he rifled through the man’s pockets, hands trembling as he searched for the key. He felt a cold, metallic ring beneath his fingers and pulled it out—a heavy set of keys. Relief flooded him, and he moved back to the padlocked door the gravedigger had been guarding.

After a few frustrating attempts, he found the right key and heard the lock click open. Thorne didn’t hesitate; he pushed the door open, feeling the stale air rush out to meet him as he stepped inside. The room was dim, and at first, all he saw was a faint, hunched figure in the shadows, lying on the ground.

His heart tightened. “Ben!” he whispered fiercely, rushing forward.

As he neared, he could see the bruises scattered across Ben’s face, dark and swollen, and the heavy iron cuffs chafing his wrists. His clothes were torn and dirty, and his body looked limp, drained. Thorne’s heart ached, anger bubbling beneath his skin. He’d never seen Ben like this—so small and fragile. And it was his fault. If they’d taken him instead, maybe none of this would have happened.

At the sound of Thorne’s voice, Ben’s eyes fluttered open. It took a moment for his gaze to focus, but when he saw Thorne, something like relief passed over his battered face. He tried to sit up, the chains rattling as he moved, but Thorne quickly knelt beside him, inspecting the cuffs.

“Don’t worry, Ben. I’m getting you out,” Thorne murmured, forcing confidence into his voice as he turned the keys in his hands, trying each one. After what felt like an eternity, he heard the soft click and pulled the cuffs free, wincing as Ben rubbed his wrists, raw and red from the metal.

Ben gave him a weak nod, then made a few urgent hand gestures, his eyes wide with alarm. Thorne furrowed his brow, trying to piece together what he was saying. Ben pointed at himself, then toward the door, and finally drew a slashing motion across his neck. Thorne’s stomach clenched as the meaning hit him—loud and clear. The Gravediggers hadn’t planned to keep Ben around much longer.

“We’re getting out of here. Now,” Thorne whispered, voice firm. Ben nodded, his face etched with exhaustion and pain. Thorne wrapped an arm around Ben’s shoulders to support him as they headed toward the door, their steps slow, the weight of Ben’s weakened body dragging them both down. But they didn’t stop. Thorne didn’t let himself think about how shaky Ben’s steps were, how he seemed barely able to stand on his own. They didn’t have a choice.

They made it through the door and back into the dim room where the guard lay sprawled across the floor. Thorne could feel the weight of silence pressing down on them, the stillness making every sound seem sharper, more dangerous. He strained his ears, listening for the slightest sign of movement. But everything was deathly quiet. Too quiet.

As they reached the center of the room, Thorne froze. The heavy ebony door rattled, just a faint tremor—but it was enough.

The door crashed open, and before either Thorne or Ben could react, a figure loomed in the doorway—a gravedigger, the one Thorne had glimpsed earlier. For a split second, all three froze, the tension thick and electrifying. Then chaos erupted.

The gravedigger lunged, his dagger catching the faint light and gleaming. Thorne’s body moved on instinct, shoving Ben behind him with a panicked shout as he raised his own blade to meet the attack. The man's reflexes were terrifying, sidestepping Thorne's frantic swing with ease and countering with a slash that grazed Thorne's shoulder, hot pain blooming where the blade kissed his skin. The realization hit him hard—he was woefully outmatched.

The gravedigger sneered, his eyes glinting with amusement as he noted Thorne's desperate, clumsy moves. Thorne’s attacks, though frenzied and determined, only seemed to amuse the man. Every swing, every attempt to gain ground was met with a precise, almost mocking counter. Thorne’s heart hammered as he tried to keep up, but the gravedigger moved like a shadow, always one step ahead, leaving Thorne no room to maneuver, no time to think.

Another blow sliced toward him, and Thorne twisted just in time to avoid it, feeling the burn as the blade nicked his side. The gravedigger laughed, a low, chilling sound that only fueled Thorne's desperation.

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"Is that really all you've got?" the man taunted, his voice a growl laced with contempt.

Thorne didn’t respond, his breath too ragged to spare for words. He tried to dodge, but his vision blurred from the blood trickling down his forehead, the cuts on his body stinging with each rapid movement. He was losing ground fast. Sid’s lessons echoed in his mind, urging him to stay calm, to keep his head—but the cold, calculated cruelty in the gravedigger’s eyes made that nearly impossible.

A notification flashed in his vision:

Skill Level Up: Thick Skin!

It felt ironic—an automatic response of his body to withstand pain, but it barely mattered against this relentless opponent.

Thorne ducked under a brutal swing and managed a counter of his own, his dagger grazing the man’s arm. The gravedigger sneered, unfazed by the minor wound, and lashed out with a powerful kick to Thorne's chest that sent him reeling backward. He hit the ground hard, pain ricocheting through his ribs. The gravedigger pressed his advantage, advancing with a smug, cruel smile. Thorne struggled to his feet, gasping, only to stumble again as the man’s blade slashed across his side, another hot rush of pain forcing him to clutch at the wound.

Blood ran down his side, slicking his fingers. His mind raced, but no plan came to him—every opening he tried to exploit was shut down before he could even begin. He knew that he couldn’t keep this up, not at this pace, not with this level of skill. The gravedigger's relentless blows, the practiced speed of his attacks, and the mocking grin told Thorne he was just toying with him.

Thorne attempted a desperate, wild swing, but the gravedigger ducked easily, catching Thorne with a brutal backhand that sent him sprawling again. He hit the stone floor hard, the impact forcing the air from his lungs in a strangled gasp. Dizziness blurred the edges of his vision as he forced himself upright, his arms trembling from the effort. He was weakening fast.

A swift kick to his stomach sent Thorne collapsing back to the ground, choking on his breath as the gravedigger loomed over him, his blade ready to deliver the final blow.

Panic clawed at the edges of Thorne's mind, raw and relentless. The image of Ben, bruised and helpless, flashed in his mind. He couldn’t die here—not like this, not with Ben’s life hanging by a thread. A fierce surge of determination flared within him, and he reached deep, desperately calling on the power that had saved him before.

He didn’t hesitate.

With a growl, Thorne activated Aether Surge.

Instantly, energy flooded his body, lighting every nerve on fire as his senses sharpened to an almost painful clarity. The world slowed around him, the details of the room becoming razor-sharp. He could see the slight twist of the gravedigger’s wrist, the cruel glint in his eyes, the way the shadows flickered against the stone walls. The pulse of aether amplified every movement, his muscles tense and ready.

Skill Level Up: Aether Surge!

Thorne rolled to the side, narrowly avoiding the gravedigger’s blade as it sliced through the air where he’d just been. He sprang to his feet, feeling the raw, exhilarating surge of aether course through his veins, sharpening his senses and quickening his movements to a level that seemed almost unnatural. The gravedigger’s eyes widened, surprise flickering over his features as Thorne darted forward, his speed and precision now matching, even surpassing, the seasoned assassin’s.

Thorne dodged and weaved with an ease that felt surreal, his newly heightened reflexes allowing him to slip around the man’s deadly slashes as if he were a shadow. He countered with a swift slash of his own, his dagger slicing into the gravedigger’s arm. Blood sprayed, and the man’s cocky smirk faltered, replaced by a look of irritation.

Skill Level Up: Daggers!

Fueled by adrenaline, Thorne pressed his advantage, his focus narrowing to a pinpoint. Channeling his chaotic energy, he unleashed an Aether Burst, a shockwave of raw power that radiated out from him in a sudden explosion. The gravedigger staggered back, momentarily disoriented, though his quick reflexes allowed him to activate a skill that let him evade the full brand of the attack. But it was clear from the grimace on his face that he hadn’t escaped entirely unscathed.

"Who are you?" the man spat, his voice filled with a mixture of shock and fury.

Thorne didn’t answer; his focus was razor-sharp, every fiber of his being dedicated to staying alive. Blood ran freely from multiple wounds across his arms and torso, hot and sticky against his skin. His chest heaved as he fought to keep his strength up, his vision threatening to blur as the toll of the battle wore on him.

Desperate to catch a moment’s respite, Thorne activated Shadow Meld and slipped into the darkness, hoping to launch a surprise attack. But the gravedigger’s keen eyes tracked him immediately, and with a vicious stab, he drove his blade straight through Thorne’s left arm, the dagger clattering to the ground as pain shot up Thorne’s arm, rendering it useless.

Skill Level Up: Combat Reflexes!

Biting back a scream, Thorne’s mind raced. He could feel his strength waning, the relentless attacks driving him to the edge. He wasn’t going to win this by brute force; the gravedigger was too skilled, too ruthless, his attacks far too calculated for Thorne’s limited experience to match.

Desperation clawed at him as he glanced down at his injured arm, his hand limp and bloody, each heartbeat pulsing agony through the wound. The only chance he had of defeating him was by hitting him directly with Aether Burst. But Aether Burst was too draining to use multiple times. He would faint before he could hit the elusive man straight on. He needed a plan—something unconventional.

His thoughts drifted to the fight with the boar, remembering how he’d used the ambient aether to manipulate his environment. Clinging to this idea, he focused on the aether motes swirling around them, trying to condense them around the gravedigger’s movements, to slow him down, to buy even a few precious seconds.

But the man was too quick, darting in and out of Thorne’s attempts to pin him down. Frustration simmered as Thorne took hit after hit, his body swaying from blood loss and the ache of his failing muscles.

Suddenly, the man lunged, his foot airborne in a powerful leap. Thorne’s mind raced, and in a desperate gamble, he raised his palm, pulling the ambient aether into a solid mass under the gravedigger’s foot. It was a small trick, but it was enough—the gravedigger stumbled midair, his balance lost as his momentum was abruptly halted. The confusion in the man’s eyes flashed with something close to fear as he broke free from the aether motes, but the disruption had given Thorne the opening he needed.

Thorne was ready. When the aether motes had turned solid and trapped the man, a flicker of a colorful shape appeared, and something clicked inside Thorne's mind.

Everything seemed to slow as he watched the man’s movements, the arc of his body mid-leap, the rage and bloodlust twisting his face. With a sudden clarity, Thorne felt the aether around him respond to his desperation, to his fierce determination. He could feel the motes shifting, eager to obey his will. He reached out with both hands, gathering handfuls of aether from the air, yanking it from every corner of the dim room, his fingers curling as if gripping something tangible.

For a moment, he hesitated, the raw energy crackling against his skin, but then he channeled every ounce of his strength, his iron will, into a command—a single, immovable command.

The motes surged together, solidifying into something beyond mere energy, something as unyielding as his own resolve.

Congratulations!

New Skill Unlocked: Aetheric Grip!

Thorne’s vision swam as the notification blinked before him, the new skill flooding him with a sense of power unlike anything he’d felt before. Behind the gravedigger, purplish, translucent hands materialized, reaching out from the shadows like spectral chains. They latched onto the man’s limbs and neck, their grip firm and unyielding. These ghostly hands pulsed with a faint glow, casting eerie light that flickered and danced against the walls of the dim room.

The gravedigger’s eyes went wide with panic as he felt himself held immobile by an aetheric force, the realization dawning on him that escape was impossible. Thorne could feel the man’s desperate attempts to struggle, to twist free from the grip that bound him. Each surge of resistance sent a jolt through Thorne, a strain that tugged at the edges of his mind. But the hands held firm, an extension of Thorne’s will—unyielding, unbreakable. His heart pounded with the thrill of control, yet something dark lingered beneath it.

He raised his hand, readying himself for one final, decisive Aether Burst. But before he could unleash the energy, the spectral hands tightened. Thorne could hear it—the creak of strained bones, the unbearable pressure building, and then a sickening crunch. The gravedigger’s scream shattered the silence, piercing and raw, a sound that clawed into Thorne’s chest. The spectral hands tightened further, unrelenting, as if they had a will of their own, grinding down with an intensity that left no room for mercy.

The room fell silent in an instant. The gravedigger slumped to the ground, a lifeless, broken heap. The spectral hands faded, their task complete, and darkness pooled in Thorne’s chest as he stared, stunned, at what remained. The dull thud of the man’s body against the stone floor echoed in the eerie quiet. Thorne’s eyes widened, a mixture of horror and awe swelling within him as he realized the power he’d wielded.

It had been overwhelming, unstoppable—and terrifying.

Skill Level Up: Acrobatics!

Skill Level Up: Combat Reflexes!

The notifications blurred before his eyes, and he stumbled as exhaustion washed over him, his legs buckling. He hit the ground on his knees, gasping, every breath ragged and shallow as if he’d run miles. The room spun, the edges of his vision clouding as his strength waned. The weight of what he’d just done pressed down on him, heavy and suffocating. He had only meant to save himself, to save Ben. But now...

Ben’s face flickered in his mind, the thought jolting him, reminding him of what he still had to do. He couldn’t let himself collapse here, not when Ben was depending on him. Thorne forced his eyes open, blinking away the darkness that threatened to claim him. He tried to push himself to his feet, but his limbs were numb, his energy utterly spent.

His unrestrained use of aether had taken its toll, and he could no longer stave off the void that surged up to claim him.