My life did not flash before my eyes.

It was a shitty life anyway, spent as a bottom feeder.

I did think of Paz and Nicola . . . and Mavari and Nana, stuck in Harkonean.

A foul stench assaulted my nostrils, like that of a hundred bodies rotting beneath a bog. It clawed at my eyes and forced puke to crawl up my throat. Whatever waited at the bottom of this pit, I didn't want to see it.

But, it sure as hell seemed eager to meet me.

I summoned the combat chains. The Blackreach Dagger had gone missing in my fall, but I had a bevy of knives in my inventory to choose from. Good thing I had stored the chains before that last attack, or I would be singing a very different song.

This was my only shot at survival, and I intended to turn it into a freaking Gatling gun. I picked two knives at random, careful to keep a tight grip on the chains. My heart thudded like a bongo drum.

Hot winds buffeted me, coming from deep below. There had to be a lava pit at the bottom, judging from all the heat and sulfur . . . assuming the pit even had a bottom, in which case, I was truly fucked. Falling for eternity was not a great way to go for a fabled hero of Vizhima.

I attached the knives to the combat chains and used the winds to throw myself into a spin. After a few unsuccessful tries, I finally touched a wall of the pit.

The Chain Nails melded with the stone—god bless its ability. Gravity won out, however, and I slid off the hilts. I dropped by a few more meters, an exercise that did not help my heart. The chains I'd wrapped around my forearms arrested my fall, but I struck the wall with jaw-breaking force.

I hung there suspended by chains, disoriented but alive.

Very alive.

A slimy coating, fungi of some kind, covered the wall. It felt like crap against my armor. How could any living organism survive in this heat? Unless, of course, the fungi weren't normal organisms. Maybe, they were monsters, coughed up by whatever lay beneath.

Oh, for fuck's sake.

Blood trickled down my nostrils and a cut on my forehead, the latter of which blossomed into a throbbing headache.

I awkwardly retrieved a health potion from my inventory and guzzled its contents. The room-temperature potion soothed like ice on my chapped lips. After a short delay, my health meter wound back up.

“Oh, god,” I sighed as the pressure eased in my skull.

The Greater monster core had seemed like the best drop after our battle with the Primal Dread Monkey. But, I could now say that the combat chains were a steal. Thank you, Wood Elves!

Far below my feet, a distant light glowed. The sour winds effused from it, like vapor from an active volcano. What lay beneath couldn't simply be a lava pit. It could also be the entrance to hell.

The top of the pit glowed a golden hue meters above my head. Byron would be circling to his prize at this moment, after which he’d head outside to reinforce his teammates, assuming a victor hadn't already emerged.

I couldn’t let that happen.

There was also a small chance that he would first try to support his teammates, then return for the dungeon heart later. However, considering the way his eyes had glowed upon catching sight of the ultimate prize, I wouldn’t bet on it.

Byron valued the dungeon heart above all else. And, he wouldn’t leave until he had pried it free from its perch.

But, how could I stop him?

The last bout had cemented the gulf in quality that existed between me and Byron. I could fight on par with him, even hurt him, but he was just much better. Byron had expended his potion cooldowns, but he was still strong enough to remain a threat . . . as long as he had his techniques.

His MP had run out earlier, however. I, on the other hand, possessed the benefit of potions. I just needed a foolproof way to deal a lot of damage. If I had my Shadow Arm Laser . . .

Wait a minute. Didn't I unlock a new technique for reaching silver rank?

Status.

Damien Njoku

Race: Dark Elf

Level: 25

Class: Assassin

Affinity: Fear

VP: 36/63

MP: 52/65

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Attributes:

STR 10 (15), PER 17 (22), END 10 (15), DEX 30 (35)

INT 5 (10), WIL 10 (15), V.F 2 (7), MGK 3 (8)

Free Stat Points: 3

Traits:

[Born of Fear], [Against the Odds], [Migrant Soul]*

Skills:

[Map], [Identify], [Meditation], [Stealth], [Knife-fighting], [Decoy], [Sneak Attack]

Abilities:

[Scaredy-cat], [Fear Aura], [Dark Stalker], [Silhouette] (New)

My VP and MP values caught my eye, even though I'd only intended to skim past both. [Scaredy-cat] had granted 10 points to MP and VP each for the five stat points put into the Vital Force and Magicka attributes.

Those additional points were considered temporary and didn't change the value of the maximum number. However, as of my last check at level 24, the maximum figures of my VP and MP rested at 56 and 58 respectively.

. . . which implied an addition of 7 to the maximum count.

I also had three free stat points, even though I should have spent everything I'd saved on Dexterity.

The normal progression had been a two-point increase so far to MP, VP, and free stat points per level-up. Did Silver Rankers enjoy way more than that?

Rifling through the notification tab provided an answer:

Silver Rank rewards:

You have received a bonus of free stat points. Bonus: [3].

You have received a bonus of Vital Power and Mana Points. Bonus: [5].

You have gained the following perks:

[Insight], [Enhanced Body].

Climb more ranks to improve them!

So, bonuses had been added atop the usual increases. The perks [Insight] and [Enhanced Body] were interesting, but on closer investigation, they provided nothing spectacular, as was common with most perks.

[Insight] allowed one to distinguish rankers from specialists and regulars. [Enhanced Body] protected against natural diseases.

If both improved with rank, could this be how Heralds attained divinity? An interesting thought. But, one I couldn't afford to pursue now.

Since [DEX] had hit the stat cap, I threw all available points into Perception instead to ensure the benefits remained after the expiration of the Fear stacks. Satisfied, I moved on to the technique section wherein one ability was labeled new.

It wasn't a beam attack like I'd hoped. But, it was no less intriguing.

[Silhouette] [Greater]

You possess a living shadow. Your mastery over Fear has grown strong enough to force your shadow to obey your whims.

Cost: 20 MP to activate battle mode for a total of 10 minutes.

Note: At your current rank, [Silhouette] only possesses basic attack and defend functions. It, however, counts as a [DEX]-based weapon for you.

20 MP? That made it downright uneconomical for dungeon runs. Ten minutes, however, was good enough for single combat, as long as I micromanaged its use.

[Silhouette]'s greatest selling point was that it functioned as a [DEX]-based weapon, which rendered it unhampered by my low [INT] stat. I could deal 6x base damage with [DEX] weapons, not counting the bonuses to armor penetration.

It granted me the potential to strike from above or below, without losing DPS. But, what did the [System] mean by basic attack and defense? How far could [Silhouette] travel away from my side? Gosh, I wanted to run a series of rigorous experiments on the ability, but with a fight waiting for me above, it would need to undergo a trial by fire.

Limited functions aside, I could at least count on the technique to improve in the future. [Silhouette] had arrived at the Greater tier—the tier that corresponded with silver rank. And, just like the time I had gained my first rank, all my other techniques had also improved from Common to Greater.

The urge to peruse each of them in turn to learn what had changed overpowered me . . . but, this wasn't the time. Right now, all that mattered was climbing to the surface.

I heaved myself back onto the hilts of the Chain Nails and began the arduous journey up. The combat chains rattled as I ascended.

To rebirth.

And, revenge.

Byron, the greedy bastard that he was, had gone after the dungeon heart. No surprise there, I would have done the same. But, at least, act concerned about your teammates!

Metallic fragments peppered the ground around his feet, belonging to the scepter which he had destroyed to secure the prize.

Byron stood with one boot on the throne, appraising the dungeon heart with reverence in his eyes. The ever-changing orb danced atop his palm. Golden and silver and everything at once. Hallowed light splayed across the room, finding reflections in Byron's eyes.

Yeesh. Talk about an obsession. I could almost hear the words ‘my precious’ escape from his lips.

Most importantly, Byron had left his back wide open. And, I was a bloody Assassin—a fact the [System] constantly reminded me of with its choice of techniques. I switched out my weapons—regular daggers this time—and walked up to him with [Stealth]. My attack struck for double damage across his nape.

Byron howled. He sprang away with surprising agility—unwounded, but devoid of a fair bit of health. His gorget had thrown off my angle, and his Endurance compensated for the rest.

I ducked around the wild swing of his axe and backed away to gain some distance. Byron clutched the back of his neck, eyes roving in his sockets.

He glared at the space in front of him, as though trying to uncover [Dark Stalker] by sheer force of will.

He failed catastrophically.

Fear wasn’t as good at offense as Apathy or Rage. But, in its region of influence which was concealment, it thrived above all else.

“I should have known,” Byron hissed, “that you would somehow find your way back here.” He kept his axe hand on his nape and crouched behind his shield. “I didn’t get any notification of your death, but I assumed you had fallen too far to return.”

I didn’t reply.

“The fight is over, elf. Your friends are being butchered as we speak. I already have the dungeon heart. Is there any benefit in continuing this quarrel?”

Of course, there was. The first benefit came in the satisfaction of looting the dungeon heart from his corpse. The second? That was his corpse.

“Answer me, elf!”

I remained silent, allowing him to stew. It wasn’t prominent, but the beginnings of a new emotion registered on Byron's face.

The beginning of Fear.

For the first time since the dungeon run began, he finally realized his own mortality. He wasn’t broken, no. His pride protected him from such emotions like a carapace, even against a vicious enemy he couldn’t see.

But, he was scared, which meant I had a chance. Low health, no potions, no renewables; Byron was ripe for the slaughter. As long as I didn’t fall into the trappings of overconfidence, victory was mine to seize.

I took a deep breath and activated [Silhouette]. The shadows that concealed me fell. Dark tendrils bubbled beneath my feet.