Nyx descended the staircase, his footsteps echoing in the damp, musty air of the dungeon's fourth level. The flickering torchlight cast eerie shadows on the rough-hewn walls, revealing patches of slimy moss and glistening moisture. As he reached the bottom, he paused, sensing the presence of enemies ahead.

Sure enough, a group of troll imps stood guard at the entrance to the next chamber. Their grotesque forms, standing about 1.5 meters tall, were a stark contrast to Nyx's tall figure. The imps' long, matted black hair hung in greasy strands over their pale, stone-colored skin. Their black eyes, like pools of tar, reflected the dim light as they gripped crude stone clubs in their gnarled hands.

Without hesitation, Nyx raised his wand, feeling the familiar rush of arcane energy coursing through his body. He drew upon his magical core, the mana circulating with practiced ease before flowing out to his hand. With a series of precise gestures and words of power, Nyx unleashed his attack.

A hiss and a pop echoed through the chamber as the first magic missile struck the nearest imp. The creature barely had time to register the attack before three more missiles followed in rapid succession, each impact resonating with a sharp, crackling sound.

The second imp, its hideous features contorting in shock, stumbled backward as a volley of piercing arcane energy slammed into its body. Before it could even hit the wall behind it, two more magic missiles found their mark. In a matter of seconds, both troll imps crumpled to the ground, their black eyes closing for the final time.

Gideon, who had been watching from a few steps behind, let out a low whistle. "By the gods, lad," he murmured, his gruff voice tinged with awe. "I've never seen magic missiles cast with such speed and precision."

Nyx allowed himself a small smile, the rush of victory tempered by the knowledge that greater challenges lay ahead. He turned to his companion, noting the backpack and satchels already bulging with gathered materials.

"We're making good progress," Nyx said, his voice steady despite the exertion. "But we can't let our guard down. The mithril trolls on the fifth floor have the materials we need."

Gideon nodded solemnly, adjusting the straps of his pack. "Aye, that they will. But if you keep casting like that, we might just make it out of here with more than we bargained for."

With a determined nod, Nyx stepped over the fallen imps as Gideon collected any useful materials off them. The true measure of his training was yet to come, and he was eager to prove himself against the stronger foes that awaited them in the depths below.

Nyx's footsteps echoed through the dimly lit corridors of the C-rank dungeon, his violet eyes scanning the surroundings for any sign of movement. The air was thick with the scent of damp stone and ancient magic, a testament to the centuries-old enchantments that permeated these halls.

As he ventured deeper, Nyx couldn't help but marvel at his own progress. Every monster he had encountered so far had fallen with surprising ease to his magical onslaught. While he had deliberately chosen this dungeon for its inhabitants' weakness to magic, the speed and efficiency with which he dispatched them still caught him off guard.

Just a week ago, Nyx had made the decision to craft armor for his retainers. The materials he sought in this treacherous place would be crucial for that endeavor. He had already set the wheels in motion for his school, placing orders for student uniforms and books that were currently in production. Now, it was time to ensure his retainers were equally well-equipped.

This expedition served a dual purpose: gathering rare materials and putting his rigorous training to the test. The results were nothing short of astonishing. Nyx had known, intellectually, that his skills had improved, but seeing them in action against C-rank monsters was an entirely different matter.

A C-rank dungeon was no trivial challenge. Many seasoned adventurers approached such places in groups with caution and respect. Yet here Nyx was, a former struggling mage, cutting through its denizens like a hot knife through butter.

As they went down the passageway a room lay ahead. The moment his foot crossed the threshold, the imps' heads snapped up in unison. Their beady black eyes locked onto Nyx, and with guttural cries, they charged towards him. But Nyx was ready.

In a fluid motion, he raised his wand and began to weave a complex pattern in the air. The familiar tingle of arcane energy coursed through his body as he tapped into his vast mana reserves. With a series of quick gestures and muttered incantations, Nyx unleashed his first volley of Magic Missiles.

Brilliant streaks of blue-white energy erupted from his wand, each missile finding its mark with unerring accuracy. Two imps at the forefront of the charge crumpled to the ground, their bodies smoking from the magical impact.

But Nyx didn't stop there. As the remaining imps closed in, he began to move. His feet danced across the uneven stone floor with a grace that belied his scholarly appearance. Each step was calculated, positioning him for the next spell while keeping him just out of reach of the imps' wild swings.

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Spinning on his heel, Nyx dodged a club aimed at his head. In the same motion, he flicked his wand towards the attacker, sending another Magic Missile into its chest. The imp flew backward, colliding with one of its companions and sending both tumbling to the ground.

Nyx's movements were a perfect blend of defensive maneuvers and offensive strikes. He sidestepped a lunging imp, using its momentum to guide it past him and into the path of his next spell. Two more Magic Missiles burst forth, striking the unfortunate creature in rapid succession.

As he continued to weave through the diminishing group of enemies, Nyx's mind raced with tactical calculations. He was acutely aware of each imp's position, anticipating their movements and adjusting his own accordingly. His training in the Illusion Halls had honed his spatial awareness to a razor's edge, allowing him to navigate the chaotic battlefield with seemingly effortless precision.

One particularly agile imp managed to flank Nyx, its jagged blade slicing through the air towards his back. But Nyx, sensing the danger, dropped into a low crouch. The blade whistled harmlessly over his head as he pivoted, bringing his wand to bear on the surprised imp. A point-blank Magic Missile sent it flying across the room, where it lay still.

With only two imps remaining, Nyx allowed himself a moment to catch his breath. Sweat beaded on his brow, a testament to the physical exertion of his magical dance. But his eyes remained sharp, his wand steady as he faced the final opponents.

The imps, now wary of the devastating power this lone mage wielded, approached more cautiously. They split up, attempting to catch Nyx in a pincer movement. But Nyx had anticipated this tactic.

He waited until the last possible moment, letting the imps think they had him cornered. Then, with a burst of speed, he leapt forward, passing between them. As he sailed through the air, Nyx twisted his body, his wand tracing twin arcs of magical energy.

Two final Magic Missiles manifested, each finding its mark with deadly precision. The imps fell simultaneously, their final cries cut short by the impact of Nyx's spells.

Landing gracefully, Nyx surveyed the room. Eight imp bodies lay scattered around him, testament to the effectiveness of his magical assault and nimble footwork. He allowed himself a small smile of satisfaction, marveling at how far he had come in his magical abilities.

As the adrenaline of battle began to fade, Nyx felt a deep sense of gratitude for his rigorous training. The countless hours spent honing his skills in both magic and movement had paid off in spectacular fashion. With renewed confidence, he turned his attention to gathering the valuable materials from the fallen imps.

The descent to the fifth floor of the dungeon was marked by a noticeable shift in the atmosphere. The air grew thicker, charged with an intense magical energy that made Nyx's skin tingle. As he stepped off the final stair, the young mage paused, his violet eyes scanning the cavernous chamber before him.

Crystalline formations jutted from the walls, their surfaces reflecting an eerie, silvery light. In the center of the room, Nyx could make out the hulking forms of three mithril trolls. Their metallic skin gleamed in the dim light, muscles rippling beneath the surface as they paced restlessly.

Nyx knew that these creatures were far more formidable than the imps he had faced earlier. The mithril trolls were not just physically imposing; they also possessed a degree of magical ability that made them truly dangerous. But it was precisely this danger that made them valuable their bodies contained the rare metal essences Nyx sought, to create white metal ingots crucial for his crafting plans.

Taking a deep breath, Nyx began his preparations. He raised his wand, focusing his mind on the spell he had studied so diligently. "Enhance Ability," he whispered, feeling the magic flow through him. Instantly, he felt his senses sharpen, his muscles tighten with newfound strength and agility. The spell would give him an edge in the coming battle, enhancing his physical and mental capabilities.

Next, Nyx turned his attention to defensive magic. With a series of intricate gestures, he incanted, "Mage Armor." A shimmering field of force materialized around him, invisible to the naked eye but palpable to his magical senses. This arcane protection would help deflect the trolls' powerful blows, buying him precious time in the heat of battle.

With his preparations complete, Nyx stepped forward, alerting the mithril trolls to his presence. The creatures turned as one, their silver eyes locking onto the lone mage. For a moment, the chamber was silent, the air thick with tension.

Then, with a collective roar that shook the very foundations of the dungeon, the trolls charged. Their massive fists, hard as the metal they were named for, swung through the air with frightening speed. But Nyx was ready.

Empowered by his Enhance Ability spell, Nyx's movements were fluid and precise. He ducked under the first troll's swing, simultaneously casting a volley of Magic Missiles at its exposed flank. The magical projectiles struck home, leaving scorch marks on the troll's metallic hide.

The second troll closed in, its fist descending in an overhead smash that would have pulverized Nyx had it connected. Instead, the young mage sidestepped, feeling the rush of air as the massive fist crashed into the ground beside him. His Mage Armor flared briefly, deflecting debris kicked up by the impact.

As Nyx continued to weave between the trolls, peppering them with spells, he noticed something alarming. The third troll, which had held back from the initial charge, was beginning to glow with an ominous light. Its hands were raised, fingers weaving complex patterns in the air as it chanted in a guttural language.

Recognizing the signs of a powerful spell being prepared, Nyx knew he had to act fast. He had one chance to disrupt the troll's magic before it could be unleashed. Calling upon his training, Nyx focused his will and shouted, "Counterspell!"

A wave of disruptive energy burst forth from Nyx's wand, colliding with the mithril troll's half-formed spell. For a moment, the two magics warred with each other, filling the air with crackling energy. Then, with a sound like shattering glass, the troll's spell collapsed.

The creature stumbled backward, momentarily stunned by the backlash of its failed magic. Nyx seized the opportunity, unleashing a barrage of missiles that sent the troll crashing to the ground.

With one troll down and the other two wounded, the tide of battle had turned in Nyx's favor. His enhanced abilities allowed him to maintain the upper hand, dodging attacks with supernatural grace while retaliating with pinpoint accuracy.

As the fight wore on, Nyx could feel the strain of maintaining his spells and the toll of constant movement. But he pressed on, driven by determination and the knowledge that victory was within reach. One by one, the mithril trolls fell before his magical onslaught.

Throughout the intense battle, Gideon stood at the ready near the chamber's entrance, his weathered hands gripping his sword tightly. The veteran warrior's eyes never left the fray, ready to jump in at a moment's notice should Nyx require assistance. However, as he watched the young mage dance between the trolls, unleashing spell after devastating spell, Gideon realized his intervention wouldn't be necessary.

Finally, as the last troll collapsed with a resounding thud, silence fell over the chamber. Nyx stood amidst the fallen creatures, his chest heaving with exertion but his eyes bright with triumph. He had faced one of the dungeon's greatest challenges and emerged victorious.

Gideon lowered his sword, a mix of awe and pride evident on his face. "By the gods, lad," he called out, his gruff voice echoing in the now-quiet chamber. "That was something to behold."

As the adrenaline of battle began to fade, Nyx turned his attention to the fallen trolls, acknowledging Gideon with a tired but grateful nod. Their bodies were already beginning to dissolve, leaving behind the precious white metal ingots and metal essences he had come for.

With a satisfied smile, Nyx began to gather his hard-earned spoils. Gideon moved to help, carefully collecting the glowing ingots. "These'll make fine armor indeed," the older man mused, turning one of the ingots over in his hand.

Nyx nodded in agreement. "That they will," he replied, his voice filled with anticipation.

Together, Nyx and Gideon finished collecting the rare materials, both knowing that these white metal ingots and metal essences would soon be transformed into powerful armor. As they prepared to leave, Nyx cast one last look at the battlefield, silently acknowledging how far he had come.