Alright, let's see how this goes.

Clutching the Reaper in my hands, now full of a sweat that came from not fear but the understanding that this was most likely to be my final stand, I charged forward.

It was as if the damn thing was weightless. What strained and sapped me of energy before now burned and ate at the power from beyond the realm. Brimming with happiness, The Reaper began to eat away at that primal strength, opening and unlocking abilities for me to use. If the damn thing could have smiled, it would be revealing a set of ruby teeth grinning from that skeletal face of his.

Reaper's Dash Unlocked.

Wall of Omens Unlocked.

Above, the creature's title and stats roared in a golden-splattered red.

LVL. 150. Primordial Emerald Beetle. (Golem Type)

Luckily, it wasn't named; it was some mini-boss, side encounter, or a unique spawn. Unluckily, it had a health bar that was not only meters long over its head but in shades of alternating color, meaning that it held multiple health bars that would trigger stages of the fight. Once the first bar of health color was depleted, another would reveal itself under it, with a new set of skills and move set with it. This would mean that the fight would be a long one. One in which troops would have to maneuver to counter certain stages, which would have usually been the case, but I wasn't here to defeat the foe, only to buy time for my squad to break out of their momentary fear.

Rushing into the middle of the arena, I put distance between myself and my frozen squad. The last thing I wanted was for them to be slain by the splash damage of an attack meant for me. Once in the middle and facing the mob eye to eye, that familiar feeling began to rush over me. I was both hot and cold. Sweat began to run down my face from both fear and excitement. Conflicting emotions danced within me like old friends.

I'm an utter fool, I whispered as I raised the Reaper. Its weight was no longer an issue, so I brought it down by activating Dostoyevsky's Guillotine, a new ability that had just unlocked itself moments before.

Dostoyevsky's Guillotine: Drop down the Reaper in a Horizontal Slash with less range but a higher damage concentration+chance at execution on enemies below half-health.

It would be a wrong choice of first attacks if not for my mythic passive. One that dinged with an activation of my ability.

Lucky Skill Passive: Small chance to activate possibilities without the conditions needed to be met.

This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.

It was a slight chance to trigger, only a one-in-twenty shot, but something told me it would regardless of the odds. Some gut feeling told me that anything that needed to go right would happen; after all, everything that could go wrong had already happened. The universe needed to balance itself out. Giving me a couple of good rolls is the start of it regaining harmony.

Everything slowed; the path of the Reaper did not fall with grace but with a fury that shook everything around me. It was as if time itself was distorted by the process. Anything smaller, any ordinary mob, maybe even Rudgar himself, would have been cleaved straight in two by this attack.

But not a dungeon mini-boss; that would be beyond power, at least beyond whatever power I could ever manage.

The downward slash traveled in a quick red arc. One second, it left the Reaper, and the next, it tackled the center shell of the Golem Beetle. A shockwave brought me to my knees as the space seemed to move. Crying in pain, the Beetle began to fling its limbs in a sporadic pattern, bringing them down onto me, the foe who dared attack it.

I tumbled to the side with the wind at my feet, barely avoiding his rage-filled strikes that seismically bore that ground into craters every place it struck.

As it pounded the ground, I saw what the Reaper had accomplished. A sliver of exposed green light shone from a small crack within the Beetle's chest. It bled a green glow from its granite body, leaking light onto the grim, dimmed arena. At any other time, I would have named it beautiful; now, I fought off those poetic thoughts and kept myself on the battle at hand, at the sway of life and death, of how easily one who lives can just as well die.

No wonder it screamed, I thought as I returned to my feet. It might be small, but I managed to pierce it, and if my past dungeon experiences told me anything, it looked as if I may have unveiled the beast's core.

Suddenly, my eyes began to water as that previous phenomenon appeared again. That golden trail ran from my hands, from the Reaper, and traveled onto the ground, to the Beetle, and into that glowing cut of his, highlighting it in a golden hue.

Damn, impossible, you want me to go further?

Looking at my squad's timers, I noted that I only needed 60 more seconds. I only needed one more minute of stalling, and then we could flee with everything that mattered- our lives.

Before the Golem could find me, I tried another new skill.

Grim Dash: With a swing, launch yourself forward at the enemy, applying a fear AOE to anything you cross. If nothing is inflicted along the path, apply a crippling fear to the target at the end of your Dash.

In a purple haze, my body shifted into shadow. I stood where I stood one second and was directly under the Golem the next. Shaking my head, I broke free from the vertigo and time distortion. That skill was like the crystal portals, something that would need getting used to but probably never fully feel normal. Man should not teleport, or so I've always thought.

Then came my biggest surprise yet.

The Dash would inflict a crippling fear at the end of its Dash. Still, mobs higher than unique or rare can rarely ever be afflicted by any form of C.C. Yet, here I stood under the Golem as his eyes filled with a purple dread that overtook that verdant green glow of before.

(Foe is Feared for 5…4…)

I had to act fast. Only seconds remained before the Golem could strike again. Two choices flooded my mind. Either I would use this as a time to back away and regain my ground, sticking to my original plan of just buying time, or taking the golden trail as a guide, I would plunge my efforts into that radiating wound.

With only seconds left to act, I gripped the Reaper with everything, pouring my entire Soul's warren, void as the whole, into the weapon. It hummed, and if I wasn't wholly focused on the action at hand, I could have sworn it smiled with its ruby-red eyes.

Lifting the Reaper high, I activated Dostoyevsk's Guillotine. Sometimes, you get lucky, and sometimes, the normal process of things can be circumvented. But usually, it can't. Usually, you must play by the rules and procedures the system holds us shackled to. But there were other times. Once again, the golden trial led me down a new path: power can break through barriers in which the system restrains us.

The Golem's eyes regained their verdant green hue just in time to register what had happened. In that split second, it was there, standing proud, angered but ready to continue our battle, and then it erupted into a sea of shrapnel shards.