A few hours – and an ungodly amount of Mana – later, they were ready.

Rowan used his typical strategy of just… walking into the camp.

The Orcs saw him approaching and shouted with all their might, but it ended up sounding more like a whimper. Their green and rough skin had become a sallow imitation of its natural color, and their eyes that used to shine with violence now shone with pain and fear.

Still, they were Orcs, and no matter how terrified or in pain they may be, they will never run away from a target. It’s simply not in their nature. If anything, pain and fear just encouraged them to attack with more fervor. The Fear effect from his Title was more of a buff to Orcs in that way.

And attack with fervor they did. Their speed surprised Rowan, not only were they fast, but they were faster than any other Orc they had fought so far. He focused on one while continuing to dodge.

Around level forty, is what his instincts shouted at him, but that didn’t fully explain what was happening. They should have been much slower than this, but instead, they seemed to be faster. Did the plague not affect them at all? That couldn’t be the case, their skin was evidence of that.

He was faster than them still, of course, but not by a large margin.

A large cleaver careened towards his neck, but he was already dodging while simultaneously cutting at a different Orc’s Achilles tendon. This was much more dangerous than he expected.

A smile grew on his face.

A club was moving in his blind spot towards his spine, but the movement of the air had already given away the attack. He jumped backward and caught the strike with his daggers.

What he expected to be a heavy strike was, however, much stronger than he was prepared for. It sent him over thirty feet away from his previous position.

What the hell!

That was like getting hit by a freight train! These Orcs had to be twice, maybe three times stronger as he was!

His grin grew a little larger.

Suddenly, his pinky lifted from his dagger and sent a gout of bright white flames outwards in a wave.

An idea struck him at that moment.

“You know how you were complaining about wasting energy! How about you coat my weapons in those flames!”

“That’s… I could do that.”

His grin grew feral.

A cool breeze encompassed his hands for a moment before his daggers erupted into white concentrated fire.

“How much mana is this burning!” He asked while rushing the enemy.

“Honestly, not much. I could keep this up all day. My regen is only slightly slower than the cost of maintaining it.”

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What the Orcs saw is the stuff of nightmares.

Rowan’s orange iris surrounded his pupil like the event horizon of a black hole, and a rainbow Aurora surrounded even that. His feral smile was what really sold the image as horrific for the Orcs, it screamed that not only would they die in pain, but their tormentor would enjoy it.

The Fear debuff from his Last Stand title was hardly needed at this point.

But these were Orcs he was against. Where every other enemy would be routed by paralyzing fear, they channeled their fear into another charge. It was almost admirable.

He reached the Orc front, a tidal wave of flame and violence, and began his dance.

A five-degree turn of his neck narrowly avoided a thrust from a spear, and a quick hop avoided a sweeping strike at his knees; that same strike tagged several of the Orc’s allies, buying him several moments.

In that time, he rushed the recovering Orcs and managed his first strike.

He could see it in slow motion. A white arc went towards its neck, almost as if the moon itself had come to cleave the head of this monster.

The blade touched its neck, and time paused for a moment. The very next, the blade almost seemed to teleport through the rest of the distance, decapitating the Orc in one smooth motion.

A trail of fire and gore reflected in his eyes, and for the first time since the behemoth, he felt alive.

The next moment, he was rushing through the stunned ranks of the Orcs, stabbing, slashing, and removing body parts wherever he could. His daggers moved so quickly and fluidly that they resembled glowing ribbons that followed his every movement. They glowed so brightly that his figure became obscured in the night.

He flowed from neck to neck, bleeding or decapitating every monster he came across.

A surprisingly agile Orc managed to barely avoid his dagger by staggering backward, but before Rowan could chase it, an arrow pierced its throat.

Ark was sniping them, huh? He was glad that she got to see more of the action this time.

Finally, after slaughtering upwards of twenty Orcs at the edge of the camp, a truly titanic roar tore through the cavern. Then one more. Then a third.

Oh shit.

Looks like this just got significantly more interesting.

[Synchronized Mind] was activated the moment he heard the roar. They had made the mistake of forgetting it one too many times.

It was… different this time, however. Whereas before it felt like becoming a native to this world, and perhaps gaining a smidge of common sense, now they felt as if their mind had become a furnace for new ideas. They just couldn’t stop thinking.

It would appear that their stats affected them disproportionately. That probably meant that Vorn didn’t benefit from his Path’s Strength as much as they thought, and Rowan wasn’t getting a huge boost from their overall Intelligence or Wisdom. That explained how Vorn got control of his Physical Stat boost so quickly, and why Rowan didn’t feel all that different despite gaining over five hundred points in Mental Stats.

It would seem that was only the case when they weren’t [Synced], however.

They just became significantly more dangerous. They merged.

The first boss emerged from the crowd of Orcs with a roar, but this one was not titanic like the previous behemoth. It was small, lithe, and felt significantly more dangerous than them.

Around level sixty, is what his instincts screamed at him. It also screamed danger.

It rushed him, and he understood why.

It was faster than them.

Much, much faster than them.

Almost before he could blink, it was upon them.

It swung its dagger at his throat, but they dodged backward well out of the way of the strike.

Or so they thought.

Right before its dagger would have harmlessly passed them, it extended. Shadows solidified on the blade, giving it four extra inches of length.

It passed right through their throat, spilling their lifeblood on the stone floor.

The Orc then merged into the shadows and retreated tens of feet away. It looked… it looked like it was gloating. It was leaving them to bleed out.

“Nice try, bitch, I have fucking magic.”

Their hand ignited and Voran grasped their own throat. Spots dotted their vision, and they nearly passed out, but they would survive.

Don’t let it get that close on its own terms, noted.

Already, they could feel regeneration healing the cauterized wound, but that wouldn’t matter if they could kill this Shadowdancer. They had read about this epic Path once before, but they didn’t think they would ever see one.

Ideas spun in their mind, and they realized what they needed to do.

First, bright lights emerged from their body and floated upwards. Honestly, if they weren’t merged they didn’t think they would be able to make pure light. It was much more complex than Vorn would have thought. Good thing they weren’t Vorn right now.

They illuminated the whole camp and banished nearly all the shadows. It was honestly a bit uncanny. The lack of shadows made the world look like it was painted in 2D.

A look of annoyance appeared on the Dancer’s face, but Voran didn’t care. They were already rushing it.

The look on the Dancer’s face shifted from anger to incredulity. Voran could almost read its thoughts, ‘Instead of running away, it's rushing to its death? Why?’

It would seem the dancer wasn’t one to look a gift horse in the mouth, as it rushed him in turn. Right before they could clash, a jet of air came from Voran’s feet and launched him above the assassin.

The moment they reached the apex of their enhanced jump, they forced themselves down with an even greater gust of air. Their dagger actually managed to pierce its brain… or it would have, save the shadow appearing out of nowhere and absorbing the strike.

There was the eponymous perk that the Path was named after. [Shadow Dance]. It would save the monster, but only once. It had a cooldown of a week. Damn, reading that bestiary was really coming in handy.

The creature scowled at them and then moved to rush them once more. They could tell from its flickering form that it was trying to use [Shadow Vault] or [Shadow Jump], but it simply couldn’t with the lights.

Finally, when it reached them, it attacked them with a flurry of attacks. They were only just barely able to avoid the onslaught, and even still, they took multiple cuts to their extremities. Even still, they were already closing as they formed. Not fast, mind you, but fast enough to be seen. A deep cut would still take a few minutes to close.

They were trying to be stringent with their Mana, there were two more roars that they heard after all, but it was becoming difficult to keep their good judgment with all the blood loss.

Finally, after it attacked once more without them being able to do anything, they erupted into an inferno, instantly incinerating the Shadowdancer… along with half of their Mana.

One down.

Another roar erupted from behind them.

Two more to go.