The Mines were big. Rob had figured they would be, considering the Dwarves' affinity for stone, but he'd still underestimated how deep they ran. A person could explore for weeks and not traverse the Mines' full breadth. To make matters more confusing, the end of each passageway branched off into several additional passageways, and only some of them were marked with signs indicating that there was a dead end ahead. Without those signs – and the Dwarves leading the way – Rob would have been hopelessly lost.

Yet despite how large the Mines were, they felt suffocating, all the same. As the allied coalition traveled deeper, it became immediately apparent why the Stonewarden had elected to take a relatively small contingent of Dwarves with him. The majority of the passageways they traversed were clearly designed for five or six people at maximum. Progress was slow as they trudged along, sequestered into multiple single-file lines, doing their best not to bump into each other and cause everyone behind them to topple like a row of dominoes.

And if Rob's nascent claustrophobia wasn't bad enough, the Mines didn't seem particularly stable, either. Some of its structural supports looked like they hadn't been touched in centuries. Thankfully, Waymark and his inherent durability kept his fear of potential cave-ins at bay. Even if a collapse happened, he could escape easily enough. Who needed OHSA safety protocols when Elatran magic bullshit would do just fine?

An hour passed as the coalition navigated the Mines' passageways. Any semblance of idle chitchat had petered out after the first fifteen minutes, leaving the rhythmic sounds of footsteps echoing across stone as their only company. Just as Rob was wondering if they'd taken a wrong turn somewhere, he froze, a disgustingly familiar sensation prodding at his mind.

"Check your Amulets," he announced. "Corruption's here. Faint, but it's here."

A wave of unease swept through the Dwarven ranks. They hefted their axes and hammers, eyes swiveling around the mine shaft, as if they expected the Blight itself to spring from the walls at any moment. "I don't see anything," Vevrandi muttered.

"You won't. Corruption is invisible and intangible. The most you'll be aware of is a vague sense of wrong in the air." He grinned. "Well, that and the system notifications letting you know you've been infected. A pestilence invading your body, bit by bit, nestling its way into your core and making itself home. You might not feel anything at, say, 10 Corruption, but what about 20? 50? 100? At that point it isn't a vague sensation – it's lava coursing through your veins."

The Dwarves were silent as the grave. A few that had been fiddling with their Amulets quickly re-fastened them to their attire.

"You have something of a flair for the dramatic, don't you, Human?" The Stonewarden said, in a slightly strained tone.

Rob shrugged. "It gets people to listen." He glanced down the passageway, concentrating on what lay within. "We're probably a few hours away from the Locus of Power. It's definitely been infected, but the fact that it took this long for me to sense ambient Corruption means that the Locus wasn't infected more than a week ago, give or take a couple days."

"Good tidings, then. The beast is still young." Stonewarden Grant turned to face his soldiers. "Stay on your guard, but make no mistake: the Blight dies today. With the Human's unique Skills at our disposal, it stands little chance against the allied coalition's combined might. We will make it come to regret threatening Dwarven territory."

His words injected a bit of enthusiasm into the Dwarves, who'd started turning pale when Rob confirmed that the Locus was Corrupted. It was good that the Stonewarden knew the right thing to say in order to rally his soldiers, because Rob sure as hell wouldn't have. He wasn't the type of figurehead who wrote his own speeches; that esteemed honor usually went to Diplomacy.

Group Message Started By Party Member: Orn'tol

Orn'tol: How many Dwarves is it possible for us to defeat?

Rob sputtered briefly as he glanced at the Message, then at Orn'tol, whose expression was completely unchanged. Why do I somehow have the worst poker face in the Party? he bemoaned, before replying.

Message Continued

Rob: ummmmm

Rob: not gonna lie that came out of nowher

Orn'tol: Honestly, the thought occurred to me after witnessing their lack of composure.

He had a point. Considering how long Elatrans could live, it was likely that the least-experienced member of the Dwarven contingent had seen more years of combat than anyone in Riardin's Rangers, with the exception of maybe Keira. Yet the Dwarves were acting as if they were heading to the executioner's block, while Riardin's Rangers were...not quite easygoing, but confident in their determination, refusing to let their fear get the better of them.

Rob supposed it came down to a matter of personal experience. While the Dwarves would bitch and moan if he said it out loud, it was a fact that they hadn't fought anything as uniquely terrifying as Riardin's Rangers top five worst encounters. The Dwarves' nerves weren't tempered by the fiery crucible of abominations and Leviathans. They might be comfortable on the front lines of a traditional war, but exploring haunted mines to confront an ancient evil was more like something out of a horror movie. Staying composed in that scenario took a sort of acquired madness that, for Riardin's Rangers, was becoming second nature.

Message Continued

Rob: didnt we already discuss how to beat rifles?

Rob: plus I dont think they brought any

Orn'tol: I'm not referring to the Rifle users. How many of the Dwarves, right here and now, could we defeat?

Zamira: Orn'tol, the Dwarves are our allies.

Orn'tol: Today, they are.

Orn'tol: Tomorrow isn't guaranteed.

Zamira: If we assume the worst of them, then-

Keira: Sorry, Zamira, but I'm in agreement with Orn'tol.

Keira: We shouldn't trust anyone outside of the Deserters.

Zamira: And Faelynn, of course.

Faelynn: Aw. Thank you, Zamira.

Zamira: You're very welcome.

Zamira: With that said, would it not be wiser to prepare for our upcoming battle against the Blight?

Keira: Why bother? It can be anything.

She also had a point. The Blight was, if nothing else, consistently inconsistent. Each variant they'd encountered had adopted a different form.

Message Continued

Rob: i hope that this time its a giant spider thingy

Rob: that way Arachnophobia activates and i get extra damage >

Keira: You wouldn't need the extra damage if you just put your unused stat points into Strength.

Keira: Come on. You know you want to.

Keira: I can guarantee you'll be satisfied with your choice.

Malika: Is this flirting?? I can't tell.

Rob barked out a laugh. The Dwarves glanced at him in confusion, and he closed the Message window a second later. He'd open it again when he was confident that he wouldn't have another outburst and make people think that the Human had a few screws loose. Instead, he partially followed Keira's advice, opening up his Character Sheet to peruse his leftover stat points.

Name: Rob

Level: 52

Class: BERSERKER (LV 49)

Sub-Class: Crystal Bearer (LV 5)

HP: 1250/ 1250

Stamina: 343 / 350

MP: 350 / 350

Status Effects: Leveling High (Mild), Melancholia, Determined

Strength: 53

Vitality: 125

Endurance: 35

Dexterity: 60

Perception: 33

Mind: 28

Magic: 35

Unspent Points: 15

He looked over his list of Skills next. In spite of Keira's totally unbiased opinion, Rob came to the conclusion that Strength wasn't the end-all if he wanted to boost his offensive capabilities. Several of Rob's strongest Skills consumed Vitality to activate, with Strength as a secondary – but still important – concern. Magic was also useful, as it raised his maximum MP, letting him use more Skills overall. Then there was Dexterity, which every Combat Class user needed a healthy portion of if they wanted to survive, serving as an offensive and defensive stat.

As usual, Perception, Endurance, and Mind were tossed out of consideration. They had their uses, but helping him kill a Blight wasn't one of them. Maybe next Level up, he thought, with complete insincerity.

After giving it some thought, Rob decided on a plan of action. Dexterity was risky to boost in the middle of a combat scenario, as it took time for a person to adjust to their increase in speed. Rob put 1 point into Dexterity, opting to put another point into Dexterity every ten minutes until he'd spent 5 total. That way he could reap the benefits without tripping over his own feet.

The remaining points would be saved until he learned what form the Blight had taken. Just like Keira said, it could be anything. Keeping points in reserve would allow him to alter his battle strategy on the fly and exploit the Blight's weaknesses more easily.

Message Continued

Rob: sry, Keira......

Rob: i have betrayed u

Rob: no strength just yet

Keira: God damnit.

Rob: can you ever forgive me?

Keira: I don't know. It'll be difficult.

Keira: Might need some...persuasion.

Malika: That's definitely flirting!!

Meyneth: As a reminder, this is a group Message.

Meyneth: For our sakes, please wait until you can find an appropriate broom closet in Dhalerune City to continue.

Meyneth: And yes, we know about that. You're hardly subtle.

Rob's mortification was dulled by Keira cursing loudly, shattering the Mines' quiet ambiance. The Dwarves practically jumped out of their skins, grabbing their weapons and searching around for whatever enemy had apparently startled the Elf with Danger Sense.

Finally, Rob thought, as Keira attempted to explain herself. Someone with a worse poker face than me.

--

"Well that's ominous."

Half an hour later, Rob found himself at another crossroad of passageways, this one being a wide cavern that was more spacious than its predecessors. The allied coalition had continued progressing deeper into Dhalerune Mines, and so far there'd been no sign of any Blightspawn. The Corruption suffusing the air was thicker, now, so dense that the allied coalition would've needed to retreat if it wasn't for their Amulets.

To the Dwarves, that was cause for concern. To Riardin's Rangers, who'd gone into Blighted Lands twice before and knew what to expect, they were much more worried about the creepy signpost staring them in the face. Instead of the usual 'Dead End' warning, this sign was emblazoned with a hastily-scribbled drawing of a skull. There was even a giant 'X' crossing it out for good measure.

"Words would have sufficed," the Elven Seneschal muttered, eyes narrowed. "While the intent has been made clear, it leaves us ignorant of exactly what should warrant such caution."

"Our miners unearthed a vein of poison gas within that passageway," the Dwarven Stonewarden immediately clarified. "It is exceedingly toxic, even to those with high Vitality. We must choose a different path."

Rob glanced at the other passageways in the crossroads, then back at the passage that screamed Go This Way And You Will Die, Seriously. "Alright," he said, stepping forward. "You guys stay here. I'll go investigate."

The Stonewarden flinched as if he'd been slapped. "You'll..what?"

"Investigate," Rob repeated. "I can Sense the Locus of Power over in that general direction. If we were in a city, or the outdoors, it'd be fine to just keep going straight. But these Mines have a lot of twisting paths, so for all we know, the fastest way to the Locus is through that lovely deathtrap right there."

"You can't," the Stonewarden insisted. "The poison-"

"Poison, shmoison." Rob put on a smug grin. "I've got Vitality out the wazoo and Poison Resistance Level 8. That's why you guys are going to stay here while I go act as your canary in the mines. Only, without the dying part. I'll check if the Locus is down there and return if I find it – or if the Blight finds me."

The Stonewarden glanced at Riardin's Rangers, beseeching assistance. "Talk some sense into him. As his fellow Party members, shouldn't you more be concerned for his safety?"

Malika raised her hand, beaming with excitement. "One time I saw Rob get bit in half by a tree monster. Then he exploded. Then he was fine, laughed, and took a nap. So I think some poison should be okay." She smiled. "Does that make you feel better?"

Rob whistled nonchalantly as the Dwarves and the Seneschal gaped at him like he was a lunatic. Which was...well, fair.

Elder Alessia let out an aggrieved sigh. "While Malika speaks the truth, she left out some vital details in her telling." The Elder hesitated, a glint of mischief flashing in her eyes. "She neglected to mention that it was only the first instance where Rob was bitten in half. The second occurred when he single-handedly faced down the Blight of Broadwater City."

"...How much Vitality do you have, precisely?" Vevrandi asked, in a lightheaded tone.

"It's in the triple digits." Rob approached the death tunnel. "Don't worry, I'll hurry back at the first sign of trou-"

"You can't."

The Stonewarden's plea froze Rob in place. Everyone turned to look at the Dwarven Leader, who was standing rigid, his muscles tensed like a coiled spring. Rob got the impression that if he took another step towards the passageway, the Stonewarden would leap forward to bar his path.

"What's down there, Grant?" Rob asked, chucking subtlety into a blender.

"As I have said, toxic gas. Even with Poison Resistance Level 8, it will kill you in mere minutes." The Stonewarden paused, just for a moment, so brief that Rob wouldn't have noticed the delay if he wasn't watching for it. "Additionally, that passage is a dead end. It leads to no other sections of Dhalerune Mines. You would be putting yourself at risk for no discernible benefit."

Huh. Apparently, I'm not the only one with a shitty poker face, Rob thought. Diplomacy, what do you...

...Oh. Right.

"Fine," Rob said, a little more testily than intended. "Keep your secrets. But if we have to double back because the Locus was behind this passage, that wasted time is on your head."

The Dwarven contingent squared up, as if they were preparing for a fight, although they knew full well that nothing would actually happen. The Stonewarden just stared, his face a mask of neutrality. Rob locked eyes with him and looked closely, hoping to find some hint of emotion that could provide a clue about what the Stonewarden was hiding.

Unfortunately, he succeeded. Lurking beneath the Stonewarden's regal demeanor was something...hollow.

Everything happened at once. Keira and the Elven Seneschal suddenly jumped across the cavern, one leftward and one rightward, both drawing their weapons in tandem. The two Elves shouted vicious battle cries as they attacked, Keira slamming her greatsword like a hammer of divine judgement, and the Seneschal stabbing his spear with the force of a thunderbolt.

Partial EXP Gained From Sharing Hand!

Two wormlike monsters fell, twitching, as they were crushed and pierced in short order. Each creature had been inches away from biting a Dwarf's head off.

After a moment of stunned silence, the allied coalition scrambled into action, realizing almost too late that they were being ambushed. Dozens and dozens of monsters started bursting from the walls and ceiling, launching themselves at the nearest living thing. There was barely enough room in the cavern for anyone to move properly, and the fight rapidly descended into a chaotic melee, friend and foe vying for precious inches.

Rob felt the ground below him tremble, and he snapped backwards, narrowly avoiding the stone hand grasping for his ankles. A hulking figure erupted from underneath, fifteen feet tall and covered in rocky growths that pulsed like heartbeats.

Name: Blighted Golem

Level: 32

Status Effects: Infected

Description: In the infinite cosmos, a miracle occurs: a mindless being has learned to pray for death.

The Golem leaned down, raised its arms, and charged forward in a direct football tackle. Rob was about to dodge to the side when he remembered that one of the cavern walls was right behind him. He didn't trust the Mines' structural integrity in the event of a big-ass golem crashing into it. Sighing internally, he stood his ground, activated Quick Thinking, and contemplated his options in the scant few seconds it took for the Golem to reach him.

While most of Rob's Skills were effective against monsters, enemies with high base durability were still a bit of a weak point for him. His strongest offensive Skill, Imbue Vitality, tripled the damage of his next attack. If his attack wasn't doing much damage to begin with, the Skill's bonus wouldn't matter. Flames of Vengeance dealt horrific injuries to exposed flesh, but he wasn't sure how effective it would be when used on a monster made of stone. Enmity caused psychic damage over time, and while that would normally be perfect versus a monster with low Mind, he needed to stop the Golem in its tracks now.

Rob gave consideration to each and every one of his Skills. The process took a quarter of a second, after which he came to a satisfying conclusion. There was one simple, surefire way that Rob could kill the Golem in one fell swoop:

By being 20 Levels higher.

Rob activated Imbue Vitality, combined it with Power Slash, tacked on the Anklet of Moderate Brawn for good measure, and swung his sword in a frontal two-handed arc. The Golem shattered upon impact, practically exploding as pieces of its body flew across the cavern. Rob's longsword snapped like a twig, and without missing a beat, he summoned a spare from his Spatial Storage and rushed the next-closest monster, a Level 29 centipede with mandibles as sharp as razors. It didn't last any longer than the Golem.

In the end, he'd been overthinking the situation. None of the monsters ambushing the allied coalition were stronger than Level 34 or so. Maybe the Rob of a few months ago would've been intimidated, but for the Rob of today, this was amateur hour. Another worm dropped from above, and he Rampaged up to meet it, stabbing its brain and pinning it to the ceiling in one motion.

EXP Gained!

Partial EXP Gained From Sharing Hand!

Partial EXP Gained From Sharing Hand!

Partial EXP Gained From Sharing Hand!

Reached Level 53!

5 Stat Points Gained!

BERSERKER Level Increased! 49 -> 50

Rob shuddered as unfiltered dopamine flowed through him. While the monsters were weak by Riardin's Rangers standards, and didn't grant much EXP, thanks to Sharing Hand, every monster that they slew was counted as a partial victory for the entire Party. When combined with the kills he was scoring personally, the EXP was starting to pile up for Rob fast, Riardin's Rangers tearing into the monster horde like a knife through hot butter.

Zamira zipped from creature to creature, a silver blur, each swing of her sword signaling another death. Orn'tol had snared a group in his Temporal Trap and was shooting them like fish in a barrel. Vul'to Taunted a pack of monsters away from the Dwarves, using the creatures' incensed states to score easy hits. Meyneth and Faelynn acted like sharp-edged battering rams, bulldozing anything in their path. Malika giggled as she unloaded bolts of lightning that jumped from target to target. And Keira just plain beat the shit out of everything.

Pride swelled in Rob's chest as he crushed a mole-thing's skull with his bare hands. Looking good for the crowd, guys. Having achieved a moment of respite, he glanced at the Stonewarden and Seneschal, curious about how they were holding up in comparison.

He paused, eyes widening, as he was reminded of a simple fact. While Rob was 20 Levels above the monsters, the Leaders were 20 Levels above him. Stonewarden Grant's hammer shook the air with every blow, turning monsters into scattered bits of offal and pulp. A Golem aimed a full force punch at him, and the Stonewarden responded by catching the behemoth's fist with one hand and unceremoniously tossing it down the hallway. Wherever he strode, destruction followed, his mere presence exuding an untouchable aura. Rob got the impression that even if all the monsters dogpiled him at once, the Stonewarden would come out with nary a scratch on him.

Meanwhile, Seneschal Sylpeiros was casually strolling into a pack of monsters, an endless rain of magic lightning spears firing from his body. The spears were tiny, just a few inches long, but more than deadly enough to shred the creatures into confetti. His actual spear was gripped in his hand, unused and unnecessary – until a red-scaled snake barely managed to slip through the storm. Without glancing back, the Seneschal jabbed his spear over his shoulder and skewered it in a single thrust. Rob recognized that kind of motion; he'd seen Keira do it whenever Danger Sense warned her of an incoming attack.

...Well that was certainly a vibe check, Rob mused, as he resumed fighting. Riardin's Rangers may be big fish nowadays, but it's important to remember that we aren't the biggest fish. Not yet. He had to admit it – he was impressed.

--

Their strength is utterly ridiculous, Sylpeiros thought.

Dealing with the ambush was a trivial matter. The monsters would perish long before he ran out of MP. It afforded him plenty of time to observe the Human's Party – those who called themselves Riardin's Rangers – and take their measure.

What he saw was...disturbing. Sylpeiros had expected to witness the fighting prowess of a group of upjumped youths who'd lucked into high Levels. It was an irregularity that happened on very rare occasions, always following the same pattern. Levels were power, but power wielded without expertise was little better than handing a masterpiece sword to a toddler. The Human's Party, comprised of novices whose progress was artificially inflated by shared Fast Learner, should have fallen into that category.

Instead, he bore witness to practitioners of death plying their craft. The Human's Party battled with the precision and ferocity of fighters with ten times their combat experience. For every one monster that a Dwarven elite killed, a member of Riardin's Rangers killed three. Dumbfounded, Sylpeiros analyzed their maneuvers, attempting to produce a suitable justification for the rampant slaughter on display.

At first, he attributed it solely to their higher Levels and Awakened Classes. Both factors represented significant advantages over the Dwarves. The more he watched, though, the more he concluded that those advantages weren't enough. Even without them, Riardin's Rangers would still be outperforming the Dwarves to at least some degree. They were just...better.

Gritting his teeth, Sylpeiros forced himself to accept what the evidence was telling him. The Human's Party, despite being comprised of upjumped youths and two literal children, knew what they were doing. They fought without an ounce of hesitation, like veteran soldiers accustomed to staring death in its face. It was the demeanor of those who'd waded through hell and come out on the other side changed.

And somehow, that wasn't the most absurd part of the whole affair.

Sylpeiros glanced at the Human, who was currently shoving a Firebomb into a monster's mouth. Despite the Human's overtures of forgiveness towards the Dwarves, Sylpeiros knew the truth – he wasn't a native resident of Elatra. Refugees from The Village had spoken of the Human appearing from another world, and while their stories were difficult to believe, meeting the Human in person was proof enough.

He spoke in strange ways, using turns of phrases that no one else seemed familiar with. He was surprised by commonplace things, although he tried to hide it. And most of all, he wasn't in abject awe of the Leaders he met, considering them standards to chase rather than demigods to serve. If the Human was an Elatran native, then he was certifiably insane – yet his Leveling High somehow remained Mild.

Sylpeiros didn't actually care why the Human was hiding his origin. It amounted to just another piece of leverage to hold over his head if he started causing trouble. The crux of the matter was that, if the stories were true, then the Human had arrived in Elatra recently, with no combat experience whatsoever. At Level 1.

He was now Level Fifty-fucking-Two.

How? Sylpeiros' imagination ran wild as he observed the Human in his element. What in the world did your Party go through in so short a time?

--

The battle was nearly finished, having lasted less than a minute. While the monsters possessed a significant numbers advantage, they couldn't have picked a worse group to ambush. Rob laughed as he cut down the creatures one by one, blood splattering his chest, staining his clothes with red. Amid the massacre, Experience poured into him like a raging waterfall.

EXP Gained!

EXP Gained!

Partial EXP Gained From Sharing Hand!

EXP Gained!

Partial EXP Gained From Sharing Hand!

Partial EXP Gained From Sharing Hand!

Reached Level 54!

5 Stat Points Gained!

BERSERKER Level Increased! 50 -> 51

Bliss. Rob closed his eyes, exulting in revelry as the last of the monsters fell. Pure bliss.

A strangled cry brought him back to reality. Rob's elation plummeted as he looked towards the Dwarven camp. Several soldiers were kneeling over a mangled corpse, tears running freely down their faces. The Stonewarden was one of them, his head bowed in solemn respect.

Rob felt sick to his stomach. Pragmatically speaking, suffering only one casualty after being ambushed by a monster horde was an excellent outcome. And fuck that line of thinking, because a death was a death. That was one more person who would never experience the grandeur of life again. Had events played out differently, it could have been one of Riardin's Rangers laying cold and motionless on the floor instead.

He forced down the last of his remnants of his joy, stuffing it into a box and locking it tight. It'd been a while since he got caught up in a Leveling High dopamine rush. The last time Rob lost himself that way, it ended with a Deserter civilian sacrificing his life to save him. He couldn't and wouldn't let something like that happen again. Planning ahead, Rob decided that when they were about to kill the Blight, he'd make sure not to deal the final blow. That amount of EXP flowing into him at once sounded like a dangerous prospect.

A presence in the back of his mind started thrashing wildly, outraged that he would dare think such a thing. Rob kicked it in the face until it retreated to its corner once more.

"He will not have died in vain," Stonewarden Grant announced, breaking the silence. "When we return, he shall receive a proper burial and be hailed as the hero he is."

The Dwarves nodded, picking themselves up as they donned masks of determination. They began marching immediately, spurred onward by renewed conviction – only for Rob to step in front of them and raise his hands. He almost felt guilty about interrupting their moment, but this was important. "Before we get going, do me a favor and check your Status Screens."

They acquiesced. In seconds, half the Dwarves had gone pale. "Corruption," Vevrandi uttered, her voice shaking. "13 Corruption. When did it...I didn't even notice..."

"You probably got scratched by a Blightspawn," Rob explained, approaching the Dwarven contingent. "Some of them are contagious." He touched Vevrandi's arm and swiftly Purged her Corruption with the effort of pulling a splinter. "Small amounts of Corruption won't ruin you or anything, but we should still take care of it before it becomes a problem down the road. 13 HP can mean the difference between life and death."

Nobody raised an objection. By the looks on the Dwarves' faces, they felt violated, as if their doctor had told them they'd been unknowingly infected with a tapeworm. Like any parasite, Corruption wasn't an enemy you could defeat with martial might, and that didn't sit well with men and women who'd dedicated their lives to combat.

"Done," Rob said, once he'd Purged the last Dwarf. He opened his mouth to offer some words of encouragement, then paused, deciding against it. What could he say that wouldn't sound empty? They all knew it was going to get worse from here.

Thankfully, the Stonewarden picked up the slack and gave them another pep talk, although it – unsurprisingly – wasn't quite as effective this time. In the blink of an eye, the allied coalition had gone from traipsing through quiet mine shafts to being ambushed by Blightspawn, mourning the dead, and Purging Corruption. Their mission was well and truly underway now.

And the Blight still awaited further inside.

--

It didn't even take five minutes for something to happen again.

Rob was the first to notice. All of a sudden, his Senses went on high alert, like a radar pinging a submarine that had just surfaced from deep beneath the ocean. Before he could inform anyone of the disturbance, something else beat him to the punch.

"Titan, oh Titan."

The coalition froze in its tracks. Everyone exchanged glances to confirm that, yes, they'd all heard the same haunting voice echoing in the distance, far away enough that they could barely hear it.

"Ruler of stone, and father of all."

They continued on, very carefully, their ears straining as the voice grew louder.

"Giver of life, and king of the Hall."

Vevrandi gasped. She sprang forward a moment later, rushing down the passage, ignoring the confused shouting behind her. The Stonewarden caught up in an instant, restraining her as she thrashed about in a panic.

"Titan, oh Titan."

"Calm yourself, Vevrandi," the Stonewarden ordered. "Our enemy means to unnerve us. You cannot lose your composure at so critical a juncture."

Rob raised his voice. "Now would be a good time for me to mention that there's a metric shitload of Corruption up ahead."

"The promiser of eternal peace."

"No," Vevrandi babbled, her entire body trembling. "You don't understand. I recognize that voice."

"Our paradise, may it never cease."

The coalition rapidly conferred amongst each other. No one else recognized the voice; just Vevrandi. When they asked her who it belonged to, she answered, and their hearts sank.

"Titan, oh Titan."

They ran, throwing caution to the wind.

"The nightmares come, and Titan calls."

"The nightmares clash, and Titan falls."

Closer.

"Titan, oh Titan."

"False shepherd, broken crown."

"Nations burn, families drown."

"And so the world comes tumbling down."

Here.

In the center of a large mine shaft, a Dwarven woman sat, her back facing the coalition. She didn't respond to their arrival, head lowered as she incessantly muttered something under her breath. A moment later, she spoke aloud. "Titan, oh Tita–."

"Silviel?" Vevrandi asked, her tone as fragile as cracked glass. "Is that you?"

The Dwarf woman went silent. Slowly, she stood up, her body moving in harsh jerking motions. Vevrandi let out a strangled cry as the Dwarf woman turned around, revealing a spiderweb of black, pulsating veins on her face, surrounding eyes filled with the darkness of the void.

"Words." The Dwarf 'smiled', the corners of her lips forcefully dragged upward. "Language. An unexpected delight."

"There's Corruption in her," Rob said, knowing full well that he was stating the obvious. He flinched as the Dwarf-Thing turned its gaze upon him. Her smile crept further upward, skin tearing as it was stretched beyond its limit.

"Heartkiller." She laughed, her voice twinkling like rusted bells. "Wonderful...to finally speak."