Avan's hand gently and very carefully touched the almost black dungeon ball that was floating in the air in front of him. The first time he touched it, he flinched briefly and involuntarily took a step backwards when he felt a kind of electric shock. In contrast to an electric shock full of electricity, however, this one had something burning in it, which wanted to crawl from his hand like an internal ulcer through the bloodstream in the direction of his brain.

For the second and current attempt, he had simply formed one of his Akkalons shapes into the form of a wafer-thin, almost latex-like glove and was now touching the dungeon sphere in front of him without any major problems. On the contrary, where his hands, covered with celestial mana, touched the black billowing sphere, there was a hissing sound and the purple veins retreated from the same spot in a flash, almost as if Avan's mana acted like a bane to corruption.

So now he stood there, both hands resting lightly on the side of the dungeon core, and closed his eyes to better concentrate on the feeling in front of him.

Something was raging and clamoring inside the sphere in front of him, and it was not at all happy about the foreign object named Avan, and its buddy the Celestial Mana. He could feel the corruption just beneath his palm receding like an angry but frightened animal, leaving an almost silver surface, just as the sphere had looked before in his vision.

The black-and-lilac mass inside nevertheless tried spasmodically to return again and again to the now silvery surface under Avan's hands, but each time it hissed and bumped painfully against his golden-yellow mana.

It went on like this all the time, while Avan himself just stood there quietly, his thoughts trying to listen to this inner feeling that was trying to whisper to him what he had to do.

The feeling was nothing new anymore, because it came from the same instinctive behavior that Avan had developed over the past few days, giving him an almost frighteningly high level of sensitivity and knowledge of his dungeon skills. The same feeling, almost as if he had to know it himself already, whispered things to him inaudibly, showed him more feelings and images than words, while he tried to interpret them.

Celestial mana flowed through his pores, through his bloodstream, and over his hands into the dungeon sphere. His instincts told him so. What made Avan falter, however, were the possible scenarios that branched off in small strands. He saw a completely uncorrupted silver dungeon sphere floating in front of him, free of any foreign influence, and with light golden veins that brought permanent immunity to further corruption.

But he also saw several images and visions of a broken dungeon core, one with irreversible cracks, images of an explosion, or even implosions with a scope he could only vaguely grasp.

He simply did not know what the result of his interference would be, and what destruction of the dungeon tower would entail. From the sacrifices of the inhabitants, to the vague feelings of unbelievable destruction that would leave a large part of the city of Haipu in ashes.

And as Avan stood there, brooding, he suddenly startled as a third party knocked on his inner door, his hand. He was about to jerk his hands away when his own mana somehow made him understand that this third force felt different. Not manipulative, without corruption, and without the intention to harm.

This third strand of thought also sent him words without words, but seemed to have real consciousness, unlike Avan's own mana, which sprang from himself. Not like the corruption only an instinct of destruction, but really a feeling of a toddler who could express himself only with difficulty.

Avan, eyes still closed, slightly furrowed his brows. First upwards, in surprise, and then drawn together as he tried to interpret the impressions. The third power felt gentle, yet powerful. Hot, but still with a breeze that promised cooling. It reminded Avan of stormy days, but without the water, but with a tension in the air.

And suddenly it dawned on him as he found a silver sphere in his mind. This force was the still struggling but long suppressed part and consciousness of the dungeon, which embodied lightning. It was trying to communicate, continuously engaged in a life struggle with the black and purple mass, and had now, for a long time, finally regained a small part of its dungeon sphere, right under the hands of Avan.

It conveyed to him gratitude, and a kind of affection, which Avan conveyed back in a little trickle of celestial mana, which came back in a pure joy of feelings.

The consciousness of the dungeon, as Avan had learned it in Akkalon's dungeon, was like a toddler in the earliest development of itself, suddenly corrupted in the midst of it. It was not, like most other dungeons, without consciousness, but it was not yet fully awakened and developed.

Minutes passed, which quickly turned into a few hours as Avan stood there, communicating with the dungeon and using his mana to hold back the surging invading mass. He learned emphatically that the dungeon was suffering, that it wanted revenge, and whether Avan could help it. It had no instinct for self-preservation, and simply wanted to rid the world of corruption, even if it was only a small part. The dungeon wanted to take down the people who had done this to it, and at the same time release its own uncorrupted children inside it into the world and give them freedom.

It had been trying to slow down the progress of corruption all along, but was losing more and more power every day as this thing continued to spread and gain the upper hand.

Avan understood very well what was going on, and a renewed chill spread through his inner being. Calculated ideas shot through his head.

He had an idea based on the principle that the dungeon had taught him. The possible scenarios of destroying a large part of the city was no longer, because the dungeon had shown him what he could do to avenge it.

For the next part of the plan, however, he needed more, and had to prepare. Avan now knew that the spectators of the slave games could not watch all the way up into the dungeon core, but the people in charge themselves were monitoring this last level and knew that Avan had escaped his captivity and was now a danger to their venture as he stood here at the dungeon core itself.

With a quick wave of his index finger on his right hand, a celestial sphere popped out of nowhere and floated from Avan's shoulder over to his hands. The structure billowed and a few ripples stretched across the golden-yellow surface until slowly a fist-thick strand wiggled out of the front part and attached itself to the top of the sphere, where the black and purple mass of corruption hissed and retreated angrily.

Avan himself sent a last brief thought to the consciousness inside and promised to be back soon, when the time came.

He took his hands off the dungeon core and turned, the linen shirt torn into bloody shreds fluttering around him as he walked with hurried steps back into the corridor of many rooms to put the snap idea into action.

Avan had promised himself and the consciousness to remedy the situation.

He was boiling inside when he thought back to his own inability not to have killed this guy directly. Judging from his facial expression, and also from the fearful expressions of the others who hurried beside and behind him through the streets of Haipu, his inner rage was also clearly visible on his face.

He had let himself be guided by his revenge, and had wanted to make him suffer. Never in his wildest dreams could he have known or imagined the immense trouble he would get into later. And now he hurried with his subordinates through the streets and into the entrance.

The city guards and all the other observers flinched fearfully as he hurried past them with his rat tail of people and only stopped briefly right in front of the purple wafting dungeon portal at the entrance.

Without wasting words, he placed his hand on the shiny surface of the portal, and without putting his hand through it, he gave the internal command.

The portal abruptly went black, and a gasp could be heard all around for a few seconds as the adventurers, city guards and onlookers watched the portal to the dungeon itself simply disappear, only to light up again a short time later. This time, however, a purple mist crept out of the portal's fringes, which slowly slid to the ground and frayed there due to gravity.

Without comment and preoccupied with more important thoughts, he strode through the portal, while his subordinates immediately followed, leaving the gawking people outside speechless.

Whispers and thoughts like "Who the abyss was that?" and "Who are those people?" or "Shut up! Or do you want to die?" could be heard in all the whispering outside the entrance to the dungeon.

He didn't care about any of that, and walked hurriedly down the dark corridor, heading straight for the bright purple light at the end of the hallway.

He shielded his eyes momentarily with his right arm, and then blinked into the room and his jaw dropped as if by itself. Angry, confused, and even slightly panicked, he reached across his back and unsheathed the greatsword hanging there to get into a fighting stance.

It was a mystery to him how this slave, this nothing, had managed to penetrate the dungeon core, escape Bob the torturer of his organization in Haipu, and now sit calmly on a simple stone chair right next to the slightly raised platform at the end of the room right next to the dungeon sphere and look blankly at the newcomers.

"What the abyss is this supposed to be, slave!" He asked the obvious question, wincing inwardly as emotions and fears briefly overtook him as he faced this impossible situation.

Not even the fight against the guild master in Cyntha had he cursed like this, quite the opposite. He had looked forward to competing, and in the end, squeezing the life out of the old man. To demonstrate his superiority, to savor his power, and to enjoy the fear and dread of his opponents.

To find himself now in exactly the opposite position, a position of powerlessness, or rather fear of the unknown and incomprehensible, had momentarily frozen his rational thoughts and produced this stupid obvious question.

That the slave sitting there comfortably only smiled coldly and promisingly, however, quickly wiped away any reason and rationality immediately.

"You worm! Do you think you'll get out of here alive? Do you think Bob is finished with you? Or that worse things can't be done to you? Your loved ones, your family, your friends, your acquaintances. You're going to watch them suffer. And you yourself are going to go through infinitely effective suffering yourself after we're done with all your people!" He shouted angrily to the still calmly sitting man, who even after his threats raised only one of his eyebrows, as if he were more amused than frightened.

Suddenly, the man stood up calmly, still without a single word, and the greatsword in his hands trembled slightly.

The slave placed his hand on the dungeon core with a smug grin, and suddenly it took the breath away from the crowd behind the swordsman and himself. The corruption hissed and steamed, and to everyone's amazement, retreated from the place of contact.

Just as he was about to open his mouth to hurl imprecations and further death threats, and had not taken two steps threateningly toward the man, a second surprise emerged.

A golden yellow sphere rose from behind the dungeon core, and a fistful of the same energy that the floating sphere seemed to be made of also touched the dungeon core. Under the slave's hand and where the golden yellow beam of the other floating sphere touched the dungeon sphere, a silver surface was clearly seen glittering and shining.

Everyone was frozen and flabbergasted when they saw this inconspicuous slave with shredded clothing standing there calmly, but presenting powers that no one understood and that seemingly effortlessly could not only hold corruption in check, but even displace it.

And for the first time, the slave opened his mouth, and what he said only confused and frightened those present. "He told me to send you his greetings. The master of the house did not think it was at all proper what kind of filth you brought in here."

"Ahh, yes." Looked the slave briefly at the dungeon sphere under his left palm. "And I'm supposed to give you another message."

"Good luck!"

And with these words, and still everyone processing what was actually going on to the abyss, a storm blew through the room and nearly swept those present off their feet, while a golden glow emanated from the slave and entered the dungeon core from him in brute force.

"Stop him!" He shouted with the greatsword still in his hand and took a step forward as his greatest fears were realized and he didn't even get to lunge or attack. A kind of bursting and tearing tore the room apart, and thousands of cracks formed on the dungeon core, glowing from within with the same golden light as the slave, and a drumhead-shattering crack like millions of panes of glass breaking echoed between the dark stone walls.

And with a single blow, the dungeon sphere disappeared into itself with a pop.

Those present stared at the place where the corrupted ball had just hovered, watching too late as the slave ran over to the left wall and a golden glow surrounded him like a second skin as he protectively put his arms over his head and ducked into a sitting position.

The last thing anyone in the room saw and heard was a rending of reality and a small silver murmur in the place where the dungeon core had been before.

*BOOM*

And the entire dungeon was seized by such an imploding force that it frayed and simply pulverized the top levels of the dungeon, while the entire dungeon tower abruptly collapsed.

Avan was pressed against the walls in his back with such force that his internal organs and blood vessels burst and slowly stopped working as suddenly everyone around and many meters around ceased to exist.

The dungeon's desire had been to take those responsible to their deaths, while Avan had been very sure of himself to generate good enough protection with his newfound dungeon skills.

He had simply not expected that he would overreach himself and underestimate the opposing forces of corruption and his Celestial Mana. And so, right when the masonry and the walls, ceilings, floor and everything around ceased to exist in a good fifty meters around the former dungeon core, he was seized like a cannon at supersonic speed and shot out into the city. Debris and rubble followed directly behind it, and a hail of black rock flew over many blocks of buildings, raining into the houses and streets with incredible force, leaving death and chaos in its wake.

One of these apparent debris from the implosion of the former dungeon of Haipu was slightly shimmering gold, but none of the panicked and running-for-their-lives citizens of Haipu noticed.

The object flew in a southeasterly direction, as far as some other debris, and sank several meters deep, directly into the inner part of the outer wall of the city.

Avan had been screaming since he was shot out of the dungeon, but his vocal cords had also been shredded by the sheer force and speed with which he came hurtling through the air, and he could only whimper as he tried not to give up and give in to the threat of death.

His head had, incredibly enough, survived reasonably well, thanks in no small part to his shredded arms, which had absorbed most of the implosion and now hung in bloody shreds of sinew, muscle and destroyed flesh on the stone next to him inside the wall.

A piece of debris had decided to take the same trajectory directly behind him and had burrowed into his stomach area and crashed into the wall at the exact same spot directly after him.

Thoughts were loose, his body ached, and only thanks to Avan's willpower was he still hanging on by a thread, even as a small but very silent part of himself whispered to him how futile his fight for survival was.

His organs were gone, his stomach had a basketball-sized stone in it, his arms and legs were more bloody, shredded mass than recognizable limbs, and even everything above his ribcage was bloody and shredded.

Finally, Avan could no longer fight the sheer loss of blood, and his eyelids fell shut heavily and with an inner coldness.

*Death is only the beginning

*The soul is the key

*The core is the gate

*Life is infinite

...

[Souls Sufficient]

[Cycle of Death and Life] was granted!