Two amber eyes shifted within the gnarled shadows of an ancient Ironwood tree, tracking the movement of the prey below.

  [Kirin - Level 20] x2

  [Kirin - Level 21]

  A figure began to slough off the trunk—a hybrid of flesh and timber, skin hardened into a dark, metallic bark. The creature emerged only halfway, its torso and arms fused to the tree, clutching a massive wooden bow. Five arrows drifted out of the Ironwood as if birthed from the sap, suspended by writhing vines that acted as extra, prehensile limbs.

  The archer took an arrow from a vine, notched it, and drew back with a creak of straining wood. > Two arrows hissed through the air in a blur. The first two Kirin's dropped instantly, their noble forms collapsing into the brush. The third Kirin bolted, but a third arrow took it squarely in the hind leg. As it fell, emerald vines erupted from the arrow’s shaft, lashing around the wound. With a sickening whir, the vines began to spin the Ironwood projectile like a drill, burrowing deeper into the creature’s marrow.

  The Kirin, desperate and screaming in pain, bolted toward the nearest trunk. It slammed its flank against the rough bark, hoping the impact would dislodge the burrowing projectile. Instead, the wood-on-wood collision acted like a hammer to a nail, driving the Ironwood arrow through its ribs and out the other side. The noble beast collapsed, its legs twitching as the light faded from its eyes.

  With the last of the Kirin's silenced, the hybrid Treant drifted forward. He didn't walk; he simply phased

  He held the bow in his left hand, his movements slow and methodical. Ten steps brought him to the fallen prey. He dropped to one knee, setting his bow aside. With a fluid motion, he reached into a seam in his own bark-like forearm and pulled out a jagged dagger, its blade shimmering with a sickly green edge.

  A voice drifted from the shadows, barely ten feet away. “Finally. I was starting to think you were part of the scenery.”

  A Dragonkin stepped into the dim light, a smirk playing on his lips. He was barefoot and dressed in a loose black kimono that offered no protection but total freedom of movement. In each hand, he gripped a slender sword, and arcs of yellow electricity began to dance across the steel, illuminating his dark scales.

  “I thought I’d have to smoke you out of that trunk,” the newcomer said, his blades humming with static. “But I decided to practice a little patience. The name’s Drake. James Drake.” He flicked a spark from his blade. “What’s yours?”

  The Treant didn't answer with words. With a violent, twisting motion, he spun around. Vines lashed out, launching a volley of Ironwood arrows in a wide spread. Without waiting to see if they hit, the hybrid lunged back toward the safety of the ironwood bark, desperate to meld back into the timber.

  Drake’s perception shifted. To him, the world slowed to a crawl. With a flick of his wrists, he batted the Ironwood arrows aside like they were mere insects, his blades humming with high-frequency electricity. He lunged, his sword dragging across the Treant’s chest. Sparks showered the forest floor as the steel bit into the ironwood skin. The residual lightning from the strike arced outward, slamming into a nearby oak and detonating the trunk in a shower of splinters and static.

  “That’s okay,” Drake smirked, his eyes glowing yellow. “I can do this the hard way.” He pivoted and threw a punch surged with raw voltage. The impact sent the Treant flying back twenty feet.

  Before he could smash into a boulder, the Treant’s vines erupted from the earth, weaving a living net to catch him. Mid-rebound, the archer let loose a desperate arrow. It hissed past Drake’s head, grazing his cheek and leaving a jagged, bleeding cut.

  Drake didn't flinch. He wiped the blood with a thumb, his expression darkening. “What is the name of my nineteenth kill?” he demanded, closing the gap in a flash of light for another strike.

  “I will not fall to the likes of you!” the Treant roared. Six thick vines lashed out from the soil to snare the Dragonkin's legs, while a hidden Ironwood arrow—pre-set in the tree behind—triggered like a trap, aiming straight for Drake’s spine.

  “YOUR NAME!

  Jimmy tried to weave, sidestepping left before lunging right, bringing his Ironwood bow up as a desperate shield against the next blow.

  The lightning-charged fist collided with the bow, but Drake didn't follow through. Instead, he snapped a brutal uppercut into Jimmy’s chin. As the Treant’s head snapped back, Drake dropped flat to the forest floor. The Ironwood arrow that had been screaming toward Drake’s back sailed through the empty air and slammed directly into Jimmy’s exposed chest.

  The force of his own projectile catapulted Jimmy backward until he hit the boulder with a bone-shattering .

  Jimmy slumped against the rock, gasping for air as thick, amber-colored sap began to seep from the wound. Drake was on him in a flash, gripping the fletching of the embedded arrow and twisting it.

  “YOUR NAME!

  “Jimmy... Jimmy Conor,” the Treant wheezed, his voice rattling. His eyes were glazed, but his right hand drifted downward, his fingertips brushing against the damp soil. A faint, emerald pulse began to thrum deep beneath the earth.

  Drake hoisted his hand high, the humid air crackling as it surrendered its static to his palm. A sphere of churning yellow lightning coalesced—a miniature sun of high-voltage mana. With a cold smirk, he slammed the palm strike directly into the arrow embedded in Jimmy’s chest.

  The discharge was deafening. The lightning tore the wound wide, vaporizing the ironwood and turning the sap into steam.

  With one final, rattling breath, Jimmy’s eyes flared a brilliant emerald. “Not... today!” he rasped. The green light surged out of his sockets, racing down his arms and diving deep into the soil. As the energy left him, his physical form didn't slump; it withered, the bark-skin turning to gray soot and drifting away on the mountain breeze.

  “Well, that was dramatic,” Drake remarked, shaking the residual static from his hand. He swiped his fingers through the air, pulling up his [System Interface]

  “Hey partner, we’ve been at it for hours. Can we take a quick breather?” Ret asked. His usual brilliant glow had dimmed to a dull flicker, and his movements were sluggish.

  Ret’s core functioned like a biological solar cell; without the sun to recharge his mana reserves, he was running on fumes. He lacked the complex stat-sheets Scott possessed, relying entirely on his raw [HP][MP]

  “We’re so close I can practically taste the fog,” Scott urged, though he stopped to sniff the air. “Wait... does fog have a taste? It’s like... rotten eggs.” His eyes went wide as the realization hit him. “Shit, that’s sulfur! This isn't just a mountain, Ret. This is a volcano!”

  Scott looked up at the looming peak, now seeing the faint, hellish orange glow reflecting off the heavy clouds. “Yeah... okay. Let’s take a breather. We need you charged up before we hit the rim.”

  Scott and Ret touched down on a narrow, jagged ledge. Scott immediately drew his weapon, scanning the rocky crevices to ensure no stray spiders were waiting to pounce on them in the dark.

  “I need to rest... just for a few minutes,” Ret murmured. The light in his eyes flickered once, twice, and then went dark as he entered a low-power hibernation state.

  “That’s okay, buddy. You rest. I’ll figure out our next move,” Scott whispered, his voice barely audible over the distant rumble of the mountain.

  He carefully grabbed Ret, dragging the heavy, metallic companion toward the safety of the cliff wall. Once Ret was secure, Scott activated his [Infrared Sight]

  “Yep. Definitely a volcano,” Scott mumbled, rubbing his eyes as he deactivated the skill. He was blind to anything hiding in the shadows. He sat back against the warm stone, his mind racing.

  “Oh, little one... it looks like you’re having some fun with your new friend,” Amarwrath rumbled. The dragon’s voice resonated through Scott’s skull, vibrating against his very consciousness.

  Scott nearly jumped. “You’re awake? About time. I was starting to think you were a goner.”

  In his mind's eye, Scott could almost see the dragon stretching, wings of shadow and flame unfurling in the darkness of his psyche. “Can’t be rid of me that easily,” Amarwrath replied with a mental smirk. “I was merely... resting my eyes.”

  “Well, help me out then,” Scott thought, looking at the toxic yellow haze. “This volcano is pumping out sulfur thick enough to choke a god. I can't fly over it, and I'm not sure my lungs can handle the trip inside. How do I get to that Phoenix?”

  “Fly up and test your body,” Amarwrath said, his voice cold and echoing.

  “That’s the plan,” Scott whispered. He focused his mind, reaching out to the invisible forces pressing down on the mountain. With a practiced mental flick, he inverted his own gravitational anchor. The heavy pull of the volcano vanished, replaced by a weightless buoyancy.

  He drifted upward like a phantom, his boots barely scraping the soot-covered rock. He landed on the upper ledge without a sound, his swords already in hand.

  The humming grew louder, a vibrating pulse that felt like it was coming from his very bones. It led him toward a jagged crack in the rock—a throat leading into the mountain's fiery gut. He glanced back at Ret, a silent silver speck far below, and stepped into the cave.

  The heat hit him, but Scott adjusted his mana shield to keep the heavy, superheated air from pressing too hard against his body. The orange glow ahead grew blinding.

  “Just far enough to find the chest,” Scott whispered to himself, a mantra to keep his reckless side in check. “Get the loot, get back to Ret. Simple.”

  The humming intensified, vibrating through the soles of his boots and rattling his teeth. He rounded a jagged corner and skidded to a halt. The tunnel didn't just end; it split into three distinct archways, each flickering with the same hellish orange glow.

  “Left, right, or middle?” Scott pondered, his hand outstretched holding his swords out in front of him. He looked at the winding side-paths, then back to the dark, straight maw of the center tunnel. “I’ve spent my whole life running head-first into trouble. No point changing a winning strategy now. Middle it is.”

  He stepped into the central path, shifting his gravity field slightly to lighten his footsteps. The air here felt thicker, charged with a strange static that made the hair on his arms stand up.

  As Scott pushed deeper into the central tunnel, the air grew so thick with heat that his fur began to singe and smoke. Gritting his teeth, he flared his mana, weaving a shimmering kinetic shield around his body to act as a thermal buffer.

  He pressed on until the tunnel finally opened up, revealing a massive subterranean chamber. He stood on the edge of a jagged precipice, overlooking a churning lake of molten rock. But it wasn't the lava that caught his eye—it was a ripple in the air, a glistening distortion suspended in mid-air above the crater.

  Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

  “A portal,” Scott whispered, the orange light reflecting in his eyes. “That’s got to be a dungeon entrance.” He knew better than to jump in solo. “Got to get back to the cliff. Ret needs to see this.”

  He spun around and began to backtrack through the narrow corridor, only to skid to a halt. Blocking his path were two massive spiders, their obsidian carapaces gleaming like polished glass as they scuttled toward him.

  “Why does this keep happening to me?” Scott groaned, his patience finally snapping. He let out a roar of pure, unadulterated rage. “COME ON!

  The spider didn't just crawl; it pulsated. Its chitinous legs glowed a fierce, molten red as they siphoned heat directly from the cavern floor, channeling it into a sphere of bubbling lava between its mandibles. Scott watched in slow motion just in time to see the globe hiss past his shoulder, he scanned the spider….

  [Lava Huntsman Spider — Level 45]

  "Forty-five? Great," Scott grunted. He shifted into [Speed Form]

  The second spider lunged instantly, trying to pin him before he could recover. Scott didn't panic—he triggered his [Phase]

  He didn't stay to trade blows. He bolted for the fork in the tunnel, taking a sharp left. Another Huntsman skittered into view, blocking his escape. It spat a globe of lava, but Scott was already airborne. He planted his palms against the right wall, using his gravity manipulation to catapult himself forward like a railgun slug. Both blades lead the way, piercing the spider’s primary eyes and burying deep into its brain. He rode the twitching carcass all the way to the floor.

  Scott braced his feet against the dead spider's thorax and heaved, his blades sliding out of the chitin with a wet screech. He didn't wait; he dived over the carcass just as a molten globe hissed through the space where his head had been.

  He burst into the massive central chamber—a cavern ninety feet high, choked with towering obsidian columns and crawling with a nightmare's worth of spiders.

  “Just keep moving,” he hissed, his heart hammering against his ribs. He blurred past the first three columns, but a Huntsman lunged from the shadows to cut him off. Scott didn't slow down; he pivoted, his boots finding purchase on the vertical wall. He ran toward the ceiling before gravity-flipping toward the center of the room. Lava bolts streaked past him like tracers in the dark.

  Three more spiders closed the distance, trapping him in a pincer. Scott’s eyes flashed. Enough. He triggered his [Beast Form]

  His muscles surged with primal power. He kicked off the wall, soaring over the lead spider before amping his gravity to 5G

  Scott scrambled to his feet, circling a massive obsidian column. He intercepted a lunging spider with a brutal double-kick, the impact echoing through the chamber as the creature slammed into the stone. He didn't stop to admire the work; he blurred toward the center of the room, but a hidden Huntsman caught him mid-stride, a heavy leg swiping him off his feet and sending him crashing into a pillar.

  Stars danced in his vision. He shook his head, looking up just as the spider’s mandibles lunged for his skull. Scott dropped flat to his belly, rolling onto his back in the soot. The spider’s face smashed into the column where his head had been a millisecond before.

  Gritting his teeth, Scott planted both feet against the pillar and detonated his gravity field. The recoil launched him forward. He extended his arms, his twin blades acting like a pair of scythes that sheared through all eight of the spider's legs in a single, fluid pass.

  He rolled to the right, popping up into a crouch. “How many of you are there?!” he roared, his voice echoing off the ninety-foot ceiling.

  Another spider emerged from the haze. Scott didn't hesitate; he charged head-on. He wove left, then right, the heat of two passing lava globes singeing his fur. He launched into a somersault, transitioning into a handstand that catapulted him high into the air. He came down hard on the spider’s thorax, burying his blade deep into the base of its skull.

  More spiders flooded into the chamber, their clicking mandibles sounding like a thousand sharpening knives. “Man, this is tiring,” Scott hissed, his lungs burning from the sulfur.

  Suddenly, the darkness exploded in a shower of brilliant golden sparks. A series of light-bursts hammered into the lead spiders, and with a familiar mechanical hum, Ret teleported into the fray.

  “Howdy, partner! Looks like you’ve gotten yourself into a bit of a pickle!” the construct chirped, his lights flashing at full brightness.

  “Boy, am I glad to see you,” Scott panted, his second wind kicking in. They moved in a lethal dance, a whirlwind of steel and golden mana, dropping spiders as they went—until the sheer volume of the horde forced them apart.

  Then, a sound Scott would never forget tore through the cavern: a blood-curdling, screeching scream of grinding metal from Ret.

  Scott abandoned his target and sprinted toward the sound. He skidded around a column and froze. Three Lava Huntsman had swarmed the construct; Scott watched in horror as they used their collective strength to tear Ret’s limbs from his chassis, his silver arms and legs clattering onto the soot-covered floor.

  A primal roar ripped from Scott's throat. He launched himself into a massive drop-kick, his gravity-boosted weight slamming into the first spider and launching it clear over Ret’s mangled torso into the far wall. He landed in a crouch and instantly lunged at the second, his blades leading the way like twin fangs, burying themselves deep into the spider's back.

  Scott backflipped off the second spider's carcass, but the third was already airborne, mandibles snapping for his throat. With a desperate mid-air pivot, Scott channeled every ounce of his remaining gravity-weight into his heel. He brought his leg down in a devastating [Axe Kick]crack as his foot met the spider’s skull, followed by a thunderous as the creature was driven into the stone floor.

  Silence finally reclaimed the cavern, broken only by the settling dust and the rhythmic, mocking hum of the chests nearby. Scott tried to step forward, but his right leg buckled. A jagged gash across his thigh was weeping blood. He gritted his teeth, stabilized his stance on his "good" leg, and limped toward the wreckage of his friend.

  “Ret... you okay?” Scott whispered, his voice cracking.

  “Never better, partner!” Ret’s voice crackled through a damaged speaker, dripping with sarcasm. “Figured I was overdue for another nap anyway.”

  “Good to hear you’re still in there,” Scott said, kneeling beside the mangled chassis. He tried to piece the limbs back together, but the joints were sheared. “Can you... I don't know, self-repair? Reconnect?”

  “I’m a solar construct, Scott, not a miracle worker,” Ret grumbled. “Without the sun to fuel my nanites, I’m just a very expensive pile of scrap. But... if you can bridge the primary haptic cables in the shoulder, I might get some motor function back.”

  Scott’s fingers, usually meant for sword-hilts, worked delicately with the frayed wiring. “Okay... try that.”

  Ret’s left fingers twitched, then curled into a fist. “Ha! Okay, okay. Now the right one.”

  After a few tense minutes of field-stripping and reconnecting, Ret had some use of his arms, though his legs remained useless husks. Scott sighed, wiped the blood from his brow, and looked at the heavy silver torso. “Well until we can get you healed I guess I'll just carry you on my back.” Scott explained.

  Scott stripped off his backpack and worked quickly with a length of sturdy rope. He lashed Ret to his back, ensuring the construct was stable enough to aim his revolvers over Scott’s shoulders. He gathered the rest of Ret’s gear, stuffed it into his own pack, and wore Ret’s backpack on his chest to balance the weight.

  “Well, this will have to do until we find an exit,” Scott panted, tightening the final knot.

  “I guess I’ll watch your back. Literally,” Ret mumbled, his metallic voice echoing against Scott’s neck.

  Scott chuckled, despite the sting in his leg. “Hey, at least you don't bleed like a human.”

  “And at least I’m still alive,” Ret grumbled. “Next time, partner... let’s not run off into spider-infested holes while the other one is napping.”

  “Deal,” Scott replied. He turned toward the shimmering cache. “Ready to see what we almost died for?”

  “Let’s do it. But if there’s a cowboy hat in there, I’ve got dibs.”

  Scott grinned, his face lighting up as he approached the five chests. They were a mismatch of shapes and sizes, pulsating with that strange, rhythmic hum. He knelt before the smallest one. “Smallest first,” he whispered.

  He flipped the lid. Nestled in velvet was a sleek, matte-black rod. Scott picked it up, and the System pinged:

  [Any tool — Unique Utility Item]

  

  “Not bad,” Scott whispered, turning the black rod over in his hands.

  “Hey, not to be a Debbie Downer back here, but I’m staring at your neck, partner. Care to share with the class what you found?” Ret’s sarcasm was a welcome distraction from the throbbing in Scott’s leg.

  “It’s an Any tool. Think of a tool, it becomes that tool.”

  “Great. Think of a 'Ret-Fixer' and get to work,” Ret mumbled.

  “Maybe after we see the rest,” Scott said, hobbling over to a perfectly square chest. He flipped the lid and froze. He didn't even need to scan it to know what it was. “Ret... you’re not gonna believe this. You got your wish. It’s a cowboy hat.”

  Scott pulled it out—a rugged, wide-brimmed gambler's hat that seemed to hum with a gunslinger's intent.

  [Sundown Guns Out Gambler(Rare)]

  

  Scott carefully reached back and settled the hat onto Ret’s head. “There. You can thank the System for that one.”

  “I look good, don't I?” Ret’s lights pulsed with newfound pride. “I can feel the mana already. Bring on the next wave.”

  Scott smiled and moved to the long, skinny chest. “Come on... Daddy needs a new sword.” He closed his eyes, crossed his fingers, and flipped the latch. When he peeked, his breath hitched. It was a short sword, but its blade was a shimmering, translucent blue that flickered in and out of reality. Scanning the sword it read….

  

  Scott’s eyes blurred with tears as he drew the [Short sword of the Spirit Slayer]

  “Thank you, System,” he whispered, sheathing the unique blade at his hip.

  He moved to the fourth chest, his excitement mounting. Inside lay a pair of pristine, snow-white leather leggings. They looked out of place in the grime of the cave, but as Scott pulled them on—replacing his shredded, blood-soaked pants—he felt a surge of vitality. The armor hummed as it fused to his frame, the +300 total stat boost acting like a shot of adrenaline to his heart.

  With a quick scan..

  

  

  “One more to go, Ret,” Scott said, his voice trembling with anticipation. He stood before the largest, most ornate chest. “And this one is a big one!”

  He threw open the lid, expecting gold or a legendary weapon, but found two distinct items nestled together. He ran his hand over them, and the System windows popped up side-by-side:

  

  

  

  

  Scott carefully fitted the chest guard over Ret’s chassis and slipped the ring onto a mechanical digit. “There. This should get those nanites moving a bit faster.”

  “God, thank you,” Ret mumbled, shifting slightly. “This rope was starting to get real uncomfortable in the nether regions. I wasn’t built for bondage, partner.”

  Scott hoisted Ret back onto his shoulders, his own wounded leg throbbing with every step. He limped back toward the entrance, hoping for a clean exit, only to find a wall of jagged debris. The ceiling had collapsed, sealing them in. He pivoted toward the left fork—same result.

  “The entrance is gone. We’re boxed in,” Scott said, his voice tight.

  “Well, partner,” Ret replied, his revolvers clicking as he checked the cylinders. “I think we should double back to the large cave. Or you could start digging... and by 'we,' I mean you, since I’m currently a high-tech backpack.”

  “Back to the cave it is,” Scott sighed.

  But as they rounded the corner, the air didn't just vibrate; it groaned. The sound of thousands of skittering legs echoed through the tunnels—a tidal wave of obsidian and lava approaching from the rear.

  “Do you hear that?” Scott asked, his hand flying to the hilt of his new Spirit Slayer

  “Yeah. Sounds like the whole family is coming for dinner,” Ret noted grimly.

  Scott turned and bolted toward the inner volcano, his limp slowing him down as the weight of Ret and the gear pulled at his center of gravity. He reached the cliff’s edge, the lava churning below and the portal shimmering in the distance. He scanned the walls frantically, but there was nowhere left to run.

  “Well, Ret,” Scott said, his eyes locked on the shimmering distortion ahead. “It’s either die here or see what’s behind Door Number One.”

  A Lava Huntsman screeched as it rounded the corner, its legs glowing a furious red as it gathered speed for a pounce.

  “Choose fast, partner! We’ve got incoming and I don't like the look in its eyes!” Ret yelled, his metallic voice rising in pitch.

  Scott didn't hesitate. He took a calm, deliberate step off the jagged precipice. Instead of falling, he leaned into the air, his gravity field tethering him to the portal’s coordinates. He began to glide across the empty chasm, a silver-and-white ghost over the churning magma.

  Behind him, Ret’s revolvers barked— The spiders launched themselves from the cliff in a desperate leap, but Ret’s new [Gambler Hat]

  “Into the portal we go!” Scott roared over the sound of the erupting volcano.

  The shimmering light rushed up to meet them. The heat of the volcano vanished, replaced by a sudden, jarring cold and the sound of a thousand whispering voices. They crossed the threshold, leaving the spiders and the ash behind.