“Again.”

  Sweat stung my eyes and dripped from my chin, turning the dirt beneath my boots into dark, muddy spots. I was exhausted. My lungs burned, and my muscles screamed in protest, but my grip on the heavy, leather-wrapped hilt of the sword tightened.

  With arms that felt like lead, I hoisted the blade above my head and brought it whistling down in a diagonal slash, from upper left to lower right. Immediately, I forced my momentum to shift, driving the sword horizontally through the air in a desperate cross-cut from right to left.

  My chest heaved violently as I pulled the blade back. I planted my back foot and thrust forward with every ounce of strength I had left.

  “That’s enough for today.”

  Otis’s gruff, booming voice was a welcome reprieve. The blade bit deeply into the soft earth of the farmyard as the sword slipped from my trembling, blistered fingers. I stood there, panting, staring at the steel.

  Ever since we had fled the mine the day before, Corbin and I had agreed on one thing: we couldn't proceed without a plan. The "void" zone down there nullified everything that made us dangerous.

  Even if we brought mundane torches or lanterns to pierce the darkness, we would still be helpless. Neither Corbin nor I could cast a single spell in that corridor. We had racked our brains for a solution, but the alternatives were sparse. We had almost resigned ourselves to abandoning the irregular dungeon altogether and heading straight for the normal, predictable dungeon in Millstone.

  But, surprisingly, the breakthrough came from Otis.

  He had simply watched us argue, taken a bite of an apple, and suggested he teach me the absolute basics of swordplay. “If you can't throw fire, throw steel,” he had grunted. He argued that if I could defend myself even slightly, he could focus on keeping Corbin alive while the mage figured out a way past the anomaly.

  I hadn't been thrilled about the idea. For one, I still had no desire to find out what kind of horror was waiting for us in the dark. But Otis had convinced me with adventurer logic: dungeons are always dangerous, but the higher the risk, the greater the reward. And the more unusual the place—like a mine suddenly spawning goblins and anti-magic zones—the more unique the treasure.

  A heavy, calloused hand landed on my aching shoulder, nearly buckling my knees.

  “You won't become a master in three days,” Otis rumbled, “but at least you know which end to stick into the enemy now. What do you think? Should we brave the hole tomorrow, or do you want more practice?”

  I looked up at the towering adventurer. Over the past few weeks, he had become far more sympathetic to me. Granted, his alcohol withdrawal had made him a miserable, grumpy bastard for the first few days. His mood swings had been terrible, especially when he watched Corbin casually downing ale by the hearth. But day by day, he had gotten a grip on himself. His hands had stopped shaking, and his mind seemed sharper.

  “We go back down tomorrow,” I decided, rubbing my sore shoulder. “I think basic sword skills will have to suffice. Imagine if we spend weeks training out here, only to find out that our magic starts working again five meters past that tunnel section. We’d be kicking ourselves.”

  Besides, we needed results. If we couldn't progress in this mine, we would have to move on to Millstone soon to continue my training for the tournament. Corbin had already suggested that if we couldn't clear the irregular dungeon, we should at least collapse the entrance with a massive explosion to trap the goblins inside.

  My thoughts were interrupted by Corbin’s sharp voice from the porch.

  “Well? Have you made a decision, kid?”

  Sighing, I turned to him. He was leaning against the wooden railing, a serious expression on his face. There might have even been a hint of actual concern in his eyes.

  We had spent the entire evening before discussing the voice in the dark. Or rather, its origin.

  Corbin had theorized it might be a rogue mage who had set up a hideout down there. He speculated about an illusionist. In an oppressive, dark environment like the mine, the usual tells of an illusion—shimmering air like heat waves, incorrect proportions, or slightly off colors—would be incredibly difficult to spot.

  But Corbin had also admitted a glaring flaw in that theory: the vanishing mana. An illusionist could certainly make it look like a spell had failed, but I had felt the mana simply dissolve. It didn't feel blocked; it felt erased. Furthermore, illusionists were exceedingly rare. They were highly coveted assets for noble houses or the military; they didn't rot in dirty, goblin-infested mining shafts in the middle of nowhere.

  The alternative theory he presented was far more terrifying. A Lich.

  Corbin had explained, his voice low and dead serious despite the fact that he was completely hammered at the time, that there were legends of powerful mages striking dark pacts with forbidden gods to achieve eternal life. But the price was steep. In their undeath, they were forced to constantly consume the life force and mana of others to sustain themselves. That would explain the void.

  To be fair, Corbin hadn't been entirely sure about the details of those specific myths, and his drunken state hadn't inspired much confidence in his academic recall. But the sheer possibility was enough to make my blood run cold.

  Now, the decision rested on my shoulders. The safest route was to abandon the mine, seal it, and gather experience in the Millstone dungeon.

  Slowly but surely, a grim smile spread across my face. I looked at Corbin. He paused, lowering his bottle.

  “We’re leaving today,” I said.

  In hindsight, that might have been a terrible idea.

  When we arrived at the clearing before the mine, we found a welcoming party. A group of about a dozen goblins was just emerging from the treeline, dragging the carcass of a wolf behind them.

  My right hand immediately dropped to the hilt of the sword strapped to my left hip. Beside me, Otis drew his short sword with practiced, lethal routine, bringing a sturdy round shield up to protect his torso. We dropped into combat stances, ready for a brawl.

  But it was Corbin who surprised us.

  He didn't cast a protective barrier or a subtle spell. He simply let out a piercing, shrill whistle. As the goblins’ heads snapped toward us in alarm, Corbin pulled his right arm far back, winding up like a pitcher.

  Before the creatures could even raise their weapons, his arm whipped forward.

  BAAAAMMM.

  The world was swallowed by a blinding, incandescent white light.

  A brutal shockwave ripped through the clearing, hitting me like a physical blow. My heart skipped a beat in pure shock, and I stumbled backward, throwing my arms up as my eardrums threatened to burst from the deafening roar. Trees at the edge of the forest were uprooted, snapping like twigs. Earth, wood splinters, and steaming gore rained down on us in a chaotic downpour.

  When the dust and smoke finally cleared, the goblins were simply gone. Where they had stood a moment ago was now a massive, scorched crater, the earth turned to black glass at the center.

  It was exactly like the fireball attack he had used weeks ago… but dozens of times stronger.

  Stolen story; please report.

  Before I could turn to Corbin to ask what the hell that was, a guttural, furious scream erupted right next to my ear.

  “FUUUUUUUUUUUUCK!”

  Corbin was screaming his lungs out. His hands were balled into tight fists, his face purple with rage, his jaw unhinged in a roar of pure frustration.

  Shocked, and more than a little bewildered, Otis and I stared at the seemingly mad mage. He stood between us, panting heavily, his chest heaving. I thought he was about to unleash another explosion on us, but when he saw our utterly bewildered faces, he suddenly broke into hysterical laughter.

  My heart was hammering wildly against my ribs. I knew Corbin was eccentric, unpredictable, and entirely irresponsible… but I hadn't expected an outburst like this after annihilating an enemy.

  “I am so fucking angry. You have no idea…” he gasped, wiping a tear of mirth from his eye.

  Uh oh. I was almost too afraid to ask, but Otis beat me to it.

  “Because there weren't more goblins?” the giant asked tentatively, keeping his shield raised slightly.

  Hearing this, Corbin’s face twisted into a scowl. His brow furrowed, his eyebrows pulling down in indignation.

  “What? No!” he snarled, running his hands through his messy hair. “I had a very rare bottle of aged whiskey set aside! I was going to drink it tonight in case we die in this damn mine tomorrow! Now I have to go in sober!”

  WHAT?! BECAUSE OF WHISKEY?!

  I lost all faith in humanity in that moment. Thankfully, Otis seemed to share my sentiment. He stared at Corbin with an expression that suggested he had just seen a three-hundred-foot goblin fly overhead.

  I massaged my temples, feeling a headache coming on, and sighed deeply.

  “You’re not going to pull that shit inside the mine and bury us all under a million tons of rock, right? RIGHT?!” I demanded.

  Corbin just gave a noncommittal, insecure shrug, though a mischievous grin played on his lips.

  “Come on, ladies. Destiny awaits…” he said cryptically, turning and marching straight into the darkness of the cave.

  Sighing and shaking my head at the sheer absurdity of my mentor, I ignited a steady flame in my left hand to provide light and followed him, with Otis bringing up the rear.

  Our footsteps echoed through the cold, wet tunnels. After about five meters, we caught up to Corbin. He stepped aside with a sweeping gesture, making it perfectly clear that I was taking the lead.

  I knew this wasn't going to be a Sunday stroll, but after our last visit, a heavy stone of dread sat in my stomach. Every shadow looked like a monster; every drip sounded like a footstep.

  Yet, our path deeper into the mine remained eerily uneventful for a long time. We didn't encounter any goblins. But what surprised me even more was the lack of carcasses. Goblins were disgusting, vile creatures, but were they cannibals? Had they eaten their dead from our last visit, or had something else cleaned up the mess?

  With my hand resting on the pommel of my sword, I put one foot in front of the other, remaining vigilant. Whatever was waiting down here was not a friend.

  And then, beneath the echo of our boots, I heard it. A sound just as unfriendly as the environment.

  It was a hateful, malicious chittering. The sound goblins made when they were hunting.

  “Heads up. Goblins,” I whispered, glancing back over my shoulder. “I just don't know where.”

  Both Corbin and Otis looked focused and nodded.

  The mountain of meat readied his short sword and shield, taking a slightly wider stance. Corbin, however, had fire magic dancing in one hand, and in the other… was that ice magic? A swirling mist of freezing air clung to his fingers. He had used it once before, freezing the goblin that had sneaked up on me during our first descent.

  But hadn't he told me back at the manor that his affinities were Water, Fire, and Lightning?

  I frowned, turning my attention back to the dark tunnel ahead. Had he simply forgotten to mention ice? Had he learned it recently? Or was he keeping secrets? It certainly wasn't a bad idea for a House Mage to keep a few aces up his sleeve, but it made me wonder what else he wasn't telling me.

  There would be time for questions later.

  In the darkness ahead, the light from my flaming hand caught the reflection of yellow, slit-pupiled eyes. My heart rate spiked, and the familiar, cold rush of adrenaline flooded my veins. As I stepped closer, the shadows receded to reveal a pack of green, snarling faces waiting to be pulverized.

  “Goblins ahead!” I warned my companions.

  As if that were their cue, the goblins shrieked and charged. There were five of them. Their maws were smeared with dried blood, and they were armed with simple wooden clubs and rusted, jagged swords.

  The frantic slapping of their bare feet echoed through the mine, accompanied by their hateful, chittering laughter.

  The lead goblin was about five meters away. I took a deep breath and let the mana rush through my body. Over the past few weeks, fighting these creatures, I had slowly begun to develop my own combat style. It was time to see how it held up when mixed with steel.

  I channeled Augmentation Magic into my right leg, reinforcing the bone and muscle. Simultaneously, I wove a layer of Air Magic around the limb to reduce drag, and applied Gravity Magic to make the leg unnaturally light. I dropped into a low stance, ready to drive the first goblin straight into the bedrock.

  The fastest goblin raised his rusted sword high, ready to hack me to pieces. But the moment he entered my range, my leg snapped forward.

  CRACK.

  My boot connected with the center of the goblin’s chest with a sickening thud. Ribs shattered instantly. The impact launched the creature backward like a cannonball shot down the corridor. He flew through the air until he hit a support beam in the darkness with a loud, final crunch.

  His four companions skidded to a halt, staring blankly down the tunnel after their comrade.

  I used that single second of distraction.

  I summoned Fire and Air magic into my left hand, while pushing Augmentation magic into my right.

  I closed the distance in a blur. I pulled my right arm back over my left shoulder and delivered a brutal, augmented knife-hand strike directly to the eyes of the nearest goblin.

  His skull caved in under the sheer force of the blow, and the momentum smashed him against the rough stone wall behind him.

  But my element of surprise was spent. The remaining three goblins shrieked in fury, raising their weapons to strike.

  I raised my left hand, blending the Air and Fire mana. A searing stream of flame erupted outward, washing over the goblins. It wasn't nearly as potent as my Roaring Flames, but taking a face full of fire was enough. They shrieked, dropping their weapons as they clapped their hands over their blistered faces, stumbling blindly.

  I let the air magic dissipate but kept the flame burning for light. Though I had killed before, what came next was entirely new territory for me.

  Nervously, my right hand gripped the hilt of my sword and pulled. The shrieking of metal against the scabbard echoed loudly as I leveled the blade at the blinded monsters.

  They were still screaming in agony. I raised the sword high. Tension coiled in my chest—a mix of fear, disgust, and the raw necessity of survival. With a guttural shout to psych myself up, I brought the sword down.

  One of the goblins looked up blindly at the sound of my voice. His eyes were opaque, milky white, surrounded by weeping, blistered skin. It was a horrific, pitiful sight.

  A split second later, my blade bit into the back of his neck.

  But instead of cleanly severing the head like in the stories, the steel wedged tightly between the cervical vertebrae. Blood sprayed across my boots. The goblin howled—a terrible, bubbling sound of pain and berserk fury. His short, green arms flailed wildly, clawing at my clothes as I desperately gripped the hilt, trying to wrench it free.

  I wasn't strong enough to counter the goblin’s violent thrashing with one hand. I lost my grip.

  I stumbled several steps backward. The goblin continued to thrash wildly, spinning in circles with my sword sticking grotesquely out of its neck. Even though the beast was trying to kill me, a pang of sickening pity hit me. This was messy. Cruel.

  I took a deep breath, fighting down the bile in my throat, and focused Augmentation Magic entirely into my right arm. My eyes tracked the swaying hilt of the sword. Waiting for the opening.

  Now.

  My hand shot out and closed like a vice around the leather grip.

  The goblin's inertia jerked me forward a step, but my grip held firm. With a violent, wrenching pull, I tore the sword free from the bone. Before the creature could react to the sudden release, I swung with all my augmented strength.

  The blade howled through the air and struck true, severing the goblin’s neck cleanly this time. With a dull thud, the burned, disfigured head hit the floor. Blood continued to fountain from the stump.

  Dizziness threatened to overwhelm me, but I bit the inside of my cheek, using the sharp pain to clear my head, and turned to the remaining two goblins.

  My boot splashed heavily into a growing puddle of goblin blood. The sound seemed to break the remaining monsters. They flailed even more desperately, slashing at the empty air.

  Their resistance was futile. I channeled Air magic to speed up my swing, combining it with Augmentation. I swung again. My sword screamed as it bit into the skull of the next goblin. Brain matter and bone splinters sprayed through the air, hitting the very last creature.

  Startled, the final goblin froze. Its arms dropped defensively to its sides. It lifted its ruined face and… sniffed?

  Confused, I paused, watching the pathetic display. It sniffed the air again, and suddenly, it began to tremble. The goblin breathed heavily, taking a slow, sliding step backward. Its entire body was shaking violently now.

  Was it… afraid? Did it smell the blood of its pack?

  Sighing, I stepped toward it. With every step I took, the small green creature flinched.

  With a quick, violent flick of my wrist, I cleared my blade of the worst of the blood and gore. The drops splattered against the stone floor. Then, I lunged forward and thrust.

  My sword pierced deeply into the goblin’s forehead. Its body went limp instantly.

  I pulled the blade back, and the goblin collapsed onto the cold stone.

  Unconsciously, I looked around the makeshift slaughterhouse. Severed heads, crushed skulls, and pools of dark blood painted the tunnel. Before I let the gruesome image poison my resolve, I stepped over the bodies and looked back over my shoulder to my companions.

  Otis nodded at me, a look of grim satisfaction on his face. Apparently, my messy swordplay passed his basic standards. Corbin, however, was leaning against the wall, casually picking his nose, looking profoundly bored.

  Rolling my eyes, I turned back around, increased the output of the flame in my left hand, and marched deeper into the dark, toward the great unknown that was waiting for us.