The second level of the dungeon offered little change.
More Bonecleaver Orcs. More of the same.
This time, they came in greater numbers—twenty-five of them—and with higher stats than before. But that didn’t matter.
Zane slaughtered them effortlessly. Their cleavers never even touched the ground in defiance before they fell.
He advanced to the third level.
Fifty orcs awaited him this time.
Each of them stronger than the last batch:
Zane tore through them like a whirlwind, dodging strikes, shattering bones, and ending lives in quick succession. Within moments, only one remained.
This last orc, however, did something different—something that made Zane pause.
It didn’t charge at him blindly like the others. No, this one took a step back and began to chant in a deep, nasal tone.
A sharp pulse of mana rippled through the room.
Its cleaver shimmered with purplish energy—earthy and raw—spreading veins of magic across the weapon’s surface. Above its head, Zane noticed the orc’s mana bar rapidly depleting.
Then, the orc let out a deafening roar and slammed the enchanted cleaver into the ground.
The earth trembled violently. A jagged fissure cracked open, speeding toward Zane like a hungry beast.
A surge of danger prickled down his spine.
Without hesitation, he activated his ability. "Divine Radiance," he muttered, and his body glowed with a subtle golden sheen.
Then he whispered, "Luminous Step."
His agility shot up to 70:
Divine Radiance Bonus: +5
Luminous Step Bonus: +10
In a blink, he vanished from the spot.
Earthen spikes erupted violently where he had just been standing, gouging into the air like spears. Dust exploded outward, swallowing the space in smoke and debris.
As the dust cleared, Zane stood just behind the orc—his hand thrust cleanly through its chest.
The orc gasped, coughed blood, and let out a pained cry before going limp.
Zane pulled his arm back as the corpse collapsed.
"Interesting," he said, wiping the blood from his glove. "You almost got me there. Too bad you ran out of mana."
A tone echoed in his ears.
He looked down at his wristwatch—the source of the sound.
The holographic interface lit up, projecting a sleek three-dimensional screen just above the device.
You’ve reached the threshold point for accepting Temple privileges.
"A.P.?" Zane blinked. "The Pre-Academy never mentioned that..."
The System answered in its usual cool tone:
[A.P. stands for Assassin Points.
You gain A.P. by killing beasts within a dungeon or completing contract kills issued by the Temple.]
[A.P. can be used to borrow restricted books, upgrade weapons, request rare items, and access exclusive Temple services.]
Zane grinned, flexing his fingers.
The doorway to the next level stood at the far eastern side of the chamber. Without hesitation, he walked toward it, his footsteps echoing faintly against the stone floor.
As the heavy doors creaked open, he stepped into the third level.
The environment was the same as before—dimly lit, rocky terrain, and the ever-present sense of looming danger.
But this time, it was different.
Seventy-five Bonecleaver Orcs stood waiting.
They must’ve heard the chaos from above.
Zane’s gaze swept over them. Above each head, a familiar pair of bars hovered—Health: 50 and Mana: 41. Beneath them, the stats were clearly displayed:
Strength: 45 | Agility: 40 | Intelligence: 41
He narrowed his eyes. These weren’t the berserking fools from before.
They stood in formation. Some lingered behind, waiting for an opening. Others stepped forward, ready to engage. Their movements were calculated, their cleavers raised in coordination.
"I’m way stronger than all of you. My curiosity is... what can you even do?"
He raised his fists, taunting them.
Not a single orc blinked. A few even sneered, closing in from all sides. He was surrounded.
"So, you’re trying to trap me now."
Without warning, Zane dashed forward at his base speed, targeting a blue-skinned orc at the front. The creature raised its cleaver, trying to block.
Zane’s fist drove through its belly like a cannonball. The orc crumpled, lifeless, before it hit the ground.
That single act shattered their composure.
Panic seeped in. Some growled. Others hesitated. All of them suddenly realized—this was no ordinary human.
Zane moved like a storm.
He weaved through their ranks, a blur of motion. Some orcs were kicked into walls with sickening crunches. Others were smashed into the floor by single punches. Their numbers dropped rapidly.
From seventy-five, only ten remained.
An enraged orc, trembling with emotion, hurled its mana-coated cleaver at him like a javelin. It cut through the air like a bolt of lightning.
He reappeared in front of the orc in a blink and slapped its face.
Its skull shattered like a watermelon under a sledgehammer, its body crumpling instantly.
"Hmm... My base Strength is 55, and their HP is 50. Fragile little things..."
The remaining orcs panicked, unleashing their magical abilities. Cleavers slammed into the ground, summoning violent fissures that tore through the earth, seeking Zane.
Zane flickered through the chaos, effortlessly dodging the incoming spikes and quakes.
"These earth fissure strikes again... Too bad. My speed is enough to dodge a thousand of them at once."
Anger now overtook fear in the remaining orcs. Their eyes glowed, and their movements became reckless.
Zane cracked his neck.
"That’s enough playtime. I still have the boss to deal with. Not worth wasting mana here."
His figure vanished, leaving behind glowing motes of light.
A heartbeat later, the remaining orcs collapsed to the ground—limbs severed, heads caved in, their blood soaking the stones.
Zane stood at the exit.
The next level offered slightly more challenge.
The traps were trickier, the orcs slightly more agile—but still far too weak. His stats vastly outclassed theirs.
Zane cleared the level in under a minute.
This time, Zane slowed his pace.
Something felt different.
There were only three orcs.
But when he examined them, his expression turned serious.
"Now that’s more like it..." he muttered, cracking his knuckles.