Sunlight hit them like a divine slap to the face.

  John blinked, staggering a step out of the dungeon’s maw and raising a hand to shield his eyes. "Ow. The sun is too happy right now."

  Kaia laughed softly. "You’d think it would feel like a blessing."

  Thorin grunted. “Too bright. Too warm. I liked the dungeon.”

  They moved into the clearing, half-limping, blood-smeared, and absolutely exhausted—but breathing. Alive.

  John exhaled deeply and stretched his arms wide. “Well, we did it. Beat the big boss, saved the dungeon from budget cosplay tyranny, and got some solid loot.” He paused, then frowned dramatically. “Still didn’t get a damn lightsaber, though.”

  Thorin cocked his head. “A light-what?”

  John gestured vaguely with his daggers. “Glowy sword. Sci-fi classic. You swing it, it makes this awesome ‘vvvmmmm’ sound. This universe blows.”

  Kaia gave him a sideways look. “You’ve mentioned these… space wars before. They sound ridiculous.”

  “Oh, they are,” John said. “But gloriously so. Evil empires, desert wizards, space bears. There’s this one guy who has a cape and breathing problems, goes around choking people with his mind.”

  Thorin scratched his beard. “Sounds like a necromancer with asthma.”

  John laughed. “Close enough.”

  He turned to face them as they stepped out fully into the golden light. “Anyway, there’s this scene where some kid blows up a battle station the size of a moon”

  “And that’s heroic?” Kaia asked, confused.

  “Well, yes. Except… think about all the electricians, janitors, and plumbers working night shift. Just doing their job. One rebel torpedo and boom. Galactic OSHA violation.”

  Thorin blinked. “I have no idea what any of those words mean.”

  “Good. Stay pure.”

  Kaia chuckled. “You’re ridiculous.”

  “Damn right I am,” John said, planting his hands on his hips. “And I...”

  The forest had grown strangely silent around them, the only sound the crunch of their boots on the old path. The air was heavy, damp, and oppressive — as if the world itself was holding its breath. John adjusted the straps on his pack and took a sip from his wakeroot flask, already picturing a hot meal and soft bed waiting back in Bjornfell.

  They never saw it coming.

  From the shadow of the trees ahead, a figure materialized — a tall man draped in a flowing, black cloak that seemed to absorb the light. His warhorse, dark as night, snorted and stamped, steam curling from its nostrils in the cool air.

  John stiffened immediately. Thorin drew his axe, stepping forward.

  The cloaked figure sat on his horse like a reaper from a nightmare, his face shadowed under a dark hood. Only the gleam of his cruel, knowing smile was visible.

  Kaia's hand tightened on her staff. Thorin shifted his grip on his axe.

  "Well," Drevan drawled, his voice like oiled silk, "I've been waiting for you."

  John’s expression flattened. “Let me guess. Final boss DLC?”

  The man gave a small bow. “Drevan. Hired hand. And you three just did me a huge favor.”

  John narrowed his eyes. "Who’s your boss? The Easter Bunny?"

  Drevan’s eyes gleamed. “A very rich and very powerful man. One who has spent a great deal of gold and blood trying to open that dungeon.”

  John stepped forward, daggers loose in his hands. “Let me guess. You weren't cool enough to get in, so you let us do the heavy lifting.”

  Drevan smiled, all teeth. “Precisely. I’ve been watching you since Bjornfell. Little nudges. Quiet favors. Monsters that conveniently missed. You thought it was luck?”

  Kaia’s eyes widened. “You helped us?”

  “I guided you,” Drevan said. “Like a shepherd tending livestock."

  Thorin immediately dropped his pack, gripping the haft of his axe. "What do you want?"

  Kaia’s staff lowered slightly, wariness in her stance. "You're after the seals?"

  Drevan gave a small bow. "Smart girl. You see, my employer requires them. And I—" he gestured grandly to himself, "—have been tasked with collecting them. Unfortunately, my entry into the dungeon itself is prohibited. But no matter. You saved me the trouble."

  “You mean your balls weren't big enough?” John said.

  “Mouthy as always. I will have that seal,” Drevan replied. “And perhaps… my master might let me keep a souvenir.” His gaze slid to Kaia.

  Thorin’s knuckles whitened on his axe. “You’ll die before you touch her.”

  The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

  Drevan tilted his head. “Maybe. Let’s find out.”

  Without another word, he dismounted smoothly, drawing a wickedly curved saber from his belt. It shimmered with a faint, sickly purple light.

  "You can give me the seal," Drevan said, "or I can pry it from your corpses. Your choice."

  John leaned toward Kaia and Thorin. "I vote we don’t give them up."

  Thorin cracked his knuckles. "Aye."

  Kaia nodded grimly. "Let's do this!"

  "Excellent," Drevan said, flashing a predator’s grin. "I was hoping you'd be difficult."

  The fight exploded into motion.

  John moved first, daggers flashing as he blurred into a Shadow Step behind Drevan. He slashed at the back of the man's knee—one dagger catching flesh, the other sparking off armor. Drevan grunted but didn’t fall.

  Thorin came in like a battering ram, shield up, axe high. He brought it down with a roar, the blade biting into Drevan’s shoulder with a satisfying crack. The force of it pushed Drevan off balance, skidding half a step back.

  Kaia raised her staff, murmuring a quick incantation. A shimmer of blue wrapped around Thorin—Haste. Then she followed with a Barrier on John, her focus laser-tight. Her breath was already shallow.

  John dove in again, aiming for joints, his daggers a blur. He scored a slash across Drevan’s side, then ducked a retaliatory backhand. “We’ve got him on the ropes!” he called.

  Thorin roared and used the momentum from Haste to swing low, sweeping at Drevan’s legs. The blade connected, and for a moment, Drevan staggered.

  Kaia stepped in and pointed her staff. “Paralysis!” Pale energy crackled from the tip and struck Drevan full in the chest. He froze for a half-second—long enough for John to plant a dagger hilt-deep into his thigh.

  “Stay down!” Thorin bellowed, following up with a heavy shield bash that slammed Drevan against a stone pillar. Dust exploded outward. John landed another strike in the chaos, slicing across Drevan’s ribs.

  It was working.

  It had to be working.

  Drevan knelt for a moment, cloak torn and shoulder bleeding. He looked up slowly. His lips curled into a smile.

  Then he laughed.

  A low, mocking sound, rising into a full-throated chuckle that echoed through the clearing.

  He stood easily.

  John stepped back. “No way.”

  Drevan reached up and pulled the dagger from his leg, tossing it aside like a stick. The wounds on his side and shoulder bled freely—but he didn’t seem to care. His eyes gleamed with wicked delight.

  He cracked his neck, rolled his shoulders, and said, “Are you finished?”

  Kaia froze, lips parting in disbelief.

  Thorin tightened his grip on his axe. “No. But I’ve got more where that came from.”

  John swallowed. His breath misted in the cooling air. Every instinct screamed danger.

  Drevan smirked and brandished his blade—a thin, elegant saber that shimmered with a sickly violet aura. “Good,” he said.

  “Now it’s my turn.”

  John barely registered the blur before Thorin was flung across the clearing, crashing into a tree hard enough to drop pinecones. Kaia tried to cast a barrier, but a bolt of violet energy cracked her barrier in two.

  John Shadowstepped, reappearing behind Drevan and slashing—but Drevan turned just in time to catch his wrist mid-strike.

  “Predictable,” he murmured.

  John spun, kicked him in the knee. It connected. Drevan grunted—and smiled. “That’s more like it.”

  Kaia cast a Slow spell—runes flaring with light—but Drevan shrugged it off like water.

  “You’re not ready,” he said, hurling John backward with a telekinetic blast. The rogue slammed into a stone and tumbled into a crouch.

  “Kaia—haste—now!”

  She chanted quickly, sending glowing energy into John. His world snapped into clarity. He dashed, daggers flashing.

  This time he got in a real hit—a deep gouge across Drevan’s ribs.

  Drevan hissed. “Good. Let’s see if you survive this.”

  A sphere of black flame erupted from his palm, roaring toward Kaia. She dove behind a boulder just in time, her robe catching fire at the edge.

  Thorin barreled in from the right, screaming, axe raised. He smashed into Drevan, driving him back two steps.

  Drevan laughed, delighted. “You’re so loud, warrior.”

  He slammed both palms into Thorin’s chest. Arcane force detonated, hurling the big man into the dirt.

  John lunged again, cutting through Drevan’s sleeve and into his shoulder. Blood—real blood—spilled.

  Drevan’s eyes narrowed.

  Thorin charged with a bellow, swinging his axe in a mighty arc. Drevan sidestepped effortlessly, raking his saber across Thorin’s ribs. Blood sprayed, and Thorin staggered.

  John was already moving, blades flashing, shadow-stepping behind Drevan to strike. But the man moved faster than John thought possible, catching John mid-lunge with a brutal elbow to the ribs, sending him sprawling.

  Kaia raised her staff, chanting a spell—but Drevan flicked a dagger from his belt, the blade grazing her shoulder and disrupting her concentration.

  "You’re sloppy," Drevan taunted, circling them like a vulture. "You beat Tiffany? So what. She was a joke."

  John gritted his teeth, pushing himself upright. "Big words for someone wearing a villain starter pack."

  Drevan laughed. "I don’t need theatrics to beat you. Only skill."

  He was right. Every blow Thorin tried to land was countered with perfect precision. Every spell Kaia managed to cast was dodged or disrupted. And John—John, who had danced through enemies like a storm, found himself a step too slow, a beat too late.

  Drevan toyed with them, slicing shallow cuts as they tried to mount any offense. He wasn’t trying to kill them quickly.

  He wanted them to suffer.

  John lunged again, trying to feint high and sweep low—but Drevan caught his wrist, twisting cruelly. John gasped as something snapped. He dropped one blade, barely keeping hold of the other.

  Kaia desperately sent a pulse of healing magic toward Thorin, but Drevan was there in an instant, slamming the butt of his saber into her gut. She crumpled, gasping for air.

  John saw it happening—too fast—and shadow-stepped in front of Kaia, catching a saber slash across his side. Blood poured freely, staining his Hawaiian shirt.

  Drevan tisked. "Pathetic."

  John groaned, blood trickling from a cut near his brow. He rolled to his side, struggling to rise, ribs on fire with each breath. His fingers closed around the hilt of his remaining dagger.

  He shadowstepped once more—desperation lending him speed. He reappeared at Drevan’s side and slashed with everything he had.

  Drevan spun, caught John’s wrist mid-strike, and twisted. John screamed as the dagger clattered to the ground.

  Then a backhand sent John flying—again.

  Kaia forced herself upright, fingers glowing with mana. “Radiant Bolt!” she cried, launching a streak of light.

  It struck Drevan in the chest—and fizzled, barely singing his armour.

  He advanced.

  Thorin roared from the side, leaping in with a shoulder bash. He slammed into Drevan and drove him back a step.

  “NOW!” Thorin shouted.

  John surged up and ran. Together, he and Thorin unleashed a whirlwind of strikes—dagger, axe, dagger, shield. Kaia chanted from behind, casting Slow and Haste in a rhythm, boosting their speed, dragging Drevan’s reactions just a fraction off-tempo.

  For a moment—just a heartbeat—they drove him back. A nick across the jaw. A dent in his pauldron. Sparks from runes.

  Then Drevan clenched both fists.

  A wave of dark energy exploded from him, throwing both men off their feet.

  Kaia cast Barrier just in time to absorb the shockwave. She fell to one knee, mana nearly spent. Her vision swam.

  Drevan moved toward her again.

  John threw a dagger from the ground. It hit Drevan’s arm and stuck.

  Drevan flinched.

  Kaia’s eyes lit up. “It worked!”

  Drevan ripped the dagger free and hurled it back. John rolled aside, barely dodging it as it embedded itself into the tree behind him.

  Thorin attacked from the side again, this time leaping with a yell and bringing his axe down in an overhead arc.

  Drevan caught the blade.

  “Impressive,” he said. “But not enough.”

  He yanked Thorin forward and headbutted him. Blood flew.

  Kaia cast Haste one last time, pouring every last drop of mana into it. John moved in a blur. He slid under Drevan’s guard and stabbed again and again at the joints.

  One dagger scored across the ribs. Another glanced off the gauntlet. John vaulted, landed a knee in Drevan’s back, and stabbed toward his neck—

  —Drevan turned and blasted John with a pulse of raw force.

  John crashed hard. This time, he didn’t get up right away.

  Still, Thorin refused to go down. With a roar, he hurled his axe—but Drevan sidestepped and struck him square in the temple with the hilt of his weapon.

  Thorin hit the ground.

  Kaia tried to crawl toward him, but Drevan kicked her hard in the side, sending her skidding across the dirt.

  John staggered to his feet, bleeding heavily. His vision swam. Every part of him screamed in protest.

  Drevan approached slowly, savoring it.

  "You thought you could fight me?" he sneered. "You're not champions. You're stepping stones."

  John raised his dagger again, wavering.

  Drevan sighed. "How noble. How tragic."

  He slammed the flat of his saber into John's skull.

  The world spun. John dropped like a puppet with cut strings, barely conscious, bleeding out into the soil.

  Through dim, fading vision, he saw Drevan kneel beside Kaia, binding her with shimmering chains of dark magic.

  She screamed and fought, but it was no use.

  "No worries," Drevan said mockingly. "I'll take good care of your precious healer."

  Drevan’s eyes returned to Kaia. “And I think I’ll take her too. Pretty thing. I’ve always wanted a healer who didn’t talk back.”

  Kaia raised her staff and spat on the ground. “Try it.”

  Drevan raised his hand, and Kaia lifted into the air, gasping.

  John screamed and charged. Thorin flanked, hurling his axe.

  John stabbed both daggers into Drevan’s thigh. Thorin grabbed his axe from the ground and slammed it into Drevan’s side.

  Kaia fell, rolling free.

  Drevan let out a pulse of pure fury. The blast flung all three of them back in a wave of dark flame.

  Kaia hit the ground with a cry. Thorin didn’t move.

  John landed hard, bones jarring, vision swimming.

  Drevan went over to Thorin and slowly drove his saber through the large man's heart. He then walked to Kaia, reached down, and slung her unconscious body over his shoulder.

  He looked at John one last time, eyes flat.

  "You should’ve stayed in your own world."

  Then he turned and walked into the forest, Kaia limp against him.

  John tried to move, tried to rise, but everything hurt. His arms trembled. His legs wouldn’t respond.

  He turned his head toward Thorin.

  The warrior was face-down. Still.

  The last thing John saw before darkness took him was Drevan’s cloak vanishing into the trees—and Kaia’s hand, limp, swinging with each of his steps.

  Then everything went black.