Chapter 43: Boss Rush

  The moment Marcus and Vira stepped through the swirling portal, the world around them exploded into chaos.

  Unlike other dungeons where the transition was smooth, this entry felt like being swallowed whole by an unnatural force. The air twisted, their bodies compressed, and a feeling of weightlessness overtook them as they were yanked into the unknown.

  Then—impact.

  Marcus landed in a crouch, his instincts kicking in before his mind could process what had just happened. Vira tumbled beside him, her hands bracing against the cold stone floor.

  The world around them was… wrong.

  They stood on a vast bridge of dark, jagged stone, suspended in a swirling abyss of ashen clouds and violet lightning. The bridge stretched toward a colossal tower, so high that its peak vanished into the misty void above. The structure was a monolith of blackened stone and twisted metal, ancient symbols glowing faintly along its spiraling walls.

  Marcus whistled. "Damn. This place is intense."

  Vira slowly got to her feet, her eyes flicking to the ominous tower. "I can’t even see the top… how far up do you think it goes?"

  Stem’s voice hummed in Marcus’ mind. "Height indeterminate. The dungeon does not abide by standard physics. The structure may expand infinitely based on progression conditions."

  Marcus exhaled. "Great. A never-ending death trap. Love that."

  Vira shook her head. "Something about this place feels… wrong. It’s unnatural."

  Marcus rolled his shoulders, a grin forming. "Then let’s show it what we do to unnatural things."

  Together, they strode forward toward the first boss chamber.

  The moment Marcus and Vira stepped into the first boss chamber, an oppressive aura washed over them. The arena was unlike anything Marcus had ever seen—a grand coliseum of crumbling stone, encircled by towering statues frozen in twisted expressions of agony.

  Each statue had once been a living being.

  Some were orcish warriors, their faces locked in eternal battle cries. Others were human adventurers, their hands reaching desperately for weapons that had long since crumbled to dust.

  A few were creatures Marcus couldn’t even recognize—some twisted beyond comprehension, others frozen mid-flight, wings outstretched as if trying to escape their fate.

  Vira swallowed hard. "This isn’t just a dungeon. It’s a graveyard."

  Then—the sound of shifting stone.

  From the shadows at the center of the arena, something stirred.

  A tall, serpentine woman emerged, her lower half a coiling mass of onyx scales, her upper body elegant yet monstrous. Writhing ashen serpents twisted where her hair should have been, their slitted eyes gleaming with intelligence. Her arms were adorned with razor-like claws, their silver tips reflecting the dim torchlight.

  And her eyes—piercing silver orbs, glowing with an unnatural curse.

  "Medusa Variant Detected," Stem’s voice rang in Marcus’ mind. "Unique Boss Effect: Nullification Gaze. Any target she gazes upon will experience immediate magic suppression."

  Vira stiffened. "That’s bad. I’m a mana fighter. If I can’t cast, I’m—"

  Marcus cracked his knuckles. "Then don’t fight. Let me handle this."

  But before he could move, Medusa slithered toward them, her head tilting as if studying her prey.

  Her eyes flashed, and in that instant, Vira felt it—her connection to mana vanished.

  She gasped, stumbling back. "My mana—"

  Marcus didn’t hesitate. He lunged forward, closing the distance before she could lock onto him.

  The creature's attacks were wild, unrefined, relying on speed and reach rather than precision.

  She lashed out, her claws slicing the air, but Marcus was already inside her range, dodging with a smooth slip.

  He countered with a short, explosive left hook to her ribs. The impact sent shockwaves up his arm, the resistance of her scaled body harder than expected, but it still forced her off balance.

  Medusa shrieked, her body coiling backward. She was fast—faster than most enemies he had fought before—but she had one glaring weakness.

  She had to be looking at her opponent to suppress their magic.

  Marcus didn’t give her that chance.

  He moved in again, weaving through her attacks, staying low to avoid her gaze, his footwork sharp—bobbing and weaving, never staying in one place long enough for her to track him.

  Medusa hissed in frustration, slashing downward with a vicious backhanded strike.

  Marcus ducked under it, stepped inside her guard, and delivered a brutal right cross straight into her midsection. The force sent a shockwave through her body, forcing her to arch backward.

  Vira’s eyes widened. "Wait a minute…"

  Marcus was forcing Medusa to look away.

  She wasn’t gazing at her.

  Her mana surged back into her body.

  Vira didn’t hesitate—she raised her hand, and a spear of flame erupted from her palm.

  Boom!

  The explosion blasted into Medusa’s shoulder, sending her spiraling across the stone floor.

  Marcus grinned. "Oh, we’re gonna win this easy."

  Medusa hissed, recovering quickly. She adjusted her tactics, moving more erratically, her body twisting at unnatural angles to throw off Marcus’ rhythm.

  Her claws lashed out in blinding succession, a flurry of razor-sharp slashes.

  Marcus ducked, pivoted, rolled—his footwork carrying him through the assault like water flowing around a storm.

  A sudden feint—Medusa snapped forward, fangs bared, aiming to bite him.

  Marcus countered.

  A perfectly-timed straight punch.

  His fist collided with her jaw, snapping her head backward with a sickening crunch.

  As she reeled from the impact, Vira struck again, launching a bolt of compressed wind, slicing deep into Medusa’s abdomen.

  The serpent woman shrieked, her body writhing in pain.

  She tried to turn her gaze toward Vira again—but Marcus was already on her, delivering a devastating hook to her ribs, forcing her to turn away.

  Vira seized the opening.

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  She raised both hands—her mana surged—and with a burst of elemental fury, she unleashed a concentrated lance of pure lightning.

  The bolt pierced through Medusa’s chest, arcing through her body, illuminating the chamber with a blinding flash.

  Medusa let out a final, agonized screech—before her body disintegrated into dust, her power fading into nothingness.

  Silence settled over the chamber.

  Marcus exhaled, shaking out his fists. "One down."

  Vira stood frozen, staring at her hands.

  Marcus nudged her. "Hey. You good?"

  She blinked, then looked at him. "I—yeah."

  Her gaze shifted to the empty space where Medusa had fallen.

  She had doubted herself coming into this dungeon. But in that fight, she had found a way to contribute.

  She had made a difference.

  Marcus grinned. "See? I told you. We got this."

  For the first time since stepping into the dungeon, Vira smiled.

  They were going to win.

  And this was just the beginning.

  The second and third bosses forced Vira to step up.

  The second boss, a twisted fire beast, required precision control over elemental magic to suppress. Vira, regaining her confidence, overpowered it with a crushing surge of water mana, drowning it in a cyclone.

  The third boss, a phantom knight, forced her into a close-quarters battle, requiring rapid spell casting and fast reflexes. She shined in this fight, using mana-infused movements to outmaneuver the knight’s ghostly blade, eventually crushing its core with a devastating blast of compressed air.

  The fourth boss—a brutal, towering war beast—was a joint effort between Marcus and Vira, testing their synergy in combat.

  As they crossed into a rest chamber, Marcus collapsed against a stone bench.

  The resting chamber was a stark contrast to the chaos of the fights before. The moment Marcus and Vira stepped inside, the heavy stone doors sealed shut behind them, silencing the echoes of the previous battle.

  The air inside was cool and still, filled with an unnatural calm that felt foreign after the relentless combat. The room itself was built from smooth obsidian, veins of faint blue light running through the walls like glowing circuits. At its center stood a massive stone slab, resembling an altar, with two floating orbs of white light hovering just above it.

  Marcus took a deep breath, letting his muscles relax as he dropped onto the slab, stretching out his arms. Vira sat down beside him, rolling her shoulders.

  "Well," Marcus exhaled, "I don’t know about you, but I could sleep for a week."

  Vira chuckled weakly. "I wouldn’t complain."

  A soft chime echoed through the chamber.

  Marcus felt it before he saw it—a warm, shimmering energy coursing through his veins, filling him with an intoxicating sense of growth.

  Then—

  Level Up Achieved!

  A translucent screen flickered to life before Marcus, its Celeste text standing out against the chamber’s dim lighting. His eyes widened as lines of new data unfolded, and for the first time in what felt like an eternity, he felt the rush of true progression.

  His stats surged, his body thrumming with newfound power. His muscles felt lighter, his reflexes sharper, and his mind more attuned to the energy within him.

  A familiar yet long-forgotten sensation overtook him.

  It had been so long.

  Too long.

  The last dungeom, had given them no levels, no rewards, just pain and suffering. They had fought, bled, and survived, only to emerge empty-handed.

  That feeling of stagnation had haunted him. No matter how many fights they won, there had been no sense of growth.

  But now?

  Now, the system recognized his efforts.

  He clenched his fists, feeling the raw energy coiling inside him, waiting to be used.

  Class Evolution Achieved!

  Marcus’ breath caught in his throat as a secondary window materialized. Due to your unorthodox fighting style and exceptional balance of Ki, Mana, and Psycha, you may initiate your threshold breakthrough.

  A slow grin crept onto Marcus’ face. "Now that’s what I’m talking about."

  A secondary notification flickered to life.

  Yes...or...No!

  Marcus hesitated, he wanted to test himself.

  He minimized the notification.

  [New Achievement Earned: Hoarder] (For refusing to spend any stat points before reaching level 10 and Banking your threshold breakthrough, all base stats are increased by 10%.)

  Marcus blinked. "Hoarder? Seriously?"

  Vira snickered. "You never allocated your stat points?"

  Marcus shrugged. "I wanted to see what would happen if I waited. Looks like it paid off."

  Vira shook her head, smiling for the first time since entering the dungeon.

  Marcus glanced at his hands. The glow of the hoarder stat increase energy still flickered faintly across his skin, radiating an undeniable sense of power.

  This wasn’t just a level up.

  It was a reminder—that they were progressing, that their struggles meant something.

  And after everything they had been through, after all the pain of the previous delve, the feeling of growth was almost intoxicating.

  He sat back, letting the moment wash over him.

  For the first time in a long time, Marcus felt like he was getting stronger again.

  And damn, it felt good.

  The chamber door groaned open, revealing a domain of decay.

  Unlike the previous arenas, which had been grand or ominous, this one was pure desolation. The floor was a broken expanse of blackened stone, cracked open in places to reveal a sickly green mist rising from beneath. Jagged bones jutted from the ground like grotesque monuments, twisted into unnatural shapes, their marrow long since rotted away.

  The walls—if they could even be called that—seemed to be made of pale, writhing tendrils, shifting and pulsing as if alive. The air was thick with the stench of rot, and the very atmosphere felt diseased, seeping into their lungs with every breath.

  Marcus tensed, his instincts screaming at him.

  Vira stood frozen beside him, her face pale. "No… no, it can’t be—"

  A low, reverberating growl filled the chamber.

  Then, from the mist at the far end of the room, a monstrous figure emerged.

  A towering, gaunt being, draped in a shroud of tattered black flesh, moving like a shadow given form. Its body was skeletal yet grotesque, its limbs too long, its hands ending in bony, clawed fingers that dripped with green ichor. In its grasp, it held a massive scythe, its blade jagged and curved like a vulture’s talon, exuding a dark energy that warped the air around it.

  Its face was featureless, save for two hollow voids where its eyes should have been, and a gaping maw that stretched far too wide, lined with jagged teeth of pale bone.

  Yurtrus.

  The orc god of death.

  Vira’s breath hitched. Her entire body refused to move.

  "Vira!" Marcus barked, but she didn’t react.

  She was paralyzed by fear.

  Yurtrus moved.

  A whisper of death—impossibly fast for something so massive—it surged forward, its scythe carving through the air with a howling wail.

  Marcus reacted instinctively, ducking under the sweeping arc and countering with a burst of Ki-infused speed, his fist colliding with Yurtrus’ ribcage in a bone-cracking body blow.

  The impact shuddered through the creature, but Yurtrus barely staggered, as if Marcus’ attack was an afterthought.

  Marcus clicked his tongue. "Alright, big guy. Let's do this properly."

  He launched himself into the offensive, his footwork flawless, dipping and weaving around Yurtrus’ monstrous swipes. His fists became a blur, each strike a precision weapon—a straight to the ribs, an uppercut to the jaw, a rapid combination to break its form.

  Yurtrus swung again—faster than before.

  Marcus barely sidestepped in time, the scythe’s poisonous aura grazing his arm. Even a glancing hit made his skin burn.

  "Shit—okay, let’s not get touched."

  Yurtrus wasn’t just a brute with a big weapon—it was a force of inevitability. Each swing of its scythe forced Marcus to move faster, strike smarter, and predict further ahead.

  But Marcus was a boxer, a fighter built for endurance.

  He stayed in close, where the scythe had less room to swing, hammering Yurtrus with an endless flurry of body shots, counters, and explosive strikes, forcing the god to shift defensively for the first time.

  Then, finally—Vira stirred.

  She gasped for air, as if breaking free from drowning.

  She looked up, and Marcus was still fighting, still pushing forward.

  Still believing they could win.

  Her fear didn’t matter.

  Not when Marcus was out there, giving everything he had.

  Vira’s hands clenched.

  "You are not unstoppable. You are not inevitable. And you are NOT taking him from me!"

  Her mana surged—and Yurtrus turned, sensing the shift in power.

  That was all it needed.

  In that moment of distraction, Yurtrus’ scythe lashed out, a blur of green-black death.

  Marcus twisted—but he was a fraction too slow.

  The blade sliced through his side, piercing deep.

  Marcus felt it instantly—the poison invading his bloodstream, burning, rotting him from the inside.

  Vira screamed. "MARCUS!"

  Marcus stumbled, dropping to one knee, his vision swimming in a haze of green fog.

  Stem’s voice crackled in his mind. "Poison detected. Neutralization protocol initiated. Estimated recovery time: Two minutes."

  Marcus grimaced. "That’s too damn long."

  Vira rushed to his side, panic in her eyes. "Marcus—"

  He grabbed her wrist.

  "Stem’s got me. But you need to finish this."

  She hesitated, torn between staying with him and fighting on.

  Marcus grinned weakly. "Hey. You wanted to prove yourself, right? Here’s your shot."

  Her hesitation shattered.

  Vira stood, her entire body radiating mana.

  Then—she let go.

  She unleashed everything.

  Her mana exploded outward, turning the entire chamber into a maelstrom of elemental fury.

  Fire surged in waves, molten currents swallowing the ground. Lightning cracked and arced, lashing against Yurtrus’ form. Wind spiraled into cutting gales, slicing deep into his rotting flesh. Ice formed massive spikes, piercing his limbs, locking him in place.

  Yurtrus let out an unnatural wail, thrashing violently, its scythe swinging wildly—but Vira was beyond it now.

  Her eyes burned white-hot, her power surging past her limits, past anything she had ever achieved before.

  She launched herself forward, her hands weaving symbols at blinding speed.

  Then—she formed a final spell, one meant to end gods.

  A singular spear of raw, condensed mana.

  Not fire. Not lightning. Not wind. Not ice.

  Pure, unfiltered destruction.

  With a scream that shook the chamber, she drove the spear through Yurtrus’ core.

  For a moment—time stopped.

  Then—reality collapsed in on itself.

  The god erupted into nothingness, his form shattered into oblivion, the room quaking as the corruption was purged from existence.

  Silence fell.

  Vira stumbled. The rush of power faded, her breath ragged and heavy.

  Then—Marcus coughed.

  She spun around and saw him, still kneeling, but already looking better.

  Vira rushed to him, falling to her knees and throwing her arms around his neck.

  "I thought I lost you!" she choked out.

  Marcus let out a weak chuckle. "You really think I’d let some undead bastard take me out?"

  She held onto him tighter, burying her face in his shoulder.

  "Don’t ever scare me like that again."

  Marcus sighed, returning the embrace. "I’ll try my best."

  Then he pulled back, looking her in the eyes.

  "You did good, Vira. Real good."

  Vira exhaled, finally smiling through her exhaustion.

  And for the first time since entering the dungeon—she truly believed it.

  They were unstoppable together.

  They rose—ready for the next floor.