The chamber beyond the blast door was enormous. Columns stretched up into darkness, each etched with swirling patterns that flickered with dim blue light. A series of glowing circuits pulsed through the floor in branching paths, converging at a wide dais in the center.

  As the trio stepped inside, the doors groaned shut behind them, sealing the silence. Their footsteps echoed.

  John looked around. "Okay, this is either the final boss room… or where goblins do interpretive dance rituals."

  "There’s too much ambient mana," Kaia said, voice low. "Something’s building."

  Thorin grunted. "Then let’s break it."

  A low hum filled the chamber.

  Darkness coalesced above the dais—tendrils of shadow twisting downward into a humanoid shape. Magic pulsed with theatrical flare. A voice boomed out:

  "You have trespassed where none dare walk. Prepare to witness the might of the one true arcane master—Dread Cloak!"

  Lightning crackled. A shadowed figure stepped forward, a massive cloak billowing around him like it had its own wind source. The hood fell back to reveal a goblin—grinning, green, and barely three feet tall.

  His cloak, however, was at least twenty feet long, trailing behind him like a royal train.

  John stared. "Is… is that all cloak?"

  The goblin spread his arms. "Gaze upon my glorious mantle, woven from the threads of despair and destiny!"

  John doubled over with laughter. "Oh my god. He’s wearing a tent."

  Kaia looked stunned. "That’s the dungeon boss?"

  Thorin just sighed. "Are you going to laugh at all the boss fights?"

  Dread Cloak snarled. "Laugh all you want! Your bones will decorate my throne!"

  He raised a hand, and runes glowed beneath his feet. A portal tore open, disgorging a wave of goblin elites in gleaming white armor.

  "Deal with them!"

  John spun his daggers. "Alright. Let’s go."

  Kaia glanced at her pouch but hadn’t reached for it yet. Her fingers hovered over the corked bottle. "I’ve got one mana potion left. Saving it for when it counts."

  Thorin nodded. "I have one healing potion. Might need it if you run out of mana."

  John flipped his daggers. "So... no potions, one ridiculous cloak, and a room full of stormtrooper knockoffs. Guess it’s Tuesday."

  Kaia looked at John with a frown and said, " No, it's Morvrathday."

  John scrunched up his face in concentration for a second, then replied, "Morvrathday like the Morvrath, the goddess of death?"

  Thorin said, " Yes, our days are named after the seven Gods."

  "Well, that's not ominous," John said with sarcasm.

  The goblins charged. The fight began.

  The first wave hit like an over-choreographed parade. Goblins in oversized white armor stormed down the steps of the dais, crystal rifles raised and firing erratic bursts of energy. Most missed by wide margins.

  John ducked and rolled, a bolt flying overhead and frying one of the support pillars. "They really can’t hit anything, can they?"

  Thorin was less lucky—one bolt grazed his arm, singeing a black line through his armor. He growled and charged, shield raised. "Focus! They may be bad shots, but they’ve got numbers!"

  Kaia held her staff high, summoning a radiant barrier that shimmered before them. It deflected three more shots, but flickered under the strain.

  John flanked left, disappearing behind a column and reappearing behind a pair of goblins. He plunged his dagger into one’s back, then caught the other with a clean throat-slice as it turned.

  Kaia’s barrier shattered with a flash, and she held her staff in a fighting grip, ready for them to charge. Three goblins grinned and began to move.

  Thorin barreled through them, axe cleaving through one’s chestplate and knocking two more off balance. He spun into a backswing that sent a goblin tumbling into a wall.

  One of the goblins panicked and fired straight into the air. The bolt arced and slammed down onto another goblin’s helmet, He would not rise again.

  Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

  John snorted. "Friendly fire? We are in a Star Wars dungeon."

  Kaia called out, "Two more coming from the right!"

  John leapt to intercept. One raised a shock baton, but John jumped over it, slashing across the goblin’s neck before spinning and kicking the second into a broken statue.

  Thorin blocked two more strikes, gritting his teeth as sparks lit up around him. He slammed the edge of his shield into a goblin’s face and brought his axe down to finish it.

  Kaia muttered a quick incantation and cast a barrier around Thorin, absorbing a bolt that nearly hit him in the throat. Then, with a grunt, she finally uncorked her potion and drank the glowing liquid. Magic flickered back into her limbs.

  John finished his last goblin with a brutal upward thrust, then flicked gore off his blade. "Minions cleared."

  They regrouped, breathing hard. Kaia wiped her mouth and tucked the empty vial away.

  The chamber dimmed.

  And Dread Cloak began to float.

  “To me, my true power!” he bellowed.

  A vortex of shadow formed at his back as his cloak spread wide, writhing like a living thing.

  “Now comes the real fight,” John muttered. “No backup. Just a guy with fashion issues and a vendetta.”

  Dread Cloak moved like a phantom, the oversized cloak flowing around him in shifting, unnatural patterns. He raised one clawed hand and launched a bolt of void magic. Kaia rolled left just in time, the spell blasting a crater in the floor where she'd stood.

  “Okay, he hits hard,” she called, her voice tight.

  Thorin rushed forward, shield up, swinging his axe in a wide arc. Dread Cloak floated upward, just enough to avoid the swing. The cloak lashed out like a serpent, slamming into Thorin's chest and sending him sprawling.

  John blinked. “His cape fights back?”

  Kaia hurled a bolt of holy energy, striking Dread Cloak’s side—but it fizzled against a barrier of shadow.

  “Great,” she said. “I can't harm him directly. His power isn't unholy or undeath in nature.”

  John shadowstepped behind the goblin boss and slashed at the floating figure’s back. One dagger connected with fabric, which was resisted, and the other slid through empty air. Dread Cloak spun, flinging a burst of energy from his cloak that sent John flying into a column.

  “Still ridiculous,” John wheezed, getting up.

  Thorin came in again, swinging with force. His axe struck the edge of the cloak—and stuck. Dread Cloak grinned and yanked the fabric, dragging Thorin off his feet and throwing him like a ragdoll across the chamber.

  Kaia scrambled to Thorin’s side and helped him up. “We need to neutralize that cloak.”

  Thorin said, " Is it magic? It doesn't act like a cloak, and it's strong."

  John glanced at the writhing black cloak surrounding the goblin. “His cloak is acting like a shield. But it's definitely fabric. It triggers my Taylor skill, looking at it. If we disrupt the weave—"

  Kaia didn’t wait. She began casting a more focused incantation, aiming not at the goblin but at the base of the cloak itself. The spell slammed into the cloak, and it froze..

  Dread Cloak roared. “Fools! You dare challenge my mantle of shadows?!”

  John charged again, feinting left and darting right. He struck at one of the trailing ends of the cloak with both daggers. This time, they bit deep into enchanted cloth that screeched like metal.

  Thorin, rising with a groan, raised his shield and ran forward again. “Taste my axe, eater of children.”

  Shaking his head, John yelled, " Will you ever drop that?"

  Thorin swung his axe right at the evil creature and it stopped right before his face. Lightning exploding from Dread Cloak's head prevented the death blow.

  "You think the Cloak is my only power?" Dred Cloak laughed.

  If Thorin had a response it was cut off. The large man was lifted into the air. Dropping both his axe and shield he clutched at his neck. Trying desperately to draw in a breath.

  Kaia screamed " Thorin! John do you have any plans now is the time!"

  John focused on the cloak. faint blue lines appeared and wove an intricate pattern. John was familiar with this, it was his tailoring skill. He saw this everytime he worked on his projects. This was a master piece of woven artistry. But John hadn't been power leveling his skill in secret for nothing. He finally saw it. In the middle all lines led to a single point. A circular spot that all lines lead to. Grinning John was about to attack when he saw a spectral image of a wizened goblin.

  "Use the Schwartz, John"

  John ran forward on pure instinct, Dread Cloak's tendrils lashing out at him. He ducked and twisted and flipped, avoiding the cloak entirely. When he finally got to the evil garment, he lept through the air and drove both daggers into the weak spot on the cloak.

  The cloak flickered.

  John pressed in. “Now we’re making progress.”

  Dread Cloak suddenly shrieked, yanking his cloak around himself like a shield. A pulse of dark energy rippled outward, blasting all three companions back. The floor beneath them cracked and trembled. The lights above dimmed to crimson.

  John slammed into a fallen column. Kaia crashed beside him, groaning. Thorin skidded across the floor, landing hard against the far wall.

  Dread Cloak's cloak was left tattered, tiny, and regular. It was no longer full of evil tendrils that sought their destruction.

  The chamber rumbled violently. A massive arcane machine rose from the center dais, glowing crystals spinning in midair, leaking unstable mana into the air. Dread Cloak floated above it, arms outstretched. “You think this is a joke? A game? I’ve been trapped in this prison for centuries!”

  His voice echoed as the mana device roared to life.

  “I was forged to amuse the Architect—his pet warlock! Forced to cosplay his ancient Earth fantasies while fighting idiots with swords!”

  Kaia pulled herself upright. “The Architect…?”

  “Who is the architect and where did he come from?” John said

  Dread Cloak laughed, eyes burning. “He made me in his image of villainy. The cloak. The voice. The monologues. I wasn’t born like this! I was programmed!”

  With a surge of power, the floor split open.

  Chunks of stone lifted into the air, drifting over a pit of molten lava. The arena reshaped itself into scattered floating platforms, unstable and glowing with firelight.

  Kaia scrambled onto one with Thorin’s help. John shadowstepped to another. Dread Cloak hovered above them all, now wreathed in smoke and lightning.

  “I will break this dungeon,” he screamed. “I will escape into the world above—and I’ll rewrite the laws that bound me! You don't know how long I've been here. Fighting you, adventurers, over and over. The same motions. Following a script built into me. Not able to break free. I would awake and perform my duties every time a new party entered. I would give the same stupid monologue. And I would die. Over and over again.

  For what? What was I made for? What is any of this for? Do you know what it's like to die? IT HURTS!

  One day, though, I woke up and there was no new party here to kill me. I was free. The power that bound me was gone. I was at last able to move and do as I wanted.

  I began to plot. To build this machine to unleash me from the dungeon. And to seek out the Architect. To get answers and to kill him. ”

  John spat blood and stood. “So… this is all about daddy issues?”

  John checked his belt pouch, found his last red vial, and shrugged. “Bottoms up.” He drank it and tossed the bottle aside.

  Dread Cloak sneered. “You mock me? You think this is funny?!”

  “Little bit, yeah.”

  Dread Cloak screamed and sent a wave of energy cascading across the platforms, destabilizing them. One shattered beneath Kaia’s feet—she leapt just in time.

  Thorin growled, leaping from stone to stone. “We end this now!”

  John crouched low, assessing the shifting heights. One platform rose above the others.

  He grinned. “You know what they say… It’s over when you’ve got the high ground.”

  John leapt, catching the rising platform as it floated higher above the chamber. Dread Cloak spun toward him, cloak tendrils lashing violently.

  “You dare challenge me now?!” Dread Cloak howled.

  John didn’t respond. He sprinted forward along the narrow stone ledge, each step reverberating with the force of his momentum. Dread Cloak hurled a volley of void bolts upward—John weaved between them, one grazing his side.

  Below, Kaia and Thorin battled to stay balanced, shouting warnings. The lava roared and bubbled, casting flickering light over the battlefield.

  John leapt again—higher this time—landing on a ledge that brought him staring down on the goblin boss.

  Dread Cloak roared and hurled one final cascade of magic.

  John dodged left, then right, Dread Cloak, then floated higher into the air, coming at John, fingers sparking.

  "Here, John," Thorin yelled, and tossed John his sword.

  John caught the sword and spun, slicing through Dread Cloak's torso.

  The goblin’s eyes widened in shock.

  “You… fool…” he gasped.

  John held the sword at the ready. “No. Just a dad with a deadline.”

  Standing on the ledge as Dread Cloak’s form split down the middle, John said, " You were supposed to bring balance to the force. You were the chosen one."

  "You are just like him," were Dread Cloak's final words.

  The goblin tumbled in two, his cloak shredding in slow motion as his remains dissolved into embers.

  The floating platforms began to lower. The lava dimmed, the magic engine sputtered—and silence returned.

  John dropped to his knees, breathing hard.

  Kaia and Thorin reached him as the chamber cooled.

  “It’s over,” Kaia said softly.

  John looked at the cloak fragments. “About damn time.”

  A soft chime echoed in the chamber.

  [BOSS DEFEATED: Dread Cloak, the Imprisoned]

  [LEVEL UP! John Bradford – Level 12 → Level 13] [Stat Points +3 | Skill Points +1]

  [Item Acquired: Cloak Fragment of the Forgotten Arcane – +10 Resistance, ???]

  John picked it up. “One day you will be a bitchin' flying carpet.”

  A pedestal appeared on the other side of the room with a doorway.

  "Ooh, presents," John said, walking over to it. On the pedestal was a golden medallion. Picking it up, John received a notification.

  [Received Seal Of Accession]

  He had it. The first seal of accession he needed to get into the tournament. This was really happening. He could do this.