Thess crashed through a stone wall like a human battering ram.

  The building across the street didn’t fare much better. A cloud of dust bloomed from the impact, bricks raining like confetti. Somewhere in the debris, she groaned. Loudly.

  “Thessaly’s down!” Kael called out, his voice ragged.

  No shit. Alistair’s eyes snapped back to the miniboss.

  It was another of those strange, extinct humanoids, same stone-toned skin, same ancient armor but this one had mutated into a stocky horror with oversized claws, tree-trunk arms, and speed that didn’t match its bulk. It carved through the ruined street like a bear on amphetamines.

  And it was bleeding them dry.

  Brimma had shifted back to her gnome form, crouched near a broken cart, wheezing through her cracked staff. Kael’s last three arrows hadn’t even slowed the monster. Buddy stood between them and death, hackles high, whimpering from a slash that had torn into his flank.

  No more playing nice.

  Alistair raised a hand, fangs bared. “KNEEL.”

  [Skill Activated: Noble Edict]

  The miniboss staggered mid-swipe. Its massive legs trembled, one clawed foot slipping on rubble as the forced command took root.

  “Kael, now!” Alistair barked.

  [Tactical Flow Activated – Target: Kaelren]

  Kael didn’t hesitate.

  With an audible snap of tension, he let the arrow fly. The ring on his finger gleamed with wind-forged magic.

  [Ring of Airborn Might – Activated]

  The arrow hissed through the air like a spear hurled by a storm god. It slammed into the miniboss’s side...

  BOOM.

  A pulse of wind exploded outward, knocking the creature off balance and shoving it two full meters sideways. Dust churned. Loose rubble scattered like shrapnel.

  Alistair sprinted.

  No hesitation, no doubt. Just movement. The flame in his chest surged as he activated his newest spell.

  [Spell Cast: Scorchpulse]

  Mana Cost: 25

  Enemies caught are staggered

  Apply [Scorched]: -20% fire resistance

  The heat blast hit like a furnace. The miniboss flinched, covering its face with its claws, but it wasn’t fast enough.

  [Ability Activated: Blink Cut] – Velstrath’s Folding Dagger

  Alistair vanished mid-step.

  And reappeared behind the beast.

  The dagger was already swinging, redcrystal sword still humming in his other hand. The short blade carved clean through the thick neck-plate, slipping into flesh like it belonged there.

  A wet gurgle. A vibration through the hilt.

  [Critical Hit!]

  [Blink Cut: No cooldown – Target killed]

  The miniboss dropped like a puppet with its strings cut, blood soaking the cracked stone beneath it.

  Silence, for half a second.

  Then Alistair exhaled, leaning on his knees. “Okay,” he rasped, “that was… effective.”

  Behind him, Thess coughed violently in the rubble. “You kill it?”

  Alistair gave a half-smile. “Neck’s a little longer than average, but yeah.”

  Kael dropped to a knee, panting. “Good timing.”

  Brimma limped forward, waving her staff like a cane. “Remind me why do we keep doing this?”

  Buddy limped beside her, letting out a low growl like he agreed.

  The ground rumbled beneath them again. That awful dragging sensation, like the earth itself was being pulled toward something horrible in the far distance.

  Alistair sheathed the dagger with a hiss of metal. “Because the gods said so.”

  Brimma forced a half-shattered health potion into Kael’s hand, then shoved one into Thessaly’s.

  “Drink. Don’t whine,” she croaked, her voice more gravel than usual.

  “Are those things getting stronger,” Alistair asked, eyeing the potions they had collected earlier, “or am I just imagining it?”

  “No,” Brimma said hoarsely. “That thing was level thirty.”

  Thess downed her potion in one go and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. “It felt like level three hundred,” she muttered, wincing as she rotated her shoulder.

  “Maybe we’re the problem,” he said. “Maybe we’re just too irresistible. All these monsters throwing themselves at us.”

  Then, DING.

  His [Treasure Seeker] trait went off again like a bell inside his skull.

  Alistair froze mid-step, eyes narrowing. “...Not to alarm anyone, but I think the loot is getting louder.”

  “Oh good,” Brimma grumbled. “More loot.”

  He ignored her and strode into the half-crumbled building, wiping dust from his coat collar. He pulled up his notifications while stepping over fallen beams and shattered stone.

  [Level Up – Level 28 Reached]

  +4 Attribute Points Gained

  + 3 Agility

  +2 Dexterity

  Skill Progression: Fire Magic → Level 12

  Skill Progression: Dual Wielding → Level 14

  Skill Progression: Thorncall → 4

  Skill Progression: Swordsmanship → 19

  Skill Progression: Light Magic → 5

  Skill Progression: Leadership Domain → 14

  [Trait Progression: Vampiric Essence (Advanced) – Milestone Threshold Nearing...]

  “Leveled up again!” he shouted over his shoulder.

  “Me too,” Thess called back.

  “We’ve been fighting for hours,” Kael muttered, limping through the broken entryway after him. “I’ve leveled three times today. My legs are going to level up before my sword arm.”

  “Yeah, well,” Alistair said, waving him forward, “stronger enemies, better XP. Who knew being pummeled to death could be so efficient?”

  The ruined streets had led them deeper and deeper into the maze of the inner city, cracked roads, collapsed towers, and statues that stared like they knew something. And the enemies were definitely ramping up.

  Alistair’s hand closed around the medallion hanging from his neck, seven fragments, assembled. The cold metal pulsed faintly against his collarbone.

  Kael glanced at it, then around the room. “Still no sign of other champions. None since the girl with the whip.”

  “Mm,” Alistair hummed, scanning the dark chamber. His trait was still pinging, subtle now, pointing him toward.

  “There,” he said, pointing toward a half-hidden alcove.

  The narrow opening led into a dust-choked hallway, half-rotted wooden beams straining under the weight of time. They ducked through, Thess cursing the whole way, until they stumbled into what looked like…

  “…an apothecary?” Kael ventured.

  Shelves sagged under the weight of age. Jars of crumbling herbs and strange roots lined the walls. Thin metal tools and alchemical glassware lay scattered on long tables, some fused with dust, others cracked from age. A few boxes still sat in corners, untouched.

  “Only eleven champions left,” Kael murmured, gaze drifting to the broken windows. “With us… that makes seven still out there. Somewhere.”

  Alistair nodded slowly. “I can’t help but feel a little proud.”

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

  “Proud?” Thess’s voice drifted from behind them.

  Alistair turned toward the entrance and cupped his hands around his mouth. “Brimma! Get your wrinkly butt in here!”

  A loud and creative curse echoed in response, followed by her clacking staff.

  He turned back toward the room, grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. The end was coming. But so was the treasure.

  Brimma shuffled into the apothecary like a war veteran returning to a haunted battlefield.

  She sniffed once, narrowed her eyes at the dust-thick air, then rapped her staff on the stone floor. “Someone give me light. Or better yet, burn down the mildew.”

  Alistair chuckled. “No promises on the mildew, but behold your new playroom.”

  He gestured to the scattered shelves, shattered tables, and sealed crates like a tour guide with a flair for the dramatic.

  Thess conjured a ball of white light, her [Guiding Light] remained suspended, illuminating the tight space.

  Brimma didn’t even glance at him. She made a beeline for the leftmost bench and started pushing aside what looked like centuries-old decay with the back of her gnarled fingers.

  “Kael,” she barked. “Start clearing the tables. Thess, don’t touch anything that hisses. Alistair...”

  “I’m morally opposed to manual labor,” he offered brightly.

  “Then stand there and look pretty.”

  Alistair gave a theatrical bow. “Finally. Recognition.”

  Brimma had already cracked open the first crate. Dust plumed upward and Kael backed away coughing, but her eyes gleamed as she reached in and pulled out a set of small, metal canisters wrapped in faded red silk.

  “Preservation sleeves,” she muttered. “Still sealed. Hah.”

  [Item Acquired: Preserved Emberroot – Epic (Alchemy Ingredient)]

  Used in explosive concoctions or heat-based distillations

  Emits volatile energy when mixed with fire-aligned catalysts

  Highly flammable – Handle with care

  She opened another sleeve and withdrew a crystalline vial nestled in woven bark padding.

  [Item Acquired: Shadecap Resin – Epic (Alchemy Ingredient)]

  Refined from deep cavern fungi

  Amplifies poison and hallucinogenic effects in potions

  Causes brief sensory illusions if inhaled raw

  “Ooooh, this stuff’s illegal in five kingdoms,” Brimma whispered with glee.

  Kael blinked. “We’re in an arena that murders people for sport.”

  “Exactly. No rules. My kind of place.” She reached for another.

  A wide crate revealed an elegant, padded rack of tools, glass pipettes with rune-inscribed stems, silver-mouthed funnels, a blade-stirrer carved from living bone, and something that looked suspiciously like a blood-infuser.

  [Item Set Found: Alchemist’s Eclipse Kit – Epic]

  Full kit for advanced potion crafting

  Enhances success rate by +15%

  Required for crafting rare-tier and above potions

  Bonus: Passively identifies impurities in mixed reagents

  Brimma’s cackle echoed off the stone.

  “This is mine. Mine. If anyone touches it, I will personally hex your stomach into backwards digestion.”

  Alistair raised a hand. “...Just for clarity, what does that mean?”

  “You chew with your ass.”

  “Right. Lovely. Duly noted.”

  She moved on to a heavy, iron-caged case in the corner and struggled with the latch before Kael stepped in to help. Inside were two velvet-lined compartments, each holding a vial.

  They weren’t dusty. They weren’t cracked. They glowed, one like coiled smoke trapped in glass, the other like molten dawn condensed into syrup.

  Brimma inhaled sharply.

  [Item Acquired: Dreamsnare Tincture – Epic (Potion)]

  When consumed, the user’s consciousness splits into two parallel threads for 60 seconds

  One “mind” controls the body

  The other observes from above, granting:

  – +25% Perception

  – Foresight against area attacks and illusions

  Afterward, user is mentally exhausted (-10% Focus for 10 minutes)

  [Item Acquired: Bloodrose Elixir – Rare (Potion)]

  Heals for 50% max HP over 15 seconds

  While healing, gain:

  – +20% Attack Speed

  – Thorns Aura (10 damage reflected per melee hit)

  Aftereffect: Target suffers -5 Constitution for 5 minutes due to cellular strain

  Kael let out a low whistle.

  “These are… wow.”

  “Don’t gawk,” Brimma said quickly. “Satchel. Now. These go in your soulbonded granny pack of bottomless potential.”

  “It’s a dimensional satchel.”

  “I don’t care what it’s called. They go in the bottom, under the explosive roots and time mushrooms. Gently.”

  He complied. Thess peeked into another half-broken crate and found nothing but ancient spoons.

  Brimma scuttled toward one of the far corners of the apothecary, grumbling as she kicked aside the scattered remains of broken vials and charred glassware. “All these years of gathering, and no one ever taught these people how to store reagents properly,” she muttered.

  Kael watched her pick her way through what looked like a mess of herbal shards and melted wax, his brow raised. “You find anything edible in that mess, old woman?”

  “Don’t tempt me, stringbean.”

  She paused, brushing dust off a scorched iron case tucked beneath a broken shelf. The moment her hand touched it, a thin ember-red glow flared along its seams. She hissed. “That’s not normal.”

  Alistair glanced over, still rifling through a box of spoiled bandages. “Neither are you, Brimma.”

  She ignored him, opened the case, and let out a long, impressed hum.

  Inside sat a seed. Or maybe a coal. Or possibly both. It pulsed faintly, housed in a tiny ceramic planter bowl ringed with fire glyphs and cracked prayer runes.

  A notification flared:

  [Artifact Discovered – Emberseed Lantern Tree (Growable)]

  Rarity: Epic

  Can be planted at your settlement.

  Grows over 3 days into a radiant firelight tree.

  Emits low warmth and illumination.

  Allies within 10 meters gain +5% fire resistance and +5% morale.

  Lantern fruit may be harvested monthly for a rare crafting material.

  Brimma blinked, then grinned. “Oh, you’re coming home with me.” She cradled the seed like a precious egg and glanced at Kael. “Satchel. Now. And gently, unless you want to explain why my new fire tree exploded.”

  Kael hurried over and stored the seed with a touch more reverence than usual.

  Alistair peered over her shoulder, his tone teasing. “You sure it won’t burn the whole place down?”

  “It’s a lantern tree, not a damn wildfire, leech,” she snapped, but there was warmth in her voice. “These used to grow in the highlands near my old home. Said to be gifts from a minor hearth god no one remembers anymore. We never had one. Not enough favor.”

  Alistair raised an eyebrow. “You? Lacking favor? I’m shocked.”

  Brimma smiled grimly. “Shut it.”

  She dusted off a final box near the back of the room. She cracked it open...

  And froze.

  Utterly.

  “Brimma?” Alistair asked, tilting his head. “Did the loot offend you personally?”

  No response.

  “Brimma.”

  Still nothing.

  Kael looked up sharply. “Something wrong?”

  She reached in, slowly, and drew out a small, iridescent orb. It pulsed faintly, once every few seconds, with dim, multicolored light. The pulse matched the beat of a heart. A second later, the pulse stuttered, blinked in red, then resumed its slow rhythm.

  “…This,” she whispered, “should not be here.”

  Kael stepped forward cautiously. “What is it?”

  Brimma didn’t answer.

  She turned the orb in her gnarled fingers, eyes narrowed, jaw clenched tight enough to creak. The light pulsed again, slower now, a lazy flicker of color like oil slipping across water. Red. Blue. Gold. Then deep violet.

  It wasn't just glowing.

  It was responding.

  Alistair stepped closer. “Brimma. I know that look. That’s the look you gave when you realized Buddy might eat us in our sleep.”

  Still no reply.

  “Which was unfair, by the way,” he added. “I only lost a boot.”

  The old gnome finally spoke. Her voice was distant. Quiet. “It’s not a relic. It’s not enchanted. It’s… not supposed to exist.”

  Alistair blinked. “I’m sorry, was that gnome-speak for ‘we hit it big’?”

  “No,” she snapped, turning to him. “It’s gnome-speak for: put that medallion of yours back on and get ready to run if it wakes up.”

  Thess stepped forward, brow furrowed. “Wake up?”

  Brimma gently placed the orb down onto the table, like it might detonate if she moved too fast. “I think it’s a heart.”

  Thess recoiled. “A heart? From what?”

  “A construct. No… no, something more. Something alive, once. Not flesh, not machine. Something old.”

  Kael crossed his arms. “We’re in an apothecary, not a tomb.”

  “I know that.” She sniffed. “But the pulse is wrong. It’s faint, fractured. Like it’s remembering how to beat.”

  The orb pulsed again, this time so bright it lit the entire room for half a second. And for just that flicker of time, they all felt something. Cold. Alien. Watching.

  Alistair’s treasure seeker trait dinged so sharply it made him wince.

  “Okay,” he said slowly. “So… just brainstorming here… what if we leave it behind and pretend we didn’t just find a possibly sentient cosmic gumball?”

  Brimma glared at him. “You want to leave that for the necromancer to find?”

  “Okay. Now I hate that you’re right.”

  She didn’t pick it up again. Instead, she began carving a warding rune on the table around it using the sharpened edge of her staff. Thess, pale now, stepped back. Even Buddy didn’t approach, he sat near the doorway, ears low and tail twitching.

  “What do we do with it?” Kael asked.

  “Seal it. Contain it...” Brimma hesitated. “Alistair, you’re the only one who can keep this safe.”

  His jaw dropped. “Me?”

  “You have the dimensional pouch. And if something does go wrong, you’re the only one who might survive long enough to throw it at someone else.”

  “Aw,” he said flatly. “I feel so chosen.”

  Brimma held out her hands, and he unfastened the pouch slowly.

  “You drop it,” she said, “and I will never forgive you. I will haunt you after I die.”

  Alistair picked up the orb. It was warm. Light. Breathing. And as it entered the pouch, he swore he heard a whisper in a language he didn’t understand.

  “Right,” he said, snapping the pouch closed. “Let’s never talk about this again.”

  Thess looked down at the dusty workbench. “Do you think it’s… dangerous?”

  Alistair gave her a long look. “Thess, everything that glows like the blood of forgotten gods is dangerous.”

  The room fell silent again.

  Then Kael said what they were all thinking. “We need to move. Fast. Before this city coughs up something worse.”

  Brimma muttered a quick sealing chant under her breath and tapped her staff on the stone. The last of the orb’s glow vanished into Alistair’s pouch.

  Alistair paused. That damn trait of his dinged again, softer this time, but insistent, like a whisper brushing his ear.

  “Hold up,” he muttered, turning back toward one of the shelves. He dug past a pile of cracked measuring cups and soot-stained scroll fragments until his fingers hit something metallic wedged in the corner.

  It was a key.

  Old, bronze, carved with a knotwork spiral.

  A notification flared:

  [Item Acquired: Key of Concordance I]

  A key bound to ancient storage enchantments. Required to open a sealed container. One of three needed.

  He stared at it for a beat, then glanced at his pouch. “Of course. Of course there’d be keys. This is turning into a goddamn treasure hunt.”

  Kael grunted. “Don’t say that. That means we’re getting side quests.”

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