[You have selected: A Choice of Selflessness. Your previous allies have been notified and have teleported to a safe room within their tutorial dungeon. The road to hell is paved with good intentions; just make sure that yours don’t get you killed while visiting.]
The warm, musty air filled his lungs as they expanded; the wooden bench he was sitting on felt grainy to the touch. His eyes adjusted to the light while his pupils dilated. His body felt…different, and the texture of everything was very focused as the transition ended.
He found himself alone in an old, dusty room with crimson rays of light leaking in through ancient wooden shutters showing signs of rot. The entire place had a very creepy haunted-house vibe going on. Cobwebs lined the corners and interior of the room, with ancient stone walls on all sides. There was also an old coffin, a rotting old chest, three glass vials on a rickety table, and bloodstained embalming equipnt next to them. Then there was a rickety old door leading out as well, with signs of rust accumulating on the hinges and doorknob.
As he looked around, another hologram notification appeared in front of him.
[Special Event: Chalgathi’s Hand of Fate—You and your minion, Athela, have both started in a relatively high-risk, high-reward, minor hellscape dungeon as an introduction into Elysium. Normally you would be able to unsummon and resummon her to your side by focusing on the commands Summon and Unsummon or touching the pentagram emblazoned on your skin, but due to the nature of this trial, you must physically find her first before summoning options are available again. Athela has started out many miles from your current location, despite pairing up with the initial drop.]
coffin’s side to land onto the stone floor with a thud in response to his attack, let out a croaking and hoarse howl of hunger, and began lurching forward a short ways at a ti in a slow but determined gait.
“Unimpressive.” Riven backpedaled, slapping away the grasping hands of the zombie that’d co to life right before his eyes as it moaned and reached for him—but was very slow. And given the way pieces of its body were falling off…it was still in a very poor state of decay.
How curious. Riven cocked his head to the side and circled around the room to keep his distance from the slow-moving creature while watching its gait pattern and ripples of teal death mana occasionally licking across the edges of its open wounds. If only he could study the monster and learn how to create sothing like this himself…
The undead monster suddenly lunged forward, nearly getting a hold of his left arm before he brutally ramd his knee into the creature’s face on reflex—sending it stumbling back montarily with an audible crunch and giving himself so room to summon a Wretched Snare.
The black magic blood in front of him like a flower, expanding and encasing the creature with its needlelike net that tangled the howling undead up in a frustrating, flailing attempt to break free while it burned into the creature’s flesh with sizzling sounds.
Riven stood there, curiously examining his new enemy in silence despite the continued wails of the zombie. “You are quite…interesting.”
He watched the creature die slowly in the webbing of his own creation. The magic seed slightly thicker along the needle-filled black net, and he could have sworn that it had gotten bigger with the cast after putting the ring on.
Looking down at the erald-decorated ring on his hand, he curiously stared and then summoned two Bloody Razors, rapidly spinning to either side of his staff-wielding hand. Just as suspected, they’d also grown in size—though not by much. With a casual flick of his wrist, they shot out and tore into the trapped creature beneath him.
The creature born of hell screeched even louder as the two spinning discs of blood magic tore off an arm and severed part of its neck, black blood splattering along the stone ground and wall with a final ear-piercing shriek. The partially decapitated zombie’s reaching hand slowly fell downward while burning on the snare entangling it, and soon the creature’s entire arm fell limp as it died—jaw ajar as pieces of its rotted body continued to fall off like cooked at from a bone.
“You’re also one ugly bitch.” Riven held up the gnarled staff in his right hand and slapped the dead creature’s dangling head with it out of irritation, also kicking it along the way as his magic faded and he bypassed the corpse with a humph.
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