The world twisted, the fabric of space folding as Kaelen Maglor and Alira Mor stepped out of the swirling gold-rimd portal. The instant their boots hit the ground, the scent of ash and blood greeted them.
This was not a cave.
It was a wasteland.
A shattered valley stretched before them, ringed by obsidian cliffs, dotted with half-buried bones of monsters long turned to dust. Red mist rolled over the terrain, giving everything a bleeding hue.
Craters sizzled with elental residue. In the far distance, a fortress of jagged basalt rose like the ribcage of so long-dead god.
And from that twisted landscape, monsters erged.
Kaelen’s hand was already raised, index finger glowing with subtle gold. "You want left or right?"
"Left," Alira said and disappeared the next mont.
Her cloak fluttered like a shadow as she vanished, the white of her hair was the last thing visible before silence reigned in her path.
Kaelen smiled faintly and stepped forward.
This gold-rank dungeon was classified as a Settlent-type: a fully functioning monster ecosystem. No artificial waves. No respawns. Just predators, warbands, and fortress lords fighting for survival.
In fact monsters in this world do not appear out of thin air like those in the ga. They were bred and raised outside or inside the dungeon.
And the Juggernauts were here to ruin it.
Dozens of Crimson Fang Drudaks beastn with blade-like limbs and fire-resistant hides—charged toward Kaelen. Their alpha let out a guttural howl.
Kaelen didn’t flinch.
With a flick of his finger.
An epic rank light type domain skill.
A golden ripple expanded from his feet, grounding the area in divine force. The charging drudaks slowed—their legs wobbling as divine suppression struck. Before they reached him, Kaelen lifted his arm and activated another skill.
Then from within the domain dozens of razor-sharp golden spears of light erupted from the earth, impaling half the horde mid-lunge. The survivors howled in agony—but it wasn’t over.
A vapor of silvery light flooded the area, lingering over the battlefield. Every ti a drudak twitched, the mist flared—damaging them.
Because of these chain skills no monsters were allowed to move in the effective range and they beca standing targets for him.
Burying them in an endless shower of golden spears.
This wasn’t healing.
This was a brutal massacre.
He stood still. Not even an ounce of pity for the monster. His face was indifferent to the scene before him.
anwhile Alira Mor flickered behind her third target in as many seconds. Her class—[Silent Oath] was a branch of templar assassin but higher—had evolved her into a creature of devastating grace.
A pair of spectral blades sliced through the air, cutting cleanly through a Warped Juggerboar’s thick hide. Alira pivoted mid-air, landing with no sound, as a pack of mutated wolves surrounded her.
They growled.
But her face as cold as ice shows no emotion.
The mont her foot touched the ground again, a sigil flared beneath her. Multiple afterimages of her appeared besides each of the mutated wolves.
And in the next mont blood spurs everywhere. The monsters had already turned into corpses.
One wolf’s spine folded inward under a well-placed elbow. She danced through the pack, each kill marked by a flicker, a slash, a soft grunt.
They never saw it coming.
A beast lord rose behind the pack—a Crater Howler, four ters tall with magma plating and breath of fla.
Alira walked toward it calmly.
It reared back to roar—
And she vanished once again.
Then reappeared beneath it where there was an opening and she sliced through its jaw.
She left before it collapsed.
"Fifty-three."
"Sixty-one," Alira said, wiping the beast’s blood from her daggers.
Kaelen tilted his head. "I had elites."
"You had excuses."
They shared a smile.
But they didn’t pause long. The dungeon was only half-cleared. And they were close to the fortress.
Kaelen summoned a big floating sigil above the fortress.
A buff type holy skill making any skill deal holy damage.
"Let’s go loud."
The sigil pulsed and flared. And a colossal sword made of light descended into the fortress.
BOOM!
Rubble scattered everywhere and the wind from the impact made their cloaks flutter.
"Let’s not waste more ti," Kaelen smiled at Alira.
She burst into a sprint.
She t resistance again. The fortress scouts at the outer fringe of the fortress had survived the judgent.
Kaelen blinked and took the front, drawing attacks and cleansing spells with pinpoint precision. Every beam he cast had a dual purpose—wounding enemies and buffing Alira.
She moved like an executioner’s whisper, exploiting every opening his spells created.
Together, they cleaved through monster formations. Not with flashy ultimates, but swift, sustained and precise control.
One fortress knight roared, preparing to activate a blackstone enchantnt.
Kaelen simply said, ""
And the enchantnt fizzled.
He didn’t need Sanctified Wrath. He had already beco strong enough for these small fries.
Inside the center of the fortress, surrounded by corpses, broken pews and rubbles, rises a malford priest of the Dark lord.
Level 88.
Gold rank.
Nad Boss, Grave Preacher.
"Awakened children of the false light," it rasped. "You who burn with stolen grace shall be undone."
Kaelen stepped forward.
"We’ll see."
The boss raised a staff etched with blood scripture. Dozens of undead burst from the floor, and shadows surged like tidal waves.
Alira vanished—going wide to flank.
Kaelen raised both hands.
". ."
Holy light surged through the arena, illuminating every shadow and searing half the undead instantly. The preacher hissed and countered with withering curses, but Kaelen walked through them. Healing spells wrapped around him.
Words or skills. Curses were the least he was afraid of.
His boots left golden footprints.
Alira reappeared behind the boss and plunged both daggers into its spine.
Paralyzing it.
The Grave Preacher scread.
Kaelen raised a hand and motioned a swipe.
""
A big holy phantom of his hand appeared above Grave Preacher and squashed him into a paste.
Silence.
Gold rank Dungeon Cleared
Bonus Objectives: All Achieved. XP Granted.
Special Drop: Faithstone x2
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