The old man shuffled deeper into the house, leaving the door open just wide enough for Lex to squeeze through. Lex followed him into what could only be described as an art explosion.The living room was a chaotic masterpiece. Every inch of wall space was covered in drawings—pinned sketches, framed paintings, charcoal studies taped to the beams. Some were landscapes so real you could almost step into them. Others were portraits of people Lex didn't recognize, their eyes seeming to follow him across the room. But the majority, the ones that made Lex stop and stare, were symbols. Strange, complex designs that looked ancient and powerful. Some matched the carvings on the dungeon door. Others were completely alien.The old man—Master Grinwell—gestured for Lex to sit at a rickety wooden table buried under stacks of paper. With hands that trembled violently, he picked up a kettle and poured tea into a cracked cup. Lex watched, fascinated and horrified, as approximately twenty percent of the

Lex returned to the inn just before dawn, his body buzzing with residual energy from the tattoo session. The common room was empty, the fire in the hearth reduced to glowing embers. He crept upstairs, grabbed his [Hammerspace] Backpack from under his bed, and came back down to find Borin already awake, wiping down the counter."You are up early," Borin said, eyeing the backpack. "Or late. Can never tell with you.""I need information, old man," Lex said, too excited to be tired. "Rourke's hometown. Oakhaven. Where exactly is it?"Borin raised an eyebrow but didn't ask questions. He pulled out a worn map and pointed to a small dot northeast of Ironstead, nestled against a river. "Right there. Small logging town. Quiet folk. The Town's lively there. Rourke's family has been there for generations. Why?""Going to visit him. Got something to show him." Lex patted his left forearm, where the arrow tattoo lay hidden under his sleeve.Borin studied him for a long moment, then sighed. "Fine.

The five cloaked men didn't stop. They didn't even slow down.Instead, they laughed.It was a horrible sound—mocking, confident, utterly unafraid. Two of them actually clapped their hands, applauding Lex's dramatic weapon summoning as if it were a street performer's trick. To them, this was entertainment. A lone man with a shiny bow, standing against the unstoppable force of the Red Sting.Lex's contact lenses flickered, overlaying information onto his vision. Above each of the five figures, a colored marker appeared.Red. All of them. Deep, dangerous red.Lex's eyes narrowed. "Red?" Then it clicked. The monsters inside the portal—the empowered Spawnlings, the Stonefist Golems—they had all been red. Same level as these cultists.And he had killed every single one of them.Confidence surged through him, hot and electric. He drew the arrow back, aimed at the leader, and released.The fire arrow shot forward like a miniature comet, trailing crimson light. It should have hit. It would hav

The silence stretched on for what felt like an eternity. The townsfolk of Oakhaven stood frozen, their hollow eyes fixed on the scene before them—the bodies, the blood, and the strange man in their midst who had just slaughtered their tormentors like they were nothing.Then Rourke moved.He limped forward, using a crude crutch made from a broken chair leg. His face was pale, his body still weak from weeks of starvation, but there was something steady in his eyes as he approached Lex. He looked at the bodies, then at Lex, then back at the bodies.He didn't say anything about the killing. No thanks, no horror, no questions. Just a simple statement of fact."They'll be back. Not just the regular ones this time. Their master will come."The moment the words left his mouth, Lex felt it, a wave of pure, cold fear radiating from the gathered townsfolk. It wasn't the scared of the moment. It was something deeper. Something primal."Their master," Lex thought. "Whoever he is, they're terrified

Before the man in red could make another move, the remaining cultists shifted their focus. They had spotted Lex on the rooftop, and now they moved with terrifying coordination. Seven of them spread out, surrounding lex from every angle, their dark cloaks billowing in the morning wind.Lex stood calmly on the rooftop, watching them circle like wolves preparing to bring down a stag.They thought they had him cornered.Then, without warning, Lex's bow vanished. One moment it was in his hands; the next, it was gone, dissolved back into the tattoo on his back.The cultists hesitated, confused by this development."Magic?" one of them muttered, his voice carrying in the sudden silence.Others weren't waiting to find out. They began chanting in that familiar, guttural tongue, their hands glowing with sickly light. Flames erupted around one's fists. Dark purple energy coiled around another's arms. A third seemed to dissolve into shadow, becoming barely visible.Then they attacked.All at once