The air inside the lower levels of the Inverell Catacombs tasted like sulfur and wet copper.Lucian didn't slow his pace. Sparks rained down from the cracked glow-stones embedded in the damp stone arches, illuminating the crimson bloodstains smeared across the ancient masonry. Behind him, the low, guttural growls of two Dread-Hounds echoed through the dark tunnels—their heavy claws scraping violently against wet gravel.Ten seconds, Lucian calculated, his lungs burning as he squeezed through a jagged fissure in a collapsed stone wall. Maybe eight.Inverell wasn't just another rift; it was a sprawling, ancient subterranean city buried deep beneath the northern frontier of Aethelgard. While elite Tamers from the High Guilds stood behind polished barriers with sleek, pristine B-rank griffins and drakes, Lucian made a living scrounging through the blood-soaked ruins for whatever scraps they left behind. He had no rare mana affinity, no noble family crest, and no high-tier beast contract t

The trap was simple, cheap, and born out of three years of surviving off scraps in the dark.Lucian dragged a length of rusted iron chain—thick as a wrist and heavy as a bag of coppers—from a collapsed drainage winch near the archway. He looped one end around a cracked basalt pillar at the chamber’s entrance and wedged a three-foot slab of jagged iron grate into the stone floor at a forty-five-degree angle, pointing directly down the narrow corridor.The logic was basic: lure the beast into charging into the narrow passage, snag its hind legs with the chain, and let its five-ton momentum impale its soft underbelly on the iron grate while Pip struck from above."Simple," Lucian muttered under his breath, tying off the hemp rope around the bloody, severed leg of the Dread-Hound. "An E-rank hound falls for this every time."He hurled the hunk of hound meat into the center of the flooded reservoir.It landed with a loud SPLASH.The sloshing water inside the reservoir froze instantly.The

The tongue didn't move like a muscle. It moved like a cannonball.Lucian didn't try to parry or block. The moment the toad's wide jaws unhinged, he threw his body sideways, digging his boots into the slick basalt floor.THWIP—BOOM!The muscular projectile grazed his left ribs, the sheer wind pressure tearing the leather of his jacket and sending a burning wave of acidic spray across his waist. The tongue hit the stone wall behind him with a deafening crack, pulverizing ancient masonry into fine gray powder.1.5 seconds, Lucian’s mind screamed, his vision going red with adrenaline. The retraction!Instead of retreating, Lucian lunged forward directly along the wet path of the extending tongue. His upgraded Agility drove his feet across the slime-covered floor, closing the fifteen-foot gap before the toad could pull the weapon back into its mouth.The creature’s lidless yellow eyes rolled down in shock. It hadn't expected the tiny prey to run toward its open maw."Pip! NOW!" Lucian roar

The dark blue system windows did not vanish with a quiet chime. They shattered into a storm of glowing blue dust that settled slowly over the flooded vault.Light bled back into the subterranean cavern, casting long, crooked shadows against the cracked basalt walls. The air was heavy with the metallic stench of spilled beast blood and the lingering acrid tang of boiled acid, but the suffocating pressure of the fight had completely evaporated.Lucian stood amidst the wreckage of the reservoir, looking down at his palms.The thick, blackened acid blisters that had scorched his skin during the fight with the Mire-Gorged Toad were completely gone, replaced by smooth, unblemished skin. His limbs felt light, charged with a quiet, dense vitality. His stats had surged, and every breath felt smooth, steady, and effortlessly deep.Beside him, Pip’s nine-foot silhouette towered over the shallow water—a terrifying, dark mountain of slate armor, translucent scythe claws, and glowing crimson eye so

The sun had barely broken over the jagged granite arches of the Iron-Clad Guildhall when Lucian stepped onto the central plaza the following morning.He looked entirely different from the filthy scavenger who had descended into the dark two days ago.He wore a tailored, slate-dark woolen coat fitted over a stiff linen shirt, durable dark trousers, and brand-new leather boots bought from an artisan cobbler in the Middle District. He looked neat, composed, and unassuming—like a junior clerk from a minor merchant house or an apprentice scribe.Tucked quietly beneath his stiff collar, Pip remained curled into a tiny, sleeping ball. To the outside world, he was just a lazy, scruffy pet rat.Step. Step.Lucian walked through the vaulted archway of the main administrative wing.The moment he stepped inside, his brow furrowed slightly.The atmosphere inside the Guildhall was dead wrong.Usually, this place was a loud, chaotic hive of activity. Scavengers would be screaming over quest board cl