Chapter 29 – Revenge
Leon landed gracefully on solid stone—both feet flat, his posture controlled and deliberate. No stumble. No awkward crash. Just a clean, silent descent, perfectly balanced.
He straightened slowly, dusting off his cloak with practiced movements as his eyes adjusted carefully to the dim new surroundings.
The tunnel had expelled him into another chamber, but this one felt starkly different. No jagged throne dominated the room. There was no lingering scent of burnt mana, no ashes scattered around. The air was noticeably cooler here, quieter, carrying an unnatural stillness that settled on his skin like a delicate veil.
'Still inside the dungeon… but somewhere else entirely.'
His gaze methodically swept across the chamber, taking in every detail. Dim crystals embedded within the ceiling pulsed rhythmically with a slow, faint blue glow, casting soft, shifting shadows upon the smooth, untouched floor. The walls were bare and unscarred, a stark contrast to the battle-torn chamber he'd recently departed. In the distance, soft echoes of water droplets reverberated gently, whispers resonating through stone corridors with a quiet, haunting melody.
There were no signs of previous battles here. No mangled corpses, no scorch marks, no scars of unleashed mana. Only a deep, profound silence—and beneath that silence, Leon could sense a lingering pressure, subtle but unmistakable, patiently waiting.
Leon exhaled slowly, the sound of his breath audible in the encompassing stillness, and began walking forward. His boots clicked softly, the gentle echo punctuating each step.
'So… that thing wasn't the final boss after all.'
He knew he should have felt dread, fear perhaps. But instead, what rose up inside him was an entirely different sensation. Excitement. Anticipation.
'If that creature was just the gatekeeper… then what the hell's waiting at the top?'
His heartbeat quickened—not with fear, but from a potent blend of thrill and curiosity. Deep within his soul, the part of him that once starved in shadowed alleys, the part that once sold bowls of soup merely to survive, now craved this challenge, hungered for it.
Yet beneath that excitement hummed a chord of caution. Strength, Leon knew well, did not mean immortality. He vividly remembered the near-death experience just days prior. How close he'd come to total defeat. The agony of broken bones, bleeding wounds, and sheer powerlessness haunted his memories.
He clenched his fists at his sides, feeling determination solidify within his chest.
Then slowly, confidently, he smiled.
'But that was before.'
'Before the Orb. Before the merging.'
'Now?'
He rolled his shoulders deliberately, savoring the sensation of wind swirling eagerly around his limbs in response, coiled and ready to obey. The air itself felt richer here, the mana answering his call quicker, more vibrantly. He could feel it pulsing through him, strong and sure like a second heartbeat, immeasurable in its depth.
And most absurd of all?
He was still completely full.
'I didn't get a single wound in that last fight. Didn't even need healing.'
His eyes narrowed thoughtfully, imagining for a moment what might happen if he truly unleashed everything he now possessed. If he pushed his newfound limits even slightly further.
'If I used my full mana… would there even be a dungeon left?'
The thought drew a quiet chuckle from him—dry, calculating, confident. This wasn't arrogance, Leon knew. This was clarity, precise and well-earned, born through trials, bloodshed, pain, and victory. Whatever boss lay hidden deeper within this dungeon—he was more than ready to face it.
Adjusting his grip on his trusted daggers, he pressed onward.
'Let's find out what's behind the next door.'
Leon moved silently through increasingly narrow, darker corridors. The dungeon seemed almost aware, tightening around him, pressing closer as though attempting to halt his advance. But it couldn't stop him—not anymore.
Not with the newfound power humming beneath his skin, waiting eagerly to be unleashed.
Eventually, he reached another large chamber, just beyond a cracked stone archway, and paused abruptly at the sight before him.
There, lying at the center of the room, was a scene plucked directly from recent memory.
The red-horned wolf.
Massive, heavily scarred, still radiating heat like embers left smoldering. Around it were five smaller wolves—lean, their fur streaked with vivid blue lightning. Exactly like those that had previously hunted him down.
Leon halted cautiously, eyes narrowing as he scanned the room carefully. The large red wolf remained curled, breathing heavily, clearly not yet fully recovered from their previous confrontation. But the smaller wolves stood instantly at his arrival, electricity crackling through their fur, snarling fiercely as they moved protectively around their wounded alpha.
Leon felt amusement curl his lips upward.
'Oh… we're doing this again?'
Unhidden, he stepped openly into the chamber, silver eyes glowing softly in the dim blue light. His footsteps echoed gently, the sound drawing all wolfish gazes directly to him.
They recognized him immediately.
Snarls deepened. Eyes narrowed dangerously. Claws scraped anxiously against the stone floor.
With a single unspoken signal, the wolves charged.
Leon didn't flinch. Instead, he smiled.
Slowly, deliberately, he lifted his hand and accessed his inventory. The familiar daggers shimmered briefly and vanished. In their place materialized a spear crafted from condensed ice and bound by swirling wind—the very spear that had shattered molten fury like fragile porcelain.
Leon caught it effortlessly, the weapon's weight comfortably familiar. The wind coiled tighter around the shaft, frost glittering vividly like stardust trapped within crystal.
Instantly, the room fell deathly silent.
The wolves froze mid-charge, momentum evaporating in an instant. Their claws scraped against stone as they hastily backpedaled, ears flattened, tails tucked submissively.
Their glowing blue eyes fixed upon the spear, primal terror reflected starkly in their wary expressions.
Leon tilted his head slightly.
'Yeah… I'd run too.'
He let the spear's base gently tap the stone floor, a quiet, resonant chime echoing outward. The blue wolves flinched visibly but held their ground, eyes fixed upon the deadly weapon.
And the red-horned alpha?
It remained curled, silent and watchful, cautious.
Leon exhaled slowly, shifting his grip, feeling power surge within.
'This time, I'm not the one running. And this score?'
'Long overdue for a rewrite.'
He twirled the spear, clicking his tongue thoughtfully. The wind swirling around its shaft had dulled slightly from storage, but he could remedy that easily.
With a mere flick of will, he summoned additional wind, coiling powerfully from his body. It condensed swiftly along the frozen weapon, regaining its deadly hum—low, menacing, intensifying with each passing heartbeat.
Leon locked onto the red beast, mana surging visibly through his veins, glowing faintly beneath his skin. The spear vibrated eagerly in his grasp, wind roaring along its blade, a war anthem heralding imminent battle.
Then, unexpectedly, the alpha wolf rose shakily, limbs trembling faintly.
Leon tensed, preparing for confrontation.
But the wolf didn't charge.
It turned abruptly, fleeing desperately toward the chamber's far exit, claws frantically scraping against stone.
Caught momentarily off-guard, Leon blinked once—then chuckled darkly.
'Oh no you don't. You don't get to run. Not this time.'
Gathering strength into his right arm, mana pulsed powerfully, enhancing muscles and bones, energy blazing beneath his skin.
Leon coiled back, focusing intently, then hurled the spear with devastating force.
It roared deafeningly through the air, striking true, detonating spectacularly in a blinding storm of ice and wind.
When the dust settled, the wolf lay pinned, defeated, unmoving.
Leon straightened calmly, exhaling slowly.
He had conquered fear, reversed roles from prey to predator.
Now, eyes forward, he moved confidently ahead, steadily toward the dungeon's final confrontation.