[Chapter 29. Worth Dying For?]
The Broodmother's colossal body slammed into the chamber floor, stone shuddering beneath the impact. Her limbs twitched a few final times as two lingering violet beams carved through her ruined flesh, burning deep before finally fading. She did not rise again. Still, Searanox kept his drones active, watching, waiting, unwilling to trust silence in a place like this.
Then his vision flooded with notifications.
Heavy lidded, barely conscious, he skimmed through the cascading messages. Without wasting another second, he dismissed the assault and offensive drones, letting the travel drone lower him gently to the ground before dismissing that as well. A healing drone materialized above him in a flash of pale light, its white shell hovering as a soft green glow spilled over his battered body.
He willed his status open as warmth spread through shattered muscle and cracked bone.
A wet laugh escaped him, cut short as he coughed up a mouthful of blood. Still grinning, he summoned a second healing drone.
`Clearing a dungeon first is absolutely broken... not to mention the solo clear reward.′
The overlapping green pulses washed over him, accelerating the repair of his body. He sat up slowly as bones realigned and torn tissue knit itself back together. Another cough followed, weaker this time, the blood gone. He rose to his feet, testing his balance. Everything ached, but nothing felt broken anymore.
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`A percentage gain in stats is busted, and then you gain four times the reward on top of that... Looks like the system loves it, when you get fucked hard. But its worth it in the end, and I will abuse the shit out of that.′
Where the Broodmother had fallen, a massive chest materialized dark wood reinforced with ornate silver inlays that pulsed faintly with energy. He approached it as the drones continued their work, every step a quiet assertion that he was still alive. The lid creaked open beneath his hand. Inside lay four items.
The first was a small pouch of dark brown fabric, neither overfilled nor sagging. It had weight reassuring, solid. He loosened the drawstring and peered inside. Uniform silver coins gleamed back at him, after a quick count he had two stacks of coins in his hand, seventeen in total. Each coin was stamped with a set of balanced scales on one side, the other was blank polished so smooth it reflected his face like a mirror.
Next was a crystal the size of a soda can: a dark, eight sided cylinder cut from what looked like obsidian, faint inner light barely visible beneath its surface. Fine golden runes covered each face, five per side, similar yet never identical. It was warm in his palm, its ends tapering into smooth, rounded points.
Beside it lay two smaller versions of the same crystal, striking ruby red and no longer than his hand. Silver runes traced their sides.
The final item was immediately familiar: an Equipment Voucher, black steel with a bold 10 etched into its surface. He activated it without hesitation. The card dissolved into golden motes, and a new object took shape in his grasp.
A bullpup configuration rifle. It looked neither modern nor futuristic something else entirely. There was no trigger, no scope, yet its purpose was unmistakable. The metal was so dark it swallowed light, thin violet lines pulsing along its length from stock to barrel.
He examined the weapon, its weight perfectly balanced. The metal thrummed faintly beneath his fingers. He raised it, and merely thinking about firing was enough. A violet beam erupted from the barrel, slamming into the far wall with a crackling hiss. Stone blackened and fractured, the air sharp with the scent of ionized rock.
"Now that's how I like it."
He pocketed the red crystals, secured the coin pouch to his belt, and kept the rifle and larger crystal in hand. With his pain finally gone, he dismissed the healing drones and walked toward a faint blue glow at the edge of the chamber. One step later, he was outside. The fallen tree resting on the boulder with the swirling dungeon gate inside was all there, unchanged yet different. He turned back toward the portal. Its color had shifted, darker now, veins of purple threading through the surface.
He stared at it for a long moment, then turned away. Whatever lay ahead, this dungeon had already answered one question; without his level or his drones he would have been dead many times over. And now that he knew that soloing something is absolutely busted, he won't be doing anything with others if not necessary.
