The rubble barrier exploded outward.
Not crumbled. Not shifted. Exploded—stone fragments the size of fists hurtling through the corridor like shrapnel as Theron Blackwood tore through the collapsed passage with a single devastating strike of concentrated Sword Qi.
The Guild Master stepped through the dust cloud, and Rod felt the temperature in the corridor drop.
Theron's face was carved from ice. His eyes swept the carnage—Kaia's broken body, Rowan clutching his ruined leg, the blood painting the ancient stone—and something shifted in his expression. Not panic. Not even rage.
Control.
"Orion," Theron said, his voice cutting through the settling dust like a blade. "Get Rowan stabilized. Now."
The frost mage moved immediately, ice forming beneath Rowan's wounded leg to numb the pain and slow the bleeding. Rowan's face twisted in agony, but he bit back the scream.
"Theron—" Rowan's voice cracked. "Cedric's still in the pit. He's—"
"I know." Theron's gaze locked onto Vhalgor, who stood motionless in the shadows, dark purple armor gleaming with Kaia's blood. "First, we deal with this."
Rod's consciousness pulsed with satisfaction. Good. Stay focused on Vhalgor. Let me—
Then Theron moved.
The Guild Master crossed the distance in a blur of motion that made even Vhalgor seem slow. His blade sang through the air, Sword Qi trailing like silver fire, and Vhalgor barely managed to dodge—the strike carved a deep gouge in the stone wall where the Spellfang's head had been a heartbeat before.
Shit.
Rod had known Theron was Level 45. Had seen the stats. But seeing numbers and witnessing the raw, brutal efficiency of a veteran warrior were two entirely different things.
Vhalgor countered with a blast of dark energy. Theron's blade cut through it like paper, the Sword Qi dispersing the spell before it could fully form. The Guild Master pressed forward, each strike calculated to corner, to limit, to kill.
I need to change the momentum.
Rod reached out through the dungeon's network, activating the monster reserves he'd positioned throughout the first floor. All units—converge on Corridor C-7. Overwhelm them.
From the branching passages, Rod's fodder monsters surged forward.
Stonehusk Leeches crawled along the walls, their rocky carapaces scraping against stone. Wraithshades materialized from the shadows, their translucent forms flickering in and out of visibility. Two dozen weak monsters, each barely Level 3 or 4, flooding the corridor in a tide of claws and teeth.
Quantity over quality. Divide their attention. Give Vhalgor an opening.
The first Wraithshade lunged at Theron's exposed back.
The Guild Master didn't even turn around.
His blade swept in a perfect arc, and the Wraithshade dissolved into mist. The backswing caught two Stonehusk Leeches, their shells cracking like pottery. Theron pivoted, his movements economical and precise, and three more monsters died in as many seconds.
"Orion!" Theron barked. "Clear the left flank!"
"On it!" The frost mage's hands blazed with blue light, and a wave of ice spikes erupted from the floor, impaling half a dozen Wraithshades before they could close the distance.
Rod watched in growing horror as his carefully positioned monsters were butchered like weeds.
A Stonehusk Leech managed to latch onto Theron's leg. The Guild Master didn't flinch—he simply drove his blade down through its shell, then kicked the corpse aside without breaking stride. His Sword Qi flared, and the next strike carved through four monsters at once, the energy blade extending far beyond the physical steel.
They're not even slowing him down.
Worse—Theron's attacks weren't just killing monsters.
Each Sword Qi slash that missed its target carved deep gouges in the dungeon walls. Ancient stone cracked and crumbled. A support pillar took a glancing blow and developed a spiderweb of fractures. The corridor itself was being destroyed by the sheer collateral damage of Theron's combat style.
Then the Guild Master activated a skill.
"Executioner's Cleave!"
Theron's blade erupted with silver-white light, and he brought it down in a devastating overhead strike. The Sword Qi expanded outward in a cone of destruction, and every monster in a fifteen-foot radius simply ceased to exist—torn apart by the concentrated energy.
The blast didn't stop at the monsters.
The stone floor cracked. The left wall developed a massive fissure that ran from floor to ceiling. A section of the corridor's roof collapsed, raining debris that Orion had to deflect with a hastily erected ice barrier.
And the patches of corridor still burning from Kaia's earlier fire spell? The Sword Qi blast fed them oxygen, making the flames surge higher, licking at the ancient stone and leaving scorch marks that would require Origin Source to repair.
Rod's consciousness recoiled in shock.
My dungeon—
The damage was catastrophic. Walls cracked. Pillars crumbling. Entire sections of carefully constructed corridor reduced to rubble. And every single point of destruction would cost Origin Source to fix. Origin Source he didn't have to spare.
This isn't working. This isn't—
Rod forced himself to think through the panic.
Raw power won't work. He's too strong. Too experienced. Throwing weak monsters at him is just wasting resources and destroying my own dungeon.
He pulled back the remaining fodder creatures, letting them retreat into the shadows. Theron didn't pursue—the Guild Master's attention remained locked on Vhalgor, who had used the distraction to put distance between them.
"Orion," Theron said, his breathing barely elevated despite the slaughter. "Status on Rowan?"
"Stable. The leg's bad, but he'll live if we get him out soon."
"Good." Theron's eyes never left Vhalgor. "We're changing tactics. This dungeon is smarter than it should be. It's coordinating."
Shit. He knows.
"What do you want to do?" Orion asked.
"We split up."
Rod's consciousness sharpened. What?
"You take Rowan back to the entrance," Theron continued. "Get him to safety, then come back for Cedric. I'll keep this thing busy."
"Guild Master, that's—"
"An order." Theron's voice carried the weight of absolute authority. "Cedric's injured but stable in that pit. Rowan needs immediate evacuation. We do this smart, not heroic."
Orion hesitated, then nodded. "Understood."
As the frost mage helped Rowan to his feet, supporting the wounded paladin's weight, Rod's mind raced.
They're splitting up. Theron's isolating himself to protect the others. But that means—
That means Cedric is alone.
Rod's awareness swept down through the dungeon's structure, finding the spike pit where the priest had fallen. Cedric was conscious, his healing magic keeping him alive despite the puncture wounds, but he was trapped. Vulnerable.
And Rowan knows it.
Rod watched as Orion and Rowan began their slow retreat toward the entrance. The paladin's face was twisted with guilt and pain—not just from his leg, but from the knowledge that he was leaving Cedric behind.
He'll come back, Rod realized. The moment Orion gets him to safety, Rowan will try to rescue Cedric. He's that type. Loyal. Honorable.
Stupid.
An idea crystallized in Rod's consciousness, cold and sharp as winter ice.
I can't beat Theron in a straight fight. But I don't need to. I just need to eliminate his support structure. One veteran at a time.
Cedric first. Then Rowan when he comes back for the rescue.
Cut away the healer. Cut away the tank. Leave Theron and Orion isolated.
Rod reached out to Vhalgor through their mental connection. New plan. We're not trying to kill Theron—not yet. We're going to let him chase you deeper into the dungeon while I set a trap at the spike pit.
You want me to be bait? Vhalgor's mental voice carried a note of dark amusement.
I want you to be smart. Lead him away from the pit. Make him think he's winning. Meanwhile, I'll prepare a welcome for Rowan.
And if Theron realizes the deception?
Then we use the dungeon itself as a weapon. Rod's consciousness swept across the damaged corridors, calculating structural weak points. I'll trigger collapses. Force him to choose between pursuing you and saving his team.
Ruthless, Vhalgor observed. I approve.
In the corridor, Theron raised his blade, Sword Qi beginning to gather along its edge. "Ready to die, monster?"
Vhalgor's response was to turn and run—not in panic, but with calculated purpose, leading the Guild Master deeper into the dungeon's maze.
Theron pursued without hesitation, his warrior's instinct demanding he eliminate the greatest threat first.
Perfect, Rod thought, his consciousness already shifting focus to the spike pit where Cedric waited in the darkness. Chase the bait, Guild Master. Let me show you what happens when you underestimate a dungeon that thinks.
The weak monsters had failed. The direct assault had failed.
But Rod was done playing fair.
Time to get surgical.