Barak rose to his feet, his golden eyes gleaming with a maddening light. The dungeon stretched before him, dark and endless, filled with monsters that had been created to test him. But he was no longer just a cadet on a mission. He was something more.
He wanted more.
He needed more.
With a roar of fury, he charged into the darkness. The monsters came at him from all sides—blue orcs, twisted by the demon's influence, their eyes burning with hate. Barak met them head-on. His sword blazed with black lightning, cutting through their ranks like a scythe through wheat.
He imagined each monster was Nero. The hated face. The despised eyes. The voice that haunted his thoughts. He struck with savage precision, each blow fueled by years of resentment and jealousy. The monsters fell before him, their bodies dissolving into wisps of dark energy that flowed into him, increasing his power.
"Die!" he screamed. "Die, die, die!"
