Olivia stared down at the severed head in her hand.
The guard Scarface's lifeless eyes, once so full of arrogance, now looked like glass marbles, hollow, meaningless.
Blood trickled from the jagged stump of his neck, dripping rhythmically onto the cold stone.
She tilted her head. "Took you long enough," she muttered without looking up.
A tall figure walked out from within the darkness, with the only light hitting his body being from the low-tier blue mana Crystals,
He was covered in blood from top to bottom, tainting his dirty slave rags that were barely managing to hold on to his body.
A body that was now massively different from when he just came here—it was like now his muscles were strong but comprised and flexible, and it was all thanks to the body of pure Devastation,
His skin a rich shade of bronze, dark and luminous like polished mahogany kissed by the sun.
There was warmth in his complexion, deep and radiant.
His amber eyes were sharp and unblinking, the color of cracked resin, but on his face he wore a big, bright, animalistic smile.
It was almost like all his worries were washed away, like he was finally free even though he just started his journey to freedom.
"Sorry to keep you waiting, Liv,"
"I guess I got carried away, you know how it is," he said as his eyes moved, taking in all of Olivia, who seemed slightly different
Like him, she was covered in blood, although significantly less than him; her eyes were the same intense pink.
Her hair, although slightly longer, still had the same creamy white color.
But what was so different was her body. It seemed fuller before she was short and skinny, incredibly skinny like she hadn't eaten in months, but now she was just normal, like she just had her first good meal; even her skin looked healthier.
Not to mention her assets were slightly bigger, an insignificant thing, but he still noticed.
What are you looking at? Don't tell me now that we're about to escape and you might die, you're confessing,
I already knew you fell in love with me, but to think you would actually make a move is unexpected… Well, whatever, just know… he Interrupted her
"You look good… Beautiful even."
"Oh well, I already knew that, but thanks," she said, sticking out her chest with pride.
"You didn't used to look like that. What happened?"
"What do you mean I always looked beautiful? As I've said multiple times, were you not listening or what?"
Anyway, a faint smirk touched Olivia's lips.
She tossed Scarface's head to the side with a wet thud and stepped back toward the thick iron door behind her.
Frost clung to the edges of the frame. Even without it open, an unnatural cold seeped through the cracks.
"We're on floor 39," she said, her voice steady but laced with unease.
"Looks like no one's cleared past this point."
If what that bastard Thompson said is true…so we just have to go to the final floor and make it out alive, and we're free.
Well as free as we can be.
She said as her hand slowly rose to tuch the deep black rose thorn tattoo that was around her neck.
"If you say so."
As they spoke, the remaining beastborn slaves huddled near the walls, eyes vacant, hope long since extinguished.
None of them moved. None even looked up.
Azrael's jaw tightened. "They're not coming, are they?"
Olivia didn't answer. Instead, she reached for the iron handle.
Frost crawled across her fingers. The chill bit into her skin like teeth.
With a deep breath, she yanked the door open and the dungeon howled.
A blast of air slammed into them, sharp as knives and colder than death. Ice crusted the edges of their clothes instantly.
Azrael's breath steamed in the air. Olivia flinched as the wind clawed at her face.
"This cold…" Azrael muttered can't be natural
Ok ready ? She said walking forward into the Freezing death trap
Azrael kept his eyes on the slaves that were still chipping away at the walls, their pickaxes in hand.
It won't be long before they die from the cold and no food but that's not really…My problem.
he suddenly moved from his spot faster than any of the slaves could see him.
The next second he appeared again he was right beside Olivia and all the slaves' heads were all over the floor with a smile on some of their faces, others had a look of horror.
And as he walked to his own potential death he said in his heart
"I won't forget any of your faces, even if I didn't know any of you personally.
"You lived and that alone was sacred,"
rest in peace you all deserve that much.
The door slammed shut behind them. Looking them in the cold death trap
And before they could even get used to the stinging cold snow on their bare feet they heard low threatening growls coming from all around them.
Out from the cold snow appeared a pack of big white wolves that looked almost normal except they had two long sharp teeth shaped icicles sticking out of their mouths.
And as Azrael look at them
[New Entity Scanned]
Classification: Mana Beast
Definition: Synthetic lifeforms fabricated by the dungeon's will, soulless, stagnant, and entirely disposable. Lacking even the spark of true existence, Mana Beasts are incapable of growth or evolution. Each is born with a fixed strength and an even more fixed purpose: to serve as cannon fodder and obstacle for the worthy.
They are not alive. They merely function.
Subject Identified: [Lesser Amarok]
Mana Core: one star Feral (Dark Gray)
Threat Level: F (Only dangerous to the blind, deaf, and already dying)
Description: A sad, almost laughable mockery of the ancient Amarok bloodline if one squints and suspends all disbelief. The Lesser Amarok is a runt born from imitation, lacking the size, instincts, and sheer terror that the true Amarok inspired. Too weak to hunt alone and too dim-witted to strategize, it survives only through numbers. Even its presence feels like an insult to the real predators.
"If you're in danger from one of these, you deserve it. If you're in danger from several… you probably still deserve it."
Beside him, Olivia stood unfazed, her pink eyes gleaming with anticipation. She reached into her shadow, her fingers curling around the hilt of a sword forged from darkness itself, the blade flickering like fire, whispering curses into the wind.
She glanced at Azrael, a wicked grin tugging at her lips.
"Whoever kills more has to obey one command from the other. No backing out?"
Azrael smirked, claws sliding from his fingertips with a soft soft metallic hiss.
"Deal. But don't cry when you lose."
"Please," she said, flipping her hair back. "You're looking at the next champion of this frozen hell."
And then they moved.
The pack surged forward, snarling beasts slamming their paws into the icy ground, shaking the earth with every step.
Azrael met them head-on, his muscles coiling like springs, every motion lethal.
He tore through the first beast with brutal efficiency, claws slicing through flesh and bone.
Blood sprayed in arcs, steaming as it hit the frozen air.
Olivia danced through the chaos, her blade singing a song of death.
With every strike, her sword sank deep into the beasts, the shadows corrupting the wounds, spreading like ink through snow.
One after another, they dropped, their bodies writhing and twisting before crumpling into stillness.
Azrael fought like a storm, a force of unrelenting fury.
His strikes were raw and powerful, overwhelming.
Olivia, by contrast, moved like a phantom—graceful, efficient, and terrifying in her calm.
Snow and blood blurred together into a haze of white and crimson.
One by one, the beasts fell until only silence remained.
The final creature collapsed with a thunderous crash, and all that was left was the sound of their heavy breaths and the wind howling through the open gate.
Azrael stood panting, claws dripping crimson,
Across from him, Olivia straightened, her blade fading back into shadow.
Blood was splattered across her face, already beginning to freeze in delicate red crystals.
Their eyes met. For a long, suspended moment, neither spoke. Just the sound of their breathing, steady, alive.
Finally, Olivia smirked. "Looks like I won by one."
Azrael raised a brow, pretending to count. "Only because that last one tripped over its own paws."
"A win's a win." Her grin widened, and she tilted her head. "So what will I make you do?"
Azrael chuckled, shaking blood from his claws. "This humble servant will be anything his queen wishes"