The Spire was less of a building and more of a jagged wound in the sky. Up close, the sheer scale of it was nauseating. It twisted upward, defying gravity, the black stone seeming to absorb the light around it.
Silas stood at the edge of the plateau, gazing up. "You know, most architects aim for 'welcoming'. This one just screams 'abandon all hope, ye who enter here.' Very melodramatic."
"The air feels heavy," Elena said, adjusting her grip on her dagger. She looked tired; the constant saturation of mana in the Cracked Lands was wearing on her, even with Silas's guidance.
"That's the dungeon aura," Silas said, checking his status. His mana regeneration was sky-high here, but he kept that to himself. No need to brag. "It's telling us we aren't welcome. I love a challenge."
Below them, carved into the base of the Spire, was a massive gate. It looked like the maw of a beast, sealed shut by thick bars of obsidian. In front of it, a small army had set up camp.
Red tents. Bonfires. Chanting.
"The Crimson Eye," Silas muttered. "Looks like Malak beat us here."
"That's a lot of cultists," Elena observed. "Fifty? Sixty?"
"Enough to throw a decent party, not enough to siege a fortress," Silas analyzed. "They aren't trying to break in. They're waiting for someone to let them in."
He watched as Malak stood before the gate, his arms raised, chanting. The air around him shimmered with a bloody red light.
"So," Silas said, dusting off his cloak. "Plan A: We sneak in through a crack in the wall. Plan B: We kill them all and take their stuff. Plan C: We walk in, introduce ourselves, and bluff our way to the front of the line."
"Plan A sounds best," Elena said immediately.
"Agreed. But where's the fun in that?" Silas grinned. "Let's go with a modified Plan C. We walk in. If they get angry, we switch to Plan B."
"Silas..."
"Relax. Look at them. They're exhausted. They've been chanting for hours. I can see their mana flickering from here."
Silas stepped out onto the plateau. He didn't sneak. He walked with the confident stride of a man who owned the property.
"Honey, I'm home!" he shouted, his voice amplified by a touch of Void mana.
The cultist camp froze. Chanting stopped. Heads turned. Hands went to weapons.
Malak turned from the gate, his face twisting into a snarl. "You."
"Me," Silas pointed at himself. "The Void Walker. Or Sovereign, actually. I'm still beta-testing the title. I see you're still trying to open the door. Need a hand? I'm excellent with locks. And picking pockets."
Malak descended the steps, flanked by two hulking figures—Construct Guardians, made of sewn-together flesh and metal.
"You followed us," Malak spat. "This is a sacred ground for the Crimson Eye. Your presence defiles it."
"Defiles is such a strong word," Silas said, walking closer. "I prefer 'renovates'. You've been at this gate for a day, haven't you? The seal is Void-magic, Malak. You can't force it with blood sacrifice. It doesn't want blood."
Malak paused. "What would you know of it?"
"I know that the Void doesn't care about your god," Silas said, his voice dropping the playful edge. "It only cares about Authority."
He stopped ten feet from the gate. "Step aside. I'll open it. We go in, you get your 'awakening', I get the loot. Everyone wins."
"Kill him," Malak ordered.
The two Construct Guardians roared. They were massive, Level 39 bruisers. They charged, the ground shaking under their weight.
"Elena, the left one!" Silas shouted. He drew Requiem and faced the right one.
He didn't use Void Step to dodge. Instead, he stood his ground. As the construct swung a massive fist, Silas timed it perfectly.
[Skill: Void Consumption - Touch]
He caught the fist with his free hand.
The impact sent a shockwave through Silas's arm—he felt a bone crack—but he held on. The Void in his palm opened.
"Eat."
He didn't drain the creature's health. He drained the mana animating the constructs. The runes stitched into their flesh flickered.
The Guardian froze, its fist turning grey and crumbling to dust as the magic holding it together was ripped away.
Silas kicked the knee of the now-destabilized construct. Snap. It fell.
He finished it with a quick stab to the core.
On the left, Elena was faster. She used the Phase Crystal Shard Silas had given her. She threw it at the feet of the second Guardian.
CRACK-ZAP.
A sphere of chaotic energy exploded, locking the Guardian in a stasis field for three seconds. Elena vaulted onto its back and drove her Void Dagger into its neck joint. The construct shuddered and collapsed.
Two moves. Two dead elites.
Silas turned back to Malak. "Your bouncers are a bit slow. You should ask for a refund."
The cultists drew their daggers, hesitating. Facing a man who could crumble golems with a touch wasn't in the job description.
Malak's face was a mask of fury, but he was smart. He saw the fear in his followers. If they fought, they would lose.
"You think you can simply walk in?" Malak hissed.
"I don't think," Silas said, walking past the cultists toward the gate. "I know."
He placed his hand on the obsidian seal. It was freezing cold. He felt the intricate network of Void mana holding it shut.
It was a complex lock, but it was old. And it recognized him.
"Open," Silas commanded.
He pushed a pulse of his own mana into the seal. It wasn't brute force; it was a key turning in a lock.
Thunk.
The sound echoed through the mountains. The massive stone bars retracted. The gate groaned, sliding open just enough for a person to slip through.
A rush of cold, stale air blew out from the dungeon. It smelled of dust, old magic, and something ancient.
[Dungeon Entered: The Spire of the Hollow God]
[Difficulty: C-Rank (Party Recommended)]
[Warning: High Void Saturation.]
Silas turned to the stunned cultists. "Well? Are you coming or not? Try not to touch anything shiny. I called dibs."
He didn't wait for an answer. He stepped into the darkness, Elena right on his heels.
The interior of the Spire was vast and hollow. They stood on a walkway suspended over a drop that seemed to go on forever. Floating platforms made of stone drifted lazily in the void below, connected by chains or magic bridges.
"Floating rocks," Silas sighed, looking down. "Why is it always floating rocks? It's a health and safety nightmare."
"Silas," Elena whispered. "Look."
She pointed to the center of the room. Suspended in the middle of the vast cylindrical space was a platform. On it stood an altar.
And standing in front of the altar was a single figure.
It wasn't a monster. It was a knight. The armor was sleek, silver and blue, with a tattered cape. A greatsword was embedded in the stone before the knight.
As Silas stepped onto the platform, the knight's head snapped up. The visor was down, but Silas felt the gaze.
[Boss Encounter]
[Target: Knight of the Hollow Spire]
[Level: 45]
[Rank: C-Rank (Low Boss)]
"Level 45," Silas said, gripping his sword. "Elena, hang back. This one is out of your league."
"But—"
"No buts. This is a duel. If I die, run. If I win, we loot the body."
Silas walked to the edge of the walkway. The knight pulled the greatsword from the stone with a metallic ring that vibrated in Silas's teeth.
"Greetings!" Silas called out. "I'm looking for the gift shop. Is that you?"
The knight didn't speak. It simply leveled the sword at Silas.
Then, it moved.
It leaped from the central platform, crossing the twenty-foot gap in a single bound, landing heavily on the walkway in front of Silas.
The impact buckled the stone.
The knight swung. It was a horizontal slash, deceptively fast for such a heavy weapon.
Silas parried with Requiem.
CLANG!
Silas was knocked back five feet, his arm vibrating painfully. The knight possessed immense Strength.
"Okay," Silas grimaced, shaking his hand. "Strong and silent type. I can work with that."
He activated [Void Step], appearing behind the knight.
He slashed at the back of the knight's knee.
Sparks.
The armor was incredibly durable. Silas's blade barely scratched it.
The knight spun, backhanding Silas.
Silas tried to dodge, but the knight anticipated it. The metal gauntlet caught him in the ribs.
Crack.
Silas went flying, tumbling across the walkway. He tasted blood.
[Critical Hit.][Health: 70%]
"He reads movements," Silas realized, spitting blood. "It's not alive. It's a programmed guardian. It's analyzing my patterns."
He stood up. The knight advanced, sword raised for a finishing blow.
Silas grinned, wiping the blood from his chin. "Good. I hate easy fights."
He closed his eyes for a split second.
[Mind Palace: Simulation Start]
In his mind, time slowed. He simulated the knight's next ten moves based on its current stance. It would feint left, then strike diagonally right.
[Simulation Complete.]
Silas opened his eyes.
The knight feinted left.
Silas didn't flinch. He waited.
The knight swung right.
Silas stepped into the swing, the blade missing his neck by an inch.
He placed his hand on the knight's chest plate.
"You're just a suit of armor," Silas whispered. "Empty. Like me."
[Skill: Void Consumption - Overload]
Silas didn't just drain the knight. He poured his own chaotic Void mana into the knight's armor, overloading the defensive runes.
The knight shuddered. Blue light exploded from the seams of the armor. The magic animating it short-circuited.
The knight stumbled, freezing in place.
Silas didn't waste the opening. He raised Requiem of the Void with both hands.
"For the Sovereign!"
He brought the blade down on the knight's helmet.
CRASH.
The helmet split. The armor collapsed into a pile of scrap metal and dust.
[Target Terminated.][Level Up! Level 37 -> Level 38]
Silas leaned on his sword, panting heavily. His ribs screamed in protest. He was bruised, battered, and bleeding.
But he was still standing.
"Silas!" Elena ran over.
"I'm fine," he wheezed, straightening up. "Just a scratch. And a bruised ego. That armor was tough."
He looked at the pile of loot.
No Legendary items. No orbs. Just the Greatsword the knight had dropped.
He picked it up.
[Item: Hollow Spire Greatsword][Grade: Rare (High)][Effect: Heavy Damage. Increased defense while wielded.]
"Rare," Silas chuckled, tossing the heavy blade to Elena. "Here. You're the off-tank now. It's heavier than your dagger, so maybe do some push-ups."
He looked toward the center of the room, where the altar sat.
"We press on. The Ancient One is waiting."
Silas Vane, Level 38, walked deeper into the Spire, leaving the wreckage of the guardian behind him. He was growing. Steady. Relentless.
And he was starting to enjoy the pain.