Solo Dungeon Runner

Alexander's attention scattered across the field.

He could see every twitch, every glance, every breath.

Not only could he see every individual enemy, he could see every spectator, every chair, every single piece of peeled paint.

Nothing escaped his gaze.

Forward had an impressive team, they spread before him occupying most of their side of the field.

They had one assassin, 3 fighters and two mages.

They were six in total, including their leader who was the assassin archetype standing at the far right.

Spreading so thin? They don't know much about me. But they do know about avoiding direct eye contact.

Alexander raised the staff he held in his hand, pointing it at his adversaries.

"[ Whispers Beyond ]."

The entity spoke.

Its voice resonated through them like an unstoppable gust of wind. From left to right, each of them were hit by it, instantly grabbing their own heads.

He could feel the heat turning up, paired with the sweet tones of the unknown being at the back of his mind. A sweet, but constant murmur.

"Looking at the ground works, but unless you close your eyes completely you're not immune to it," said Alexander across the stage.

They all held onto their heads, wobbling and stumbling on their feet as they tried to find balance.

"What the hell?! What are you doing to our brains?! Fuck!" said one of the fighters.

The leader at the right looked at his incapacitated teammates, worry flashing through his eyes. "Jake! Sam!…"

His face was contorted with anger, his furious gaze set on Alexander.

"Cultist…"

Alexander pointed his staff at him, the only one who was spared.

"Some of my spells do require direct eye contact, you're not wrong about that. If you did look directly into my eyes, you would be on the ground right now. Unluckily for you, you have the much slower option instead."

"So even looking away isn't enough? Cultists have no honor!"

"Honor?" said Alexander, as the first enemy fell to the ground, holding onto his head.

He could see in the stands Sunder's disapproval.

He stopped [ Whispers Beyond ], and simultaneously cast [ Reach Beyond ], tendrils reaching at each enemy's feet, aside from the leader.

It slithered around each of their ankles and yanked them off-stage, hitting the stone walls separating the field from the stands.

Everyone held their breaths, the sound of the stone cracking echoing through the arena.

The stone crumbled under the impact, dust and small rocks falling onto the fallen enemies.

Medics and healers rushed over, quickly shoving them onto stretchers.

"What…" said the leader, looking away in disbelief.

Even the announcer was at a loss for words, the public unsure whether to cheer or be scared.

"What is this…" repeated the leader.

"You thought I would go easy on you?" said Alexander, with slight chuckle.

"You weren't really struggling during the first match…"

Alexander raised both eyebrows, then slowly clapped his hands.

"Well done figuring that one out."

He noticed, in the corner of his eyes, how Nagano and Sunder looked at him.

Alexander's eye twitched, he scratched the back of his head while keeping his eyes on his enemy.

"I'm tired. I don't even know your name, and I don't care. Let's finish this."

"It's Streak. Remember it," he answered, his voice somber.

Streak held both knives in his hands, lowering himself while keeping his eyes on Alexander.

Alexander's lips contorted into a devious smile.

The rune on his chest was already burning, a feeling he had grown accustomed to.

He only just realized that hum he heard was a single word.

Behold.

Behold.

Behold… behold… behold, behold, behold, behold, behold, behold, behold, behold, behold, behold, behold, behold, behold, behold, behold, behold, behold, behold, behold, behold.

He could finally understand it, yet its meaning eluded him.

He needed to finish the fight, meaning could wait.

He raised his staff once more, yet no reaction came from his opponent.

Streak glanced at the announcer, then at the referee. The crowd stood silent, while Sunder worriedly looked at him.

Even Titan, who remained disinterested throughout the fight, had suddenly his full attention at it.

"…What?" asked Alexander.

Streak glanced at the referee once more, who looked like he had no idea what to do.

"This is a trick, right? You're trying to get into my head?" said Streak.

Alexander frowned, glancing at the others once more.

"You…"

Streak looked uncomfortable, unsure of his own words.

"You were just repeating 'Behold' over and over…"

"I…—" started Alexander.

He glanced behind, searching for Fae's gaze, only to meet the eyes of more concerned spectators.

He looked at the ground, then at his opponent who clutched his daggers like his life depended on it.

"You're trying to scare me? I can take you on, even alone. Don't you know assassins are the best when it comes to fighting other dungeon runners?"

Streak chuckled, as if trying to convince himself of his own words.

While it was faint, Alexander could tell mana accumulated in his body.

"Nothing changes," said Alexander.

He raised his staff, a rift tearing the ground open right before Streak.

Streak's eyes had a red glow, a mist of steam exiting through his skin.

As the tip of the tendril exited through the rift, he executed a perfect horizontal sweep with his knife, slicing the tendril in half.

No wasted motion.

Alexander could tell something had changed within Streak.

All the signs pointed toward a sort of berserk ability, but how could it be possible?

Alexander's furrowed his eyebrows, until the realization hit him.

He's not an assassin, he's a specialist.

The tendril retracted into the ground, while Streak got into a running position.

He's gonna dash at me.

He raised his staff at the same time, concentrating on opening a new rift.

I know exactly the direction you'll take, a fake glance to your left while your feet are pointing right…

He started working on opening the rift, yet he couldn't shake a feeling.

One that was familiar, that he remembered from the previous day.

Eldritch Perception.

That feeling when he was about to pick up that piece of paper, the one warning him of imminent danger.

Yet he couldn't see any.

Where is it? I missed something?!

[ Witness of All Paths ] was still activated, yet he felt blind, unable to see the danger.

Streak started his sprint to the right.

Alexander's mind, while looking for the trap, couldn't help but being distracted by Streak's running form.

His hands, oddly, weren't just moving front to back with his legs, but described a slight outward arc.

His attention then went to Titan and Sunder, whose pupils looked at his left, rather than directly at him or Streak.

Alexander looked at his left, yet nothing.

The imminent doom he felt only increased, it felt like his heart might stop.

Then, he finally saw it.

Space slightly distorted, as if wind slightly split open.

He threw it when he cut the tendril. An invisible thread is attached to his hand, that's why his arm was arcing outward. He's Guiding it.

Alexander's grasp on his staff tightened.

A rift tore open the ground to his left, a tendril swiftly reaching out to intercept it.

It all happened in a flash, and Streak wasn't even halfway to him.

Yet, despite finding the knife and watching as the tendril knocked the knife off-course, the dread he felt only increased.