You Already Won

He stopped twice on the descent, wondering why he was even entertaining this. It was weird. Too weird. He turned to leave.

Then a voice cracked the dark.

"Hey! Hey! Someone there? Oh my god, please—please help me if you're not a monster or something!"

Cawren froze.

A native? No. The speech was too modern, too frantic. Outlanders often slipped into odd dialects after long exposure, but this was… Fresh. A newcomer. Usually not worth his time. But how in the hell was a newcomer bending his UI to call him here? That demanded investigation.

"If you plan on—"

"Holy FUCK YES! You speak English!"

The words spilled out in a sobbing rush. She sounded like she was crying, the desperation catching him off guard. His guard slipped—not much, but enough to feel a strange warmth creep into his chest. Her aura swirled thicker the deeper he sank. Enticing. Seductive. He shook his head violently. Focus.

"Yeah," he said flatly. "I speak English. But as I was saying—try anything and I'll incinerate you."

Silence. Then, softer:

"Well, um… like, please don't do that. I'm stuck, so I couldn't do anything anyway. Also, umm, I suck at Rieoon."

Cawren blinked. "Rieoon?"

"Yeah, the magic shit everyone does."

He couldn't help it—he chuckled. "It's Ryun."

"Whatever. Can you help me out without, y'know, incinerating me?"

The words were a request. They sounded like a plea. But something deeper slipped beneath them—too subtle to alarm him, too faint to feel like compulsion. Yet the tug was there, threading into his mind, nudging his actions.

Cawren let his aura blaze to life, flooding the pit with searing light. Shadows retreated as the glow reached down, illuminating a figure far below. He frowned—her voice had carried that far up?

There she was. A woman, half-buried in the dirt, dressed in tattered scraps of cloth that clung in all the wrong ways. The clothing itself wasn't alarming, but her figure beneath it was—enticing in its own right, a tease. Purple-rimmed, weary eyes blinked up at him, framed by shoulder-length black hair streaked with violet.

Cawren steadied himself. Calm down. You burn cities. You break armies. You've killed more than most can count. A half-naked woman isn't going to throw you off. He reminded himself he'd been with women before—this wasn't anything new.

Still, her aura whispered at him. Soft, warm, coiling.

He lifted a hand, summoning his UI.

————————————————————

[SCAN INITIATED]

Analyzing…

Potential Threats Detected: 0

Foreign Resonance: None

Stability: Uncertain (Subject aura partially suppressed)

————————————————————

No anomalies. No clear threat. Just… her.

In the next breath, he was there beside her.

"Oh shit," she whispered, eyes wide.

He saw why. Thick roots wound around her body, spiraling from the stone walls, burrowing into her skin. They pulsed faintly as they drank her aura, siphoning off strands of Ryun like veins tapped dry.

Cawren narrowed his eyes, lifted his hand, and let his fire sweep out. The roots shriveled and hissed in the blaze.

Wait—hissed?

Her eyes went wide with terror just as the roots snapped to life. They lunged, faster than he expected, striking like serpents. He swung to burn them down—

—but the wall behind him erupted, splintering into a tide of writhing tendrils that shot for his chest.

The pit roared!

"You tricked me!" His aura blazed hotter, searing the pit in molten light.

"No! No, I didn't know!" Her voice cracked through tears as the roots coiled tighter.

Cawren incinerated the tendrils lunging for his chest, heat splitting the rock as he launched upward. She cried out, flinching as the flames licked across her skin, blistering the roots latched to her.

"I'm so fucking serious!" she screamed, voice raw. "I didn't—I swear—I didn't! Please! PLEASE don't leave me! I wanna leave this place! Please, please!"

"Shut up!" Cawren roared, fire flooding from his arms in brutal arcs. Roots shriveled, hissed, then split into blackened ash. But more surged in, crawling from the walls, bursting from the floor, wrapping the pit in a writhing cage.

It didn't matter. He'd already decided. He would save her—not for her sake, not for her pleas. No. Because if these roots thought they could chain him, they'd chosen their death sentence.

His UI flickered into view:

————————————————————

[ENTITY DETECTED]

Classification: UNKNOWN

Health Bar: ???

Identification: FAILED

————————————————————

Cawren's lips curled. "Ok. A real challenge."

Not just another nuke-and-walk. Not another scorched ruin. No—this was different. A puzzle. A hunt. Kill the creature without frying the girl. Well… not frying her too much at least. That was his objective now, because he made it so.

"You know what these are?!" he barked as he cut through another wave of roots, fire burning hotter, his cloak snapping in the heat.

"No!" she cried weakly, wincing as the roots drained deeper. "I don't—I don't know!"

His UI pulsed again, highlighting the writhing network of tendrils. Clearer now—each line traced back, feeding into her. Not just her. Beyond. Further down.

Cawren's eyes narrowed. "So you're not the only source." The grin still wide under the mask.

The roots struck in waves, snapping through the air like whips of living iron. Cawren ducked, the heat of his own aura trailing him as he spun aside. Fire flared across his back, burning away a cluster mid-lunge. Another set burst from the walls—he bent at the waist, letting them scythe overhead before igniting his palm and snapping a firestream upward, splitting them into molten shards that rained down the stone.

They weren't moving with instinct. He could see the rhythm. Too sharp. Too measured. Not sentient. Controlled. And worse—they were adapting. Every burst of flame was countered faster, every dodge predicted more closely. His crimson eyes tracked the arcs. Their speed had nearly doubled since the fight began.

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His boots slammed into the pit wall as he vaulted sideways, fire bursting beneath his feet to carry him higher. A tendril shot from below, jagged and barbed. He twisted midair, cloak swirling, he waved his hand in a cutting motion, fire cleaving it in two. The cut seared bright orange as the fragments coiled back, snapping at his ankles. He spun again, letting flame erupt in a wheel, forcing them back with a hiss.

"Not bad," he muttered. "But not enough."

He kept his speed low—base level, nothing flashy. If these roots were eyes, cameras, or conduits, then he'd give whoever was watching only a fraction of the truth. No reason to show them what he really could do.

Still, the strain was mounting.

Behind him, the girl's voice faltered into a weak moan. He glanced—her skin was pale, eyes glassy, the roots drinking faster now. They pulsed visibly, her aura streaming into them in hungry tides.

Cawren landed, fire bursting from his soles to launch him across the pit. Roots swarmed like a tidal wave. He ducked under one, spun around another, let flame snap from his fingertips to sever the remaining hundreds. The pit echoed with shrieks as burning tendrils fell in smoking chunks.

They weren't dying, though. Just retreating.

He smiled.

"Alright," he said, rolling his shoulders, fire crawling up his arms like molten armor. "Time to test a theory."

The roots lunged again, sharper, faster, their rhythm bordering on predictive perfection. But Cawren wasn't retreating now—he was baiting them in.

[Malefic Ember Essence]

The shot wasn't aimed at the writhing tide. Not the walls.

But her.

Her purpled eyes widened, lips forming a strangled "no" before the essence sank into her chest like molten fire. Her body convulsed, veins glowing, and then the screaming began. She writhed against the roots, tearing her own skin as they pulsed deeper into her flesh.

Cawren only smirked.

The ember did its work, traveling through her body like a wildfire through dry brush, spilling into the parasitic roots that had claimed her. They hissed, writhing in agony, their blackened husks splitting open from the inside. The blaze didn't stop there—it traced the stolen Ryun, rushing through the living conduits like poison in veins.

And then the roots dragged her with them.

Her form blurred, yanked downward, disappearing into the earth with a shriek as the roots ripped her into the labyrinth below.

Cawren straightened. The roots surged at him, furious, endless.

"Multiple sources." He grinned wider, crimson fire crawling across his skin. "Just as I thought."

His hand tapped against his mask, runes shifting. His eyes flared, and suddenly every root in the cavern glowed red, a searing thread of light racing down their length, further and further into the depths. Toward the hearts that fed them.

"Found you."

He raised his hand, waited for the glow to converge. Then—

Snap.

[Malefic Glare of Ruin] detonated.

The world screamed. The pit convulsed as fire tore its guts apart, roots exploding in a chain of catastrophic detonations. The walls shattered outward, earth collapsing, stone boiling into slag. The roots had become their own fuel, their sprawling networks amplifying the fire into an apocalyptic blast.

When the light died, the pit was no more. A yawning riven scar split the land, smoke and ash spilling into the sky.

Cawren hovered above it, cloak whipping in the updraft, crimson flames still licking across his arms. His grin remained, sharper than ever.

Because beneath the ruin, he still felt it.

Her aura—faint, flickering, but alive. And deeper still, something vast pulsed like a buried heart. The core.

Without hesitation, he dove into the darkness, flames trailing him like a meteor.

More roots tore at him as he plunged deeper. They lashed from the walls, barbed and jagged, but he cut them down in measured sweeps. His fire hissed against stone, bursts of crimson flame illuminating the tunnels. He kept his speed controlled, conserving his reserves.

Then came the bellow.

It wasn't a sound so much as a vibration—deep, primal, the kind of force that rattled bones and threatened to shove him back up the tunnel. He steadied himself mid-air, crimson aura flaring brighter.

His grin widened. "Now we're talking."

He pressed forward, following the twin trails—her faint aura, and the pulsing flow of roots—until the tunnel opened into something vast.

A hollow stretched before him, impossibly wide, lit from within by a pale bioluminescent glow. The ceiling arched high overhead, jagged like broken ribs. Grass, impossibly green for this depth, blanketed the floor, shimmering faintly with a dew that wasn't water.

Suspended above the field hung hundreds of shapes. Some were creatures—scaled, furred, feathered. Others were people—natives, outlanders, all strung up like grotesque ornaments. Glowing vegetation twisted between them, flowering in unnatural colors. Roots pierced each body, anchoring them to both ground and ceiling. They dangled, lifeless but not dead, the faint light of their stolen aura streaming down into the ground.

Cawren stepped onto the grass. The blades bent beneath his boots, damp with unnatural warmth. He surveyed the grotesque tableau with detached interest, crimson eyes flaring brighter.

There she was. The woman.

Unconscious now, limp in her bindings, purple-streaked hair drifting around her face. She looked fragile, drained nearly hollow.

He flicked open his UI.

————————————————————

[SCAN INITIATED]

Subject Identified: ERROR

Threat Level: UNDEFINED

Resonance: Obscured

————————————————————

Still nothing. His lips pressed into a thin line. So even here, the system won't tell me a damn thing.

And yet… no central core glowed in the chamber. No obvious heart to the nest.

Cawren tilted his head, fire crackling around his fingers. "So. Where are you hiding?"

The grass rippled under his boots, as though the chamber itself had heard.

Cawren paced the field, boots sinking into the unnaturally lush grass. No roots came for him here, no hissing tendrils snapping from the walls. Just silence, and the grotesque gallery of bodies swaying above.

He frowned. "Too peaceful. And stupid. Giving me time to prep isn't the wisest thing."

He snapped his UI open again. No dungeon parameters. No raid barrier. No environmental script. "Not a dungeon, huh?" His grin stretched. "So what gives?"

He rolled his shoulders and began stacking buffs, crimson aura tightening around his limbs in layered rings of fire and script. Muscles thrummed with stored power, every motion leaving embers in the air.

Then, casually, he reached into his inventory and uncorked a vial. A thick, noxious liquid hissed as he tipped it into the ground. Poison seeped into the roots, black veins spreading through the grass until the blades coiled, shriveled, and died in patches. The stench of decay filled the chamber.

Still nothing.

"Hmph. You really want me to get impatient?"

He glanced at the suspended forms but didn't step closer. Floating meat-puppets weren't about to trick him into a bad angle. Even so, his crimson gaze sharpened. The roots were moving. Not all of them—just the ones around her.

The woman.

More and more tendrils slithered from the ceiling and floor, winding around her limbs, burrowing into her aura. The other victims weren't fully neglected, their glow dimming as some roots abandoned them for her.

Cawren's grin widened. "So. You like her more than the rest? Interesting."

He spread his hands, summoning script-fire into precise geometric lines.

[DULURE: Circle of Empowerment] bloomed beneath his boots, an intricate sigil of living flame. Power coiled upward, sharpening his aura, condensing his strikes.

Then he raised his arm.

[Flaming Beam] ripped from his palm, a blazing torrent of conceptual flame that screamed across the chamber. It seared into the floating sources, burning bodies, roots, and glowing flora alike. Ash and molten ichor rained from above as the "ornaments" burned. He made sure to stay away from the woman.

The chamber quaked.

Cawren didn't stop. He bent his knees, crimson fire spiraling into his chest, coiling tighter, tighter—until his whole frame pulsed like a furnace ready to rupture. His lips curled, and he whispered the name.

[{The Ra'Juc's Javelin}]

He raised his arm high, the fire in his palm stretching upward in a single, impossibly bright line. It thickened, warped, then split into three. Crackling arcs of divine flame crawled down the haft, twisting into jagged edges until a trident of pure destructive energy materialized in his grasp.

It hummed, deep and resonant, the kind of sound that vibrated in bones and split the air. The cavern lit crimson and gold, shadows burning away. The trident shook as if eager to be thrown, searing heat spilling in waves.

Cawren's crimson eyes narrowed as he kept the weapon in hand, the weight of it pressing against the cavern like a sun. He didn't throw it yet. Not yet.

Because his grin told him what his instincts already knew.

The core would have to show itself now.

The chamber shuddered. Screams erupted from the suspended bodies, a chorus of agony echoing against the cavern walls. The roots hissed in unison, writhing as though a command had seized them. Some pulled back—not to attack—but to shield. They wrapped tighter around two figures in particular: the woman, limp and pale, and another host whose aura pulsed faintly like a dying ember.

Cawren's crimson eyes narrowed. So those two matter more than the rest. Information for later.

The blackened grass beneath his boots shook and released black dust into the air. Blue fire spread through the air like veins of lightning, searing across the walls. From the center of the cavern, the roots parted, revealing a figure rising slowly from the ground.

It was tall. Towering. Shoulders broad, skin black as onyx and etched with blazing cyan runes that pulsed like molten veins. Gold and emerald regalia clung to its form—chains, plates, and gems that shimmered with a divine, almost alien radiance. Antlers of living flame crowned its head, stretching toward the ceiling, their ghostly fire licking at the cavern's ribs.

Its presence pressed down like a waterfall.

Cawren grinned, crimson fire still dancing across his arms. "Finally."

He hurled the trident.

[{The Ra'Juc's Javelin}] split the cavern's air as it launched, tearing a molten wake behind it. The weapon screamed like a falling star, its divine flames bending the chamber itself before slamming dead into the figure's chest. The impact lit the hollow in blinding white, shaking the hollow, splitting stone, and reducing the surrounding vegetation into cinders.

Cawren lowered his arm, smirk already forming. "That should've—"

The light cleared.

The creature stood there, unmoved. Not even singed.

It slowly lifted its head, cyan flames spilling from its antlers, and locked its eyes onto him.

Nothing else. No roar. No charge. Just a gaze sharp enough to pierce straight through him.

For the first time since stepping into the pit, Cawren felt the grin tug at the corner of his lips for a different reason.

"Well," he muttered, crimson aura crackling to life again, "guess this'll test my worth!"