The next morning, we spent a couple of hours only discussing tactics until we were satisfied with the best way to fight a giant floating jellyfish. It wasn't exactly a normal topic, but normal was overrated.

  Hellene’s 7th tier spell, which she could finally cast, would be our biggest advantage. Beyond that, it would be very similar to the fight with the water elemental. Duncan taking the brunt of hits at first before I joined. Each calling out for a ‘break’ and the other covering them, while Eva peppered the giant monster with arrows.

  With everyone hyped up for the fight, we returned to the chamber with the giant stone doors.

  I approached the glowing blue lock, feeling oddly calm despite knowing what lay ahead. This was it—the final challenge of the Reflecting Water Dungeon.

  "Everyone ready?" I asked, glancing back at my companions. Duncan stood with his sword drawn, the Tidecaller's Breastplate gleaming on his chest. Eva had her bow at the ready, fingers lightly touching the string. Hellene gripped her staff, eyes focused and determined.

  They all nodded, and I turned back to the task at hand.

  I positioned myself in front of the Drowning Lock, extending my hook hand to hold it steady while my good hand retrieved my lockpicks. The lock pulsed with that eerie blue light, but thanks to my Spellbane Lockpicking, I felt no fear of its drowning enchantment.

  My fingers worked with practiced precision, feeling for the tumblers inside. The mechanism was complex but not impossible—I'd picked worse in my time. As I manipulated the delicate tools, I felt the familiar resistance of pins aligning one by one.

  With a satisfying click, the lock released the door. I quickly sent it to my Inventory Box before it could activate on anyone else. No sooner had the lock disappeared than a deep rumbling filled the chamber. The massive stone doors began to move on their own, swinging inward with surprising smoothness despite their enormous weight.

  A grinding sound echoed throughout the chamber as the doors opened wide, revealing another brick room that mirrored our own in size. I squinted, trying to spot the jellyfish monster we'd spent hours planning for, but the chamber appeared empty.

  "Stay alert," I whispered, drawing Blood Thirst.

  We entered cautiously, weapons ready, our footsteps echoing on the polished stone floor. The torches in this chamber burned with a blue-tinged flame, casting strange shadows that danced along the walls.

  The chamber was eerily empty—no furniture, no decorations, just polished stone floors and brick walls stretching upward to a vaulted ceiling. We moved in a tight formation, eyes scanning every shadow for the jellyfish monster we expected.

  Behind us, the massive doors began to close with that same grinding sound. I'd expected this—it was typical dungeon behavior. Sometimes they gave you a chance to escape; other times they locked you in before the boss would even appear. This one clearly preferred the latter approach.

  The doors sealed shut with a heavy thud which made my heartbeat skip. Now we were committed.

  "Where is it?" Eva whispered, her arrow nocked and ready.

  "Just wait," I replied, scanning the chamber. "Something will happen."

  As if on cue, water began to pool in the center of the room, forming a puddle which grew wider by the second. There was no visible source—the liquid simply materialized, spreading across the stone floor.

  "Here we go," I muttered, tightening my grip on Blood Thirst.

  The puddle expanded rapidly, reaching several yards in diameter. Its surface rippled as if disturbed by an unseen force from below.

  Then, a hand reached out from the puddle. Not the translucent tentacle of a jellyfish, but something far more unexpected—a human hand encased in a rusted metal gauntlet. Water streamed down its fingertips as it gripped the stone floor with surprising strength.

  I heard Duncan curse under his breath, something he rarely did. Glancing at him, I was startled by his expression—he'd gone pale as a ghost, there was something about this encounter which unsettled him.

  The hand pulled, and a fully armored arm emerged from the water, rusted steel plates grinding against each other. A helmeted head followed, its narrow visor concealing whatever face lurked beneath. Only two eyes were visible—glowing with an unnatural yellow light that fixed directly on us as the figure hauled himself from the puddle.

  "That's not a jellyfish," I managed to say, my voice barely audible.

  I wasn't particularly worried yet—one opponent instead of a giant tentacled monster seemed like a fair trade. But my relief evaporated instantly as six more hands broke the surface of the puddle, clawing desperately at the stone floor as if pulling themselves from drowning.

  Another armored figure emerged, this one even larger than the first by at least a foot, his steel plates equally corroded. The remaining two figures wore leather armor similar to mine, though darkened by water. Tattered gray cloaks hung from their shoulders, hoods partially obscuring faces that I couldn't quite make out. But those eyes—all four had the same glowing yellow eyes which seemed to burn through the shadows.

  I activated Scan immediately, the information flooding my mind.

  [Scan Results] Monster: Undead Knight Level: 40 Race: Undead Stats: Str 18, Con 14, Dex 14, Wis 16, Int 10 HP: 350/350 MP: 100/100 Once a Holy Knight, then became a Fallen Knight… now is a Undead Knight.

  [Scan Results] Monster: Undead Champion Level: 40 Race: Undead Stats: Str 18, Con 18, Dex 10, Wis 10, Int 10 HP: 400/400 MP: 70/70

  [Scan Results] Monster: Undead Scout Level: 40 Race: Undead Stats: Str 12, Con 14, Dex 18, Wis 10, Int 14 HP: 280/280 MP: 85/85

  [Scan Results] Monster: Undead Rogue Level: 40 Race: Undead Stats: Str 12, Con 16, Dex 18, Wis 10, Int 12 HP: 310/310 MP: 70/70

  "The Silver Swords," Eva said beside me, her voice barely above a whisper.

  She was right. Each figure gripped a silver blade—different in style but unmistakable in their magical quality. The first knight held a longsword, while the larger one wielded a massive broadsword which would have required both my hands to lift. The leather-clad undead carried a scimitar and short sword respectively, each weapon etched with glowing runes that pulsed with a rhythmic light.

  And the scan showed me text about the leader, that didn’t normally happen with scans of monsters.

  "This isn't what we planned for," I muttered, mind racing to adapt our strategy. Four powerful undead versus one jellyfish monster completely changed the equation. Especially when everyone except for myself was lower level compared to those four.

  Our only lucky break was the undead weren't immediately attacking us. They stood there, dripping water, their silver weapons gleaming in the blue torch light.

  The first knight—the one with the longsword—extended a gauntleted finger directly at Duncan. "Faithless," it hissed, the word echoing unnaturally in the chamber.

  Duncan's face drained of what little color remained. "Will," he whispered, not taking his eyes off the accusing figure, "what did your scan show?"

  I swallowed hard. "It's an Undead Knight, level 40." I hesitated, reluctant to continue, but Duncan deserved to know. "It was... it was once a knight like you, a Fallen Knight."

  That's when I noticed something on the undead knight's chest—a holy symbol hanging from a tarnished chain. My breath caught in my throat. It was nearly identical to my own platinum holy symbol of Liora, except this one was gold. Deep scratches covered its surface, as if someone had taken a blade to it repeatedly in rage or contempt.

  "Kinship," the undead knight hissed, his glowing eyes fixed unwaveringly on Duncan.

  Duncan's grip tightened on his sword, knuckles white with tension. "I am nothing like you," he spat, his voice shaking with barely contained fury. "I made a choice to believe in something else. I didn't betray my morals by destroying a healing fountain which many people needed!"

  The undead knight tilted his helmeted head slightly, as if considering Duncan's words. Then, as one, all four undead began hissing like snakes, the sound filling the chamber with a bone-chilling chorus.

  Eva glanced at me, her eyes wide above her scarf. "What's the plan, Will?"

  My mind raced, desperately trying to formulate a strategy against four high-level undead when we'd been preparing for a completely different fight. But before I could speak, Duncan's voice cut through the hissing.

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  "I'll draw the attention of three," he said, his voice steady despite the fear I'd seen in his eyes moments before. "The rest of you take out the fourth quickly with Hellene's spell."

  "No!" I objected immediately. "You can't survive against that many. They'll tear you apart!"

  Duncan opened his mouth to argue, but Eva interrupted. "I'll support Duncan," she said, nocking an arrow. "I can temporarily take one out of the fight. It gives him better odds."

  Behind us, I heard Hellene begin chanting, her voice rising and falling in a complex pattern I'd never heard before. The air around her staff began to shimmer with power as she gathered mana for her 7th tier spell—the one she'd been waiting to use.

  I opened my mouth to argue further, but never got the chance. The four undead adventurers charged forward in unison, their silver weapons gleaming in the torchlight.

  I watched in horror as Duncan charged forward, his face a mask of grim determination. He activated his Daring Challenge ability, mouth opening to speak words which wouldn’t sound like they came from a human.

  "FACE ME, UNDEAD CHAMPION!"

  And just like that, the Champion’s head swiveled so those glowing yellow eyes stared straight at Duncan. Simultaneously, he slashed at the leather-clad undead with the short sword, his blade connecting with a hollow clang against silver metal.

  The plan worked perfectly. Too perfectly.

  The leader – the Undead Knight with his rusted armor and scratched holy symbol – immediately pivoted toward Duncan as well, joining the other two. Now he faced exactly what he'd wanted- three powerful undead warriors, all focused entirely on him.

  "Duncan!" I shouted, but it was too late to change course now.

  As the undead with the silver scimitar passed by Duncan and his attackers, heading straight for Hellene, I heard her finishing the final words of her incantation.

  Chains shot from her outstretched hand—not the familiar blue, translucent bindings of her regular Mana Chains spell, but something far more substantial. These chains glowed a deep, angry red, appearing as solid as real metal despite being formed of pure mana. They whipped through the air with uncanny precision, wrapping around the undead scout's arms, legs, and torso.

  The undead creature hissed as the chains tightened, temporarily immobilizing it. I didn't waste a second. While Eva ran to support Duncan, who was desperately parrying strikes from three different directions, I circled behind the chained undead.

  This was my chance to end at least one threat quickly. I knew my abilities would give me a significant advantage with my first strike—Opportunity Killer and Initial Strike Bonus would dramatically increase my damage output. But I needed to make it count.

  Stabbing for vital organs would be pointless against an undead creature. They had no functioning circulatory system, no beating heart to stop. And Blood Thirst would be useless at healing—there was no blood for my dagger to feed on.

  Instead, I focused on the undead's bone structure. The spine's connection to the skull was the weakest point—a junction where even animated corpses were vulnerable. Destroy that, and the rest would follow. My hook quickly snagged the cloak, easily ripping it off with one motion to show a grotesque head covered with grey skin and rotted facial muscles.

  I maneuvered carefully, moving my hook hand to grab one of the glowing red chains wrapped around the undead's head. With a sharp tug, I pulled up, exposing the exact spot I needed. The monster thrashed against his bindings, but Hellene's spell held firm.

  I would normally never be this methodical with a first strike, preferring speed over precision. But this situation demanded perfection. I positioned Blood Thirst with careful deliberation, the tip hovering just over the base of the skull where it met the spine.

  Then I struck, driving the blade downward with all my strength. I felt both of my abilities activate simultaneously, the dagger becoming temporarily sharper and more lethal.

  The blade struck home with brutal precision. The crack reverberated through my entire arm—a sickening, splintering sound of bone separating from bone. The undead scout's body convulsed violently, but I wasn't finished.

  I yanked hard on the red mana chain with my hook, now using it for a different purpose entirely. The chain bit into the rotting flesh as I pulled with savage determination. Realizing I needed more leverage, I scrambled up and planted both feet firmly on the undead's back, using my full body weight as I heaved backward.

  The sound which followed made my stomach turn—the wet tearing of ancient sinew and muscle giving way. With one final, desperate pull, the undead's head separated completely, flying through the air in a grotesque arc before clattering against the stone floor several feet away.

  My victory was short-lived as I lost my balance, tumbling backward onto the hard stone with a painful thud which knocked the wind from my lungs.

  [Level up! Level 40 > Level 41]

  I scrambled to my feet, ignoring the sting of my skull touching stone. Duncan needed help. He was fighting for his life against two undead, blood streaming down his arms and spattering his breastplate. Every movement was a desperate parry as he struggled to counter the relentless assault.

  Eva had kept her promise. Through the chaos, I spotted her just ten feet from the undead with the short sword. She'd risked getting dangerously close to ensure her shot would land. The Mana Web Arrow had struck true, enveloping the creature's hooded head in a thick cocoon of sticky, glowing substance. The undead clawed frantically at his face with one hand, temporarily blinded and disoriented.

  But the other two undead were pressing Duncan hard. His movements were slowing, his parries becoming less precise as fatigue and injury took their toll.

  I sprinted toward Duncan, who looked more like a battered training dummy than a knight. He pivoted frantically between the two undead, his sword a blur as he parried one strike after another. Each time he blocked one attack, he had to twist immediately to catch the next, moving in a desperate dance which couldn't last.

  What struck me as odd was how the undead coordinated their attacks. They stood almost side by side, striking in a rhythmic pattern that forced Duncan to constantly shift his defenses. They could have easily positioned one behind him for a killing blow to his exposed back, but instead they seemed intent on prolonging his suffering.

  Eva kept firing arrows at the undead warriors' backs, but the projectiles simply snapped against their rusted armor. Despite their corroded appearance, the steel plates were still sturdy enough to deflect her shots. She adjusted her aim, targeting joints and exposed areas, but the undead barely seemed to notice.

  From the blood streaking Duncan's breastplate and the multiple slash marks on his arms and legs, I guessed he was down to maybe a quarter of his health. His movements were growing slower, his parries less precise as exhaustion and pain took their toll.

  I knew I couldn't pull both undead away from him, so I opted for something drastic. Reaching into my Inventory Box, I pulled out the Drowning Lock we'd just removed from the door. With a desperate sprint, I closed the distance to the undead knight leader.

  The loud clicking noise as I clasped the lock around his sword wrist made the undead look down in surprise. I leapt backward immediately as water materialized from thin air, encasing the knight in a perfect sphere. The watery prison rolled backward, carrying the struggling undead with it.

  I didn't have time to congratulate myself on my quick thinking. "Eva! Use Shamble Shot on the big one!" I shouted, desperate to give Duncan a fighting chance. "Duncan, make a run for it!"

  Eva didn't hesitate. Her fingers moved with practiced precision, nocking an arrow and letting it fly in one fluid motion. The shot hit precisely where it needed to—right at the joint of the Champion's armored leg. The arrow barely penetrated, just pricking the surface beneath the rusty plate, but I could tell the ability had taken effect despite the minimal damage.

  Duncan was backing away, his sword still raised to parry, but his eyes had a slightly dazed look. Blood loss was starting to affect him. The massive undead Champion tried to pursue, but his movements became awkward and jerky. His right leg dragged across the stone floor, creating a horrible scraping sound which echoed through the chamber.

  "Now! Run!" I yelled.

  Duncan finally seemed to process my words. He turned and made a full sprint toward Hellene, who had just finished chanting another spell. Her staff flared with blue-white energy as she released a Frost spell at the pursuing Champion. The magic struck its target, coating the undead's limbs in a thick layer of ice. It didn't stop the monster completely, but the combination of Eva's Shamble Shot and Hellene's frost magic reduced his movement to a painful crawl.

  I darted forward, Blood Thirst gleaming in my hand as I targeted the weak point in the Champion's armor. With precise timing, I drove my blade deep into the gap where leather straps connected the metal plates together, feeling it sink into whatever passed for flesh on this abomination.

  The undead Champion barely acknowledged my attack, his glowing yellow eyes fixed solely on Duncan as he continued his relentless, if slowed, pursuit. Duncan had reached Hellene and was frantically downing health potions, tipping vial after vial to his lips like a desperate college student at his first keg party.

  "Will, behind you!" Eva's warning came just as I heard a distinctive popping sound.

  I whirled around to see the undead knight free of his watery prison, the Drowning Lock's clasp cleanly sliced off. Droplets still clung to his rusted armor as he advanced, silver longsword gleaming with an unnatural light. Apparently, magical silver swords were tougher than enchanted locks.

  To make matters worse, the undead with the short sword had finally clawed away the last of the mana web covering his face. His yellow eyes burned with malevolence as he regained his bearings, silver blade rising.

  "Shit," I muttered, realizing our situation was rapidly deteriorating.

  I was out of options and time. The Champion undead behind me was still slowly pursuing Duncan, while the knight and short sword wielder were closing in on me from the other side. I needed to get what hits in on the Champion I could and would use Displaced Image when I needed to make an escape.

  Turning to face the Champion at my back, I raised Blood Thirst, preparing to stab at another opening in the armor. That's when everything went sideways.

  The massive undead Champion suddenly shifted his weight. Instead of attacking or continuing his shambling pursuit of Duncan, he simply... collapsed backward. Directly onto me.

  My eyes widened in shock—this wasn't a combat move I'd ever encountered before. No monster had ever just deliberately fallen on me. I stumbled back, but the creature's massive bulk gave me no chance to escape.

  "What the—" was all I managed before hundreds of pounds of rusted armor and rotted flesh crashed down on top of me.

  The impact drove me into the stone floor with crushing force. Pain exploded through my body as my back slammed against unyielding stone, the undead's full weight pressing down on me like an anvil. My lungs emptied in a single whoosh of expelled air.

  A hysterical thought bubbled through my pain-addled mind—this was like some twisted version of those trust-building exercises where one person falls backward, trusting their partner to catch them. Except in this case, I definitely didn't want to catch my partner, and the undead Champion didn't particularly care if I was ready.

  The absurd thought vanished as quickly as it had formed, obliterated by the white-hot agony radiating through my body. I couldn't move anything below my shoulders—the Champion's massive bulk had me completely pinned. Each desperate attempt to draw breath was a struggle against the crushing weight on my chest.

  [HP: 110/186]

  My head and shoulders were free at least, allowing me to see—though visibility wasn't exactly a blessing at the moment. From my trapped position, I watched in horror as the undead knight leader approached with measured steps, his silver longsword gleaming in the eerie blue torchlight. He planted one foot on each side of my head, the rusted metal of his greaves inches from my face.

  I struggled frantically, both arms sliding out from under the bulk, dagger still clenched in one hand and hook hand poised with the other. But what could I seriously do in this position? Maybe pull off giving the knight a nasty scratch on his foot?

  The undead leader looked down at me, those unnatural yellow eyes glowing from within the darkness of his helmet. Slowly, deliberately, he raised his silver longsword above my face, positioning the tip directly over my right eye.

  Then with speed rotted muscles shouldn’t be able to produce, the sword was lifted up to prepare for a powerful downward thrust.