Seraphine advanced through the dark.
The dungeon had taken almost everything from her. She was back at level one, her skills were gone, and none of the techniques connected to the system would respond. Only the katana in her grip still felt natural.
Months of progress had been peeled away, leaving the foundation underneath.
Stay calm, she told herself. The foundation is enough. It has to be.
The enemy ahead moved too quickly. Nothing at this level should have possessed that kind of speed, but the dungeon clearly had no interest in fair scaling.
Seraphine reacted before thought could slow her down. Her basic comprehension of lightning, drilled into her until it had become instinct, answered without help from the system. Her body followed lessons it had truly learned rather than commands supplied from somewhere else.
She made it through the clash alive.
By almost nothing, she thought as she checked for injuries. Still counts.
Then she continued.
