Marcus grinned. That single line; ten percent physical immunity, was worth more than most full sets of equipment.
As he finished sorting through the items, something caught his eye: a small wooden box he hadn't noticed before. He opened it and found a necklace glowing softly with a pale blue light.
Keaton Necklace: The engagement necklace between Merchant Reginald and his beloved wife. Quest item. Effect unknown. Cannot be used.
Aha. The missing quest item. With this, the Keaton Necklace quest was complete. The Banshee had dropped three items total, and the Werewolf Cabaro hadn't disappointed either.
Cabaro's Greataxe (Golden Equipment): Requirement: Level 30 Fighter, Two-Handed Weapon. Effect unknown. Cannot be used.
Marcus let out a low whistle. That massive axe was the very one that had nearly split him in half. Up close, it was taller than he was, the edge gleaming wickedly. If he could wield it, he'd be unstoppable.
Cabaro's Boots (Golden Equipment): Requirement: Level 30. Effect unknown. Cannot be equipped.
Two pieces of Golden Equipment, both Level 30; rare finds even for elite players. Marcus couldn't help but smile as he looked over his haul. Between the Artifact cloak, the Golden gear, and the Phantom Body skill, this single run through Black Rock Spire had been beyond rewarding.
What kind of treasures awaited him on the Fourth Level? Marcus could hardly wait to find out.
The immense rewards he'd gained from the Third Level had only fueled his greed, and now he couldn't resist the temptation to push onward. Without hesitation, he headed straight for the entrance to the Fourth Level.
"Ding! Stonehaven, you are about to enter the Fourth Level of the Black Rock Spire. Proceed?"
"Yes."
A flash of light engulfed him, and the world around him shifted.
When his vision cleared, the Fourth Level revealed itself; vastly different from the ones before. He stood in a massive hall, its space dominated by four towering stone pillars. Between them rose a raised platform, and upon it rested a fist-sized crystal that radiated a brilliant Violet Glow, flooding the entire chamber with its strange, pulsing light.
Beside the glowing crystal stood a Sorcerer, cloaked head to toe in a Dark Sorcerer's Robe and gripping a short, black Obsidian Staff. He was chanting under his breath, the staff channeling a dark beam of light that wrapped around the violet crystal like smoke.
'What the hell is this?' Marcus frowned. There were no monsters here, only this Sorcerer performing some sort of ritual.
He cast Insight, but the skill failed. No information appeared. The robe concealed everything about the figure, even their presence seemed oddly veiled, as though the air itself resisted his attempt to probe it.
Marcus tightened his grip on his sword and lifted his shield, approaching slowly.
The scene was bizarre, but not frightening. If things went bad, he'd simply die and respawn in the city, losing a few levels was hardly the end of the world. What mattered now was curiosity, and the thrill that always came before a fight.
He was about twenty feet away when the Sorcerer suddenly stiffened. The man turned, eyes locking onto Marcus.
For a heartbeat, the Sorcerer's calm crumbled into panic. This was the critical moment of his ritual, any interruption could ruin everything. Yet here stood a human Knight, an impossible intruder in a sealed domain.
How could a human be here? he thought in disbelief. The exit of the Black Rock Spire was deeply hidden, the Third Level guarded by the Werewolf Cabaro. No one should have made it through.
Why now? No human had entered this place in years, and none had ever advanced so far. For one to appear just as the seal was about to break, it couldn't be coincidence. The Sorcerer's expression twisted with fury and regret. He had been careless, too confident in his secrecy.
Marcus had no idea what went through the Sorcerer's mind, but he saw the shift, the flash of alarm, the burning anger that followed. Though the Sorcerer continued chanting, his eyes burned with open hatred.
'Well, so much for the element of surprise.'
Marcus grinned and surged forward, his blade flashing. His Sword cleaved through the air in a flurry of Double Strikes, each blow aimed squarely at the Sorcerer. If stealth was off the table, then a proper fight would do just fine.
He'd already accepted that death meant little more than a few lost levels. For someone unafraid of dying, there was no reason to hold back, even against an enemy this formidable.
Marcus gambled that the Sorcerer; deep in the middle of his spell, wouldn't dare to break concentration. That was his opening, and he seized it.
His gamble paid off. The Sorcerer didn't even try to dodge. Instead, he roared out the final words of his chant, his voice rising with desperate urgency.
Marcus's sword struck home.
-3221, -3102, -3300, -6000.
Four crimson numbers flared above the Sorcerer's head, one after another. Marcus blinked in surprise.
'What the… how am I hitting this hard? Is he under some kind of debuff?'
He didn't stop to question it. Another Double Strike followed.
-3300, -3120.
More blood-red numbers burst into the air, splattering against the violet light that pulsed from the crystal.
There was no mistake, he was hitting for over three thousand damage per strike.
It had to be because the Sorcerer was pouring all his focus into the violet crystal. Unable to divert his attention, he couldn't defend himself properly, and Marcus took full advantage of that opening to deal devastating blows.
Three Double Strikes in, the Sorcerer had already lost more than twenty thousand Health, yet he still stood.
'Super-boss,' Marcus thought, eyes gleaming. 'Then, I'm going to be rich.'
"Damn you!"
Before Marcus could swing again, the Sorcerer let out a hoarse cry. His form shimmered, leaving a fading afterimage behind, and Marcus's blade cut through empty air.
Teleport.
The Sorcerer had blinked five yards away, escaping his range.
'Damn it, missed my chance,' Marcus cursed under his breath, gripping his sword tighter.
The Sorcerer's frustration ran even deeper. He had just acquired the Violet Shard and was in the midst of the Dark Ritual of the Fallen, the spell that would shatter the seal of the Black Rock Spire and awaken the Lord of the Undead. The day of the Undead Army's return was at hand; until this human Knight appeared out of nowhere.
It couldn't have happened at a worse time. The ritual was at its most delicate stage, leaving him completely defenseless. And the Knight hadn't hesitated for even a heartbeat before launching his attack.
He had endured the blows, knowing he couldn't abandon the ritual. The mission of the Demons depended on him. The resurrection of the Lord of the Undead, the downfall of humanity, all of it hinged on his success. He just needed a little more time.
But as the Knight's relentless strikes kept landing, draining his Health to under five thousand, Myron realized he couldn't take another hit.
Was this really a Knight? he thought in disbelief. No Knight should move this fast or strike this hard. Every swing was merciless, precise, unending.
Seeing death closing in, the Sorcerer had no choice but to abandon the Dark Ritual of the Fallen and release his hold on the Violet Shard. With sheer desperation, he cast Teleport, tearing himself away from the brink of death.
Fury burned through him. The ritual was ruined, the power within him unstable, and the dark energy he'd summoned now roiled wildly through his body. His magic refused to respond. He couldn't cast another spell.
He clenched his teeth in humiliation. To think he, the great Dark Sorcerer Myron, was reduced to this; injured, defenseless, his masterpiece undone by a single human Knight. The thought alone made him want to tear the man limb from limb, to rip out his tendons and crush his bones to dust.
But he was powerless. His magic was sealed by the backlash of the failed ritual, and without it, even his staff was useless.
Meanwhile, the so-called Knight; the shameless, unchivalrous bastard who clearly had no sense of honor, was already charging toward him again, sword raised, eyes burning with determination to finish the job.