Rob's first instinct was to suppress the static. Force it to the back of his mind like he'd done on so many other occasions. Against his better judgement, though, he responded. What do you mean by 'pretending'?

{As if you don't know.} The static flared with indignance. {The doubt. The hand-wringing. This...farce. It hurts to watch.}

Hey, here's an idea, Rob said, in a chipper tone. How about you shut the fuck up? I'm too busy for this kind of shit right now. In case you haven't noticed, me and my friends are in a slight predicament.

{And whose fault is that?}

Rob glared daggers. Just what are you implying?

{That your weakness is a sin.}

The static shifted, coalescing into a crystal-clear mental picture. Rob's stomach churned as he stared at an image of Alia's decomposing, rat-bitten corpse.

{What was her sin?} the Static asked. Before Rob could answer, the mental picture shifted again, changing to Tarric, his body in two mangled halves. {What was his sin?}

Shift. Now it was Riardin, blown to ashes in the wind. {What of him?}

Randor, Lycia, melted by the Blight of Broadwater. {Theirs?}

The nameless Elf, saving Rob's life during the Blightspawn invasion. {His?}

Dwarf after Dwarf, falling prey to the Blight. {Or theirs?}

A jarring burst of static caused Rob to wince. {Tell me,} it hissed, louder than before. {What. Were. Their. Sins?}

Nothing, Rob spat back. They were just in the wrong place at the wrong time. Could have been me – or anyone else – just as easily.

{Incorrect. Weakness was their sin.}

That's now how it fucking works-

{Imagine what would have changed if Riardin lived,} the static interrupted. It projected an image of Riardin dodging the Blight at the last second, activating his Firebomb trap without being caught in its blast radius. {He accompanies the Deserters from thence forth. Imagine monsters slain, civilians rescued, lives preserved – if only he had been strong enough. Yet because he was not, many suffered. The same as if he'd murdered them himself.}

Rob had scarcely begun to form a counterargument when the image shifted once again. He hesitated, feeling like he'd been punched in the gut, as he was greeted with a scene of his mother and father. His mother was crying, while his father appeared conflicted, sympathy and love mixed with anger and frustration.

{A gambler's debt.} The static briefly pitched upwards, almost as if it was laughing. {She nearly ruined you. Her weakness brought misfortune to your family.}

We forgave her, Rob whispered, too shaken to put much fortitude into his words. We loved her, so we forgave her.

{Because she had the strength to mend her ways.} The static buzzed. {But what if her will was weaker? What if her debts never ceased?}

The image shifted rapidly, portraying a sequence of markedly different scenes than before. Rooms barren of furniture. Home foreclosure signs. Debtors hounding at their backs. Starvation, homelessness, and poverty, with no hope of salvation.

{Would you have still loved her then?}

Rob couldn't answer.

{Weakness is a sin,} the static repeated. {People blame others for their tragedies. They rage against a world that seems cruel and unfair. Turn their heads away from the nature of things. In truth, tragedies always result from a lack of strength. No more, no less. Good intentions are worth less than the dirt under your shoes. Lofty dreams will not deter a killer's blade or bend people to your ambitions. To effect the change you yearn for, you need power. It is the same on both Earth and Elatra, although this world is more honest in its presentation.}

Oh, you *would* think that, Rob seethed. All you care about are Levels.

{YES.}

The static whirled like a hurricane, its veneer of sanity slipping. {Levels are EVERYTHING. Without Levels, you would be little more than a wolf-eaten corpse in Ixatan Forest. They represent your permanence in this world, and your capacity to influence it. History pages are written by whoever picks up the quill after all their enemies have been beheaded. You wish to defeat the Blight? Return home? Save your loved ones? Those wishes mean nothing, NOTHING without Levels. And in your ignorance, your simpering, mewling desire to resist me and stay as the Rob from Earth, you have SINNED.}

More images flashed across Rob's mind. He was treated to a slideshow of all the Experience he'd passed up on, either by sparing enemies or letting someone else deal the final blow. Various monsters, the Dwarven captives, and Tiarsus the Magic Swordsman were among the listing.

{Wasted EXP. Wasted Levels. Power you *could* have had.} The slideshow lingered on a frame of Rob letting the Level 71 Merfolk King drift away, mangled but alive. {How much strength would he have granted you, I wonder?}

There were reasons-

{And what do those reasons matter, when your friends are seconds from death, about to be slain by an enemy you were too weak to overcome?}

With every word, Rob felt as if he was sinking deeper into a bottomless mire. Don't know why you're showing this to me. A joyless chuckle escaped his throat. I can hardly change the past.

{Then change the future. Starting now.} The static slithered around his mind, like a snake enveloping its prey. {Stop worrying. Discard your inhibitions. Fight with no regard for your enemies, your friends, or yourself. Embrace the slaughter. Remove any obstacle that stands in your path. Then, and only then, will you achieve the power necessary to impose your will upon the world.}

Buzzing, buzzing, so much buzzing. Practically licking its lips, the static loudened to a crescendo, its words resounding like a symphony of madness.

{KILL THEM ALL.}

Rob didn't know what to say. All of that was...insane. The ravings of a system-induced lunatic. Under normal circumstances, he would have told it to fuck off and shoved it back into its place. But in the stress of the moment, with responsibilities weighing on his shoulders, the Blight about the devour his friends, countless lives hanging in the balance, and the overpowering din of static clouding his thoughts, Rob just...

He just...

For one instant...

Gave in.

Leveling High has permanently increased to Moderate!

The static swelled, buzzing with excitement, expanding to fill the corners of Rob's mind. It grew louder and louder until he'd forgotten what silence ever sounded like. A distant part of him noted that he should have been frightened, but instead, Rob felt entirely at peace. There was no conflict or struggle, no doubt or worry, no pain or suffering.

There was only him, and a cavern full of EXP.

Time unfroze.

Rob blinked, regaining awareness as the din of battle resumed its assault on his ears. Forgotten sensations made themselves known, like he'd been woken from a dream by ice water dumped on his head, while an alarm blared in the background. It took him a few seconds simply to adjust to the air on his skin and the heartbeat in his chest.

After observing his surroundings, he forced himself to adjust faster. Currently, Zamira was sprinting for her life, the Blights in hot pursuit. She was the overall fastest member of Riardin's Rangers – which was why some of the other members had been picked off first – and she still couldn't escape on her own. Without everyone else harrying the Blights as best they could, she would've already fallen into their clutches, turned into a life-sized Elven pincushion.

It was a dilemma that was solved easily enough. Rob merely ran closer to Zamira, his hand glowing with Purge Corruption energy, and the Blights retreated underground, recognizing that their opportunity had passed. Zamira slowed to a crawl, panting heavily as she eyed the newly-burrowed holes with undisguised fear. Technically, the coalition had won that exchange – the Blights took damage with nothing to show for it – but judging by the pale hue of her face, she didn't share that sentiment.

"So close," Zamira whispered, rivulets of sweat running down her brow. "If I'd misstepped a single time..." She shook her head, letting out a shuddering sigh as she turned to look at Rob. "This isn't working. We must surmise a way to-"

She stopped mid-sentence, her eyes fixated on his. Zamira's pale face went positively ghost-white, the Bladesoul instinctively raising her sword as she began to back away. "Rob?"

There was no response. He just stared at her.

Considering.

Hmm.

...No. He couldn't kill Zamira. Or anyone else in Riardin's Rangers. They had names. It was...different.

The static intensified, blatantly annoyed. It began poking inside Rob's brain, as if it was searching for something. Soon enough, the static located the section of his mind that governed Skills, its intent becoming increasingly apparent.

Rob rolled his eyes and slapped the static away like a kid who'd been caught with their hand in the cookie jar. No, he firmly stated. Melancholy Resistance is off-limits. He'd made a promise never to activate it again, so he wouldn't. Just that simple.

As for his other options...

Rapid-casting Identify, Rob examined the surviving Dwarves. There were around seventeen left, now, a far cry from the thirty that initially entered Dhalerune Mines. Each of them ranged from Level 35 to 39. Rob would probably gain a Level for every...three or four of them he killed? Something like that. A full sweep would boost him up from Level 55 to 59ish. Definitely a noticeable bump, but hardly worth the effort of fighting seventeen Combat Class users simultaneously. More than seventeen, even, assuming that Riardin's Rangers tried to stop him, which they would.

Besides, the Dwarves were necessary to help keep the Blights in check. If Rob started picking them off, the Blights would absolutely capitalize, killing Dwarves and stealing his EXP in the process. That just wouldn't do. If he wanted to maximize his Levels, the only logical choice was to kill the Blights first, then the Dwarves. Dinner before dessert.

Rob laughed as the static loudly complained. It wanted the slaughter to be indiscriminate and pure. Alas, Rob preferred for there to be a method to his madness. Delayed gratification is tiresome, isn't it?

He turned around, fingers twitching with anticipation. Don't worry. We'll still have our fun.

Without warning, Rob took off running, heading directly into the center of the cavern. Riardin's Rangers were shouting, but he ignored their pleas. Hearing different variations of 'stop, wait, come back' wasn't going to change his mind. Instead, he focused his full attention on the Blight instance dueling Seneschal Sylpeiros, noting its carapace, broken and oozing in numerous places. Out of the four active Blights, that one had taken the most damage. Gold star for the Seneschal – his combat prowess was impressive. Rob would get a lot of EXP when he eventually killed him.

Just like before, the moment Rob isolated himself from his allies, the four Blights instantly stopped what they were doing to converge on his position. Rob stayed the course, running directly forward as his friends' panicked cries echoed through the cavern. Dipping into his 25 unspent stat points, Rob put 15 into Magic and 10 into Vitality. The former was chosen to inject some much-needed MP into his reserves, while the latter was chosen for a bit of added insurance.

The next ten seconds were going to get messy.

With a twitch, Rob placed his sword back into Spatial Storage. It wouldn't help here. As he ran, Purge Corruption energy built within him, causing a visible blue-white aura to emanate from head to toe over his body. Despite the obvious warning sign, more obvious than a traffic light, the Blights kept their eye on the prize, continuing to chase after him. He'd figured they would. When they outnumbered, outgunned, and outeverythinged him this badly, caution wasn't nearly as important. It was predictable behavior on their part, playing right into his ingenious master plan:

Kill them before they killed him.

Thirty meters became twenty. Twenty meters became ten. As the Blights closed in, legs skittering and limbs thrashing, a wide grin spread across Rob's face. Leveling High felt the same, its excitement skyrocketing once it realized that Rob had gone all-in. Even if he got cold feet, there wouldn't be enough MP to Rampage to safety, and his allies weren't going to make it in time to pull his ass out of the oven. Retreat was no longer an option. Either he killed, or he died. No in-between.

And fuck was that ever an intoxicating feeling. Rob's heart beat like a drum at a rock concert, adrenaline surging through his veins as the Blights cornered him. He'd needed to be careful with the Dwarves, and Riardin's Rangers weren't an option, but these, these were the mother of all acceptable targets. Defilers. Murderers. Entropy given form. Creatures of unadulterated evil and overwhelming power, who would slaughter him with glee at the drop of a hat. It was the perfect opportunity for him to let loose and kill and kill and kill and kill and kill AND KILL AND KILL AND KILL AND {KILL}.

"I'll make this fun for you," Rob assured the Blights, his smile so wide that it strained his cheeks. "So I hope you make it fun for me too."

A chorus of dissonant screeching was his answer.

"Perfect."

Zero meters.

His left arm was the first thing to go. One moment it was there; the next, it wasn't. Not A Scratch activated and disappeared in an instant, after which his right hand was severed by a row of sharpened points slamming down like a guillotine. Visions of blackened carapace surrounded Rob on all sides as the Blights tore into him. Piece by piece, he was dissected, chunks of flesh vanishing as if he'd swan dived into a pool of starving piranhas. His anti-Corruption Amulets shattered, the pestilence infusing his soul soon after. In less than a second, he'd been reduced to a bloody lump of Corruption-ridden meat.

Rob giggled. Well, he tried to, but his voice box was missing. The Blights had played it safe, shredding him from a comfortable distance, not wanting to give him a chance to grab hold of them and use Purge Corruption. It was wasted caution. If they'd just dogpiled him all at once, he would've died in the time it took to blink. Their victory would have been guaranteed. In the end, though, despite their power, despite their unfettered hedonism, they still feared death.

And unfortunately for them, Rob did not.

'Do Not Go Gently'. An ability that doubled the effectiveness of his Vitality-based Skills, only usable when he was below 25% HP. 'Lifesurge'. 70% of his Max HP healed, reconstituting almost all of his ruined body. 'Rampage.' 'Rampage.' 'RAMPAGE'.

The Blights recoiled in shock. As swiftly as Rob had been dismembered, he was back, close to full HP and flying at his target like an angel of death. They recovered quickly, renewing their onslaught, but the Blights' moment of hesitation cost them. Rob's defensive Vitality Buffs – such as Tough Skin and Vitamin D(efense)– were twice as effective now, drastically reducing the amount of damage they could inflict. With a few more seconds, the Blights could've turned him into Swiss cheese, but they didn't have a few seconds.

Rob was closing in on his target, hand extended and glowing white.

He quirked an eyebrow as the Blight's torso rapidly split open to reveal the gaping, tooth-lined maw from before. Pitch-dark energy began vibrating inside. It reared up, and in one motion, bit down hard.

812 Combined Damage Received!

Immediately, Rob lost all sensation in his body. It took him a moment to realize that he'd been reduced to a decapitated head, blood pouring out of the stump that used to be his neck.

His smile didn't waver. That looked fun. Let me try.

As Rob's head soared past one of the Blight's limbs, he opened his mouth and bit down hard, latching on. Blue-white energy gathered at the tips of his teeth.

PURGE CORRUPTION.

It was as if he'd unloaded a flamethrower on a pile of dry kindling. The Blight instance, already injured by Seneschal Sylpeiros' efforts, practically fucking disintegrated. Rob pumped a third of his Purge Corruption energy stores into it, and would've pumped more if necessary – which it very much wasn't. Due to Rob's present status as a decapitated head, Purge Corruption was additionally empowered by Blood for Blood, which increased his damage by 1% for every 1% of HP he was missing.

All of that combined meant that Rob performed the equivalent of a cosmic magic trick, making the Blight disappear before his eyes, nothing left except for smokey wisps of Corruption and an agonized scream fading in the distance.

He collapsed to the ground, full-bodied, Lifesteal having restored his HP to max. It healed him for 50% of the damage he dealt, and considering how much HP the Blights seemed to have, he'd probably done enough damage to reconstitute his body a hundred times over. Rob's clothes were not so lucky. He equipped the Ruined Ranger Trainee's Garb, produced a spare anti-Corruption Amulet from his Spatial Storage, and idly flushed the Corruption out of his system. Only then did he finally take a peek at the waterfall of system messages in his message log, starting from when the Blights shredded him, to now.

Regrow Limb Level Increased! 6 -> 7

Platelet Party Level Increased! 13 -> 14

Vitamin D(efense) Level Increased! 8 -> 9

...

Platelet Party Level Increased! 16 -> 17

Tough Skin! 6 -> 7

Regrow Limb Has Morphed Into Regrow Self (RARE)!

Reached Level 56!

5 Stat Points Gained!

BERSERKER Level Increased! 52 -> 53

...

Reached Level 59!

5 Stat Points Gained!

BERSERKER Level Increased! 55 -> 56

Those were just a portion of the increases he'd obtained. Interspersed among them were warnings about damage taken and Corruption received, but he was back up to full now, like none of it had ever happened. Leveling High's joy flooded his body, the static within letting out a bout of uproarious laughter.

Bliss.

Through glassy eyes, Rob stared at the remaining three Blight instances. They hadn't taken advantage of his distracted moment, merely standing there in silence, as if afraid to draw his attention. One Blight gradually stepped backwards, putting distance between it and the Heartkiller. Eventually, discordant words laced with awe pierced his ears.

ARE YOU OUR END?

A lightning spear struck one Blight in its side, followed quickly by spells from Malika and Elder Alessia. As reinforcements arrived, Rob raised his arm and languidly pointed at each Blight, one at a time. "Eeny, meeny, miny...moe."

He chased after the least-injured Blight, a rapturous song playing in his heart. The other two Blights were forced back, under fire from the combined might of Riardin's Rangers, both Leaders, and a pack of vengeful Dwarves. Rob expected his Blight to flee, maybe burrow underground, but instead, it sprang forward, leaping directly over him. He reacted too slowly to dodge its assault, several branch-limbs connecting directly with his head.

Anyone else in the room would've had their noggin scrambled as if it'd been tossed in a blender. Rob, with Tough Skin reducing physical damage by 40%, Vitamin D(efense) Level 10 strengthening his bone structure, Brain Damage Resistance reducing trauma to his brain by 50%, and all of those effects being doubled thanks to Do Not Go Gently, felt more like he'd gotten a shot at the doctor's office. Only one branch-limb penetrated through his skull, and it promptly bounced off the surface of his brain, unable to overcome its 100% damage resistance.

All the maneuver accomplished was making Rob stumble. He teetered forward, expecting a flurry of limbs to stab him in the back. His eyes widened as, rather than the sensation of his flesh being perforated, he felt Corruption flaring behind him. When he whirled around, the Blight's torso had split open, preparing to spew forth a cloud of miasma.

Yeah, no. Rob quickly checked his Status Screen. Battle Fever – a Skill that increased each stat by 1 every 30 seconds, including Magic – had ticked up, granting him just enough MP to cast a single Rampage. He did so, closing the distance roughly halfway, then summoned a very special item from Spatial Storage.

The Blight was still charging its attack when a crate of Firebombs landed in its mouth, detonating on impact. Riardin sends his regards, Rob mused, as the Blight wobbled, smoke billowing out from its scarred insides. He dashed forward without a second thought – unlike them, he wasn't going to waste a perfect moment of distraction.

Problem was, even after the Riardin Special, Rob wasn't sure if this Blight was wounded enough for his remaining Purge Corruption energy to finish the job. Its injuries were less severe than the previous Blight, and Blood for Blood was no longer boosting Rob's damage output. Dipping into his 20 unspent stat points, Rob put 5 in Strength for a bit of extra oomph, then put 15 in Vitality, bringing it to 150. His eyes sparkled when a list of Skill increases for the Vitality milestone appeared – including the one he'd specifically been hoping for.

Imbue Vitality Level Increased! 1 -> 2

At Level 1, it'd tripled the damage of his next attack. At Level 2, that damage was quadrupled. With Do Not Go Gently stacked on top, Imbue Vitality was currently multiplying his next attack by a factor of eight.

That'll do.

Rob summoned a longsword as he activated Power Slash, Imbue Vitality, and the Anklet of Moderate Brawn. Before the Blight could dodge, he smashed through five of its legs and a good chunk of its torso, leaving it unable to retreat. The abomination's one bulbous eye quivered as the Heartkiller learned forward, gently placed a hand on its side, and whispered sweet nothings into its ear.

"Purge Corruption."

Limbs stabbed at him. It didn't matter. Seconds later, the Blight was no more than a pleasant memory.

Reached Level 60!

5 Stat Points Gained!

BERSERKER Level Increased! 55 -> 57

...

Reached Level 63!

5 Stat Points Gained!

BERSERKER Level Increased! 59 -> 60

Was there any greater pleasure in the world than this? Anything that was more worthwhile, more exquisite? If it existed, Rob didn't have a strong enough imagination to envision it.

On trembling legs, he turned around, ready to hunt down his next prey. He couldn't stop. Would never stop. The joy would just go on and on and on...and...on...

Rob's mouth dropped open as he laid eyes on the allied coalition. One of the Blights was near-motionless, legs twitching as Stonewarden Grant hammered it into a fine paste. Literally everyone else in the coalition surrounded it, breathing heavily as if they'd run a marathon. Vul'to was at the front line, armorless, wounded, equipped with nothing but a shield, yet standing triumphant and proud.

Fists clenched, Rob's lips twisted into a grimace. While he wasn't sure exactly how their fight had gone down, it was easy to guess. Vul'to, somewhat recovered, went 'fuck it' and used Taunt on a Blight. The creature should have been able to resist the Skill, but in its state of injury and stress, it failed. And as soon as the Blight tunnel visioned Vul'to, his comrades beat the everloving shit out of it.

The end result: a complete and total victory for the allied coalition.

Rob was furious. That was MY kill, he seethed. MY Experience. He stalked forward, sword itching to be used. I didn't even get consolation EXP from Sharing Hand, because none of my Party members dealt the finishing blow.

Snarling, he shook his head, regaining a modicum of composure. Fine. This was fine. He still had one target left to hunt, and after that-

The last Blight interrupted his thoughts by screeching loudly and skittering away from Rob and the coalition. There was an air of worry about its movements – which made sense, as it already seemed to be on its last legs, having taken a beating while Rob was dealing with his own Blight. When it was a safe distance away, it started to burrow, giving the impression that it had no intention of resurfacing again.

Elder Alessia cast a powerful gravity spell, lifting the beast a few inches upwards as it was disappearing underground. Her spell broke moments later, but it lasted long enough for Keira to reach the Blight and jump over it. As the Blight descended, Keira hung in mid-air, phenomenal amounts of power gathering around her greatsword.

"Ragnarok!" Her shout echoed across the cavern as she dropped like an anvil, straight down into the Blight's excavated hole.

A second of anticipatory silence passed.

CRUNCH. Everything vibrated as debris shot up out of the hole, threatening Dhalerune Mines' stability for the umpteenth time that day. Then, mercifully, all was still.

Partial EXP Gained From Sharing Hand!

Reached Level 64!

5 Stat Points Gained!

BERSERKER Level Increased! 60 -> 61

Reached Level 65!

5 Stat Points Gained!

BERSERKER Level Increased! 61 -> 62

Crystal Bearer Rank Increased! 5 -> 6

Learned Crystal Bearer Skill: Bind Item!

Leveling High's shot of dopamine was barely sufficient to counteract Rob's annoyance. A two Level boost was great, but it didn't hit quite as finely as the four Levels of killing a Blight instance himself.

He needed that rush again. No matter what.

Rob turned his gaze towards the Stonewarden and Seneschal, attempting to figure out if they were worth as much EXP as the Blights. Out of the two, the Stonewarden was higher-Leveled – especially after killing a Blight instance – but he was among loyal soldiers. Conversely, the Seneschal was alone in enemy territory. Would anyone here miss him if he was gone? They could even blame his death on the Blight as to not cause problems with Elven territory.

...Cause...problems. If he...died. Meaning the Seneschal wouldn't be around to fight more Blights. That was one of the reasons why Rob hadn't used Waymark, wasn't it? To keep the Leaders alive. Now he wanted to kill them, because...

Because...

Rob's mind snapped back into place. He fell to his knees, holding his head as the world swirled in a kaleidoscope of sensations. Static blared in his head, so loud, so fucking loud, when had it gotten so loud? He gritted his teeth, and with a surge of willpower, shoved Leveling High to the darkest recesses of his mind.

Surprisingly, the static didn't resist. It went to its usual spot without complaint, seeming – for the moment – satiated. There was still a deep, everlasting hunger within its core, but progress was progress. It could afford to be patient.

Especially considering that, despite Rob shoving the static as far back as he could, it was noticeably louder than it had been in the past.

Hesitantly, Rob checked on Riardin's Rangers. He knew they were alive and in stable condition; the Party List told him as much. There was a different reason for his trepidation. Slowly, Rob looked at his friends, and his friends looked back.

They couldn't hide the glimmers of fear that passed through their expressions.