“This is a bad plan,” said Jasper as he looked over the edge of the cliff. He adjusted the rope around his waist. “I just want it known that I do not like this idea.”

“It’ll be fine,” said Zeke, clapping him on his shoulder.

“Unless it’s not,” interjected Sasha. “There’s not telling how far it can reach.”

“Sasha…”

“What? I’m just saying that there’s a lot of tentacle down there,” she countered. She peeked over the edge and scrunched her face. “Like…a lot.”

Jasper took a step back and said, “Perhaps we should think of another way to do this…”

“It’s fine. If it climb the walls, it already would have,” Zeke said, though he could understand his friend’s reticence. After all, there was an enormous tentacle monster of unknown power down there. It really wasn’t unreasonable to be afraid to get too close. However, Jasper’s inspection ability had the longest range – by a wide margin – so he was the natural choice to get a read on the creature.

“Do you really think we have a chance to kill it?” asked Eta.

Zeke shrugged. “I really don’t know. I mean, I think we can. It doesn’t give off the pressure of something at the peak, does it?” he answered.

The dryad shook her head. “There’s a long way between the pinnacle and us,” she said. “Most of the creatures in that range can and will kill us.”

“I disagree. Especially if it can’t get to us,” he stated. “Besides, I still have a few tricks up my sleeve.”

“Please don’t use Worldbreaker,” said Eveline in his head. “You might not survive.”

“It’ll be fine,” he replied.

“You have no basis to make that claim.”

“Except for past experience.”

“Just because you’ve survived so far doesn’t mean you always will,” was her retort.

Zeke wasn’t so sure about that. Sure, he’d come closer to death than he would have liked, and far more often than was healthy. However, he’d always come out on top.

“You know that’s only true until it’s not,” Eveline reminded him.

“Whatever,” Zeke said to her. “But it’s not like we’re going to attack it blind. Jasper’s going to inspect it, then if it’s too strong, we’ll just move on.”

“What do you consider ‘too strong’?” she asked.

Again, Zeke gave a mental shrug before answering, “Not sure. We’ll just cross that bridge when we get to it.”

Then, he asked Jasper if he was ready, to which the dark elf said, “Not especially.”

“That’s the spirit,” Zeke said, giving his shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “We’ll just lower you down a little, you’ll inspect it, then we’ll yank you back up. Easy.”

“Unless you get snatched by a tentacle monster and slowly digested for all eternity,” added Eta. The two had gotten much closer over the few weeks of Zeke’s convalescence. Apparently, fighting together was a great way to bond as a team. Zeke almost envied them for that. “But I’m sure you’ll be fine.”

Jasper shook his head and muttered, “I hate you all.”

Eta grinned. “We love you, too,” she said as he started to lower himself over his edge. “And when the tentacle monster eats you, we’ll mourn your passing.”

He gave her a glare, but otherwise didn’t respond. Instead, as he was lowered, he focused on the writhing mass of black tentacles at the bottom of the pit. Pudge, who held the other end of the rope, continued to give him slack, and the dark elf walked down the wall. About fifty yards down, which was almost to the end of the rope, he yelled back, “Okay. I got it. Pull me up!”

With that, Pudge hauled on the rope, and soon enough, Jasper had reached the edge and dragged himself back atop the cliff. “That was…unpleasant,” he muttered, pushing himself to his feet. He dusted himself off, then added, “Level seventy-two. Called Tentaracles.”

“Was that its name? Or the sort of monster it was?” asked Zeke.

“That, I do not know, my friend.”

“Probably not a name,” said Sasha. “My father once told me that monsters don’t get proper names unless they accomplish certain feats.”

“I learned the same thing,” Eta stated. “But this is a dungeon. These creatures were created the moment we stepped through the portal.”

“There’s some debate about that, actually,” Sasha said. She’d apparently received a thorough education. “I read one book that said the same thing, but there was another one that claimed dungeons were ripped out of their home dimensions and placed here by the Framework. Or one of the gods.”

“Does it matter?” asked Jasper.

The boarkin girl shrugged. “Maybe? I don’t know,” she stated.

Zeke kept his own thoughts to himself, and as the rest of the group – save for the ever-silent Silik and the reserved Pudge – debated the nature of dungeons, he thought about what Jasper had discovered. Finally, he asked Eveline, “Think we can take it?”

“Perhaps. If it was seventy-five, I would’ve said no,” she stated.

“Why?”

“It’s a big level. Usually, it comes with a very powerful skill. For monsters, it’s a bit different. They either become more of what they were, or they acquire an on-theme trait. Whatever the case, it represents a huge increase in power. If you see a level seventy-five monster, and you’re not within ten levels of it, you should run. You probably won’t escape, but you’ll have a better chance of survival than if you stood your ground.”

“Oh. So? What do you think about this tentaracles?”

“I think you should take a stroll across one of those chains and complete this dungeon without challenging a monster nearly twice your level,” she said. “But if you insist on attacking it, I’d give you a fifty-fifty shot of taking it out. Even with your…tricks.”

“Ugh. Was hoping for better odds,” he said. “But I guess you can’t have everything. I think we should do it.”

“Of course you do.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means you don’t know when to leave well enough alone. You see an ultra-powerful monster, and you think, ‘Oh…that thing might give me a level.’”

“Should I think anything else?”

“You should think about your own safety. And given that I’m riding shotgun in your mind, think about mine, too.”

“Riding shotgun? You really have been dipping into my memories.”

“Never denied it,” was her response. “But if that’s what it takes to get through to you – which I can already tell it isn’t working – I’ll do it. So, I’ll just say it again – your decisions affect me as much as they affect you. If you take some stupid risk and die, I won’t be far behind.”

“It’s not a stupid risk. Do you know what I realized in my most recent brush with death?”

“I’m sure you’re going to tell me.”

“I’m not strong enough. Maybe I never will be. None of us are. There’s always something big and bad out there, just waiting to kill us,” he stated. “That’s the whole point of this whole thing, isn’t it?”

“Some people are perfectly fine just living their lives. Most of this world, in fact. Everyone’s not out there trying to get strong enough to challenge gods.”

“You think that’s an option for me? I have thousands of people depending on me, now. Or did you forget about everyone in the tower? I know you think of them as monsters. I get that. But they’re more than that. They have the potential to be so, so much more. And if I cut that potential off…I just can’t do it, Eveline.”

“Did you even try?”

“No. And I won’t. I don’t want to be the sort of person that can do that.”

“And if it means killing me? Am I not a person? Aren’t you worried about how your choices affect me?”

“I am.”

“But not enough to stop and think. Not enough to avoid taking unnecessary risks like attacking a giant tentacle monster twice your level.”

“No.”

For a long moment, she was silent. Then, in a small voice, she said, “Fine. Glad to know that’s where we stand.”

Then, she retreated to the back of his mind. If he wanted, he could’ve still reached her, but at the moment, he didn’t want to. It wasn’t that he didn’t care about Eveline. He did, at least to a certain extent. But the fact was that he’d made no promises about her well-being. She’d latched onto him without his consent, and though he would guard her to the best of his abilities, he refused to equate her continued existence with the people he had sworn to protect.

The reality was that, when weighing an entire population of kobolds versus the life of one demonic stowaway, there was only choice he could, in good conscience, make. Perhaps he was wrong to think like that. Or maybe he was on the right track. But regardless of which way he looked at it, he’d made his choice. And that decision told him that he needed to get stronger, or he would be incapable of following through with his promise to Mikaena.

He would protect the kobolds, and if possible, he would usher them forward until they all reached their potential. But before he could do that, he needed to seize every opportunity to get stronger. Otherwise, he would be incapable of following through with that resolution.

With that in mind, he cleared his throat and, aloud, he said, “I think we should get this done. Sasha, can you do what we discussed earlier?”

“I think so? I won’t know until I try.”

“Well, get to trying. I have some work to do.”

She nodded, and Zeke sat down. Then, he started pulling rocks from his inventory. Some had already been enchanted, but others were just plane chunks of earth. Once he had a sizable pile beside him, he got to work.

When his path had changed, he’d lost the ability to create complex enchantments. However, because the process was on theme – meaning that it fell under the umbrella of destruction – he could still create his rock-bombs. And due to the increased mana of the Eternal Realm, as well as the progression of his path of arcane destruction, the results were far more explosive than they’d been back in the Mortal Realm.

Or that was what Zeke hoped.

He wouldn’t know for sure until he actually put those ideas into practice. Which was what he did, concentrating on his demonic side in order to tap into the corrosive properties of corrupted mana.

It was slow going, and it took most of the day to create the first bomb.

“Think it’ll work?” he asked Eveline.

“I’m sure I have no idea.”

“Come on. Just give me your opinion.”

“The structure is good. A little sloppy, but it should do what you want. It won’t be enough to kill that thing, though.”

“That’s where Sasha comes in,” he said.

“You’re putting a lot of faith in her,” Eveline said.

Zeke glanced at the girl, who hadn’t really moved for hours. Instead, she’d been muttering to herself as she waved her hands in the air ever since Zeke had begun his enchanting project.

“Yeah. But Pudge trusts her,” he said. And that was all he really needed.

Then, he started in on the rest of his bombs, and over the next half day, he created twenty that were similar to the first. By the end of it, he felt like someone was repeatedly stabbing his brain with an icepick. But he had accomplished his goal, and that was all that mattered.

Meanwhile, Sasha had let him know that she was on the verge of completing her spell.

Zeke gave her a nod, and she stepped closer to the edge and cast her spell. There was no immediate effect. Instead, Zeke only felt a slight stirring of mana. However, over the next few moments, what amounted to a slight arcane breeze became a powerful vortex. Then, suddenly, black clouds began to form.

Zeke said, “Okay, everyone get ready. Toss whatever you can, okay? Just make sure you hurt it. Otherwise, when it dies, you won’t get any credit.”

“I still think this is a horrible idea,” Eveline said as the others started tossing skills down into the pit. Jasper and Eta had nothing that could reach, so they each took one of Zeke’s enchanted rocks. Meanwhile, Pudge summoned a ball of [Hellfire], and Silik took aim with his spear.

The storm continued to brew, swirling like a miniature hurricane that stretched from one end of the pit to the other. Then, suddenly, it started to rain. However, instead of pure, clean water, the precipitation had a very familiar smell to it.

“It’s not gasoline, you know,” Eveline said. “We have oceans of this stuff in Hell. We call it hellwater.”

“Good to know,” Zeke said. “I’m just surprised Sasha could make this work.”

“Me too,” Eveline stated. “She’s read too many books.”

Indeed, when Zeke had asked Sasha about it, she’d been quick to offer hellwater as a suggestion. Apparently, she’d read about it as a child – in a book that was clearly inappropriate for someone her age at the time – and after becoming a sorceress, she’d theorized how to create it.

And clearly, all that thought had born fruit, because her summoned cloud was currently dumping thousands of gallons of hellwater on the tentacle monster. By itself, it was useless against such a creature as the tentaracles, but it was only the first part of Zeke’s plan.

He only hoped that the second part would work.

After a few minutes of the deluge, the entire chamber was filled with a smell reminiscent of gasoline. Then, suddenly, the spell dissipated, and Sasha sagged to her knees. Pudge was beside her in only a second, but she waved him off, saying, “I’m fine. The conjured hellwater won’t last long. So, you need to focus on killing the monster.”

“Alright, guys. Let’s do this,” Zeke said, stepping up to the edge of the cliff. Then, he cocked his arm back and threw one of his explosive rocks. Unlike the ones he’d used back in the Mortal Realm, these weren’t concerned with kinetic force. Instead, they were meant for one thing – igniting the pool of hellwater below.

Normal fire wouldn’t do the trick. No – it had to be hellfire. Fortunately, that played right into his new path, so creating the hellfire bombs had not been nearly as difficult as he’d expected.

As the rock sailed through the air, he said, “Now!”

Everyone unleashed their skills.

Zeke could only hope it would be enough.