The fall took three seconds. The realization that wearing eighty pounds of Silverite plate armor was a death sentence in deep water took much less.

​Reed hit the water feet first.

​SPLASH.

​The impact was brutal. The White-Rush River lived up to its name. It was freezing, turbulent, and moving at the speed of a galloping horse. The cold knocked the wind out of him instantly, turning his lungs into blocks of ice .

​He plunged deep into the black water, the current grabbing him and spinning him like a ragdoll. He kicked hard, fighting the disorientation.

​Below him, the Siegebreaker continued to sink. Bone and iron do not float. The construct thrashed, its massive arms churning the water, but it was dragged inexorably down to the muddy bottom .

​But it wasn't alone.

​Reed saw a flash of silver in the moonlight filtering through the surface. A hand, gauntleted in white metal, clawed desperately at the water before sinking again.

​Kaelen.

​She was drowning. Her armor, the symbol of her station and her invincibility, had become an anchor .

​Reed didn't think. He dove.

​The underwater world was murky and silent. He kicked downward, his lungs burning.

​He saw the pale glow of the Necrotic Charge sinking rapidly, still clutched in the dead Siegebreaker's hand. It was pulsing faster now, a frantic, strobe-light violet. It was critical.

​He reached Kaelen. He grabbed the shoulder strap of her breastplate and pulled. It was like trying to lift a boulder. She shook her head slowly, pointing to the surface. Go.

​Reed ignored her. He grabbed her waist. He looked down.

​The Siegebreaker hit the riverbed. The bomb in its hand flared blindingly bright.

​The explosion, Reed thought. The pressure wave.

​It was a terrible, stupid, desperate idea.

​Reed grabbed Kaelen tight. He didn't try to swim up. He curled his body, presenting his back to the water below, trying to shield her.

​BOOM.

​The Necrotic Charge detonated.

​Because it was deep underwater and buried in the silt, the explosion didn't create a fireball. It created a displacement bubble.

​A massive shockwave erupted from the riverbed. It pulverized the Siegebreaker instantly. Then, it hit Reed and Kaelen.

​It felt like being kicked by a mule. The force slammed into them from below. But it pushed up.

​The blast propelled them toward the surface like a cork shot from a bottle .

​

​They breached the water in a geyser of foam and mud. Reed gasped, sucking in air that felt like knives .

​The explosion had disoriented the current, creating a momentary eddy that pushed them toward the riverbank. Reed kicked frantically, grabbing a tree root protruding from the clay bank.

​He hauled himself half out of the water. He didn't let go of Kaelen. He dragged her by her cape, pulling the heavy, armored Paladin up through the muck until she was clear of the current .

​They collapsed on the muddy bank, gasping, coughing up river water.

​The bridge loomed above them, intact. The explosion had happened too far downstream to damage the supports.

​Reed rolled onto his back, shivering so hard his teeth clicked together.

​"Did…" Kaelen coughed, rolling onto her side and retching water. "Did you… use a bomb… as an elevator?"

​"It was… physics," Reed chattered. "Fluid dynamics."

​Kaelen groaned, flopping back into the mud. Her pristine white cape was brown. Her shining silver armor was coated in silt. She looked less like a High Inquisitor and more like a drowned rat in a tin can.

​"You are… the most reckless creature… I have ever met."

​"You're welcome," Reed wheezed.

​They lay there for a moment, alive but broken. Reed had 12 mana and 10 HP. Kaelen was exhausted.

​AWOOOOO.

​A howl cut through the night air. It wasn't a wolf. It was a horn. A bone horn .

​From the tree line on the southern bank—the side they were currently on—shadows emerged.

​Wights.

​A dozen of them. Elite perimeter guards, clad in tattered black leather, wielding jagged swords that dripped with necrotic poison. They had heard the explosion .

​They saw the two exhausted survivors on the riverbank. They hissed.

​Reed raised his rusty iron sword. His arm felt like lead.

​"I'll take the left," Kaelen rasped, swaying as she stood. She held her sword with two hands, her knuckles white.

​"There are six on the left," Reed noted dryly .

​"Then I will die efficiently," Kaelen said.

​The first Wight lunged at Reed.

​Reed parried clumsily. The impact vibrated up his arm, numbing his shoulder. He slipped in the mud, falling to one knee. The Wight raised its blade for a killing stroke.

​THOOM-CRACK.

​The Wight's head exploded.

​It wasn't magic. It was kinetic impact. A lance, glowing with blinding white light, slammed into the creature's skull at full gallop speed .

​Reed looked up, squinting against the sudden brilliance.

​The thunder of hooves was deafening now. The ground shook so violently that the mud rippled around Reed's knees.

​Across the River Fork Bridge, a phalanx of nightmares had arrived. But these were nightmares of the Light.

​The Silver Flame Vanguard.

​Heavy cavalry. Massive white warhorses, armored in barding that shone like mirrors, thundered across the cobblestones. Their riders were giants clad in full Silverite plate, their helms crowned with white plumes .

​"PURGE!" a voice bellowed.

​The lead rider slammed into the group of Wights. It wasn't a fight; it was an industrial accident. The heavy horses trampled the undead into the clay. Lances wreathed in white fire pierced chests, burning the necrotic flesh instantly.

​In ten seconds, the twelve Wights were gone. Reduced to ash and muddy smears .

​Silence returned to the riverbank, replaced only by the heavy snorting of the warhorses.

​Reed stayed on his knees. He looked up at the riders. They were terrifying. They radiated a palpable aura of judgment.

​This isn't a rescue, Reed realized, his stomach dropping. This is a raid.

​The lead rider wheeled his massive horse around. He was bigger than the others, his armor etched with gold runes. He removed his helmet.

​Commander Vane.

​He had a face like a cliff side—hard, weathered, and utterly unforgiving. He looked at the dead Wights. He looked at the surviving bridge. He looked at Kaelen .

​"High Inquisitor," Vane said. His voice was deep, devoid of surprise. "You are… off-mission."

​Kaelen straightened her spine. She sheathed her sword with a sharp click.

​"Commander Vane," Kaelen replied, regaining her icy authority despite the mud. "You are late."

​Vane turned his gaze to Reed.

​He saw the torn tunic. He saw the rusty sword. He saw the strange, subtle hum of mana that clung to Reed even when empty—the distinct signature of a Dungeon Avatar.

​"And this?" Vane asked, pointing a gauntleted finger at Reed .

​"This is a local asset," Kaelen said quickly.

​Vane sniffed the air. "He smells of sulfur. And heresy. And… garlic?"

​He looked at the Bag of Holding tied to Reed's belt. Vane drew his sword. It was a massive greatsword, twice the size of Kaelen's. It ignited with a roar of holy fire.

​"That is an Avatar," Vane declared. "Unbound. Filthy. Why does it live?"

​He spurred his horse forward. The animal snorted, its hooves splashing in the mud inches from Reed's face.

​Reed froze. He knew, with absolute certainty, that if he moved, his head would be removed from his shoulders.

​"STAND DOWN!"

​Kaelen stepped between the horse and Reed. She spread her arms, placing her body directly in the path of the blade.

​Vane paused. The tip of his burning sword hovered inches from Kaelen's muddy forehead.

​"High Inquisitor," Vane warned. "You are obstructing a cleansing."

​"I am protecting a tactical resource!" Kaelen shouted. "Look at the bridge, Commander! Two Level 20 Siegebreakers were detonating a charge on that pillar. If that bridge falls, your vanguard is stranded."

​Vane glanced at the bridge. He saw the scorch marks. He saw the grease stain.

​"The bridge stands," Vane admitted. "Because of you."

​"Because of us!" Kaelen lied smoothly. "This Avatar acted under my direct command. We engaged the enemy. We neutralized the threat."

​Vane looked at Reed again. "A Dungeon Core fighting necromancy? It is a trick."

​"It is Protocol 77," Kaelen declared.

​The soldiers behind Vane murmured.

​"I have commandeered this entity," Kaelen lied, her voice steady. "I have subjugated its will. It is currently operating as a Vassal of the Authority. To kill it now is to destroy Authority property and waste a weapon that we need to retake the sector."

​She stepped closer to Vane's horse.

​"Do not destroy my weapon, Commander. Or I will have you cited for sabotage."

​Vane looked at Kaelen. He respected rank. He respected results. But he hated monsters.

​Slowly, reluctantly, the fire on his greatsword dimmed.

​"A Vassal," Vane spat the word like a curse. "It looks like a beggar."

​"It is a tool," Kaelen said coldly. "Tools do not need to be pretty. They need to work."

​Vane sheathed his sword.

​"Very well, High Inquisitor. We will secure the asset. But it travels in the cage."

​He gestured to his men.

​"Bind him. Silence him. If he casts a single spell, cut his hands off."

​Two Paladins dismounted. They grabbed Reed, hauling him out of the mud. They didn't use rope; they used Manacles of the Penitent—heavy silver cuffs etched with suppression runes .

​CLICK.

​The cuffs locked onto Reed's wrists. A shock of cold, numbing pain shot up his arms. The connection to his Core, already faint, was smothered.

​"Ow," Reed muttered.

​"Silence, Heretic," a guard growled

​Reed looked at Kaelen. She gave him a tiny, imperceptible nod. You're alive. Don't mess it up.

​"Mount up!" Vane roared. "We march on the Dungeon! The Necromancer is still out there, and I intend to burn him out before breakfast!"

​Reed was shoved into the back of a supply wagon, caged behind iron bars.

​Well, Reed thought, leaning his head against the bars. I wanted allies. I guess I should have been more specific about the 'friendly' part.

​The wagon lurched forward. They were going back to the dungeon. But this time, Reed wasn't the master of the house. He was the prisoner.

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