The heavy iron doors of the Arena stood slightly ajar, leaking the scent of black sand and violence into the corridor. Commander Thorne had his hand on the metal, ready to push through and start the bloodshed he so desperately craved.

But then he stopped.

He didn't push. He sniffed the air, his nose wrinkling like a bulldog smelling a cat in the pantry.

"Wait," Thorne grunted, pulling his hand back. He turned to look at Reed, his eyes narrowing into suspicious slits. "This smells... prepared."

"It's a gladiatorial pit, Commander," Reed said, keeping his face neutral despite the throbbing ache in his ribs where Seraphine had squeezed him earlier. "Preparation is part of the service. We raked the sand just for you."

"Too clean," Thorne muttered. He tapped his gauntlet against the obsidian wall of the Mezzanine hallway. "You want me in that pit. You want me focused on the beast so I don't see what's underneath."

He turned away from the Arena doors and looked toward the spiral staircase that wound down into the darkness of the lower levels.

"A good commander does not charge into a choke point without inspecting the foundations," Thorne declared, his hand resting on the pommel of his sword. "Show me the basement, Monster. I want to see where you hide the bodies."

Reed suppressed a sigh. Of course. The Purist wanted to do a structural inspection before his death match.

"We don't hide bodies," Reed corrected, adjusting his velvet coat. "We recycle them. But if you wish to see the infrastructure, I would be delighted to show you the Abyssal Spa on Floor 2. It's directly below us. The plumbing is... quite impressive."

"Lead on," Thorne barked. "And Inquisitor? Keep your hand on your hilt. If he tries to lead us into a trap, cut his legs off."

Kaelen, who had been trying to make herself invisible near a potted fern, jumped.

"Yes, Commander!" she squeaked, falling into step behind them. She shot Reed a look that was 50% 'I'm sorry' and 50% 'Please don't make me cut your legs off.'

The staircase connecting the Casino Floor to the Spa Level was a masterpiece of atmospheric design. Maira had insisted on it.

Instead of the rough, utilitarian stone of a typical dungeon, the steps were carved from black volcanic glass, smoothed to a mirror finish. Floating orb-lights drifted alongside the railing like lazy, bioluminescent fireflies, casting a soft, seductive violet glow that made everyone look mysterious and expensive.

To a normal guest, it whispered 'Luxury'.

To Commander Thorne, it apparently screamed 'Heresy'.

"The masonry is too smooth," Thorne grumbled, running a gauntleted finger along the wall as they descended. "No chisel marks. No mortar. This wasn't built by hands. It was shaped by magic. Dark magic."

"Void Shaping is a legitimate architectural school," Reed lied, walking a few steps ahead. "It saves on labor costs. We pass the savings on to the customer."

Reed was trying to project confidence. He was trying to walk with the swagger of a Dungeon Lord who had just made 3,500 Gold in twenty minutes.

But inside his chest, things were getting crowded.

He has a sword, a small, terrified voice whispered in his mind.

It wasn't a thought. It was a vibration. Elara, the Banshee spirit bonded to his Core, was waking up.

"Everyone has a sword, Elara," Reed thought back, keeping his face neutral. "We live in a dungeon. Even the goblin has a wrench that doubles as a shiv. Go back to sleep."

Not like that, Elara whimpered, her spectral presence curling tighter around his heart. He smells like burning. Like the white fire that eats ghosts. He wants to burn me, Reed. He knows I'm here.

Reed felt a sudden drop in his internal temperature. His chest, usually a burning furnace of violet energy, stuttered. It flickered like a candle in a draft.

"He doesn't know you're here," Reed promised internally. "You're hidden. You're safe in the VIP section of my ribcage. Just stay quiet."

"And the ventilation," Thorne continued, stopping to peer suspiciously at a decorative brass grate. "I hear... rattling. Like bones."

"Plumbing," Reed said quickly. "Old pipes. Very noisy. We have a... calcium buildup."

Thorne narrowed his eyes. He turned to face Reed on the narrow staircase. The Commander loomed over him, a wall of scarred steel and righteous indignation. His hand rested on the pommel of his sword, right next to the pulsating Silver Commendation Medal.

"You have an answer for everything, don't you, Monster?" Thorne growled, leaning in close.

He smelled of steel, sweat, and the terrifying, antiseptic scent of Holy Mana.

"But you can't hide the intent," Thorne whispered, his voice dropping to a dangerous rumble. "I know what you are. I know what you keep in your chest. You hoard souls."

SOULS! Elara shrieked silently.

The trigger was pulled.

[SYSTEM ALERT]

[Staff Status: ELARA (Panic).]

[Manifestation: CRYOGENIC DEFENSE.]

[Internal Temperature: -40°F.]

[Warning: Physical Vessel Freezing.]

Reed stopped. He didn't want to stop, but his knees simply locked up.

A wave of absolute zero radiated from his sternum. It wasn't just cold; it was the vacuum of space. It was the death of heat.

The water that was still soaking his silk shirt didn't just dry; it flash-froze. His velvet coat stiffened instantly, turning into a rigid shell of black ice.

Cr-crack.

Frost bloomed on Reed's eyebrows. His breath hitched, and when he tried to exhale, a thick cloud of white fog rolled out of his mouth, heavy enough to obscure his face.

Thorne stared.

"What in the hells?" The Commander took a step back, his hand tightening on his sword. "The air... it turned to ice."

He drew his blade halfway. The steel rang in the silence of the stairwell. Shing.

"A freezing aura," Thorne analyzed, his eyes narrowing. "Necrotic chill. You are leaking death magic."

"It's... the AC," Reed managed to chatter, his teeth clicking together uncontrollably. "Air... Conditioning. Very... exclusive... feature."

He couldn't move his arms. He was turning into a popsicle in the middle of his own hallway. He could feel Elara shivering inside him, a ball of terrified ice trying to put out the fire of Thorne's presence.

If Thorne sensed the specific frequency of the Banshee spirit, it was game over. The Purist would slice Reed open just to exorcise the ghost, and Reed would have to respawn at the Core with a very awkward explanation for Maira.

"It is corruption," Thorne declared, drawing the blade fully. The silver steel glowed with blinding white holy light. "I knew it. Step aside, Inquisitor. I will cleanse this vessel."

Kaelen, who had been walking silently behind them, looked at Reed.

She saw the panic in his amethyst eyes. She saw the frost creeping up his neck, turning his skin the color of blue porcelain. She saw the way he was looking at her, not as an enemy, but as a lifeline.

She didn't draw her sword. She stepped between them.

"Stand down, Commander!" Kaelen barked, her voice cracking with a mix of authority and terror.

"Move, Kaelen," Thorne warned, raising the glowing blade. "He is manifesting a Class-A Hazard. That is Grave-Cold."

"He is... he is suffering from a condition!" Kaelen shouted, improvising wildly. She threw her arms out, blocking Thorne's path. "A... a mana imbalance! Due to the... the hydro-therapy! It's a side effect of the Spa treatment!"

"Spa treatment?" Thorne paused, looking confused.

Kaelen turned to Reed. She knew she had to act. She knew exactly what happened when her mana touched his.

And god help her, she wanted it.

She had been craving the "Steam" ever since their session in his office. The memory of it, the heat, the lemon-scented euphoria, the way his Void mana felt like ice water on a sunburn, had been keeping her awake at night.

"Forgive me, My Lord," Kaelen whispered, her eyes dark with a desperate hunger.

She grabbed Reed's frozen arm.

She didn't just hold it. She channeled her Holy Mana.

She pushed the warmth, the light, the rigid order of the Silver Flame directly into his frozen, Void-corrupted body.

BOOM.

It wasn't an explosion of sound. It was an explosion of thermodynamics.

The moment her warm, holy hand touched his frozen, void-soaked coat, the reaction was violent and immediate.

[SYSTEM ALERT]

[Mana Reaction: HOLY + VOID.]

[Thermodynamic Event: STEAM.]

[Elara Status: SOOTHED (By Warmth).]

[Inquisitor Status: HIGH (Addiction Triggered).]

Thick, billowing clouds of white steam erupted from Reed's body, filling the narrow stairwell in seconds. It hissed loudly, sounding like a locomotive releasing pressure.

It smelled of ozone, lemons, hot rain, and pure, concentrated arousal.

"Ah!" Reed gasped, his back arching as the heat slammed into him.

The ice shattered. Crack-tinkle.

The freezing cold vanished, replaced by a searing, euphoric heat that rushed through his veins like liquid gold. It was overwhelming. It was better than any drug. It melted the fear in Elara's spirit instantly, turning her panic into a warm, fuzzy drowsiness.

"Kaelen," Reed groaned, his voice dropping to a gravelly whisper.

Kaelen gasped too, her knees buckling. She clung to his arm, her face flushed a deep, sinful red, her eyes rolling back slightly. The feedback loop was hitting her just as hard.

She didn't pull away. She pressed closer. She buried her face in the steam rising from his shoulder, inhaling the scent of him.

"The heat..." Kaelen breathed, her voice trembling. "It burns... it's wonderful."

For a moment, they weren't a Dungeon Lord and an Inquisitor. They were two mana addicts getting their fix in a stairwell, hidden by a wall of magical fog.

Reed leaned into her, his body heavy and loose. He felt her armor pressing against his side, the cold steel conducting the heat perfectly.

"Don't stop," he whispered in her ear, hidden by the hiss of the steam. "Hold me up, Paladin. I'm melting."

"I have you," she whimpered, her grip tightening on his bicep. "I won't let go."

Thorne waved his hand frantically, coughing as he tried to clear the fog.

"What is this?" Thorne shouted, swinging his sword at the steam. "Poison gas?! Is he attacking? I can't see!"

"Steam!" Reed choked out, forcing his brain to work through the haze of pleasure. "Just... steam, Commander! The Spa... I told you... the water is spirited!"

The fog began to clear, drifting up toward the ceiling.

Reed stood there, dripping wet again (the ice had melted), with Kaelen clinging to his arm like a lifeline. They were both panting, their chests heaving in sync. Their cheeks were flushed with a suspicious, healthy glow that looked very much like post-coital bliss.

Reed looked at Thorne. He channeled the last of the mana high into a convincing lie.

"My apologies," Reed smoothed his damp hair back with a trembling hand. "I absorbed too much thermal energy from the magma vents downstairs. I needed to... vent. Inquisitor Kaelen was kind enough to assist with the regulation."

Thorne looked at Reed. He looked at Kaelen, who was straightening her tabard with shaking hands, looking thoroughly ravished by nothing but magic.

Thorne sheathed his sword with a disgusted clatter.

"Disgusting," Thorne spat. "You run a loose ship, Monster. Your plumbing leaks, your temperature fluctuates, and your staff is overly familiar."

He glared at Kaelen.

"Inquisitor, compose yourself. You look like you've been boiled."

"I am... regulating," Kaelen squeaked, snapping to attention, though she swayed slightly. "The hazard is... contained. Sir."

Safe, Elara whispered, drifting back into a deep, warm sleep inside Reed's chest, lulled by Kaelen's holy aura.

"We should proceed to the Spa," Reed suggested, gently detaching Kaelen from his arm. He missed the warmth immediately. "I believe I need to... dry off. And you wanted to inspect the facilities."

"Fine," Thorne growled, turning on his heel and marching down the rest of the stairs. "But if I see one ghost, I start swinging."

Reed fell into step beside Kaelen as they followed him.

"Nice save," he whispered out of the corner of his mouth.

"I am writing you up," Kaelen hissed back, though her face was still burning red. She refused to look at him. "Report D-99: Unsolicited Mana Discharge. Penalty... pending."

"Put it on my tab," Reed winked.

He checked his HUD.

[Objective Update]

[Survive Elara's Panic: COMPLETE.]

[Kaelen Addiction Level: RISING (Critical).]

[Next Stop: Floor 2 - The Abyssal Spa.]

Reed took a deep breath of the humid air. He had survived the ice. Now he just had to survive whatever fresh hell Luma and Terra had prepared downstairs.

"After you, Inquisitor," Reed gestured to the door at the bottom of the stairs. "Let's go see the jelly."

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