Drake's Breath

A razor-sharp blade flashed through the dim corridor, arcing straight toward Edgar's exposed flank.

Clang! Thump, thwack!

Bolts hissed through the air in a blistering burst of rapid fire, slamming into the ambusher before the strike could land. The first quarrel struck the descending sword with pinpoint accuracy, knocking the blade off its trajectory; the next two drove clean into the man's throat and sternum. The attacker shuddered, pitching forward to collapse heavily against Edgar's bulk.

"The hell is this piece of shit?!"

Shoving the dead weight away, Edgar scrambled back toward his companions. Almost simultaneously, closed office doors along the hallway began clicking open, one by one. The sluggish silhouettes of zombies that had been standing here and there in the corridor blurred like ripples on water and melted away into thin air.

Illusion magic?

Bennett narrowed his eyes as armed figures stepped out from the rooms, their smirks making it obvious they had been lying in wait.

"Hey, bottom-feeders."

Ray, the intermediate knight commanding the Drake Family expedition, rested his broadsword casually across his armored shoulder. "You went up to the twelfth floor, didn't you?"

Bennett said nothing.

There was no real question in the man's voice—only cold certainty. Bennett could have denied it, but it was already written in Ray's arrogant gaze that he had made up his mind.

"There should've been a firearm inside the desk drawer," Ray continued, curling his thumb and index finger into the shape of a pistol. "A compact little thing that looked like this. Hand it over, and I'll grant you a painless death."

These were the dogs of the very house that had massacred Bennett's family, now demanding the surrender of spoils earned through blood and sweat.

Bennett didn't hesitate for a heartbeat.

Cl-cl-clank!

Shooting Star's magazine emptied in the blink of an eye, unleashing a storm of dwarven quarrels upon the Drake squad. Ray parried reflexively, the steel tip of his blade flashing as sparks sprayed across the dim hall. His eyes narrowed to sharp slits.

"A repeating crossbow? Who the fuck are you bastards to be wielding dwarven gear?"

"Sir Ray?" one of his men called out.

"Kill every last one of them first. We'll search their corpses after."

Two fully armored knights and the squires trailing behind them surged forward with weapons raised. Ray caught his own squire by the shoulder just as the young man prepared to join the rush.

"Not you, Hobbs. You stay here and guard the mages."

"Understood, sir!"

Leaving Hobbs behind, Ray locked his gaze on Bennett. The scavenger was unleashing an unrelenting hail of bolts, buying space to stall the charging vanguard. No matter how many times Ray looked, it was undeniably a dwarven masterwork repeater. The moment Bennett lowered his hands to swap magazines, Ray sank into a low stance.

Whoosh!

Ray launched forward like an arrow released from a siege bow. Reinforced by a surging mantle of mana, his speed was so immense that an ordinary mercenary wouldn't have registered his movement. Yet to Ray's shock, Bennett's head snapped up, his cold eyes tracking Ray's approach with terrifying clarity.

With practiced ease, Bennett locked a fresh magazine into place and leveled Shooting Star just as Ray swung his sword in a vicious downward cleave.

Swish—

Bennett slipped aside, spraying bolts into the air as the blade whistled past. Ray grimaced, moving his blade to swat the volley away, only to realize the quarrels weren't aimed at him at all. The trajectory was skewed, aimed directly past his shoulder—

"The mages!"

The bolts grazed past Ray's helm, whistling down the corridor behind him. A split second later, a strangled gasp and the sickening wet thud of punctured flesh echoed from the rear.

"Hobbs!" Ray barked.

"One mage down!" the squire shouted frantically from behind. "Dwarven steel! You have to coat yourselves in mana!"

Ray gritted his teeth, his attention snapping back to Bennett. Crunch. The floor beneath Ray's steel greaves buckled under an explosion of aura, his form stretching into a blur as he shot forward again. Bennett engaged Flash Sprint, leaping backward to open the distance, but Ray's explosive acceleration ate away the gap in a split second.

"You're quick on your feet, rat, but it ends here!"

Th-th-thump!

Bennett fired point-blank into ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Ray's chest. Ray instantly funneled mana across his breastplate. Against ordinary steel, dwarven quarrels would have punched straight through, but backed by a condensed layer of martial mana, their kinetic energy was abruptly blunted. The bolts deflected with shrill metallic pings, spinning off harmlessly into the walls.

Closing the distance without breaking stride, Ray cleaved down with all his might. Bennett, firing to the very last fraction of a second, whipped the reinforced frame of Shooting Star upward like an iron club.

Clang!

Any common weapon would have been sheared in half by that strike. But Shooting Star was a masterwork forged by Balduin's own hands, built with rare dwarven metallurgy; a mere coat of basic mana was not enough to shatter it. Using the recoil to reset his grip, Bennett didn't retreat—he dove straight into Ray's guard.

"Ha?!"

Stunned by the suicidal maneuver, Ray grinned fiercely and adjusted his grip. The boy was impressive for an unknighted commoner, but entering a knight's close-combat range was a death sentence—

In that exact instant, Bennett dropped into a low, aggressive slide.

Skidding beneath the reach of the longsword, Bennett intertwined his legs around Ray's lower body, violently wrenching the knight off balance.

"What the—?!"

Having never encountered such an alien martial art, Ray flailed as his center of gravity was dismantled, crashing hard against the linoleum. Before he could recover, Bennett locked Ray's lower body in a vise-like hook and wrapped both arms around his torso. Ray let go of his sword to strike with his gauntleted fists, but—

Thwack!

The moment Ray's fist collided with Bennett's forearm, it was Ray who felt his momentum violently shoved back. Despite channeling mana through his arms, the strike carried no weight. Worse, he felt an unnatural chill as his mana seemed to erode on contact, dissolving into Bennett's skin like salt in water.

"What in the hell are you doing...!"

Ray thrashed violently, trying to throw the lighter man off, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠but Bennett shifted his weight fluidly, maintaining top control with cold precision. As the two tumbled across the debris-littered floor, Bennett reached out to rip open the knight's visor—just as a surge of foreign magical energy swelled nearby.

Hup.

Drawing on every ounce of leverage, Bennett wrenched Ray's armored bulk directly into the trajectory of the oncoming spell.

Boom!

Sparks and concussive flame detonated against Ray's backplate as he absorbed the full brunt of the allied spell. Had his armor not been reinforced with protective mana, the blast would have broken his spine. Stunned and gasping for breath, Ray went momentarily limp, and Bennett wasted not a second slamming him flat onto his back.

Thud.

Bennett mounted the knight's chest, pinned Ray's arms, and yanked the visor upward. Ray reached up desperately to protect his exposed face, but Bennett calmly tugged on the tactical sling draped across his shoulder. Shooting Star snapped up into his hand, its muzzle pressed flush between Ray's eyes.

Thunk.

A steel bolt buried itself deep into Ray's forehead. The knight's violent convulsions ceased instantly, his limbs collapsing into a limp, hollow heap upon the concrete.

A warm fullness bloomed within Bennett's core, revitalizing the energy reserves that had felt depleted. Shoving the corpse aside, he brought Shooting Star back to his shoulder. Down the hall, the rest of his party was still locked in a desperate skirmish. The remaining mage and squire were a threat behind him, but his comrades at the front took priority.

Th-th-thump!

A Drake knight who had failed to maintain his mana reinforcement stumbled as three bolts tore through his joints. Bennett emptied the drum into the man's chest until the knight gave a choked rasp and collapsed into silence.

"Ice Arrow!"

The surviving mage swung his staff, launching a jagged spear of frost straight toward Bennett's back. Bennett started to dodge, then paused. If psionic energy eroded a knight's aura, would it do the same to magic?

Channeling his psionic energy into the dwarven frame of Shooting Star, he swung it like a bat against the oncoming spell. The thick icicle shattered with a dull crack, spraying harmless frost into the air. Aside from a light crust of rime clinging to the bow's stirrup, the impact hadn't left a scratch.

"Wh-what is he?!"

By the time the ice shattered, Hobbs was already bearing down on him, his blade wreathed in the faint azure glow of mana. The thrust was sharp and well-drilled, but it lacked the terrifying weight Ray had possessed. Bennett didn't even need to expend a skill; with his Agility stat already surpassing 40, outmaneuvering an ordinary squire was trivial.

Slipping out of the thrust's path with a fluid half-step, Bennett squeezed the trigger.

"Agh!"

Hobbs tumbled across the floor as a bolt shattered his ankle. Without mana woven into it, the squire's light leather armor was paper against dwarven iron. Bennett walked forward, putting a quarrel through the squire's heart, and another through his temple.

"Monster!"

Seeing Hobbs die, the remaining mage turned on his heel and sprinted frantically toward the stairs. Bennett aligned his iron sights without a word.

Thud.

"Ghk...!"

The bolt punched straight through the back of the mage's skull, dropping him flat on his face.

"Bennett-nim!" Kyle yelled over the clatter of steel.

Seeing Kyle and Edgar locked in a brutal grapple with the last standing knight, Bennett stowed his crossbow and drew his steel baton.

Triggering his final charge of Flash Sprint for the day, Bennett crossed the distance instantly, driving the baton into the knight's exposed back.

Crack! Thump, crack!

The knight couldn't even turn in time before the psionic energy surging through the baton obliterated his mana cloak. Heavy strikes fractured the armor over his elbow and knee, sending him staggering sideways. Kyle seized the opening immediately, driving his longsword through the narrow slit beneath the knight's gorget.

"Guh...!"

So that's how it works.

The tide had turned completely. Edgar and Erika pressed the remaining squires, and upon realizing Sir Ray and the knights were dead, the survivors broke into a rout. Bennett replied to their retreat by planting bolts into their backs until the corridor was dead silent.

His second level-up since setting foot in the dungeon. Bennett closed his eyes as the familiar surge of electric exhilaration washed through his veins.

Scanning the choices, Bennett paused, his eyes widening in disbelief.

Drake Breath?

The prestigious Drake Family held three sacred breathing techniques, bestowed selectively upon scions and vassals depending on their lineage and internal standing. Drake Breath was their foundational manual. It was the entry-level method provided to promising newcomers and newly inducted retainers. Though introductory, it was infinitely more refined, safe, and potent than the crude breathing methods circulating the common markets.

Yet here it was, presented as a level-up reward. Offered not to a traditional mana wielder, but to someone possessing psionic energy.

Bennett's eyes narrowed, an idea immediately clicking in his mind.

"Select Drake Breath."

A torrent of unfamiliar memories and tactile understanding crashed into his mind like an ocean tide. It felt as though dozens of dense parchment pages were being branded directly onto his cerebrum, making his temples throb. Within seconds, he understood the technique completely—its theoretical foundation, its circulation pathways, and its precise physical execution.

And best of all, this knowledge wasn't restricted to his own use. He could transcribe it, teach it to his companions, or use it as an economic weapon against the Drake Family themselves.

How I use this is entirely up to me.

A cold, thin smile touched his lips as he weighed the chaos this little manual could unleash.

"Goddamn... I thought I was a goner for real this time."

Edgar let go of his tower shield, slumping heavily against the bloodstained wall. The rectangular shield had long since exceeded its operational limit; battered repeatedly by mana-wrapped blades, its surface was webbed with deep cracks and the internal iron frame was warped out of shape. But what looked worse were Edgar's wounds. To keep the squires off Erika, he had body-blocked several mundane strikes; though his armor had held, deep lacerations and blunt hematomas covered his limbs.

"Stay still," Bennett said, snapping out of his thoughts.

He produced health ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠potions from his coat, pouring one directly over Edgar's bleeding gashes and handing another to the big man to drink. "Is everyone else holding up?"

"Better than we have any right to be, considering we were ambushed," Kyle replied, catching his breath. He had a few shallow cuts of his own. Erika, shielded behind Edgar's bulk while casting, had escaped mostly unscathed aside from minor scratches, though her robe was singed. If Bennett hadn't executed Ray so decisively, someone among them would undoubtedly have died.

"Say, Bennett-nim," Kyle asked, sheathing his sword with a puzzled expression.

"What is it?"

"What on earth was that maneuver earlier? That knight couldn't even twitch once you had him down."

"Ah." Bennett gave a vague shrug. "Just a little trick I picked up."

Explaining it would ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠require digging into his father's keepsake and the system, and that was a conversation best left unspoken. Seeing Bennett decline to elaborate, Kyle nodded tactfully and let the matter drop.

After taking the time to bind wounds and recover their stamina, the party set about stripping the corpses. Dragging the eight bodies into a pile in the center of the hall, they began stripping every piece of salvageable gear.

"Well, aren't these pickings sweet?" Edgar grinned, testing the balance of a captured knight's arming sword.

The Drake expedition had consisted of eight members: three knights, three squires, and two mages. The gear carried by the knights and mages was exceptionally high-tier—well-forged mana-conductive swords, fine-grain plate armor, and spell-amplifying staves. The squires' gear was ordinary by noble standards, but still superior to the budget kit worn by average scavengers.

"Hey! There's another sub-space pouch here!"

Kyle held up an embroidered leather pouch looted from Ray's belt. Unlike the locked pouch from the commissioner's office, this one lacked complex defensive enchantments, allowing Bennett to sync his mana signature to it immediately. While it held nothing earth-shattering beyond rations and emergency coin, the pouch itself was worth a small fortune on the open market.

More importantly, it solved their carry capacity issues. Under normal circumstances, they would have been forced to abandon bulky armor sets, but with an extra pocket dimension on hand, they packed away every scrap of steel, staff, and blade.

Leaving the stripped corpses behind, the party descended to the first floor.

The ground level had clearly seen prior visitors. Piles of zombie carcasses lay strewn across the lobby, mingled with the mangled remains of several dead scavengers who had fallen during the initial breach. Bennett checked a few administrative offices, but every locker and desk had already been ransacked down to the dust.

Doooong—!

A deep, echoing resonance shuddered through the entire structure, freezing the party in their tracks. It was the five-day chime.

"I-is it five days already?" Erika stammered, looking around.

"Time flies in the dark," Kyle muttered grimly.

"Damn... feels like three at most," Edgar grunted.

A majestic tolling bell resonated in tandem with the crystalline chime of the system. Bennett held up a fist. "Hold."

He bounded up to the second-floor landing alone, straining his ears to gauge the acoustic reverberations. The sounds signaling the exits weren't coming from above. They had cleared every single room from the fifteenth floor down to the ground floor; that meant both the public gate and any hidden evacuation points were situated somewhere below.

Bennett returned to the lobby with a somber expression. "The exits are in the basement."

"In the basement? But..." Kyle trailed off.

"Yeah. Both internal stairwells leading down were sealed tight."

If the stairwells had simply been obstructed by rubble, Edgar could have cleared them with a breaching ram. But both access points to the lower levels had been deliberately sealed behind reinforced security bulkheads. Erika cast a quick detection cantrip and shook her head in despair.

"It's solid armored plating, at least three meters thick... My current magic can't even scratch it."

They checked the central elevator shaft as a last resort, but the shaft was filled to the brim with stagnant, foul-smelling floodwater. Whether the entire subterranean complex was submerged or just the elevator pit was impossible to tell, but diving through was out of the question.

"Then where...?"

"There's only one route left," Bennett said grimly.

He pointed toward the shattered glass facade of the main entrance, out toward the plaza outside.

A short distance from the police headquarters stood the ramp leading down into the municipal underground parking garage. The descent itself was clear.

The problem was the courtyard directly in front of it.

Looming squarely across the entrance ramp was the hulking, mutated silhouette of a massive Variant Zombie, its grotesquely overgrown muscles twitching in the gloomy light.