Exhaustion finally claimed Eli, pulling him under into a restless sleep. In the swirling darkness of dreams, Lira appeared. Not the gaunt, scarred girl he'd last seen in the brutal arena of Iron Hold, but a younger Lira, the child he remembered from before, before the Krev, before everything.

  She stood in a field of shimmering starlight, her small hands weaving threads of pure light into an intricate, ethereal crown. "Find me, Eli," she whispered, her voice fading, fraying into static, the edges of the dream dissolving around her. "The stars… remember."

  ? Dream Analysis ?

  Subject: Lira (Possible Connection: Celestial Weaving)

  Emotional Significance: High

  Recurring Theme: Rescue/Reunion

  Note: ? Chime: Three descending notes, frequency pattern resembling shattering stained glass.?

  Possible Memory: The Krev attack on Eli's home.

  He woke with a jolt, heart hammering against his ribs, tangled in sweat-soaked sheets. Marco's alarms were blaring, a harsh, insistent klaxon cutting through the remnants of the dream. The workshop itself felt different, colder, more oppressive.

  He sat up, blinking, disoriented, and his gaze fell upon the dungeon walls. They had shifted overnight, subtly yet undeniably altered. Jagged veins of dark obsidian now pulsed where smooth, gray stone had been just hours before.

  The veins throbbed with a faint, malevolent energy, a dark undercurrent beneath the workshop's artificial light. And as he stared, mesmerized by the pulsing darkness, a sudden, sharp pain lanced behind his eyes, as if he were staring directly into the heart of a forge.

  "It's reacting to your progress, Eli," Marco said grimly, his hologram flickering erratically, its usually smooth movements now jittery, unstable. "The maintenance sector's corruption level has spiked exponentially overnight. The dungeon… it knows we're coming."

  ? Alert ?

  Dungeon Status: ? Serpent Glyph ? x2 (Tier 2 Corruption)

  Environment: Unstable

  Recommendation: "Proceed with extreme caution. Or don't. Your funeral."

  Eli pushed himself to his feet, ignoring the lingering ache in his neck, the residual unease from the dream. He gripped Starling, the Ironbark warm and solid in his hand, the river-stone core flaring in response to his rising adrenaline, a surge of raw power coursing through him, chasing away the last vestiges of sleep.

  He could feel the binding spell struggling to contain the sudden influx of energy, the corrupted threads writhing in protest, a silent, internal battle raging within him. He thought of Lira, her whispered plea in the dream, of Dax and Finn, trapped in Iron Hold, of the promise he'd made to them.

  "Let it try," he murmured, his voice low, resolute, a flicker of steel hardening his gaze.

  As they ventured out of the relative safety of the workshop and into the maintenance sector's corroded halls, the dungeon pressed in on them, a suffocating weight of darkness and corruption.

  Eli's binding spell throbbed in sickening synchronicity with the dungeon's unseen heartbeat, a dark, rhythmic pulse that echoed in his bones. Shadows writhed on the walls, twisting into grotesque shapes, fleetingly forming clawed, skeletal hands reaching for him, then dissolving into Malek's smirking, triumphant face, a phantom taunt in the oppressive gloom.

  The corrupted threads around his neck pulsed, a dark, mocking mirror of the burgeoning power surging within him. He could almost hear them whispering, a sibilant chorus of voices just beyond the edge of hearing, urging him to give in, to surrender to the encroaching darkness, to embrace the corruption.

  "Stay vigilant, Eli," Marco's warning echoed in his mind, a steady anchor in the swirling chaos. "The dungeon… it mirrors your fears. It feeds on them."

  ? Mental State ?

  Resolve: Tempered in Shadowflame ▲

  Sanity: Fraying at the Edges ▼ (New phobia: Centipedes)

  Note: "Recommend psychological evaluation. At your earliest convenience. Which, given our current location, is… never."

  Eli tightened his grip on Starling, igniting the Comet's Trail form, the staff erupting in a fiery arc of crimson and white energy, scattering the encroaching shadows – for now.

  The corrupted air felt thick in his lungs, carrying a metallic taste that coated his tongue. Each breath was a struggle, as if the dungeon itself resisted his very existence. Moisture dripped from unseen places, the sound amplified in the eerie silence between clicks.

  "Tell me about the maintenance sector," Eli whispered, needing to hear something besides the clicking and the pounding of his own heart. "What was it before... all this?"

  Marco's hologram flickered beside him, the projection distorted by the corrupted energies permeating the maintenance sector. ?Historical archives indicate this section served as a power regulation nexus for the outer districts of the Ancient city. The pylons you see—? Marco gestured toward corroded metal structures jutting from the walls, ?—once channeled purified Elting into residential and agricultural zones.?

  Eli studied the twisted metal shapes. Like everything else here, they seemed warped, perverted from their original purpose. Once, they had brought light and life. Now they exuded darkness and decay.

  ?Worth noting,? Marco continued, his voice lowering to match Eli's whisper, ?the maintenance sector contained numerous failsafe mechanisms designed to prevent catastrophic energy fluctuations. It is... statistically improbable that the cataclysm originated here. This was a place of control, of balance.?

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  "And now it's the heart of corruption," Eli observed bitterly. "Funny how things change."

  ?Irony noted,? Marco replied, and Eli could have sworn the AI's voice carried a hint of genuine sadness. ?The corruption of safeguards into threats represents a recurring pattern throughout documented history. The greater the potential for creation, the greater the capacity for destruction when perverted.?

  Eli nodded, understanding the parallel to his own situation all too well. The binding spell at his neck, the Argentum Core in his chest – tools of creation perverted for control, for power.

  As they proceeded deeper, Eli's senses sharpened. The binding spell, ever adaptive, seemed to be enhancing his perception rather than dulling it – another unsettling development. He could now see faint tracks in the dust, strange three-toed impressions leading deeper into the darkness. The clicking emanated from multiple directions now, creating a disorienting audio landscape.

  "They're circling us," Eli murmured.

  ?Affirmative. Dungeon scout behavior indicates assessment protocols. They are... measuring your threat level, Eli. Your recent progress has altered your categorization within the dungeon's threat matrix.?

  "Is that good or bad?"

  ?Uncertain. Elevation in threat assessment implies recognition of increased capability. However, it also correlates with more aggressive countermeasures.?

  Ahead, in the oppressive darkness of the maintenance sector, a low generator hummed, a rhythmic thrumming that resonated deep within the dungeon's corrupted heart. Its frequency... it was syncing with something else. With him. With his Argentum Core.

  He could feel it, a faint but insistent beacon in the suffocating darkness, a promise of power, of answers, of a way home, a way back to Lira, to Dax, to Finn.

  Power. Answers. A way home. A way to save my friends. The thoughts echoed in his mind, a mantra against the encroaching darkness.

  A sudden shift in air pressure made his ears pop. The walls seemed to breathe, expanding and contracting ever so slightly. The river-stone in Starling pulsed in response, its blue glow intensifying, pushing back against the oppressive dark.

  ?Energy fluctuation detected,? Marco announced, his tone urgent. ?The maintenance sector's core generator is reacting to your proximity. Defensive protocols likely initiating.?

  As if on cue, a low moan echoed through the corridor, the sound of ancient machinery awakening after centuries of dormancy. The floor beneath Eli's feet trembled, and flakes of corroded metal drifted down from the ceiling.

  "Marco, what's happening?" Eli asked, trying to keep his voice steady.

  ?Simplified explanation: The dungeon is waking up. More specifically, maintenance sector automated defense systems are activating in response to your Argentum Core signature. They were designed to contain energy anomalies. To the corrupted systems, you register as... a walking anomaly.?

  Eli reached out with his senses, trying to locate the source of the danger. The training with Starling had heightened his awareness of energy patterns, and now he could detect faint swirls of corrupted threads weaving through the air around them. The threads moved with purpose, converging ahead, forming intricate, deadly patterns.

  "This isn't random," Eli realized. "It's... intelligent. Coordinated."

  ?Accurate assessment,? Marco confirmed. ?Ancient security systems were designed with tactical neural networks. Rudimentary intelligence, but substantial problem-solving capability. The corruption has likely... augmented these functions in unpredictable ways.?

  A metallic groan echoed from somewhere ahead, followed by the sound of heavy machinery shifting. The walls on either side began to close in subtly, the corridor narrowing by imperceptible degrees.

  "It's trying to funnel us," Eli muttered, sensing the trap. "Force us into a bottleneck."

  ?Strategic analysis: correct. Recommendation: utilize your newly developed Comet Dash to breach the defensive perimeter before full activation.?

  Eli hesitated, eyeing the gradually narrowing passage. "I've only done it once, Marco. And that was an accident."

  ?Statistical models suggest repetition of the precise mental and physical conditions could reproduce the effect.? Marco's hologram flickered, then stabilized, his voice softening with what might have been encouragement. ?You have demonstrated exceptional aptitude for adaptation, Eli. This is merely another adaptation.?

  Drawing a deep breath, Eli focused on Starling, on the memory of that perfect moment when everything had aligned—his movement, the mana threads, the binding spell's resonance. He could feel it again, just out of reach, a tantalizing possibility.

  He stepped forward, Starling held ready, the dungeon's corrupted halls closing in behind him, swallowing them whole. He was ready. He had to be.

  The faint, pulsing light of the river-stone focusing crystal on his staff mirrored the nascent determination hardening in his eyes, a spark of defiance against the overwhelming darkness. He was Eli, son of Erin and Liora, of the Argentum Lineage, and he would not falter.

  He gripped Starling tighter, the untamed energy of the Argentum Core flowing through him, a tangible force, a burning defiance that pushed back against the encroaching shadows. In his mind, he pictured the comet-shaped scar he'd burned into the training room floor—a signature, his signature, waiting to be written again.

  "For Lira," he whispered, channeling his emotion, his determination. "For Dax and Finn."

  The air around Starling began to shimmer, threads of crimson and white energy coalescing, spiraling around the staff. The binding spell at his neck pulsed, the runes flickering between pain and power, restriction and release. For a heartbeat, he felt the spell's threads align with his intent rather than resist it.

  He knew, with a certainty that resonated deep within his bones, that he had a long, perilous way to go. But for the first time since waking in this nightmare dungeon, he felt a flicker of something real, something solid, something that felt undeniably like… hope.

  A fragile, nascent belief that he could overcome the impossible challenges ahead. He was ready to face the darkness, to fight for his freedom, to keep his promise, and to save his friends. He was ready, finally, to begin to become the hero he was always meant to be.

  ?Energy signature stabilizing,? Marco's voice came as if from a great distance. ?Comet Dash trajectory calculating. Eli... you're doing it.?

  The binding spell flared, the new runes that had formed during Starling's creation now glowing with particular intensity. They weren't just passive components anymore—they were active channels, reluctant participants in this new power taking shape.

  The clicking from the dungeon depths, no longer distant, no longer waiting, now echoed from the corroded halls around them, a constant, insistent rhythm, keeping pace with their every step, drawing closer, and closer, into the heart of the maintenance sector.

  Eli took one final breath, picturing Lira's face, remembering her words from his dream: "The stars... remember." Then he launched himself forward, Starling extended before him, a streak of defiant light cutting through the corrupted darkness of the maintenance sector.

  Behind him, a perfect comet-shaped trail of energy illuminated the corridor, pushing back the shadows if only for a moment—a herald of the Argentum heir's passage into the unknown.