Let’s get one thing straight: I didn’t mean to burn a whole vilge down.

  Alright, I meant it. But it sounded way less psychotic in my head.

  So here we are. Floor 12 of the dungeon. Elf territory. Tall trees, mystical fog, a suspiciously peaceful ambiance that screams “ambush,” and a lot of elven architecture that honestly looked way too fmmable for a race that lives underground surrounded by magic.

  Which brings us to the other important part: me, Lucien Wyrhart, currently on the edge of a magical breakthrough and very much trying to unlock Stage 3 – Manifestation so I can cash in on the Princess’s… generous offer.

  Motivation, thy name is unholy thirst.

  The Madness BeginsThe second we stepped onto the floor, it was like the air changed. You could feel it: old magic, wild and raw, soaked into the roots of the forest. It tickled at the back of my skull like someone whispering, “You shouldn’t be here,” which only made me want to be there more.

  Squad 7, of course, had already gone full gremlin mode. Rielle stretched, rolled her neck like she was warming up for a street fight. Eli unsheathed her sword and casually asked, “So are we stabbing or talking today?”

  “Stabbing,” I replied. “Definitely stabbing.”

  Vilge #1: Tactical ArsonWe encountered the first elven patrol maybe twenty minutes in. Cloaked in mossy green armor, bows drawn, eyes glowing with spirit magic.

  They shouted something in Elvish. It sounded like, “You will not pass.”

  I responded with, “Cool. Infernum Ignis!”

  Fmes exploded from my palm. Trees lit like kindling. Elves scattered. Gram shouted something about “fire safety,” but Rielle had already unched herself into the melee like a demon in high heels, cleaving through two archers while ughing like a woman who needed therapy and snacks.

  “Are you supposed to be burning everything already?” Cassandra, our so-called supervisor, asked from behind a rock.

  I shouted back, “It’s controlled arson! Very tactical!”

  Ember, my now halfway-evolved snake-samander hybrid familiar, was flying overhead, breathing fire like some unholy cross between a dragon and a fmethrower nozzle. We were, in short, putting on a light show that would’ve made most war tribunals raise an eyebrow.

  “Do It For the Princess” Mode: ActivatedThe real switch flipped after Rielle sidled up to me mid-fight, bdes dripping with spirit energy, and whispered in my ear, “You know… even if you fail the Princess’s little ‘test,’ you can still do something to me if you’re strong enough.”

  …

  I bcked out. I’m not even joking.

  My vision blurred. My mana surged. The ground cracked under my feet as magic surged through my core. I screamed, probably something dramatic like “FOR SCIENCE!” and unleashed everything.

  All four elements—fire, water, wind, earth—exploded out of me in one cacophonous storm of destruction.

  I leveled an entire elven vilge. Thatched rooftops flew like confetti. Their magical wards shattered under my barrage. I even invented a new spell on the spot that involved freezing the water in their wells and then detonating it into ice shrapnel.

  It was beautiful. And terrifying. Mostly terrifying.

  Squad 7 Goes Goblin ModeSeeing me go completely feral apparently unlocked some inner chaos switch in the rest of Squad 7.

  Rielle screamed, “NO RULES!” and started dual-wielding swords that weren’t even hers.

  Eli tackled an elf commander through a hut, screaming, “I AM THE ETIQUETTE!”

  Gram was cackling from the treetops, tossing experimental potions like some demented flower girl at a war wedding. One nded near a tree and grew into a twenty-foot venus flytrap. No expnation. No apology.

  The student council was panicking through their magic comms.

  “He’s using spirit mana—no wait, now it’s fire—wait, he’s dual-casting wind and earth?! WHAT IS HE?!”

  The Princess, for once, was silent.

  Just standing at the edge of the battlefield, arms crossed, watching with a slightly unnerved expression. Not fear. Not anger. Just that look of a woman realizing maybe she shouldn’t have tempted the unhinged sorcerer with seductive rewards.

  Oops.

  “Controlled Chaos,” We Say While ScreamingBy the end of Floor 12, I had singlehandedly eliminated three elf vilges, drained over 60% of my mana pool, and collected a sackful of enchanted herbs, glowing elf artifacts, bottled potions, and one weird scroll I couldn’t read but decided to keep because it smelled like blueberries and danger.

  My hands were trembling. My eyes glowing faintly. I was sweating like a man who’d just bench-pressed an arcane storm.

  “Lucien,” Gram said, eyes wide as he checked my vitals, “you’re spiking. You’re burning mana faster than you can regenerate.”

  “I don’t care,” I growled, grinning, “I’m going to manifest if it kills me.”

  The others looked at me like I’d finally lost it.

  Which, to be fair, I had.

  And then we reached Floor 13. And I saw another elven outpost.

  My fingers twitched.

  “Burn it,” Rielle whispered, grinning beside me.

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  To Be Continued…So yeah. Floor 12? A crater. Floor 13? On fire. My mental stability? Hanging by a thread made of mana and hormones.

  But I could feel it now. That buzz under my skin. The tremble in my bones. The shift in how the dungeon responded to me.

  Stage 3 – Manifestation. I was so damn close.

  And if anyone got in my way… well.

  Let’s just say I wasn’t in a diplomatic mood.