The doors loomed, thick slabs of old iron and pitted bronze framed in sea-stained stone. Etchings along the seam shimmered faintly, casting pale flickers of runes long since dulled by salt and time. Kade didn’t trust the silence. Rooms like this didn’t go quiet without planning to get loud.

  The team was spread out, stacked in disciplined breaching formation on either side of the entry. Milo and Lance flanked the seam, their boots planted, shoulders squared. Lance’s missing shield left a hollowness on his off-hand that looked more exposed than naked skin, but he hadn’t said a word about it. The rest clustered near the walls, weapons drawn but not raised. Waiting.

  Kade glanced across the group, checking each face. No one looked fresh. Not after what they’d crawled through. But they were upright, focused, alive. That would have to do.

  "You good?" she asked.

  Milo gave a nod. "Ready."

  "Copy that," Briggs said. His axe rested along his shoulder as if it were part of him.

  Stone gave a silent nod. Myers just smirked and rolled his neck, eyes fixed on the seam like it owed him money.

  Kade looked to Levi, lingering at the rear. He gave her a thumbs-up that felt about as useful as wet chalk. She didn’t answer it.

  "Everyone keep your head on a swivel," she said. "No chatter. Keep formation. We don’t know what’s inside."

  She drew her cutlass.

  "Three."

  The tension cracked across her shoulder blades like a wire about to snap.

  "Two."

  Milo shifted his weight forward.

  "One."

  Lance and Milo kicked the doors open with a crunch of old bolts and splintered hinges. They surged through the gap, weapons up, but met no resistance. The air hit them first. It was heavy with the stink of death and old smoke, laced with burnt rope and cold oil. Not fresh fire. This was the type of smoke that seeps into wood long after the flames have died. The rest was rot, the scent of a place buried long enough to forget its own name.

  The sanctum stretched wide, a vault carved into blackened stone, its ceiling lost in a dark fog that refused to rise. Iron lanterns burned in warped sconces, flames sputtering with blue heat. Their light flickered across crates stacked against the walls. Some were shattered, some sealed with rusted brands.

  A long table dominated the far end of the hall. Mugs lay scattered among parchment maps, dice, and a single brass compass that ticked aimlessly despite no one touching it. Chairs were overturned or broken. One remained upright, the figure slumped across its arm like a man who’d fallen asleep mid-toast.

  [Analyze] Sir Mordran of the Beacon | Level: 15 Boss | Status: Dead | Class: Lightbringer Paladin

  Sir Mordran of the Beacon, or what was left of him, had a cutlass buried between his shoulder blades.

  Stone moved up behind Kade and slowed. "That looks like the guy from the mural."

  "Yep," Kade said, stepping forward. "I'm guessing that was supposed to be the boss."

  Milo glanced sideways. "He get jumped?"

  "More like replaced," Kade muttered. Her eye drifted to the cutlass still buried in the dead boss’s back. "Looks like the simulation replaced the original boss with an event-related boss."

  Mercer lowered her crossbow. "You’re saying something hijacked the boss slot?"

  Kade nodded. "Sir Mordran was the lighthouse keeper from the mural. The one fighting the sea beast. Looks like he didn’t win here either."

  Colt squinted at the body. "Backstabed at the dinner table. That's rough."

  Kade stepped forward another few paces.

  The shadows moved.

  Chains scraped across the far wall, low and steady, dragging behind a figure that stepped from the edge of the fog like a memory from a better nightmare. The shape was human only in the cruelest sense. It stood tall and skeletal, wrapped in rotted blue admiral's garb trimmed with salt-crusted gold. A broad hat sat askew on the skull, its feather moldy and limp. Seaweed trailed from its shoulders, clinging like ceremonial tassels. The thing moved with the rhythm of the tide, each step slow, deliberate, and crushing.

  A black fog oozed off him with every step. Not just visual, but tactile. The air thickened as he approached, as if the dungeon itself braced for what came next.

  [Analyze] Admiral Nightglass | Level: 16 Boss | Status: Hostile | Class: Swashbuckler

  His voice cut the quiet like broken coral dragged across a hull. "Sir Mordran is indisposed at the moment," he said, pacing the length of the table, chains dragging behind him in slow, rhythmic coils. "Perhaps I can help you."

  Myers stepped forward just enough to be noticed, blade tilted low. His grin was not kind.

  "Hope so," he said. "I’ve got some stress to work out."

  The admiral stopped walking.

  The light from the lanterns flickered once.

  Kade felt the shift in her spine. The pause before violence. The exact moment before the waves crashed against the shore..

  Milo didn’t wait.

  The moment Admiral Nightglass stepped into the center of the sanctum, the marine launched forward like the point of a spear. Lance moved one step behind.

  The cutlass in Nightglass’s hand came up in a lazy arc. Milo slammed into it with his shield raised, letting the impact grind metal across the faceplate. The blow connected hard, but Milo had seen it coming. He leaned into the shield, planting his boots and bracing like a battering ram at low tide.

  "Nice hat," Milo said, voice flat and loud enough to carry. "Be a shame if something happened to it."

  The admiral tilted his skull toward him, as if surprised by the audacity.

  Mercer didn’t miss her opening.

  She shifted laterally across the flank, dropped into a firing stance, and loosed her shot. The bolt hissed across the room and hit the admiral square in the crown. The feathered tricorn spun off his head and hit the stone with a muted thud.

  For a second, everything went still.

  Then Nightglass snarled. He moved with a force that bent the moment, both arms pushing forward as he shoved Milo and Lance back with a tidebreaker’s surge. The chain on his shoulder snapped taut with the motion. The marines stumbled two steps, but stayed upright.

  The admiral reached down, snatched up the hat, and smoothed it onto his skull like it was part of the ritual. Whatever dignity was left in the undead captain lived inside that hat.

  Then he stepped forward again.

  Lance struck first this time. His longsword came in at an angle. Milo followed, cutting low to push Nightglass back onto his heels. It worked, just long enough for Colt to close the gap from the opposite side.

  The big man came in with a full overhead swing. The warhammer carved the air as it rose, weight behind every inch.

  You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

  Nightglass didn’t flinch.

  He lifted one boot and drove it into Colt’s gut before the hammer blow could land.

  The kick landed with a crack. Colt flew backward like a felled tree, his boots dragging on stone until he smashed into the far wall and collapsed in a heap.

  Myers moved next, a blur in the admiral’s blind spot. He sprang forward, leapt up, and drove his blade straight into Nightglass’s back between the shoulder blades.

  "I figured I’d return the favor," Myers snapped, twisting the blade. "That stunt you pulled with the last guy? Bit rude."

  Nightglass reached over his shoulder without looking. His fingers wrapped around Myers’s forearm. Then he yanked.

  Myers flew through the air, sailing over Milo and Lance like a broken sail. He crashed into Briggs mid-step and the two of them went down in a heap, curses overlapping.

  "You’re off the edge of the map," Nightglass said. "Here there be monsters."

  Robin didn’t wait for more theatrics. Her revolver barked once, a clean shot aimed at the eye socket.

  The admiral ducked just enough to let it pass. The bullet clanged off a lantern and shattered a crate near the wall.

  The rhythm changed as the team got their act together. Now the team was weaving in and out, striking only when there was space to avoid the counter. Mercer dropped low and moved around the flank again. Robin circled wide, pistol steady. Lance and Milo kept the admiral busy, trading bait and defense, buying seconds for anyone with reach or guts.

  Kade moved in.

  Her cutlass scraped along the back of Nightglass’s thigh, a clean shot angled low. The blade bit through cloth and bone, but she didn’t get clear fast enough.

  The admiral’s off-hand came around in a wide backhand. The strike caught her cheekbone and turned her vision sideways.

  She staggered back, blood already flowing from her nose. Her footing held, but barely. Pain narrowed her view to a tunnel. She wiped it away with her forearm and spat copper.

  Robin snapped off another shot, but Nightglass twisted with inhuman grace. Nothing landed.

  Then the admiral paused.

  His skull turned.

  Levi had made it three steps toward the table. Maybe four.

  The man was hunched low, hand outstretched toward the artifact resting beside a shattered mug.

  The admiral’s pistol cleared its holster as if it had never been there. The shot cracked through the sanctum and punched through the table’s edge, splintering the spot where Levi’s fingers had been a moment before.

  "Now, now," Nightglass said. "You’re playing the game out of order."

  Levi dropped flat onto the floor, hand still trembling.

  Kade opened her mouth to call out orders, but Nightglass moved first.

  He spun in place, dragging his cutlass in a wide, brutal arc. The blade sliced through open air in a sweeping circle that forced the entire team back two steps.

  The rhythm broke.

  Without warning, the admiral leapt upward, boots hitting the wall with unnatural speed. He kicked off into a backward climb, scaling up toward the balcony that overlooked the chamber.

  Nightglass landed in a crouch, chains coiled at his feet.

  He raised the hilt of his cutlass and slammed it down against the iron bell behind him.

  The sound rang like deep water rolling over stone.

  "Rise from the deep," he said. "And serve again, my cursed crew."

  Somewhere below, something answered.

  The sound began low, a shiver of bone scraping stone, metal dragging across ruined scabbards. Footfalls returning from the grave. One by one, shapes emerged from the dark. Skeletal figures in tattered naval uniforms, their bodies held together by spite and whatever dark will answered Admiral Nightglass’s call.

  Kade took one step forward and counted. She just tightened her grip, blood still warm on her face, and watched the next phase of the boss battle unfold.

  [Analyze] Cursed Crewman | Level: 11 Elite | Status: Hostile | Class: Swashbuckler

  [Analyze] Cursed Crewman | Level: 12 Elite | Status: Hostile | Class: Swashbuckler

  [Analyze] Cursed Crewman | Level: 13 Elite | Status: Hostile | Class: Swashbuckler

  [Analyze] Cursed Crewman | Level: 13 Elite | Status: Hostile | Class: Swashbuckler

  [Analyze] Cursed Marine | Level: 11 Elite | Status: Hostile | Class: Buccaneer

  [Analyze] Cursed Marine | Level: 12 Elite | Status: Hostile | Class: Buccaneer

  [Analyze] Cursed Marine | Level: 12 Elite | Status: Hostile | Class: Buccaneer

  [Analyze] Cursed Marine | Level: 13 Elite | Status: Hostile | Class: Buccaneer

  [Analyze] Cursed Grenadier | Level: 12 Elite | Status: Hostile | Class: Swashbuckler

  [Analyze] Cursed First Mate | Level 15 Elite | Status: Hostile | Class: Corsair

  Four marines with spears advanced in formation like they remembered drill. Four swashbucklers mirrored them, cutlasses raised in broken ceremony. Two crossbowmen stood on the flanks, bows already drawn. Behind them, a bulkier figure clutched a bag of fused charges and a shattered jaw barely holding a length of fuse. Grenadier. And then the First Mate stepped into view. Cutlass gleaming and standing tall as if it had never stopped being a commander.

  “Perimeter, don't let them surround us! Crossbowmen and grenadiers first,” Kade snapped. “Move.”

  Everyone shifted, splitting into lanes as the first bolt hissed past Kade's cheek, close enough to nick skin already cut. She didn’t flinch. The First Mate was on her a second later, blade raised high.

  Kade stepped into the strike, parried once, and turned the second blow aside with a low pivot. The thing moved like a duelist, but there was no emotion behind the strikes. Nothing but cold calculation and hatred of the living.

  Stone raised her hand and fired. A bolt of gold light cracked across the sanctum and punched through one of the crossbow skeletons, reducing it to scorched fragments before its next shot could fly.

  The First Mate circled, blade slashing downward. Kade caught it with a crossguard deflection and stepped back just enough to reset.

  Then the ground broke.

  Shards of crystal erupted without warning, jagged and pulsing with a sickly light. Ghostly shapes drifted toward them at a slow, deliberate pace.

  [Analyze] Soulwell | Level: 10 | Status: Neutral | Class: Special

  Kade watched the nearest one. It weaved between two broken chairs as it hovered just barely above the ground. When it reached the crystal, it hesitated before reaching out to touch the crystal. A moment passed where nothing moved at all.

  Then it touched the well.

  [Analyze] Soulwell | Level: 10 | Status: Hostile | Class: Special

  “Milo, eyes up…”

  Too late. A chain lashed out from the nearest soulwell, spectral and barbed. It wrapped around his ankle and yanked hard. Milo hit the stone, lost his grip on the shield, and started sliding backwards.

  The other crossbowman zeroed in on the downed form of Milo and fired.

  The bolt caught him in the thigh.

  “Briggs! Myers! Hit the crystal!” Kade shouted. “Now!”

  Both men were already moving. Myers shifted into a full sprint while Briggs adjusted his path mid-charge, axe raised. They struck as one, metal slamming into the base of the crystal. The soulwell cracked, then exploded in a burst of light and pressure. The chain fell slack. Milo stopped sliding. Stone was already kneeling beside him, one hand glowing as healing magic surged into the wound.

  Lance held the center of the room alone. His sword moved without pause, but the skeletons pressed with numbers. A spear glanced off his shoulder. Another dug into the side of his leg. He didn’t yield.

  Colt charged in from the flank, warhammer gripped in both hands. His first swing flattened a marine skeleton outright, bones spraying across the floor. He and Lance fell into rhythm, holding the bulk of the enemy push with sheer force.

  Kade caught the First Mate’s blade against hers again, their swords locking in a grinding push. She twisted under it, slammed a fist into the creature’s jaw. It staggered. Not far, but far enough.

  “Myers, Briggs! Keep breaking those wells!” she called, not taking her eyes off her own fight.

  Another soulwell cracked in the distance, followed by a second blast of ghostlight.

  Robin and Mercer had drawn three of the swashbucklers away, fighting in tandem near a collapsed crate. Robin’s revolver crippled targets, while Mercer weaved in and out with her blade and crossbow.

  Then the grenade came.

  A black iron sphere arced through the air, trailing fuse. Mercer saw it first. She didn’t shout a warning, just slammed into Robin, driving them both down as the charge hit the ground beside them.

  The explosion ripped through the air. Flame and bone blasted outward, reducing the swashbucklers to molten wreckage. Mercer rolled up, smoking but intact, her armor shredded at the shoulder.

  Robin blinked. “Still breathing?”

  “Barely,” Mercer said, already reloading her crossbow.

  Kade met the First Mate again. Their blades collided. This time she turned the strike aside, pivoted, and brought her cutlass around in a swift attack. The strike landed across the thing’s ribs. It staggered.

  She pressed in, slammed her boot against its shin, and drove her elbow into the skull. The First Mate dropped to one knee, weapon clattering away. Kade didn’t hesitate. She reversed her grip and struck a backhanded cut through the neck. The head rolled, and the body crumpled after it.

  Across the chamber, Levi moved.

  Kade saw it instantly. He was going after the artifact again.

  “Levi!” she shouted. “Stop…!”

  He didn’t.

  His hand stretched toward the artifact on the table. His fingers just about to close around it.

  The shot rang out like a hammer through glass.

  A single round from the Admiral’s pistol caught Levi high in the neck, tearing through vertebrae and throat in one sharp crack. He dropped mid-step, limbs folding under him as he collapsed beside the relic he’d chased since the start.

  Kade froze.

  She hadn’t liked Levi, nor had she ever pretended to. He’d been a bureaucratic tagalong with no training, no discipline, and too many questions asked at the worst imaginable times. She was almost certain he’d been sent to steal the artifact on behalf of the Restoration Council, and he hadn’t exactly gone to great lengths to hide it. But none of that made him expendable. He was still someone she was supposed to bring home.

  She opened her mouth, but nothing came.

  From above, the Admiral’s voice echoed across the room.

  “Ambition’s a fine compass. Tis a shame yours pointed straight to the grave.”

  Stone screamed in rage as she turned. Her next holy bolt streaked across the field and struck the grenadier in the chest. The creature didn’t even fall apart. It simply stopped existing, reduced to a flash of golden smoke.

  "What a dumbass," Robin said with a grimace.

  "Weasel got what he deserved," Colt added.

  Briggs and Myers reached the final soulwell and shattered it together, sending a wave of light through the stone. The last of the ghostly forms vanished.

  "Focus! We're not done with this yet," Kade shouted.

  Then the Admiral dropped from the balcony.

  He hit the floor like a cannon shot, boots crushing fractured stone beneath them. His head came up slowly. He didn’t speak.

  He screamed.

  A primal, bone-deep sound that cracked through the room and made every sconce flicker. His blade ignited with a ghostly fire, spectral flames racing up the edge until the room pulsed with its light.

  “You’ve survived the current. Now let’s see if you can weather the storm.” Admiral Nightglass growled.

  Kade raised her blade.

  This wasn’t over. Not even close.