There was no time to think. The agent was already past the tip of his spear, its body swooping around the wood even as Velik tried to bat it away. In less time than it took to blink, it was at face level. Velik’s hand snapped into place to block, even as he realized the agent would simply flow around it.

Mana arced through his body, gathered in his palm, and erupted into a [Dread Lance] the width of his shoulders. The agent was too close to dodge out of the way of the incandescent beam, but Velik lost sight of where exactly it went.

The [Dread Lance] ended as abruptly as it began, leaving him standing there clutching at his wrist, his spear laying in the dirt next to him and the hand that had released the skill charred black with smoke rising from the muscle and bone. There was no skin left on his palm.

Notifications popped up, but Velik mentally brushed them aside and fell to his knees. He’d been stabbed, bitten, burned, and sliced open a thousand times, but none of them compared to this. Even when he’d first gained [Dread Lance] and had gotten caught in the explosions before he’d learned how to manage the skill, the pain hadn’t been this bad.

The Life Giver’s Ring glinted through the charred ruin of his finger, its magic already working to restore the limb. Maybe it would even work, given enough time, but Velik had a faster way. He pulled on [True Form] and let the transformation come over him.

When he came to, he was lying on the ground, the charred remains of a paw in front of him. The pain had lessened, though that probably had more to do with his increased physical and possible size than it did with a few seconds having passed. More importantly, his wolf form had impressive physical regeneration and he hoped it would fix the issue. If it didn’t look to be making progress in the next minute or two, his final idea was an expensive limb regeneration potion from the system store, though that would require an amputation first.

Not being terribly keen on the idea of cutting off his hand just so it could spend a few days regrowing, he was hoping his natural abilities would fix up the issue. The pain at least started to lessen as the minutes went by, merely feeling like he was dipping his hand in molten metal now.

Torwin showed back up around then, dragging the body of the sword-wielding hunter behind him. He took one look at Velik, his eyes locked on the charred paw, and he winced. “That’s… unexpected. The guy with the spear did that?”

Velik shook his head, and Torwin let the issue be. Communication was difficult in wolf form, and explanations could wait a few minutes. In the meantime, Velik focused on healing and Torwin finished stripping down the bodies. He piled the loot up, and Velik dutifully pulled it into his Traveler’s Bracelet.

“I think they’re a trio of bounty hunters,” Torwin explained. “They might have been called into the area when someone noted the dungeon collapse, and then just found us using a skill to hunt down whoever the most powerful target in the area is. There are a couple skills like that that can be tweaked to specific criteria.

“We might have to cut our search short, though. When these three don’t show back up in a few days, whoever hired them might send more hunters out.” Torwin paused to grin as he rifled through the archer’s quiver. “Oh, I can use some of these. Specialty ammunition is always pricey. Anyway, like I was saying, it might be time to cut our losses on this one and give up on the seed.”

Velik let out an annoyed huff to get Torwin’s attention, then flicked the belt pouch with the dungeon seed in it his way. Torwin picked it up and went to dump the contents into his hand, only stopping when Velik yipped a warning. Instead, he peered into it with considerably more care, then blinked in surprise.

“The bounty hunters had it?” he asked. “That’s… unlikely.”

Velik nodded his head at the dead spearman, whose stomach was split open. Torwin followed the motion, and his expression immediately darkened. “That confirms it, then, doesn’t it? I’m going to assume the agent is dead?”

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[Dread Lance has advanced to rank 7.]

[You have slain an agent of corruption (level 52).]

[You have been awarded 4 decarmas.]

[You have taken a champion seed from its former owner, Astavor.]

[Champion seed’s current reserves: 14/500.]

There was a lot of information to unpack there. First and foremost was that the corruption apparently had the same inventory storing system people did for tracking decarmas and champion seeds. There was also the fact that the agent apparently had a name, which had some implication that Velik wasn’t prepared to try to unravel. He’d pass that on to people smarter than him and let them figure out what it meant.

Velik spent the two free points he’d gotten from leveling up when he’d killed the agent’s host in mystic and considered the empty skill slot for a second, but held off on filling it for the moment. He wanted to have a chat about combining mana sensing skills with Torwin before he took something else, but as long as something like [Mana Feel] or [Mana Scent] merged easily, he’d probably grab that and work on immediately mashing them together.

New flesh was slowly starting to grow on Velik’s paw. It was still blackened and incredibly agonizing, but the edges were healing, and that promised an end to the pain. He lifted the charred limb and waved it, prompting another confused look from Torwin.

“How? Well, whatever. Tell me later. It looks like it’s healing, at least.”

Velik wasn’t denying the gains he’d made instinctively channeling [Dread Lance] through his hand instead of a weapon, but he couldn’t honestly say he’d be willing to suffer through the pain a second time. It hurt so bad that he hadn’t even taken a moment to make sure he was safe, that the agent was actually dead, before he’d dropped into wolf form to draw on his regenerative capabilities.

“You know,” Torwin said as he looked down at the dungeon seed again, “this thing might be twisting its mana to hide, but it can’t completely mask itself. If we could get a mana compass modified to lock onto the signature, we might be able to have an arrow that points directly to them. That’d make it a lot easier to find places that are producing corruption in one form or another.”

Velik had no idea about any of that, but if a compass that pointed at dungeon seeds could help him find whoever was behind making them in the first place, he was all for the idea. If that lead pans out, this’ll all have been worth it.

Torwin finished looting the bounty hunters, and Velik climbed to his feet. He was slowed by his limp, but he wasn’t willing to shift back to human form until he was much farther along in the healing process. But it was still dark, and he was faster than Torwin anyway, so he kept up without slowing their retreat down too much.

* * *

The edge of the Garden was a bare ten miles away, and standing between them was a camp of thousands of humans. It appeared that they were fighting with each other, and that one side had forced the other past the boundary.

“Can you smell it?” he asked.

“You know that I cannot,” she replied, annoyed by the question.

“One of Zelamir’s experiments. The puppeteer one, I think.”

That one had failed miserably back home, but it seemed to be enjoying some measure of success in the Garden. They’d all called him a fool to risk the pillars just to plant that particular seed. He’d ignored them and done it anyway.

“Related to his other project somehow, you think?” she asked, though she was more thinking out loud than soliciting an opinion. He wasn’t known for his brains, after all.

“Who cares? You’re missing the important part.”

“What’s that?”

“There’s a few thousand humans outside the boundary right in front of us, unprotected by the compact. It’s almost like Legra herself came down from her divine palace and offered us a gift.”

She rolled her eyes. “Fine, go play.”

“You’re not going to join me?”

“I outgrew these kinds of urges a long time ago.”

Twenty minutes later, the human encampment was nothing but a sea of torn flesh and spilled blood, stinking of viscera and entrails, and utterly silent. She doubted a single one of them had escaped their fate, no matter how good they were at hiding. His senses were too keen to miss one, and his sadism knew no bounds.

“Now that was refreshing!” he said as he bounded up to where she’d waited for him at the edge of the boundary. Blood dribbled off his hands into the sand, and he left red footprints in his wake.

“I hope you got your fill of it, because you’ll be restraining yourself once we’re on the other side.”

“I know that! You’re not my keeper. In fact, once you show me where the other sky bridge is, you can piss off to wherever. I don’t need you following me around, lurking over my shoulder.”

She wouldn’t argue with that. If it meant a few days of peace and quiet, she was happy to leave him to his own devices. With any luck, he’d break the compact and get himself smited for his efforts.

“What’re you smiling about?” he asked.

She didn’t answer.