Borik was like a lightning made flesh. And, the darkness didn't bother him. He had a nagging feeling like what he was doing was wrong, somewhat. But, how could it be?

The mobs are here.

He had heard the voice of his guild master, weak from the fight with the traitor Jean, whisper. Jean had not believed that the guild master had been down there, unlike Borik himself and Andors. He had let loose an arrow barrage at him, and it had been all that the two berserkers could do to shield the guild master with their bodies.

Jean didn't want to believe that the guild master was locked in the tomb. He had tried to shout at them to step away. Called the aged elf, the dungeon core of shadows. But, Borik knew better.

Now, more traitors had gathered outside the tomb.

This is a mutiny.

Borik frowned. He didn't need to be told twice. He and Andors would protect the guild master. And, when all the traitors were taken care of, by the loyalists who had been presumed dead all these years ago, then the guild master was going to rise Borik and Andors's ranks to S. No, even to SS!

But, a part of him regretted what he was doing. That part made him miss the vital points of the female mage that was feeling up the walls, looking for God knew what.

She was a traitor, but, after she did her time in prison, she could be reformed. And death was not something Borik celebrated.

Kill them all.

Borik blinked at the command as he raised his two-handed sword to block the upstart berserker's axe charge. Did the guild master just order the death of traitors? There had been no executions under him in the past two hundred years. Even Asmodeos, the famed necromancer, had gotten off with just exile.

"But, they could turn around," Borik argued, and then he felt the splitting headache come again.

Kill them all.

The voice of his guild master repeated. But Borik gritted his teeth and aimed for spots that were just going to force the traitors to the ground. Not kill them. They were human, not mobs, like how the guild master claimed. And Borik followed the adventurer's code in all matters.

Obey.

Borik felt his knees grow weak as arrows pierced them. But those were not the sharp arrows of Jean, rather, something that brought him to the floor, paralyzed.

The traitors surrounded him, and they began to guard him as the berserker among them charged at a wall, and he began to bash it with its axe.

Get up!

Borik felt mana pour inside his limbs, but, the arrows had disrupted his mana circulation. So, like water during the rainy season, the mana build up before popping like a bubble.

Borik screamed at the pain, and he felt a hand over his pained knees.

"Don't heal him yet, Leander. Morris still hasn't gotten to the generator!" Whose voice was that, Borik wondered as he suddenly began to feel cold as more mana poured into him, exploding in places. It sounded like Aros.

 Borik remembered going to a wendigo hunting mission in the mountains with Aros and the Raging Bulls, when they had been just rookies and Jean and Andors had been sick with the coughing sickness.

Aros had always been a tough bastard. Cold to a fault. Yes, he was now a traitor, but, to not show any consideration to Borik when Borik had pulled back his punches was cruel.

Get up!

Borik felt mana build up in his brain, and then he closed his eyes. This was it, then. He would die by the order of the guild master, at the hands of former friends.

How he wished he went on a more mundane mission, for once. Like that stable mucking one that the Try Hard Party went on. Or the goblin settlement one that the...wait. Who went on that one? He remembered having laughed over the fact that the Firebolts's record had been beaten by rookies, but which party had done it?

"He is going to die if I don't do something!" Borik heard someone snap, and he felt two warm, meaty, hands press against his temple and begin to drain the mana and redirect it somewhere wooden. A staff, perhaps?

Kill.

Finally, the effects of the arrows went away and Borik stood, the new mana now circulating into his system. He gripped the closest person to him and, with a bit of trouble because that man was too heavy by far, slammed him on the stone floor.

Borik heard the sickening crunch of bones, and then the hit of a shield on his head. With a thud, Borik fell next to Leander. But the dungeon core did not stop pouring mana into Borik's body.

Leander propped himself up on shaky limbs and pressed a hand over Borik, forcing all the mana that the dungeon core was pouring inside the berserker into his staff. Then, much to his horror, the gem filled up and began to vibrate dangerously. Yet, the core still was not stopping.

"No," Leander managed to croak, and then he began to take the mana into himself. Then, he heard it.

Kill.

The command was simple, and it came in the voice of the guild master. Leander felt hazy. Then, he shook his head like a wet dog. And continued to siphon the mana into his own limbs. Using it to heal himself with his mana draining, A rank healing spell.

Obey.

The core tried again, but Leander didn't pay it any mind.

"If you honestly believe I will fall for such a trick, you have another thing coming!" Leander screamed into the darkness and then, he felt his limbs beginning to stiffen.

Then die.

Leander was healing the damage, but the core was now focusing all the extra mana into Leander's limbs. The healer's skin grew hot, yet, he felt cold.

Just as Leander was about to close his eyes, he heard a crash and the feeling of the mana stopped. Morris had gotten to the generator. Just in time.