The air on Floor 7 was a choking mixture of ash and dry heat. Unlike the slow-moving slimes of the previous floor, the shadows here moved with lethal, flickering speed.
Clang!
The sound of steel striking stone echoed through the chamber, followed by a grunt of sheer exhaustion. Clara rounded a pillar of obsidian and stopped dead.
In the center of a wide, scorched arena stood a Knight. She was encased in heavy, ornate plate armor that had once been silver but was now glowing a dull, dangerous orange. Her plume was burnt to a crisp, and her breath was coming in ragged gasps through the slits of her visor.
Surrounding her were six Cinder-Hounds. They were skeletal beasts made of charred bone and living embers, their eyes glowing like miniature furnaces. They moved in a coordinated circle, waiting for the Knight's strength to finally give out.
"Back... stay back..." the Knight groaned, her heavy claymore trembling in her grip. One of the hounds lunged, snapping at her greaves. She swatted it away, but the effort nearly toppled her.
The heat inside that armor had to be unbearable. She wasn't just fighting monsters; she was being cooked alive.
The Cooling Rain
Clara’s heart hammered against her ribs. The crackling of the hounds' fur sent a shiver of dread up her spine, but seeing the Knight stumble broke the spell of her fear.
"Hey! Over here, you overgrown campfires!" Clara yelled, stepping into the light.
The hounds' heads snapped toward her, their molten drool hissing as it hit the floor.
"Clara! Focus!" she whispered to herself. She raised her staff high. "Healing Magic: Spring’s Embrace!"
She didn't aim the spell at a wound. She aimed it at the Knight’s armor. A localized cloud of shimmering blue mist condensed directly over the Knight, pouring down a magical, chilled rain. The contact of cold water on the glowing metal created a massive eruption of steam.
"What...?" the Knight’s voice was muffled, filled with shock as the life-threatening heat was sucked out of her suit.
The Hydro-Spear
The hounds didn't like the rain. Three of them turned and charged at Clara, their paws leaving charred prints on the stone.
"Not today!" Clara’s smile was gone now, replaced by a look of fierce concentration. She reached into the steam she had just created. "Hydro-Forge: Piercing Current!"
The steam and the rain-water spiraled into her grasp, hardening into a seven-foot-long spear of crystalline water. The tip was rotating like a drill, humming with high-pressure power.
As the first hound leaped, Clara didn't retreat. She stepped into the strike, thrusting the spear forward. The water point pierced through the hound’s chest, hitting the glowing ember that served as its heart.
Hiss!
The hound didn't just die; it extinguished, turning into a pile of cold ash instantly.
The Knight, feeling the surge of magical healing from the "Spring's Embrace," found her second wind. She let out a battle cry, her claymore sweeping through the air in a massive arc, cleaving two more hounds in half.
"Behind you!" Clara shouted, flicking her wrist. Her spear liquefied and reshaped into a Water Whip, wrapping around the throat of a hound jumping at the Knight’s back and slamming it into a wall.
The Steel and the Stream
Within minutes, the arena was silent, covered in puddles and piles of gray soot.
The Knight slumped to one knee, using her sword as a crutch. With a hiss of steam, she reached up and unlatched her helmet. As it came off, a cascade of sweat-soaked, raven-black hair fell across her shoulders. Her face was sharp and aristocratic, but her eyes—a piercing steel gray—were wide with disbelief.
"You..." the Knight panted, looking at Clara. "You’re a Rank D. A Bronze."
Clara let the water whip dissolve back into her water skin. She wiped her forehead and snapped her "Happy-go-lucky" smile back into place, though her hands were still shaking slightly.
"Clara Green! Spellbinder!" she chirped, trotting over and offering a hand. "And you look like you were about to turn into a well-done steak! Are you okay, Miss Knight?"
The Knight stared at Clara’s outstretched hand, then at the bubbly girl who had just dismantled a pack of Cinder-Hounds with a smile. She took the hand, her gauntlet feeling heavy and cold.
"I am Seraphina Thorne," the Knight said, her voice regaining its iron-clad dignity. "And it appears, Bronze-rank... that I owe you my life."
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