Chapter 18 of 20

The third floor grind chap 18

The Rise Of The Lone Spellblade1,057 words~6 min read

The deeper Valen delved into the Fenward Dungeon, the more it tested his resolve.

On the third floor, the air grew colder. The moss that lit the previous floors faded into eerie blue fungi that pulsed with dim bioluminescence. The terrain shifted too—jagged stone ridges jutted from the ground like crude fangs, and strange clicking sounds echoed in the distance.

Valen moved like a shadow, his twin blades tucked close to his sides. The Spider Fang Duel Blades had become extensions of his arms—light, precise, deadly. With each kill, his flow sharpened. Echo Step blurred him through gaps in enemy defences, while Phantom Slash painted afterimages of death across the battlefield.

The monsters here weren’t just stronger—they were coordinated. Packs of stone-scaled creatures worked together, luring him into kill zones. But Valen adapted. His instincts and experience let him tear through ambushes with calculated aggression. He switched styles mid-combat with Blade Shift, flowing between evasive flips and aggressive slashes.

By midday, he’d felled a pack of armored boar-beasts near a narrow ravine. The last one squealed as Valen’s blade pierced its throat in a blink-fast lunge. Blood steamed on the rocks.

He checked his status.

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Name: Valen

Age: 15

Race: Human

Class: Swordsman

[Hidden Class: Legendary Swordsman]

Level: 22

Affinities: None registered

Mana: 150

Stamina: 280

Vitality: 230

Strength: 55

Agility: 61

Endurance: 53

Dexterity: 50

Intellect: 30

Willpower: 49

Luck: 22

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Skills:

Swordsman

Passive:

* 15% boost to all stats (Legendary)

* Heightened Intuition

* Instinctive Parry

Active:

* Quickdraw

* Precision Slash

Berserker

Passive:

* Fury Drive

* Unyielding Will

Active:

* Overdrive

* Raged Cleave

Duel Blader

Passive:

* Mirrored Movement

* Blade Shift

Active:

* Phantom Slash

* Duel Parry

* Echo Step

Legendary Skill:

* Swordmaster’s Flow

He was close.

A few more fights and he'd reach Level 24. Still, caution called louder than pride. He hadn’t eaten, and a long day like this dulled his edge. Valen began his return to the surface.

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The ascent was quiet.

Monsters seemed to avoid him now. Whether it was the stench of their dead on his clothes or the sheer pressure his aura now exuded, he didn’t know. He exited the dungeon near dusk, skin coated in dust and blood.

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Fenward’s air felt cleaner somehow maybe he was used to it now. He headed straight for the Adventurer’s Guild, cutting through the alley to avoid the main plaza. Too many eyes lingered on his weapons these days.

Inside, the same bored receptionist looked up. “Back again?” she asked, arching a brow.

He dumped a leather sack on the counter. “Third floor haul. Weighted cores, boar hide, fangs and scales.”

She inspected them briskly. “Two gold, fifty silver,” she said. “That’s a heavy day.”

Valen accepted the coins and immediately turned to leave.

Instead of going home, he made his way to a small vendor tucked between two smithies. A square building with a dark wood sign above it. Ruklan’s Relics.

The old man inside had long white brows and a beady-eyed stare. He nodded slowly as Valen stepped in.

“You’re here for a bag?.”

Valen didn’t reply—just reached into his pouch and counted out coins. Gold after gold, until ten gleaming pieces sat stacked before him. He added thirty silver beside them.

The shopkeeper blinked, then gave a rare smile.

“You’ve earned it, then.” He knelt beneath the counter, unlocked a chest, and brought out a tightly wrapped leather belt-pouch with silver trim. “Grade I spatial bag. Stores up to 60kg. Sorted by type. Don’t lose it.”

Valen nodded, strapping it to his belt. It was light as air.

Finally.

He walked home under a quiet sky, the heavy weight of loot lifted from his shoulders for the last time. Tomorrow, he’d return to the dungeon, light and unburdened.

And he’d hit Level 24.

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The next day came quietly. Before dawn, Valen slipped into the dungeon again, no longer weighed down by bulging packs. Every item now disappeared into the compact satchel at his waist. He could move, fight, and kill with total freedom.

The third floor greeted him with its usual grimness. But this time, Valen didn’t pace himself. He hunted with precision. He lured beasts into traps. He dispatched crawler swarms with Phantom Slash followed by a sweeping Raged Cleave. Every fight pushed him faster, sharper, more refined.

When a towering stone ogre lumbered into his path—clearly a miniboss—Valen didn’t hesitate.

He shifted into aggressive stance with Blade Shift.

Echo Step.

Quickdraw.

Momentum built as he zipped around the ogre’s swings, striking tendons and joints with surgical grace. He activated Overdrive, flooding his limbs with force, and then—Phantom Slash.

The ogre collapsed mid-roar, split from neck to sternum.

A familiar glow filled Valen’s vision.

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Level Up! Level 25 Achieved.

He let out a slow breath, sheathed his blades, and turned for home.

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Later that afternoon, Fenward Village bustled with its usual rhythm. Valen passed through unnoticed, hood pulled low. For once, he wasn’t in a rush.

When he opened the door to his modest home, the scent of herbs and simmering broth drifted from the kitchen.

"Valen?" called a voice. His mother, Elyse, appeared around the corner, wiping her hands on her apron. "Back already?"

He nodded. "Finished what I needed."

She smiled, tired but warm. "Well, we could use help with the firewood. Your father’s been busy reforging a cart axle all day."

"I’ll handle it," Valen said, already heading for the back shed.

He spent the next hour splitting logs, stacking them neatly along the wall. When Clyde returned, drenched in sweat and soot, Valen joined him in tightening bolts on the new axle, their work silent but companionable.

Dinner was simple—vegetable stew, brown bread, and a slice of salted boar meat. Valen ate quietly as his parents chatted about local gossip and minor village repairs.

Later, after dishes were done and night had fallen, Valen sat outside the house, staring at the stars.

Level 25.

A spatial bag.

No more obstacles.

He was almost ready to leave.

But first he wondered what class he would get tonight

What new swordsman move would he get

Maybe an assassin or a heavy hitting tank

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