"Potential is an ability only chasers can access—so I've heard."
Dator's voice came from the shadows. None of us had seen him approach.
Dixon tilted his head. "So... potential is like completing something?"
"Not quite." Dator stepped forward, arms crossed. "It's an ability you unlock after the most intense training imaginable."
"So that's how the other sword-chaser got his power," Jax said, piecing it together.
"But how did he move that fast?" I asked.
Dator shrugged. "It's not complicated once you understand. After you unlock your potential, you're granted an ability—sometimes many. It depends on how hard you train."
He continued, "But your ability reflects your body. If you're built for speed, you become faster. If you're built for strength, you hit harder. Your body decides."
Cast looked skeptical. "How long does it take to reach that point?"
"Depends on you. You complete the training, unlock your potential, and then..."
Dator trailed off.
"Then what?" I pressed.
"You'll need to find another chaser who's done it to learn that part. I've never unlocked mine—I only know this much." He gave a half-smile. "That's all I have for you."
I exhaled slowly. "Well... thank you, Dator. But next time you want to share something, maybe don't sneak up on us?"
He chuckled. "My bad. I like the element of surprise."
After Dator left, we sat in the dim room discussing our next move.
"How do we find someone who's unlocked their potential?" Cast asked.
"Town to town," Dixon said. "Castle to castle. Until we find one."
I shook my head. "First, we find the Fury Blade. Then we worry about abilities."
They all nodded. "Agreed."
Morning came, and we set out.
The walk was long, but we used the time wisely—sketching plans, discussing strategies, preparing for what lay ahead. By the time we reached the Grasslands, exhaustion had crept back in.
The grass rose unnaturally high. For a moment, I mistook it for the golden walls of the kingdom we'd left behind.
We drew our swords and began cutting a path forward.
The grass grew back instantly.
Then it attacked.
Green tendrils wrapped around our legs, our arms—yanking, pulling, tightening. We slashed and hacked, but every blade regrew faster than we could cut. The grass dragged us down, binding us completely.
A roar of fire erupted.
The field around us disintegrated in a wave of heat. Someone cut us free.
We scrambled to our feet and looked up. A figure stood on a cliff above, silhouetted against the sky, flames still licking their blade.
They jumped down and landed in front of us.
"If I hadn't shown up, the grass would've thrown you into the volcano."
She sheathed her sword—a blade wreathed in ember light.
"Name's Flake. Well, nickname. But that's what you'll call me."
I caught my breath. "Thanks, Flake. We were almost done for."
Introductions followed. Flake was also hunting the Fury Blade, so she joined our party.
Together, we searched for the dungeon entrance. High ground, low ground, every crevice—nothing.
Then it clicked.
"What if the dungeon is inside the volcano?" I said.
Cast stared at me. "Dude. That's literally the worst place to check."
"Wait—" Dixon leaned forward. "He might be onto something. That's probably why no one's found it. Everyone avoids the volcano."
Jax shrugged. "Maybe."
Flake nodded. "Let's find out."
We climbed the volcanic mountain. Halfway up, the rock cracked open and lava hounds poured from the mountainside—snarling, molten beasts made of fire and stone.
"I knew it," I muttered. "This is the place. Monsters don't spawn without a dungeon."
We fought. Killed every last one.
Five minutes later, more came.
We ran.
At the summit, we looked into the crater. Magma churned below.
"Of course," Dixon muttered.
"Wait." Flake squinted. "You see that?"
"See what?" Jax asked.
"There's a shimmer—some kind of field over the magma. This might be a fake volcano."
Before anyone could stop her, Flake jumped.
We screamed—shouted—reached out too late—
And watched her pass through the magma, the field rippling like disturbed water. She didn't burn.
We stared.
"It's fake," Cast breathed.
After several minutes of arguing, we jumped too.
We landed on solid stone.
Ahead of us: hundreds of thousands of magma monsters. Creatures of molten rock and ember, seething with heat. At the far end of the chamber stood the dungeon master—massive, ancient, watching.
Our eyes met.
I smiled.
He smiled back.
"Only two people have ever left this place alive," the dungeon master said. "Out of thousands who tried to claim my swords."
I gripped my blade. "Then you're about to have five more."
"Good luck."
The army surged.
"Formation WAR!" I shouted.
We snapped into position and tore into them. I drew the Katana—my favorite—and carved through the horde, each strike faster than the last.
Flake wielded a winter blade, launching ice from its tip with every swing. Fire and ice don't mix—but the water that remained burned them just as badly.
Then she moved.
Faster than I'd ever seen anyone move.
She's awakened her potential.
Flake shot into the air, landed at the center of the swarm, and drove her blade into the ground. Ice exploded outward in every direction. Magma monsters froze mid-charge—solidified into statues of cooling rock.
The dungeon master's expression darkened.
"This ends here."
He charged at Flake.
I intercepted him.
My blade caught his face—sliced a line across his molten cheek—and his massive hand swung back and sent me flying into the rubble. Pain screamed through my body. I forced myself up.
"WAR!"
My crew moved with me. We attacked from every angle. Dixon, Cast, Jax—they leaped above the dungeon master, locked their weapons to mine, and hurled me forward.
I spun at impossible speed.
High Velocity Mode.
Fear flickered in his eyes. He couldn't dodge.
The strike hit him dead center—carved a scar from arm to arm across his chest. He crashed into the distance.
We stood over him.
"We win," I said. "Give us the blades."
The dungeon master laughed—a low, rattling sound.
"This is only the beginning."
He summoned a giant bull from the stone beneath him. Mounted it. Fused with it.
When the transformation ended, he was monstrous. Horns jutted from his skull. A tail whipped behind him. Fire erupted from every part of his body.
"What will you do now?" he growled.
Cast stepped forward. "Fight. Till our last breath."
We all nodded.
"Very well."
The dungeon master charged—then stopped, inches from us. He stood still, studying me.
"You. The one with the Katana. What would you do if I struck you down right now?"
I met his gaze, hatred burning in my chest.
"Cut you down with everything I have left."
He tilted his head. "How? You have nothing special about you. Why fight only to die?"
The words left me before I could stop them.
"Because it's my dream to become a legendary chaser. That's why."
Silence.
The dungeon master's form shifted—shrank—returned to his original state. His expression softened.
"It's been a long time since I've met someone like you."
He extended his hand. In it: the Blade of Fury.
"For you. And for the axe-chaser—the Axe of Fury."
We stood frozen.
"My name is Gandoran," he said. "And you are?"
I hesitated. The words felt heavy.
"I don't have a name. My parents never gave me one. They just called me... boy."
Gandoran studied me for a long moment.
"Names don't matter. It was a pleasure fighting you."
He vanished.
Dixon broke the silence. "Well... we got it, right?"
We all just stared at him.
Flake stretched. "Thanks for fighting beside me. It was... fun, I guess."
"Wait—" I stopped her. "There's something we wanted to ask. How do we unlock our potential?"
"Easy. Find a training camp. They'll teach you everything." She pulled out a rolled piece of parchment. "Here. A map. But be careful—it moves. It needs blood to work."
"Blood?" Cast repeated.
"Drip your blood on it, and it shows your location until you reach the destination. But once you arrive, the map burns itself up. So stay alert." She grinned. "It stings."
We took the map carefully.
"Thanks, Flake. Till we meet again."
She gave a small wave and disappeared into the smoke.
The nearest camp was far. But we were done waiting.
We began walking.