Healing System

Michael readied himself, and in the next instant, he was behind the red-masked figure.

No flashy light, no teleportation circle, just simple teleportation by weaving his Chaos mana perfectly.

Michael's fist drove toward the man's spine, but it didn't land.

A translucent barrier flared to life, fracturing under the pressure but holding just long enough for the masked figure to pivot, elbow lashing out. The strike connected—but only barely. Michael absorbed it, twisting with the impact, and retaliated with a knee aimed straight for the ribs.

That one connected.

The masked figure slid back, boots scraping against the polished obsidian floor, runes around them flickering wildly now. Sparks danced between lines as the chamber itself strained to contain the conflict.

"You're not using Chaos properly," the figure muttered.

Michael didn't answer. His next strike came low, a feint that twisted into an upward jab. The masked man caught it, but the moment their hands met, Michael's mana surged forward.

It was rough, but destructive, which seemed to catch the masked man off guard.

The masked man stumbled, aura flickering, body trembling slightly from the raw overload. That gave Irelia her opening.

She didn't hesitate.

A sharp arc of golden energy tore through the space, catching the figure in the shoulder and spinning him sideways.

Michael moved again, chaos-infused steps making it impossible to predict his trajectory. One moment to the left, then suddenly behind, a roundhouse kick arcing through the air. This time, the masked man ducked, twisting mid-motion and releasing a torrent of compressed flame.

But before the fire could even reach them, Nyra was already there—her blade carving a perfect crescent that parted the flames in two, scattering them harmlessly.

"You're wasting your strength," the figure scoffed, dropping to one knee. "Chaos is not about power. It's about surrender."

Michael narrowed his eyes.

"I don't surrender."

The runes beneath their feet pulsed again—once, then twice—and suddenly the entire chamber began to shift. Segments of the walls pulled back, revealing mechanical arms and embedded crystal nodes. A grid of energy shot across the ceiling, flickering with raw charge.

Arthur cursed. "That's a trigger. He's initiating a collapse!"

"Then we finish this before it finishes us," Michael said.

No one argued.

Irelia stepped forward, hands glowing bright gold now, mana thrumming audibly around her. She moved in tandem with Michael, her strikes weaving perfectly into his own. He would feint, and she would punish. She'd bait, and he'd crush the opening.

The masked man was fast—absurdly so. His defenses layered, his counters inhuman. But he wasn't prepared for their synergy.

After a few seconds' bout, the masked man stumbled.

Michael didn't waste the moment. He stepped in, full weight behind a downward punch, chaos swirling violently around his arm. The air cracked, space bending visibly as his fist descended.

The masked man raised both hands to block.

But it didn't matter as the blow connected all the same.

There was no explosion.

Just silence.

A ripple spread outward from the point of impact, shattering the runes, distorting the walls, and collapsing every defense the masked figure had in place. His body hit the ground a second later, unmoving.

Michael stepped back, breathing shallow. His knuckles were bleeding. Not from injury. From strain.

Irelia watched the body for a second longer before glancing at him. "You think he's dead?"

"No," Michael replied flatly. "Just broken."

"Should we—"

Before she could finish, the pillar of light behind them surged, expanding outward.

Michael cursed and grabbed her wrist, yanking her back as the light surged with unstable energy.

"Get out!"

The team scattered, Arthur pulling Kael out by the collar as Nyra blurred ahead of them, vanishing into the next hallway. The chamber cracked, walls collapsing inward as the energy reached a breaking point.

Then, the impact happened.

The explosion wasn't fire or force. It was pressure. Like being punched by gravity itself.

Michael was the last to clear the threshold, throwing himself out just as the chamber behind them caved entirely, the pillar imploding and dragging the remains of the masked figure into it.

A few seconds later, only silence remained.

Michael leaned against the wall, hand on his knee, breathing hard. Irelia crouched nearby, arms wrapped loosely around herself.

Kael wiped blood from his ear. "That... was not fun."

"I don't think it was supposed to be," Arthur muttered, brushing ash off his robes.

Nyra stood silently, eyes focused on the collapsed chamber. Her expression unreadable.

Michael finally spoke. "That was... something."

Kael raised a brow. "No kidding."

"He said something about Chaos being planted... a failsafe. Something to trigger if the system broke."

"And?" Irelia asked, still catching her breath.

Michael looked at his hand again—still no glow. Still nothing visible.

But the air around him bent in rhythm with his breathing now. Like the world itself was waiting for his next move.

"And I think this place... was designed to break the system."

They all stared at him.

Arthur scoffed. "Wonderful. So we're not just in a dungeon. We're in some kind of law-bending shithole."

Michael didn't deny it.

He looked down the next hallway. Another endless corridor, lit by flickering lights and humming mana.

But something ahead felt... alive. Watching.

"Whatever's running this place—it's not just testing us," he said. "It's studying."

Nyra finally spoke in a low voice. "Then we burn it down."

Michael smirked. "That's the plan."

Yet despite his near-death experience, Michael was skeptical of this entire situation.

This being was at least Tier 18, maybe even higher. And yet, they dealt with him so easily.

Albeit, all of them almost died, but that was more like an afterthought.

But one thing didn't add up, and after a bit of thought, he had come to one simple conclusion.

"He was stalling," he muttered.

Arthur frowned. "What?"

Michael didn't look back. "The masked guy. He wasn't fighting to win. He was delaying us."

Kael frowned. "Why?"

Michael stepped forward, eyes locked on the hallway's end. "Because the real deal just woke up."

As if on cue, the floor beneath them vibrated. Not violently—just enough to register in the soles of their boots. A pulse. Like a heartbeat.

Michael turned to the side wall and pressed a hand against it. The mana wasn't reacting anymore. It was responding.

"Something's changed."

"Yeah," Nyra muttered. "We're being watched again."

More tremors followed—one after another. Not collapsing-ceiling-type tremors, but rhythmic ones. Coordinated.

Then came the chime.

Soft. Mechanical. Wrong.

It echoed down the corridor ahead—three distinct tones, each sharper than the last. Then silence.

Irelia moved beside Michael, arms tensed and golden mana lacing her fingers. "That sounded like… a signal."

Michael's expression darkened.

Here I thought the gods would just let one of their soldiers die. Fuck me for thinking so narrowly.

Immediately, Michael tried focusing his Chaos outside.

All he had to do was find a way out of this place, yet no matter how he looked, it seemed like some endless dungeon filled to the brim with rooms upon rooms.

Millions, billions, he wasn't sure.

But one thing was certain. If he didn't figure his shit out soon, then he'd be killed.

But if a God were to descend, then he was even more fucked.

"Irelia..." Michael muttered. "Do you have any connection to your world's heaven?"

"What?" Irelia furrowed her brows. "What do you mean?"

"All Seraphim have some kind of connection linking them to their birthplace. For Seraphim, it's heaven," Michael explained patiently.

Yet the rumbling kept on increasing with each passing second.

Safe to say, he wasn't the most confident in dealing with what was about to happen.

Nonetheless, Irelia closed her eyes as if she was trying to focus on something.

And in the very next moment, Michael felt it.

The faint connection that had formed between Irelia and her birthplace.

Therefore, without wasting even a second more, Michael grabbed Irelia by her waist and then enveloped the rest of the people present in his mana.

Then, with a simple thought, he vanished, leaving behind that strange prison realm.

Yet the teleportation wasn't instant. He could see the images flashing by. Gray, blue, green, until eventually, he found himself in some sort of flower field, surrounded by a dozen weak goblins and the party he had just teleported out.

There was a rustic house beside him and a farm which the goblins tended to.

Of course, a small river was by the side as well, followed by a forest in the distance.

It was peaceful, quiet, and lastly, safe.

Actual safety after the hell they had just gone through.

But then again, how could Michael ever be so lucky.

<The Gods have taken notice of your actions!>

<You've slain: Levroue [Tier 18+]>

<You've made an enemy of: God of Shadows, God of Light, God of Luck, God of Charm, God of...[Click to expand +5922]>

"Fuck..." Michael looked up at the sky, a slightly defeated expression spread across his face.

Just how much bullshit do I have to deal with before I can live peacefully?