Sera - A Dungeon Revival LitRPG

Sera’s body jerked violently as the ice sword pierced her chest. The shock of it hit her first, a paralyzing chill that spread outward from the wound, freezing her veins. Her breath caught, the sharp intake turning into a ragged gasp. She could feel the black sap, thick and viscous, gushing from the jagged opening, slicking her skin and dripping down in fat, glistening drops.

The pain followed soon after. It was as though the cold steel wasn’t just cutting her body but freezing her very soul. Every nerve screamed in protest, but Sera bit down on the rising cry, her pride sealing her lips before any sound could escape. I will not scream. Not for this.

Her chest heaved, forcing a shallow breath into her lungs, but the motion only drove the blade deeper. Her knees trembled, but she held herself upright, refusing to collapse under the weight of the agony. The taste of sap filled her mouth as it spilled from her lips.

Amaryllis watched calmly. Without a word, she lifted a slender hand. The ice angel slowly withdrew the blade, the sharp edge sliding out of Sera’s chest in a slow, deliberate motion. The ice stung as it left her flesh, the wound gaping open as if protesting the loss.

Sera's body slumped forward, her hand instinctively going to her chest. She caught herself on one knee, black sap pooling beneath her fingers as she clutched at the wound. Her breath was shallow, ragged, every inhale sharp and painful. The world swayed for a moment, her vision blurring at the edges, but she forced herself to remain conscious. Don’t fall. Not yet.

Her head snapped up, her glare locking onto Amaryllis. Anger flared in her eyes. “This is how you plan to help me defeat Haziel? By running me through with an ice puppet?”

"The puppet I created is a fraction of Haziel's true speed and power. If you cannot avoid its strikes, you certainly won’t stand a chance against the real thing." Amaryllis said.

Sera’s chest heaved, the wound slowly closing as her body regenerated, black sap congealing over the injury. She winced as the healing took hold, the pain dulling but still ever-present. Standing on shaky legs, she wiped the remaining sap from her mouth and leveled a glare at Amaryllis.

"I have people I can use to fight Haziel," she said.

Amaryllis raised an eyebrow, her expression remaining cold. "And do you truly believe they’ll be enough to stop an angel?"

Sera clenched her fists. "Then what would you have me do instead?"

Amaryllis paused as she regarded Sera. Finally, the Winter Dryad sighed, shoulders relaxing slightly. "Unfortunately, I can no longer give you power."

"Why not? You just—" Sera's words faltered as she noticed something unsettling. Amaryllis’s fingers were dissolving, the edges of her form flickering and becoming translucent. "What’s happening to you?"

Amaryllis held up her disappearing hand, staring at it with quiet acceptance. "It takes an immense amount of energy just to bring you here. My power is fading, and I’m only a shadow of what I used to be."

Sera’s gaze lingered on Amaryllis’s form, the winter dryad’s body continuing to fade bit by bit, like snow melting under a sunless sky. She’s spent so much just to bring me here.

With a long sigh, Sera nodded. "I see." She ran a hand through her hair, brushing aside strands still damp with the sap from her wound. "Thank you for what you’ve given me. But I’ll figure out the rest on my own somehow."

Amaryllis’s lips curved into a faint, almost imperceptible smile. "Just remember, it's not just me who’s relying on you. The other elder dryads are, too."

Sera's eyes locked onto Amaryllis, studying the slight upturn of her lips, the calm certainty in her words. The weight of that responsibility settled over her like a thick fog, but she held herself steady.

A sudden flicker caught Sera’s eye. Amaryllis’s body had begun to dissolve, starting from her fingertips. The edges of her form broke away into delicate wisps of mist, tendrils of icy vapor curling into the air. The ethereal light of the Long Death glowed faintly against her fading silhouette, casting long, shifting shadows across the frozen ground. Her skin, once solid and cold as winter itself, turned translucent, breaking apart like fragile snowflakes caught in the wind.

Sera’s gaze lingered on the dissolution, watching as Amaryllis’s form drifted away into nothingness. The mist swirled, twisting and rising into the stillness of the swamp, leaving behind only the faintest trace of her presence: a ghostly echo of power in the air.

***

Sera emerged from the portal and stepped onto the moss-covered ground of the mystic forest. The familiar pulse of the Spirit Tree grounded her as she moved forward, her senses alert for anything amiss.

Soon, she spotted two figures resting against the trunk of an ancient oak, its massive roots snaking out beneath them like coiled serpents. Zoha and Dante lay slumped against the bark, their chests heaving with exhaustion. Zoha's normally sharp features appeared much more muted, while Dante's eyes were half-lidded, his usually cocky grin replaced by a grim expression. They looked like they had just survived a narrow escape.

Sera crossed the clearing and stood before them, her arms crossed. "What happened?"

Zoha, her voice hoarse, struggled to sit up straighter. "Mistress," she rasped, dipping her head in respect. "We just fought Haziel. The angel... She might be following us into the dungeon. We barely got away."

Sera's eyes narrowed at the mention of Haziel. "And why did you think endangering the Spirit Tree was a good idea by returning here?"

Zoha's eyes widened in alarm, and she bowed her head low, her voice trembling with regret. "I'm sorry, Mistress. I— I didn’t think—"

Sera raised a hand, cutting off Zoha's frantic apology. "It’s fine. I’ll have to deal with Haziel sooner or later, and it looks like that time is coming faster than expected."

Sera turned her full attention to Dante, her sharp gaze locking onto him. "Tell me everything."

Dante leaned heavily against the tree, his body still recovering from the exhausting encounter. He wiped the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand. "The angel completely outclassed us. Zoha and I barely scratched her."

Sera didn’t speak right away, absorbing Dante’s words. Outclassed them? That means Haziel isn’t just fast or strong, she’s overwhelming.

Sera narrowed her eyes, her mind analyzing the implications. "What exactly did she do? I need details."

Dante exhaled sharply, clearly trying to put the encounter into words. "She's fast. Faster than anyone I've seen. Combined with immense strength and her red lightning, it's a miracle me and Zoha are still alive."

Sera’s lips pressed into a thin line. This does not bode well.

"And her defenses?" Sera pressed.

Dante’s bitter smile returned. "We tried. I threw everything I had at her, and Zoha went all out but it was like hitting a wall. It was like fighting someone who could see every move before it happened."

Sera’s frown deepened. An angel with both near-perfect offense and defense. She's protected by her own power while cutting down anything that comes near her.

Zoha, still catching her breath beside Dante, lifted her head slightly. "She... she didn’t even flinch when I shifted into my swarm form."

"What about her weaknesses?" Sera asked.

Dante’s expression turned thoughtful, though frustration still lingered in his eyes. " She’s physically stronger, faster, and more powerful than anything we’ve faced. The only thing that's maybe exploitable is her anger, but beyond that, there isn't much one can do."

Zoha, still resting against the tree, glanced up at Sera . "What exactly are you planning to do, Mistress?"

Sera turned, her gaze sweeping over the forest around them. The ancient magic thrummed beneath her feet, an ever-present pulse of life ready to be molded to her will. She didn’t answer right away, her thoughts briefly flickering back to Dante’s words. Anger... it’s a weakness, but I’ll need more than that.

"I’ll set up traps," Sera said. "Haziel may be faster, stronger, but that doesn’t mean she’s invincible. If I can slow her down and then I’ll figure out the rest as we go."

Zoha’s brow furrowed. "I don't mean to be rude, Mistress, but what kind of traps would work against someone like her?"

Sera glanced at her, the edges of a smirk pulling at her lips. "Every living thing has a breaking point. She’s no exception. The traps aren’t meant to finish her, just to give me time. Time to study her, to find a real weakness."

Zoha nodded slowly, her trust in Sera’s judgment clear despite her lingering doubts. "I understand. I just... hope it’s enough."

"It will have to be," Sera replied, her eyes hardening as she turned away. "Stay here and rest. I’ll do the rest."

Immediately, Sera strode deeper into the heart of the mystic forest, her senses attuned to the ancient magic flowing through the trees and plants around her. The ground beneath her feet pulsed with latent energy, the forest itself alive and waiting for her command. If Haziel comes, I’ll make sure this place becomes her grave.

The elder dryad's hand moved to her antlers, fingers grazing the rough, gnarled surface. With a sharp tug, she snapped off a chunk. The broken piece rested heavy in her palm, a solid reminder of the power she carried within her.

Then, she ground the antler between her hands, the rough bark scraping against her skin as it crumbled into fine dust. With a gentle breath, she coaxed the energy within it to stir, the particles shimmering faintly with magic. As the last of the antler was reduced to dust, it transformed into small, glowing seeds, each one pulsating with the same energy that flowed through her own veins.

Sera knelt, her fingers brushing the soft, mossy ground. Carefully, she scattered the seeds across the forest floor, letting them nestle among the roots and leaves.These will be waiting for you, Haziel. She straightened, wiping her hand on her robe before glancing at her palm. The seeds alone wouldn’t be enough; she needed something more potent.

Her eyes narrowed as she raised her hand, the blade of a thorny vine slithering up from the ground to meet her. Sera sliced the palm of her hand, feeling the sting as her skin parted and thick, black sap began to ooze from the wound. The sap dripped into her palm, viscous and dark as ink, carrying the raw essence of her power. She clenched her fist, allowing the sap to pool before dripping onto the forest floor.

She spread it carefully, smearing the substance across the roots and leaves, her blood merging with the soil. The ground drank in the sap, dark veins of energy spreading beneath the surface like a network of tendrils.

The black liquid pulsed with latent magic, waiting for Sera’s command to spring to life. It was a part of her, a living connection to the land itself, and when the time came, it would obey without question.

Next, Sera pressed her hand against the earth, allowing the wound to seal itself slowly as her regenerative powers took hold. The sap and seeds would soon sprout into deadly instruments, but she wasn’t finished.

She moved swiftly through the forest, her senses attuned to every inch of the ancient woodland, feeling the heartbeat of each tree and the energy thrumming beneath the soil. Reaching a thicket of thorny brambles, she extended her hand once more, urging the plant life to shift and grow.

The brambles responded instantly, their sharp thorns extending and twisting, forming a dense, impenetrable wall of vines. Sera pushed them higher, shaping the thicket into a web of traps that would ensnare anything that dared to enter. Each thorn dripped with a paralytic toxin.

But Sera wasn’t done. She conjured a patch of Venomweed, its broad, dark leaves bristling with deadly potential. The plant would lie in wait, its roots sensitive to the slightest tremor in the ground. Any movement nearby would trigger a cloud of spores, lethal to anyone who breathed them in. She planted them deep within the forest’s core, hidden beneath the dense foliage.

Finally, she called forth the Thornwhip Vines, their serpentine bodies coiling through the trees, ready to lash out and entangle anything that crossed their path. They responded to her like obedient pets, slithering into position and anchoring themselves to the forest floor.

Sera stepped back, surveying her work, satisfaction settling over her like a warm cloak. Every inch of the forest was now an extension of her will, ready to strike at the slightest intrusion. This forest is my domain, and if Haziel thinks she can challenge me here, she’s already lost.