I stripped my scavenged gear with the reverence of a dragon shedding scales. Kronak tossed me a pair of winged greaves glowing with arcane sigils. "Stormstrider Boots - 20 defense, +1 AGI, 10% movement speed. Oh, and..." His beard twitched with pride. "20% projectile deflection chance."


    The moment I buckled them, ambient mana hummed through my bones. My HUD flickered: [Aeolian Resonance Detected - Full Set Bonus Active]. The smith proceeded to layer me in armor that sang with storm magic:


    Tempest Greaves: 35 DEF, 10% evasion


    Skyweave Tassets: Chainmail whispering with retaliatory lightning


    Vortex Breastplate: A living storm absorbing 10% elemental damage


    Zephyr Gauntlets: Claws crackling with poison and flame


    When the mirror revealed a lightning-wreathed demigod, even my shadow seemed impressed. "This set could make Tyr himself envious," I murmured, admiring the auric shimmer.


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    "Come back when you reach Tier 3!" Kronak boomed. "My celestial forge awaits!"


    Velvet Thread Atelier


    The seamstress'' shop smelled of phoenix down and desperation. Madame Lira - Kronak''s "business partner" - presented a belt woven from twilight itself. "Vernal Cinch: 10 DEF, 20% HP regen, bonus loot gold." Her smile turned predatory. "Now about that cloak..."


    "Let me guess." I edged toward the exit. "Hidden in the maw of certain death?"


    "Dark Spire''s Warden holds the pattern! Only 600 levels of-"


    "Hard pass." I backpedaled into Kronak''s chest. His sheepish grin confirmed the trap - two days later, I found myself airborne on Lucky''s back, clutching a cursed [Demonic Oculus] that pulsed like a treasonous heartbeat.


    Leaderboard Snapshot


    [Global Rankings - Season of Shattered Skies]


    Goreblade (Lv112 Orc Warmaster) - Mount: Nightmare Stallion


    Crimson Eclipse (Lv110 Voidcaster) - Familiar: Dread Wraith


    Zephyr''s Bane (Lv108 Celestial Vindicator)


    ...


    Stormcrown (Lv100 Arcane Tempest) << YOU ARE HERE


    Lucky banked sharply as shambling corpses came into view. "Not worth the XP," I muttered, urging higher. The Spire''s obsidian gates loomed - a monument to poor life choices. Two Wraithguards crossed polearms at my approach.


    "Halt, mortal!"


    I brandished the Oculus. Their spectral eyes flared crimson.


    "Forgive us, Netherlord!" The phantoms knelt. "The Warden awaits."


    Well. This just upgraded from suicide mission to political nightmare.