The sensation that overtook Nathan once he activated his technique was the weirdest thing ever. It felt like his skin was being stretched in different directions and splitting into multiple pieces. His understanding of how the technique worked was flawed, but it was the best he could glean from. The split second between him activating the technique and appearing beside the horrified guard outside his cell was instantaneous.

"Boo," Nathan cackled.

Not giving the horrified guard a moment to make any sort of response, either in words or actions, he punched through the guard's skull with unsettling ease as a satisfying squelch filled the quiet dungeon hallway. Brain matter splattered on the floor and walls as his hand exited the back of the guard's head. The torch in the guard's clutch hit the floor with an audible thud, with his body soon following suit.

"That's definitely easier than before," Nathan muttered, as he shook his hand, sending more brain matter in different directions.

With a grunt, he stopped to pick the torch off the floor. Luckily for him, it hadn't spluttered out after hitting the grime-covered floor. With the torch in his hands, he stood, waving it from side to side to get a good look at the dungeon that Sparrow had thrown him in. His enhanced perception helped in the dungeon as he glanced at the sides with ease. From the hallway, he could tell that he wasn't the only person who had been subjected to the grim fate of rotting in the dungeons.

A grim smile split his face at the silent question that popped up at the sight of the closest human in a cell. "Human" might've been the wrong word to use, as Nathan wasn't quite sure what exactly was in the cell. If it was a person, then they'd definitely been starved and maltreated worse than anyone that Nathan had ever seen in his life. The figure was huddled up away from him at the furthest corner of the cell. The frame of the figure was nothing more than bones, something that Nathan could pick up easily with his improved perception.

With a heavy heart, Nathan faced the torch toward the middle, and then a pit seemed to open up in his stomach. There were rows and rows of cells lining up each side of the dungeon, and he instinctively knew that anyone in those cells was as bad or even worse off than the figure that had been in the first cell.

"What am I going to do?" A thoughtful expression replaced the grim look on his face as he considered the best route.

He couldn't fight Sparrow with them at his side; in fact, he highly doubted that any of them would agree to fight even if he freed them right now, which meant that he was on his own. But that didn't mean that he'd abandon them. If everything went well with Sparrow, he'd return for them, but if it didn't and he died, then that would be that. It was better than coercing them to fight right now only to be killed with casual ease.

Creak!

The torch began to creak as Nathan's hands tightened around it, his grip only loosening once he came to the conclusion that that wasn't going to do anything for him. A grin did spread on his face at the prospect of battle. Waving the torch around, he pieced together the rough layout of the dungeon and where the exit was, and began walking in that direction.

A humming sound from up ahead confirmed that he was on the right track, and without wasting time, he dashed. His fingers curled on the guard's neck before the man even understood what was going on. The guard tried to reach for his sword on his belt, but hesitated once the berserker's grip on his throat tightened.

"Pl-eas-e," the guard croaked, his hands trying and failing to pry Nathan's single hand off his throat.

"Where can I find Sparrow?" Nathan asked, his voice filled with murderous intent.

"The th-rone room, it's upstairs. Please don't kill me! I don't want to die, please!"

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Nathan stared at the guard in disgust, his grip tightening on the man's throat at the thought of all those people locked up like animals in all those cells. How could a person be so cold to what was happening to those in the cells? Death would've been merciful to those in those cells rather than the inhumane treatment that they had been subjected to; it was nothing but cruel. Like a vengeful wind, Nathan tossed aside the guard, his body hitting the floor with an audible thud, with the guard greedily gasping for air.

Thud.

"Free everyone in those cells and keep them down here," Nathan commanded. "Oh, and if anyone of them should die before I return, I'll kill you in the worst way possible."

"Y-es, I promise to—"

The Berserker was already gone before the guard could complete the statement. The path out of the dungeon was straightforward, and within a couple of breaths, he was out of the dungeon. The guards outside the dungeon gates didn't even get to arm themselves before their brains decorated where they'd been standing moments ago. With a grunt, Nathan pulled back both fists, allowing their bodies to drop to the floor.

The two guards who had been standing at the sides of the exits of the dungeon now lay dead at his feet, and all Nathan could think about was how messy it was looking at the moment. A sword would've saved him the trouble of being covered in so much brain matter. His face scrunched up in disgust at the gaping hole in both of their heads, the scene causing him to spit at the corpses.

His gaze turned upward, where the stairs presumably led to the throne room, or at least a step closer to it. And like a man possessed, Nathan launched himself up the stairs, his frame covered in the blood of his fallen foes. But that didn't slow him down in the slightest; if anything, it motivated him as he still had a lot of foes yet to fall to his fists.

"Grrrrrrrr," Nathan roared barbarically. "Sparrow, show yourself!"

His brazen entrance into the next floor was met with pin-drop silence. The floor seemed to be some sort of guard room or mini barracks, but Nathan couldn't give a damn what the correct term was. All he saw in front of him was nothing but standing targets who should be on the floor in seconds. They numbered around thirty, but Nathan barely bothered to analyze them. Instead, he used the time to take out the closest three. The quick death of their comrades seemed to do the trick of snapping them back into life, but it mattered not.

Unless their plan was to flee the monster covered in blood, then there was no way in hell that they were going to survive Nathan's onslaught. Like clockwork, they charged at him with arrows, daggers, swords, and spells, but it didn't matter to the berserker because to Nathan, they were all too slow. It was like they were moving through water, and he was the only one out of the effect. His improved stats proved to be the difference in the little squabble as Nathan cleared more than half their numbers before they managed to land their first hit.

It mattered little to Nathan, who was oblivious to the dagger that had somehow managed to break through his high constitution, leaving a thin slice on his belly. He barely registered the hit as waves of euphoria were still passing through him as he backhanded the wielder of the dagger, his casual action snapping the neck of the unfortunate soul.

The berserker was barely interested in the heavy damage that his light attack had done, as he was rather preoccupied with the remaining half of the floor's occupants. His lack of a sword had begun to show itself in his current situation; his reach with his fists was limited, but he made do with what he currently had on hand.

The guards left in the room seemed to have developed a working brain as they'd stopped trying to overwhelm him with their numbers—a tactic that had ended in them losing more than half of their comrades to him—they now settled for spacing themselves around, trying to make it harder for him to kill them easily. But the truth was that they were fighting a losing battle; their lives were already forfeit the moment he appeared on their floor.

They weren't a match for him in any sense, as his body simply seemed to disappear in their eyes, and the last thing the guards in the room saw was their comrades dropping to the floor, dead. Invisible death claimed the lives of guards, and in reality, it wasn't so invisible, but Nathan was moving so fast that their brains were having a hard time comprehending what exactly was happening. Their perception too low to keep up with the beast that was tearing through their ranks, and that deficiency turned out to be fatal for them.

Nathan hunched over, breathing hard after killing the last of the guards. His breath was barely ragged, but it wasn't as steady as he would've liked, proving that the little exercise had indeed taken something out of him physically. Not much, but certainly a bit noticeable.

Clap.

Clap.

Clap.

"Bravo, Nathan, splendid work. What do you say we have a chat upstairs?" Sparrow said, a smile on his face.

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