After that, Adrian stopped pretending I was irrelevant.
He sent parties into night zones before me, not to clear them, to block them. He knew I needed nocturnal kills and moon relics, so he started taking the map away. His guild lit bonfires at dungeon entrances. They planted holy wards in graveyards. They hired players to patrol bridges after sunset with lamps so bright they made alleys useless.
It was not the system changing for me. It was people. People are always more annoying than dungeons.
At first, I was angry. Then I realized Adrian had made a mistake. He had shown me his fear in public.
So I turned every blocked dungeon into a performance.
At the Bleak Mill, a dozen players guarded the entrance with sun lanterns. I could have waited. I could have snuck around. Instead, I sent bats carrying tiny mirrors stolen from a vanity shop. They flew above the lanterns and angled the light into the guards' eyes. While everyone stumbled around blind, my shadow wolves ran underneath the lantern beams and chewed through the posts. The lanterns fell. Darkness returned.
I rode in on a wolf, rang the haunted bell, and let ghost knights march through the mill doors while the guards were still blinking. I cleared the dungeon in nine minutes. Then I left one message carved into the wall.
Thanks for holding the door.
At the Widow's Quarry, they covered the entire entrance in holy powder. I could not touch it without burning, so I sent the ogre shadow to throw rocks until the cliff collapsed and made a new entrance from the side.
At the Black Orchard, they brought fifty lamps. I brought a rainstorm. Not magic. Planning. I had spent the afternoon trapping cloud moths from a damp cavern. When crushed, they released cold mist. When a hundred were crushed at once, the mist rose, condensed, and dropped like rain.
Every lamp hissed out. Every player looked up. And from above, I fell through the branches with two new daggers made from Moon Baron bone. The fight lasted less than a minute.
I did not kill players. That would make me a criminal and waste time. I humiliated them instead, which was more efficient and much funnier. I tied them in shadow vines, arranged them to spell Adrian's name from above, and left them there until morning.
Cole found me two nights later on the roof of an abandoned inn. He was laughing so hard he nearly fell off. He said the entire city had seen the recording. I asked if Adrian liked the spelling. Cole said Adrian had broken a table.
That made my whole week.
Then Cole stopped laughing. He warned me Adrian was preparing something bigger. Not just blockers. A full raid into the Midnight Labyrinth, one of the deepest moon dungeons in the region. If Adrian cleared it first, he would take the Umbra Gate, a relic that opened paths into higher night zones. Without it, my growth would slow for months.
I asked why Cole was still feeding me information. He looked at the city lights and said some people were more interesting after they were betrayed. I told him that was not an answer. He said it was the only one he had.
Cole was useful, clever, funny, probably lonely in the way snakes are lonely, but every time I looked at him, I saw that raid room again. I saw him looking away while Adrian cut me loose.
So I thanked him with a warning. If he ever sold me out, I would let my bats clap sarcastically at his funeral. He said that was touching.
The Midnight Labyrinth opened under a ruined theater. Of course it did. The night loves drama.
Adrian's guild arrived with banners, holy lanterns, polished weapons, and enough confidence to season a banquet. Adrian stood in front, smiling for the recording crystals. Iris was there, too, holding a repaired staff. She did not look at me, because I was not visible. I was under the stage.
The labyrinth entrance was a black trapdoor in the center of the theater. Adrian gave a speech about courage, discipline, and cleansing corruption. Very inspiring. Very useful. Speeches are great because everyone looks at the speaker instead of the floorboards.
My bats moved beneath them, carrying thin threads of shadow silk from the spider queen's scarf. One thread around a boot. One thread around a lantern hook. One thread around the trapdoor latch. Not enough to restrain anyone. Just enough to create timing.
When Adrian raised his sword and declared the raid open, I pulled one thread.
Every lantern swung sideways. The stage filled with wild crossing shadows. I rose from one of them like a bad decision wearing a cloak.
The recording crystals caught everything. Adrian's smile died beautifully.
I bowed to the crowd. Then I stepped backward through the trapdoor and fell into the labyrinth before any of them could move.
Was it unnecessary? Yes. Was it worth it? Also, yes.