With Dopey's poleaxe coming down in a single hit, the ore seam they'd only managed to chip half a meter into… got blown open into a hole over thirty feet deep.
Everyone sucked in a sharp breath.
They'd just experienced firsthand how ridiculous that black ore was—hard enough already, and they were a kilometer underground, where the pressure only made it tougher to crack.
They'd fought like hell just to make a half-meter dent.
Dopey casually swung once and punched out thirty-plus feet.
In that moment, the gap between them and Dopey stopped being "big" and started being "unfair."
Even though they were already Stage B, in front of him they felt like ants that could be flicked to death without effort.
"Ethan…" Chris asked, face tight, "what Tier do you think Dopey is, exactly?"
"No clue," Ethan said, just as grim. "But if I had to guess… he's probably not below Tier 30."
"Which means Stage S."
"Stage S?!"
Everyone's eyes went huge.
