Rigg's terrified gasp cut through the heavy air.
His head snapped up, eyes fixed on the tangled ceiling far above.
Dust and little bits of dried root debris rained down, stirred by something moving within the dense mass.
A low groaning sound, like stressed timbers grinding together, echoed through the vast chamber.
Ryder followed the kid's gaze, instinctively raising his shield higher and widening his stance on the ledge. He didn't like this one bit.
[CRITICAL THREAT DETECTED: HOLLOWROOT SHEPHERD]
"Aw hell," he muttered under his breath, bracing himself. "Here it comes."
High above, near the cavern's ceiling, the roots began to twist violently. Not the slow, pulsing writhe from before, but a frantic knotting.
Dark, gnarled wood scraped against pale shards of bone pulled from unseen crevices. Clumps of sickly green moss swirled into the vortex.
Wet, tearing sounds echoed as a distinct shape began to form.
"Whoa Nelly!" Betsy's voice crackled in his head. "Look at that thing pull itself together! Readings are goin' nuts up here, hotshot! Big power signature!"
The figure ripped itself free from the ceiling's dense tangle.
It then dropped down gracefully, landing without a whisper of sound on the cavern floor dozens of yards below, near the edge of the enormous, pulsing sigil that dominated the chamber.
It straightened slowly.
Tall. Impossibly thin, like a famine victim carved from dark wood.
Gnarled branches formed limbs, inlaid with sharp shards of bone that gleamed dully in the pulsating red light. Patches of slimy green moss clung to its surface.
Its head was vaguely humanoid but featureless, save for two empty sockets burning with intense, focused green lights—eyes that seemed to bore right through the distance, right through the dimness, locking onto Ryder and Rigg.
In one three-fingered hand, it held a long, elegant lance seemingly woven from pure green light, dripping faint sparks of energy onto the stone floor.
This was the source of the interference Betsy mentioned. This was the boss.
And it wasted no time.
One moment it was standing far below; the next it launched itself.
It wasn't really a jump; it simply propelled itself upward and forward with an impossible burst of speed, defying the laws of physics.
It crossed the vertical and horizontal distance to their ledge in a silent, terrifying blur.
The green lance lowered, aimed straight at Ryder's chest.
"Shit!" Ryder cursed, reacting purely on instinct and slamming the heavy door shield up just as the tip of the energy lance arrived.
THHRRUMMM-CLANG!
The impact was brutal, heavier than anything the previous enemy had delivered. It wasn't just force; it was a deep, bone-jarring vibration that shot up his arm, making his teeth buzz and his vision momentarily swim.
The metal of the shield hummed, feeling intensely cold where the energy lance connected.
The sheer force knocked him backward, boots skidding several feet across the dusty stone ledge, his shield arm screaming in protest.
He hadn't even fully recovered his footing when the environment itself joined the assault.
Thick, woody roots, darker and thornier than the ones in the tunnel, erupted from the stone floor of the ledge right in front of him, whipping towards his legs like angry cables and kicking up clouds of ancient dust.
Simultaneously, from the cavern floor below, loud groans echoed as more of those shambling Thralls clawed their way free from the root masses, beginning their slow, clumsy approach towards the base of the ledge.
Gritting his teeth against the ache in his arm, Ryder shoved forward, trying to push the Shepherd back and gain some space.
He brought his blade around in a heavy, desperate chop aimed at the creature's narrow chest.
But the Shepherd flickered.
Like a bad video feed, its form dissolved into translucent, wavering lines for a split second.
Ryder's blade passed right through empty air, hitting nothing.
A faint shimmer, like heat haze, hung where the creature had been for an instant before it solidified again, unharmed, a few feet back near the edge of the ledge, lance already poised.
"Dammit!" Betsy's voice caught with surprise. "It can phase? That ain't fair! How're you supposed to hit a ghost made of splinters?"
"Dammit!" Ryder cursed, stumbling slightly as his blade met no resistance.
This thing could turn itself into a ghost? How the hell was he supposed to fight that?
Before he could formulate a plan, things got worse.
A thick, cold, wet mist began to pour rapidly from the Shepherd's body.
It swirled across the stone floor of the ledge, dense and gray, clinging low at first then rapidly rising, obscuring his view of his own feet, then his knees.
It carried that same scent of mildew and disturbed earth, but colder now, chilling him through his clothes. Visibility dropped to almost nothing in seconds.
"Ryder!" Rigg cried out in panic from somewhere behind him in the swirling grayness.
Ryder heard a frantic scrambling sound, then a muffled thud as the kid presumably dove for cover behind that knot of roots near the tunnel entrance, tripping slightly as he went, by the sound of it.
Smart kid. Ryder wished he had somewhere to hide.
He batted away a whipping root he only half-saw materialize out of the fog, the impact jarring his shield arm again.
He swung his blade blindly into the mist towards the groaning sounds rising from below, hoping to discourage any Thralls trying to climb up.
The mist got thicker, swirling around his knees now, making the dusty stone floor feel slick and treacherous underfoot.
Sounds were muffled, distorted, echoing strangely in the dense fog. Where was the Shepherd?
He deflected another root whipping up from the floor, this one thicker and thornier.
And as he recovered, he caught a flicker of desperate movement through a momentary thin patch in the mist.
Rigg, still huddled behind the roots.
Then, another dark shape lashed out with vicious speed from the side wall, obscured by the fog. A root. Aimed right at the kid.
CRACK!
The sound was sickeningly loud, sharp and distinct like a heavy branch snapping. It was followed instantly by Rigg's brief, choked cry.
Ryder's head whipped around, his gut twisting into a cold knot.
Through the mist, he saw Rigg crumple, collapsing behind the roots.
The green glow of his glow-rod clattered against the stone and winked out, plunging that corner into deeper shadow, leaving only the swirling grey fog and the oppressive red pulse from the sigil far below.
"Rigg!" Panic, hot and sharp, surged through Ryder, momentarily eclipsing the fear.
Anger followed close behind—raw, protective fury. He took an instinctive step towards where the kid went down, blade shifting in his grip.
But the Shepherd chose that exact moment to reappear.
It flickered back into solidity just feet away, emerging silently from the mist like a nightmare, its green lance already thrusting straight for Ryder's throat.
He threw himself backward, shield coming up purely on reflex, catching the lance tip with a jarring CLANG. He stumbled, barely keeping his feet.
Alone. Rigg down. Outnumbered by gods know how many root zombies climbing up from below. Half-blind in this damned fog. And facing a phasing, spear-wielding tree-bastard.
The cold knot of despair tightened again, squeezing the air from his lungs.
Is this it? Is this how it ends?
Just as that thought threatened to overwhelm him, a system notification popped up.
[ALLY INCAPACITATED: RIGG] [COMBAT EFFICIENCY CRITICAL: ENVIRONMENTAL OBSCURANT MAXIMAL] [SYSTEM RECOMMENDATION: Tactical Upgrade Available - 'Echo-Pulse Sensor'] [COST: 450 POINTS - Activate Now?] [YES / NO]
"System thinks you need better eyes, hotshot!" Betsy's voice cut through his rising panic. "Just think 'Yeah!' or somethin' if you got the points! Quick!"
As he shoved off the Shepherd's parried lance, stumbling back another step into the disorienting mist, he desperately tried to focus the thought through his mind:
Yeah! Do it! NOW!
[POINTS DEDUCTED: -450] [CURRENT POINTS: 200] ['Echo-Pulse Sensor' Unlocked]
His vision pulsed once, hard, with faint blue light.
The swirling grey mist didn't disappear, but suddenly, overlaid onto it, he saw the world in pulsing outlines.
The Shepherd, just ahead, was a sharp, angry red silhouette. The shambling Thralls attempting to climb the ledge below were highlighted in wary yellow. Even the lashing roots erupting from the floor now had faint blue tracers marking their paths a split second before they appeared.
It wasn't perfect vision, but it was like some kind of advanced thermal imaging mixed with sonar, a way to cut through the mist.
The Shepherd, maybe sensing the change or just continuing its pattern, vanished back into the mist, its red outline dissolving.
But this time, Ryder was ready.
He planted his feet, watching the space where it had been. A flicker. A faint red outline began to take form a few yards to his left just before the creature itself speared forward, lance driving ahead.
Ryder met it squarely with the flat of his shield, absorbing the THRRRUMMM without giving ground this time.
"There we go! Got 'em on radar now! Light 'em up, Ryder!"
He could see.
The fight had just changed. But he knew it was far from over.
Rigg was still down, and this thing was still dangerous. But at least now, it wasn't ghosts he was fighting.