Wind rippled through moss and vine as two figures zipped the Aether-glazed night.
Then—
A blur.
An axe screamed through the air.
Eri twisted, the blow grazing past his shoulder as he ducked and swept low. His spear flicked forward—fast, precise—but Bee parried, laughing.
"Good reflexes!" the man bellowed, dragging his second axe free. "You fight like prey that thinks it's a predator."
Eri didn't reply.
Another bolt whistled from above.
Twang—clink!
Spear spun.
The bolt deflected off its haft as Eri stepped sideways, smooth as a dancer, stance coiled like a spring.
Two opponents.
One loud. One quiet.
He could handle that.
The axe brute charged, stomping moss and stone, cutting wide arcs with brutal momentum. His form was raw—muscle over discipline—but it carried weight. Power.
The forest groaned.
"Rule of the jungle!" he roared, slamming his axe downward.
Eri sidestepped. A tree got violently split vertically.
"The strong rule the weak. You fight, you kill. You hesitate—you die!"
Eri's spear snapped up.
Deflected the next slash.
Parried again. Countered low.
He's fast. But predictable.
Another bolt.
He shifted his spear—ting!
Still watching me from the trees... Eri silently glanced to the canopy. Shadow crawler.
"Y'know," the axe man growled, breathing hard, "Everybody in this dungeon is gonna die. And once our plan is done, this dungeon will break. As well as all dungeons. Hahaha. Because Nullum wants it so!."
He grinned wide. "We kill everyone. Let the forest rot. Let Aether consume."
Eri's eyes sharpened.
Still—he defended.
They moved across terrain like beasts, clashes echoing here and there.
"Sturdy little man, what do you think that axe is gonna do?."
Eri didn't respond.
A big kick sent him back, but he landed on his feet, skidding into a patch of moonlight which shown through the canopy.
Silvery and quiet.
Beautiful.
Then—
Allcfroze.
A sudden, icy pressure crawled down his spine.
Eri exhaled.
And began to speak for the forst time since the fight.
"You know," he said, voice low, distant. "The spear is primitive. Crude. Brutal."
He twirled the obsidian shaft in one hand. It hummed low, heavy.
"It wasn't made to defend. Not to protect."
A pause.
"It was made for one thing."
He raised the point. Steady.
"To pierce."
"To kill."
"To end."
"It was the first weapon to show the world humanity's urge to murder. And with it—"
The wind held its breath.
"—we brought down beasts."
Then, a single word.
"Carmen."
The runes along the shaft glowed.
Mana surged around the spear like a tidal breath, then condensed—tight. Solid. Pure.
As Eri turned the spear downward, the ground shivered.
A subtle hum spread across the clearing.
Then the pressure.
Grass flattened outward in a perfect circle. Leaves trembled. The air buzzed, sharp and silent, like a storm ready to burst.
Spear Aura. Piercing, focused, ancient.
"Rule of the jungle?" Eri said softly, locking eyes with the axe man.
Then looked past him.
To the trees.
To the ranger.
"I'll give you one."
A breath.
"Always kill the weaker ones first."
Carmen.
It vanished.
No blur. No arc.
Just a straight, blinding line of vengeance—launched past the axe brute—
—Eri caught Bee's incoming axe barehanded, veins surging with mana—
—and in the distance—
A yelp.
The crossbow guy had dodged. He blinked. Looked back—
Only to see Carmen behind him.
Waiting.
It struck forward.
One clean thrust through the chest. Out the back.
He fell to the ground.
No scream.
Just silence.
The brute roared, not like a man.
Like a beast.
Axe arcing, he yanked the weapon up—and with it, Eri.
The spear had lodged deep in the crossbow man's corpse, and the axe man used it as leverage, flinging Eri skyward in a brutal toss.
But midair, Eri twisted.
A whisper of motion. A practiced spin.
And landed right where Aa had fallen.
His foot slammed down on the man's chest.
Bee, eyes wild. A wide cleave tore through the air, aiming to sever flesh and bone.
Eri didn't blink.
He gripped Carmen.
And pulled.
There was a wet sound as the spear tore through corpse and ruptured organs.
Then—
Clang!
Spear met axe.
Steel kissed steel.
Sparks flew—
—and the axe shattered.
The brute's eyes widened.
Before he could reach for his second—
Eri's spear tilted.
A quick jab.
Straight to the wrist.
It pierced through like paper.
The axe dropped with a heavy thud.
Then—boom—a kick to the chest.
The man flew backward, smashing into a root wall with a strangled grunt.
He gasped. Clutched his broken wrist.
Looked up at the figure before him.
Still. Calm. Masked.
That wasn't a human.
That was something else.
A monster.
Emotionless, unmoved.
A rhapsody in silence.
And death was the only sound it played.
All hidden—within a single spear.
"You fight like a beast," Eri said quietly, stepping forward. "Strong. Wild. But still a beast."
The man's breathing quickened, blood dripping from his arm.
"There's a reason even the most ferocious monsters vanish," Eri continued. "But humans remain."
His eyes glinted beneath the mask.
"Focus. Aim. Intellect."
"Am I going to die here? No… I must report to Sir—!"
The brute bolted, desperation in every stride.
But Eri raised his spear.vA breath. A whisper:
"Carmen Mortis."
The aura flared.
Mana gathered at the tip in burning threads of red light, the ground humming beneath it. Grass flattened. Aether trembled.
Energy coiled. Focused.
Ready to erase.
But—
fizz…
The glow sputtered then died.
"…"
His mana had run out.
Eri stared at the fading spearhead. Calm. Then let go.
The spear dispersed into light—returning to the ring on his finger.
He turned and slowly walked into the woods.
Footsteps silent. Steady.
Behind him, the axe brute vanished into the darkness.
But high above, in the trees—
A figure watched.
Slim, cloaked.
Black hair and twin daggers.
She tilted her head, smirked—
Amused.
Serene.
And said nothing.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
No one slept that night.
Not really.
Some said it was the guardian, stirring deep within the forest. Others whispered of dungeon beasts clashing in the dark. But those who had fought long enough—mages, warriors, the ones who'd tasted true danger—knew better.
It was a fight.
A real one.
Lucian felt it too.
Even from this distance, his skin still tingled. A faint pressure had pressed against the clearing like a slow heartbeat. Mana. Condensed so thick it resisted the Aether's chokehold.
And whoever it was… they had made it through the night.
The first rays of sunlight crept over the twisted canopies.
Lucian sat beneath a tree, leaning against its thick trunk.
Cordelia slept in his arms, chest rising and falling softly. She hadn't said anything—just curled up close, clutching his cloak like a lifeline, and pleaded with her eyes. He didn't have the heart to refuse.
Now, she breathed steadily, skin pale, lips parted slightly.
Her robes were still too short for the chill. So Lucian, after a moment's hesitation, draped his cloak over her legs.
It was… a little too intimate.
But not uncomfortable.
They retained body heat.
Around them, the clearing had filled with people. Survivors.
Others had arrived in the night—drawn by the booms, the flashes, the aura that had rippled through the trees. Fearful, shaken, but alive.
Of the thirty adventurers that had entered the dungeon, only seventeen stood here now.
Some were missing.
Some were… beyond help.
Still no sign of Durn. Or Eri.
Lucian sighed.
He gently stirred the girl awake.
Cordelia blinked, eyes swollen and red. But she was alert. She didn't even complain. Not a word.
Lucian watched her for a second.
Then spoke, quiet.
"They're organizing a push. All of us, moving together. We clear the dungeon, or die trying. Those who can't… will stay here."
Cordelia looked away.
Silence.
Then—after a long breath—she nodded.
"I'm going."
Lucian nodded once, got to his feet, and offered her his hand.
She took it.
Twelve of them set out again—into the forest of roots and whispering leaves. Where Aether coiled, and something ancient waited in the dark.
Lucian clenched his disguised sword.
The dungeon wasn't done with them yet.