The sheer weight of its steps made the cave quake.
Dust spilled from the ceiling.
Rocks trembled.
It wasn't a mindless beast anymore.
It had intent.
And its intent was death.
But Elius's clone didn't flinch. He raised a finger.
One sword lowered.
He stepped onto it.
The floating blade carried him up—hovering midair, just out of the goblin's massive reach.
The monster swung a tree-trunk of an arm—WHOOSH!
Elius was gone.
He leapt to another sword that caught him just in time—CLANG!—hovering ten feet higher.
The goblin snarled, spinning to follow.
But again—SWOOSH!
Elius moved, leaping like a phantom from sword to sword, each one adjusting in perfect synchronicity, responding to invisible commands.
He was playing an impossible game of aerial chess, staying just ahead of the goblin's monstrous reach.
BOOM!
CRACK!
BOOM!
Every time the goblin lunged, the stone beneath shattered. Its fists collided with stalagmites, pulverizing them into gravel.
It spun, raged, screamed in fury—but never touched the clone.
Elius danced above it, still calm, not a word spoken, not a breath wasted.
One sword slashed down—SLASH!—leaving a long cut across the goblin's back.
Another followed—CHING!—scraping against its arm.
The goblin howled in pain—but didn't stop.
It leapt—BOOM!
Elius was forced to leap higher—catching himself on a third sword just before the creature's massive hand nearly smashed him like a fly.
Again and again, Elius weaved through the air like a specter of war, controlling all five blades like extensions of his soul. Each step he took was calculated. Every motion was pure control.
But even so—the goblin kept up.
Its movements were getting faster. Smarter. It adapted to the rhythm, striking in unexpected patterns, lunging not at Elius—but at the swords he stood upon.
CRACK! One sword was nearly knocked out of place.
The clone tumbled midair—but landed smoothly onto another, never breaking the flow. Yet now, the movements were tighter. The fight was closing in.
Meanwhile—
Ron's ears twitched.
He turned.
"…Wait."
Lina tensed. "No…"
From the shadows around them—
Small footsteps.
Skittering claws.
Low growls.
Shiro's hands flew to his blades. "They're flanking us!"
"The smaller goblins are attacking!" Klee screamed.
The remaining goblin forces had circled around the massive one's battle. And now, they pounced.
Dozens of them—streaming out from the tunnels like a tide of green filth. Their eyes gleamed with hate. Their jagged blades glinted in the torchlight.
Ron roared, his raptor instincts flaring. "We've got incoming!"
He lunged forward, claws raised high, teeth bared.
Shiro's clones flickered into existence beside him—three in total—each drawing their blades in silence.
Lina's ghostly arms shimmered, expanding into a field of ethereal hands, preparing to ensnare the enemy.
Klee stepped back, hands already glowing with warm green light, her eyes scanning for injuries even before the fight began.
The clone didn't look back.
Elius's floating swords twisted in the air, his masked face still pointed toward the massive goblin.
But deep inside it's cold artificial mind, a single directive flickered:
"Protect the party."
Then—
WHRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR!
The clone's four swords vibrated like a hive of hornets.
Elius's head turned—slowly.
One hand extended.
His four swords spun, then—SWOOSH!—rocketed through the air in five separate streaks of silver light.
Three of them slashed downward with impossible accuracy, schk! schk! schk!, tearing open the chests and necks of the goblins closing in on Ron and Lina.
The other two spun wide, cutting a swath through a wave of attackers to the north and west, giving the team a small opening.
Then—SHNK!
Each sword flipped and stabbed the earth.
The metal didn't stop.
Instead, the blades glowed faintly—hum—and the handles lowered, allowing them to be used as temporary platforms.
A command pulsed.
The swords tilted—as if beckoning.
Without hesitation, the clone leapt down to the cave floor, sprinting toward the four. A second later, the three unoccupied swords whooshed forward and slid beneath Ron, Lina, and Klee, lifting them into the air before they could resist.
"W-Whoa!?" Klee shouted, clutching the floating handle as her boots left the ground.
Ron snarled, "Wait! Elius?!"
Lina barely managed to hold herself steady, her ghostly hair flowing wildly as she was whisked skyward.
Only Shiro stayed grounded, his foot already on one of his own shadow clones, launching himself into a leap to land beside the others mid-flight.
"Let's go!" he barked.
Behind them, a horde of goblins shrieked and swarmed, reaching up with claws and crooked blades—but it was too late.
The four, now carried by the clone's swords, began to rise and fly deeper into the unknown recesses of the cave.
The clone followed on his own sword, silent and watchful.
But the nightmare was far from over.
As they flew through the tight stone corridors, more goblins emerged from above—dropping from the ceiling.
Others burst from cracks in the walls, their eyes glowing red with frenzy.
Some even climbed after them, leaping from ledge to ledge like insane monkeys.
One leapt at Ron—SNAP!
Ron twisted in the air and slashed with a talon—cutting the creature in two.
Another goblin hurled a crude spear at Klee.
CLANG!
The clone's sword intercepted the strike in midair, splitting the spear into splinters.
"Damn!" Ron growled. "How many are there!?"
"They're not giving up!" Shiro hissed, tossing a handful of smoke pellets below them. Explosions of white fog burst and slowed some of the pursuers.
But the goblins kept coming. Endless. Relentless. Like insects with too many limbs and too much hate.
The team weaved through twisting tunnels, barely dodging falling stalactites, sudden drops, and swarming ambushes.
The swords moved with unnatural grace, banking at impossible angles, rotating to avoid rocks or flicking enemies aside.
Still, they were bleeding speed.
And worse—the passages were narrowing.
Soon, one final turn led to disaster.
A dead end.
They skidded to a halt—suspended in the air just before the jagged wall of stone ahead. No paths left. The tunnel had collapsed long ago.
They were trapped.
The clone landed first, his masked face still unreadable. The others dropped down one by one, hearts racing.
"I told you we were heading too deep!" Shiro hissed.
"We didn't have a choice!" Lina snapped.
Klee stepped back. "Guys..."
From the tunnel behind, the goblin horde approached.
Dozens, no—hundreds—flooded into view, their eyes glowing like stars in the pitch black, snarling and shrieking. The noise was deafening. Claws scraped on stone. Weapons banged against walls.
They had nowhere to run.
"We're dead if we stay!" Shiro said, blades drawn.
"No." A voice growled.
It was Ron.
The muscular green man stepped forward. His skin began to shimmer, harden. His face lengthened, and his muscles bulged.
Scales appeared across his arms, and his fingers curled into talons. His body shrank slightly—but grew more streamlined, more lethal.
He wasn't human anymore.
He was becoming the beast.
"I told myself… I wouldn't go full form unless it was life or death," Ron said. His voice was lower now. Rougher. Velociraptor-like. "But I won't be a burden anymore."
He roared.
The goblins flinched.
Then—he charged.
He dove into the horde like a missile, tearing through them in a whirlwind of claws and teeth. His tail whipped behind him like a living whip, snapping skulls with each spin.
The goblins screamed.
Shiro followed.
"Shadow Split!"
Three clones burst from his body—POP! POP! POP!
All four Shiros rushed forward, moving in unison, slicing throats, flipping over bodies, and dodging attacks with ninja precision.
Behind them, Lina's eyes flared white.
Ghostly hands burst from the ground—dozens of them—grabbing ankles, twisting limbs, yanking goblins backward into the darkness with inhuman strength.
The goblins hesitated.
The cave was filled with death again.
Blood sprayed.
Limbs flew.
Ron slammed one goblin into a wall, then jumped to bite another's neck.
Shiro rolled under a spear, decapitating its owner with a clean slice. His clones worked like a pack—always covering blind spots.
Lina's spiritual arms never stopped reaching, grabbing, tearing.
"AHHHHHHHHHH!" Ron shouted as he tore through another cluster.
"Clear the way!" Shiro yelled. "Get to that split—there's a path!"
But even as they advanced, they were getting pushed back.
The numbers were too high.
Every goblin killed brought five more.
Sweat poured down their faces, breaths grew short, wounds began to appear.
Klee was behind them, panting, hands glowing as she rapidly healed cuts, burns, bruises. Her energy was running low.
Then—
WHOOOOOOOSH!
Three of the flying swords, no longer carrying passengers, swept into the chaos.
They slashed through the goblins like guillotines, tearing open ranks and buying the team a critical moment.
Ron leapt over one blade and landed on another goblin's head—CRACK!
Shiro grabbed two by the neck and smashed them together.
Lina's ghost arms slammed into the ground, causing a shockwave that sent a dozen goblins flying.
The three swords circled around them like guardian hawks, cutting down every enemy that got too close.
Together—with blood and steel, tooth and shadow—they carved a path forward.
At last, the group fell back into the small chamber at the dead end.
Breathing heavy. Covered in blood and dust.
Behind them, the goblins stopped.
They hissed. Chattered.
Waiting.
Staring.
Their numbers were still immense.
But they were waiting for something.
Something bigger.
The team turned.
They were cornered.
No more tunnels. No more escape.
Only stone.
Only silence.
And the thunder of approaching footsteps echoing once again down the tunnel.