***Tyson***
The roar didn't end. It rumbled through the tunnels like an avalanche of thunder, shaking the very bones of the world.
Tyson flinched. He did not sign up for this. He asked for more, but this is not what he meant.
Malric instinctively reached for a sword he didn't have. Oriana didn't move.
Nyxari, however, did.
He watched in awe as she moved closer toward the sound.
"That sound wasn't just a call," she said, turning her head slightly. Her pupils dilated. "It was a warning. A territorial scream."
Another tremor rolled through the stone. Dust sifted from the tunnel ceiling. A crack split the nearby wall with a low groan.
Tyson swallowed. "So what... do we do?"
"Move," Oriana said flatly.
"Move where?" Malric asked, glancing back at the narrowing tunnel behind them.
The question was answered by a gust of wind, hot, foul, and fast. Air that had no business being alive rushed past them, carrying the scent of rot, decay, and something far worse.
Tyson winced as his stomach turned. "What the hell is that smell?"
Nyxari didn't answer. She was already drawing her bow. Ghostfire danced across her fingertips. "It's coming."
The ground shook harder now. A loud grinding, like stone scraping against stone, echoed from deeper in the tunnel. Then silence.
Then a breath.
The sound of something massive inhaling. The tunnel seemed to constrict, as if the very air was being pulled toward the beast.
Tyson felt his knees buckle. His essence quivered.
And then it came.
A shape unfolded from the dark.
Its body slithered along the ceiling, coiled like a serpent, but with too many legs. Glowing white eyes blinked open, one by one, lining the side of its head and body like cursed constellations. Its mouth split wide, revealing a ring of fangs, each as long as Tyson's forearm.
"Oh," he whispered. "Nope. No no no no no."
The centipede-beast dropped from the ceiling with a sound that should have shattered every bone in their bodies. Its black carapace shimmered with oil-slick colors, and its legs twitched with anticipation. Black sludge dripped from its mouth and sizzled on the floor.
Nyxari stepped forward. Her bow shimmered to life. "That is not natural."
"No," Oriana agreed. Her tone was calm, clinical. "It's corrupted."
Tyson wanted to fight; this was his chance to see how much he had grown over the past few weeks. His hand went to his sword. It trembled. His core pulsed, eager.
Oriana turned her head just enough to glance at him. "Don't."
"Why?" He groaned like a child being told no.
"If you use that ability now, you'll drain your core and be useless in five seconds. Watch. Learn. This one's ours."
Before Tyson could argue, Oriana vanished.
The beast reared back. A screech, like shattering glass, burst from its maw as she appeared mid-air above it, both blades drawn, black mist trailing behind her.
Her swords came down, slashing in an 'X', the blades bleeding death and decay.
It was fast.
One leg, as thick as her body, shot up to parry the blow. Steel met corrupted chitin. Sparks flew. The creature screamed.
Nyxari was already moving. She loosed two arrows in rapid succession. They curved in mid-air, guided by ghostfire, and pierced two of the creature's side eyes. Black ichor sprayed the wall.
It retaliated.
The centipede-beast spun, its body whipping like a flail. Segments crashed into the walls, sending stone flying. Malric barely dodged as a chunk of debris shattered beside him.
Tyson pulled him back. "You okay?"
Malric's face was pale. "No. No I am not." He said, his voice calm.
A shriek interrupted them.
Nyxari was airborne, flipping over a strike as her bow twisted into a lance mid-motion. She stabbed it downward into the creature's shoulder plate, then kicked off its back, landing in a crouch.
The creature turned.
Oriana was waiting.
She plunged both blades into its flank, and this time, they sank deep. She pulsed death essence through them. The flesh around the entry wounds blackened instantly.
It writhed, screeching again, but she didn't stop. Oriana rode the beast as it thrashed, her feet planted on its armor, blades buried deep. Her face was cold, detached. Like this was routine.
Tyson could barely breathe.
She was terrifying. But beautiful. Like watching a storm made flesh.
"Should we help?" Malric asked.
"You first."
"No thanks."
The beast slammed itself into the wall, dislodging Oriana. She flipped midair and landed beside Tyson, sliding to a stop.
Her blades were steaming.
"Next time I say move," she said, brushing a fleck of black ichor off her cheek, "don't ask where."
Then the beast screamed again.
Louder.
Different.
It was calling.
Oriana's eyes narrowed. "It wasn't alone."
From the darkness came a second roar. Closer.
Tyson cursed. "Oh come on..."
Nyxari cursed in a language Tyson didn't know but definitely recognized as vulgar.
Oriana rolled her shoulders. "Change of plan. We kill this one fast."
A second roar answered the first, closer, deeper, somehow worse. The stone beneath their feet began to fracture, spiderweb cracks racing out from the walls.
"Two of them?" Tyson asked, his voice cracking.
"No," Oriana said. "At least."
Malric stumbled back. "You're saying there's more?"
"I'm saying if we don't finish this one, we won't survive long enough to count the others."
The wounded centipede shrieked again, rearing its body up like a king cobra preparing to strike. The glow of its eyes flared white-hot, and black steam hissed from its wounds. Then, it did something none of them expected…
It split.
Not down the middle. Not a neat divide. The torso erupted as a new head tore itself free from within the beast, fangs stretching like wet bone. Its body expanded, stretching like molten tar hardened into armor.
"Reinforcement mutation," Oriana said grimly. "Corruption is accelerating it."
Tyson blinked. "That's a thing?!"
"Here it is."
The new head screamed; a high, vibrating frequency that shattered the nearest soulfire lamp. Sparks sprayed, plunging half the cavern into flickering half-light.
Nyxari didn't wait. She vanished, turning aethereal, then returned to physical form in the corner. Her bow came to life again, but this time it warped; black skulls orbiting her hands, whispering.
She spoke a word Tyson didn't understand, and when the arrow formed, it pulsed with something deeper than ghostfire. Something ancient. She loosed it.
The arrow curved, dipping low, then climbing before slamming into the second head with a detonation of light and silence. Not a soundless explosion… no, it took sound away.
Everything went quiet for a full breath.
Then a pulse erupted from the centipede's wound. It howled as half its face melted, but its body twisted with blind rage, slamming down toward Nyxari.
Tyson didn't think. His sword ignited as he jumped between her and the beast, essence flooding his core without command.
"Tyson, no!" Oriana snapped.
He slashed upward, catching the beast mid-strike. The force knocked him backward, but his blade tore through several legs.
He landed hard, skidding across stone. His breath left him in one violent burst.
"Requiem Slash," he gasped. "Still standing."
"You're an idiot," Oriana muttered, but a flicker of pride came through her voice.
The creature flailed again, blind, enraged, wounded. Nyxari moved back into cover. Oriana turned to Malric.
"Distract it."
He paled. "Me?"
She glared at him, "either I kill you, or you distract it, and I kill it. Something is dying."
He grimaced. "You're all insane."
But he ran. Loud. Arms waving. "Hey! Over here, you disgusting pest!"
It worked.
The monster lurched toward him with reckless fury.
"NOW!" Oriana shouted.
She and Nyxari moved in perfect synch. Oriana went low, blades flashing like silver lightning, carving into the beast's underbelly. Nyxari leapt over it, flipping as her bow reformed into a twin-axe construct of shadow and light.
They struck at the same time.
Oriana stabbed upward, directly into the corrupted core now visible in the gut.
Nyxari came down like divine punishment, both axes slamming into the wounded second head.
There was no roar this time.
Only silence. Then the body convulsed. Then collapsed.
"My essence is getting low; I can't handle another fight." Nyxari said breathing heavily.
Black sludge erupted from its wounds, hissing as it hit the stone. A violent tremor cracked the cavern again, but this time, it wasn't the beast.
From deeper in the tunnel, something breathed.
Tyson rolled over, gasping. "Tell me that was the big one."
Oriana wiped her blade on the corpse. "No. That was the scout."
Malric fell to his knees. "Just put me out of my misery."
Nyxari didn't speak. She was already scanning the dark ahead.
Then the light changed. Not brighter. Dimmer.
A shadow stretched across the floor, not cast by any light source. It crept from the far end of the tunnel, curling like smoke made from ink and hunger.
Oriana's eyes narrowed. "That… is not a beast."
Tyson's breath caught. "Then what is it?"
The shadow reached the corpse. It touched it. And the corrupted centipede's body began to disintegrate. Not rot. Not burn. Erase. Gone, as if it had never existed.
"Run?" Malric offered.
"Too late," Oriana said.
Because something stepped out of the shadow. It wore armor, twisted, jagged, and alive. A cloak of blood-soaked silk trailed behind it, and its mask… crystalline. Smooth. A single red rune glowed at its center.
The assassin.
The Red Fang.
His eyes flared behind the mask, and the temperature dropped instantly. Tyson could feel it. The pressure. Not aura. Intent.
It pinned him in place like a blade through his chest.
"I found you," the masked man said.
He stepped forward.
"I want you to remember," his voice rasped, not toward Tyson. Not toward Malric.
To Oriana.
"I want you to remember every scream as I return the favor."
The floor cracked beneath him as essence ignited, blazing crimson and death-black.
Then he moved. Like a god of vengeance.
***Halrix Vonn***
At the edge of the lowlands, where fog curled like dying breath over rotting marshes, two riders stood atop a rocky ridge, their mounts cloaked in light-repelling barding.
Commander Halrix Vonn surveyed the expanse with cold eyes. His gleaming white armor shimmered faintly beneath the clouded sun. The spear across his back pulsed once—quietly, like a heartbeat.
Beside him, Captain Kareem dismounted, hand gripping his injured arm, still wrapped in bandages. "This place feels wrong," he muttered.
"It is wrong," Vonn replied, eyes never leaving the horizon. "The essence here is wild. Corrupted. Something ancient stirs beneath the surface."
Kareem shifted uncomfortably. "They've gone deeper than we thought. Are you sure we should wait?"
Vonn didn't answer right away. Instead, he took a slow breath and scanned the horizon. "No. But charging blind into the lowlands without knowing what waits is suicide. Even for me."
"They killed Henderson," Kareem said quietly. "He was strong."
"He was reckless," Vonn corrected. "He let pride cloud strategy. That woman, her essence is different... potent. It's like she is death incarnate."
Kareem glanced at him. "Is she stronger than you?"
"I can't say, but I like my odds."
They stood in silence, sounds from within the marshy hell made their way to them.
Snarls, clicks, screeches, thuds, noises neither of them could place.
"Wherever they are, they aren't safe, we wait. Wait until they bleed, then, we intervene. Not as saviors though."
"As what?"
"As judgment."