Tinalara, in the end, resigned herself to stay behind in the hallway, outside the boss room, protecting the two kids while Clighton and I faced the troll boss.
"You sure that spider won't attack us?" Clighton asked before opening the hidden door nestled between two logs.
"If it hasn't attacked us until now, I doubt it'll turn on us once the fight starts," I said, glancing at the spider.
"It doesn't look all that bad," Clighton chuckled, casting the spider a quick glance. It looked ready to fight.
"Anything I should know before we go in?" I asked.
"He's really powerful."
That… doesn't help me.
Clighton seemed to notice my face fall and let out a hearty laugh. "It's a troll. There's not much else to know other than it's strong and huge. Add the corruption that turned him into a mindless monster, and he's basically just a bigger orc."
"I guess you're right…"
I looked back. Tinalara still wore the same conflicted expression.
Clighton finally stepped into the boss room with a heavy sigh, his grip tight on the giant sword's handle, bracing himself to face his former ruler.
I followed, and—
The sight was horrifying.
The giant troll stood atop a mountain of corpses. Some were his comrades, perhaps even family. The rest—those strange dungeon monsters.
His green skin was stained red, bathed in the blood of his victims. Fresh streams dripped from his hands and legs, pooling on the ground.
In his grasp was a massive weapon, part club, part sword—a wooden core lined with black crystalline blades, jagged and sharp.
The troll's face was twisted into a maniacal grin, saliva dripping from his mouth as he licked his lips at the feast of death around him.
I didn't even need to look at Clighton to imagine his expression, but I did anyway.
His eyes were half-lidded, heavy with sorrow, brows drawn low in disappointment. His entire body stiffened at the sight of what had once been an esteemed ruler—now reduced to a rabid beast.
"Sana'aviro…" The name slipped from his lips, soft and broken. "This isn't you…"
Clighton's fist clenched the greatsword's hilt so hard I thought it might snap, but he forced himself to stop. That weapon was the only thing capable of ending his king.
Because if not that sword, then what? My daggers were toys against a titan like this. Only that blade could put an end to him.
Sadness tightened in my chest. To see a ruler so loved that even now, none of his people wanted to believe he should die—and yet here he was, corrupted beyond recognition. To see Clighton burdened with the task of ending someone he clearly respected, just to preserve his memory.
If I failed my own objectives… could this be my fate?
If I failed my family—the [Crescent Moon]—would I one day have to stand against them, blades drawn, as they looked at me the way Clighton looked at his king?
If I failed Fran… would I be forced to confront her as the monster she was destined to become in the game's story?
At this moment, I wondered what was running through Clighton's mind. What was he thinking, having to face someone he once admired so deeply?
If I were him, I'd feel—
"Thanks for helping me, Alen…"
"We still have to finish the job," I said quickly. "Thank me when we've freed him from this pain."
"I'll thank you again later then. But that thanks just now was genuine. I don't think I could have faced him alone."
Alone… Of course. He never would have let Tinalara in here. Without me, he'd have stepped into this fight by himself.
"His name is Sana'aviro, right?" I asked.
Clighton nodded.
At that moment, the troll finally turned, facing us. His grin twisted into something feral as he raised his weapon.
Clighton wasted no time. He sank into the wolf's stance and shot forward, gliding across the floor with frightening speed.
"So fast…" I muttered. The spider wrapped a webline around my waist, ready to yank me out of danger. "Stay back for now."
The spider obeyed, leaping to the wall and crawling along it to secure a vantage point.
Clighton's momentum carried him into the air. He swung his blade down with crushing force.
The boss met him head-on. Their weapons clashed, the sound thundering through the room.
Despite Clighton's speed and strength, the troll overpowered him, swatting him away like an insect.
But Clighton landed smoothly, sliding back into the wolf's stance without missing a beat. Instead of faltering, he used the troll's pushback to fuel his glide, circling in a wide arc before darting in again.
The troll wasn't going to sit back. With two massive strides, he closed the distance and brought his weapon down in a crushing blow.
Clighton slipped aside with precision, sliding between the troll's legs before slashing forward.
But the troll twisted his weapon into the ground and vaulted over, flipping backward in a shocking display of agility. Mid-air, he swung his weapon down like a hammer.
The impact missed Clighton by inches but still blasted him away with a shockwave that cracked the floor.
"The fight's barely started, and I'm already struggling to keep up with their speed!" I muttered, using the chance to analyze Sana'aviro instead of rushing in blindly.
That's when I noticed them. His body was covered in artifacts.
On his head, a feathered crown—likely boosting speed.
On his chest, bone charms strung across his leather armor.
Six rings glimmered across his fingers.
On his knees, small skull-shaped trinkets embedded in the fabric.
I knew they were artifacts thanks to the faint blue glow that pulsed from them. Unlike manual artifacts like my cloak, automatic ones flared periodically, draining mana to stay active.
But analysis wasn't the only thing I was doing.
I had also begun reserving spells. Strong Sandstorm. Strong Wind Scythe. Weak Feather Dart. Strong Breeze Step. Neutral Wind Scythe. Strong Wind Hammer. And, thanks to my new mana stone upgrade, Neutral Sandstorm and Strong Wind Ram.
Eight spells in reserve—two more than before.
"Clighton! His kneepads—they're artifacts, right!?" I shouted.
"Got it!" Clighton answered, speeding up. His glides became tighter, circling the troll in dizzying arcs.
I wasn't going to just sit back either.
"[Breeze Step]."
My footsteps vanished into silence as I moved. Sneaking closer, daggers ready.
The troll's attention was locked on Clighton, who kept darting in and out of range in quick, precise clashes.
I tugged the spider's webline at my waist, signaling it to act.
I leapt forward—once, twice, three times—then pushed with all I had for the fourth, the spider pulling to sling me higher.
Altitude secured. Perfect.
I came down on the troll's back, dagger flashing. I slashed deep across his scalp and yanked at the feathered crown.
Blood gushed down as the crown came loose.
The first real damage of the fight—delivered in an instant.
I leapt away as the spider pulled me back, the crown clutched in my hands.
Now, suspended in the air as the spider steadied me out of danger, Clighton took advantage of the troll's momentary confusion and slashed at its knee.
However—
"!!!"
The strike connected with the troll's skull-shaped knee trinket, and a piercing shriek tore through the room. It wasn't the troll's roar, but the recently attacked artifact—it was the sound of a woman screaming, raw and agonized, as if someone were being slaughtered right next to us.
The effect was immediate. My strength drained, my limbs grew heavy, and my vision blurred at the edges.
Clighton, being closest, suffered the worst of it. His movements faltered, his body trembling as though the scream had clawed straight through his bones.
"A permanent debuff once the artifact breaks…?" I muttered under my breath as the skull trinket shattered into fragments.
Sana'aviro wasted no time. With terrifying speed, he kicked the weakened Clighton square in the chest.
"Clighton!" I shouted as I finally landed, my stomach twisting. "Ugh… I'm gonna throw up…"
The old goblin was flung across the room, smashing into the wall with such force that stone and dust exploded outward.
Even with two artifacts gone, the troll still held the advantage. And now, we were fighting while crippled by curses.
Without a second thought, I wrapped the feathered crown diagonally across my torso beneath the dark cloak, fashioning it into a sash.
Instantly, I felt one of the debuffs weaken. The sluggishness that had slowed my movements faded, my body responding sharper and faster.
I was right—the crown boosted speed.
But the dizziness lingered, and the strength-sapping effect weighed on me. Still, that didn't matter. I wasn't one to rely on brute force anyway.
"[Wind Ram]!"
The spell blasted forward, slamming directly into the troll. He took it head-on, barely flinching, as though I'd tossed a pebble.
But I hadn't aimed for damage. I'd aimed for attention.
And now, Sana'aviro's bloodshot eyes were locked on me instead of the recovering Clighton.
Six spells in my reserve.