The fight, though still brutal thanks to Sana'aviro's overwhelming strength, became more manageable with more of us joining in.
Even with Clighton and me suffering from debuffs, having Tinalara actively contributing lifted a huge weight off our shoulders.
The spider, now playing a more aggressive role, and Sheiran tossing in support spells whenever he could, tipped the scales further.
And with most of Sana'aviro's artifacts already broken or stolen, the once impossible battle suddenly seemed within reach.
"We need to keep up the pressure!" Clighton barked, gliding in tight arcs around the troll.
"On it, boss" Sheiran yelled out as she sped up.
The commander waited until Sana'aviro's attention shifted to Tinalara—who hacked away at the troll's ankles—before accelerating forward with a clear goal:
To strip away the last of his strength.
The only artifacts left were in Sana'aviro's hands. And Clighton was aiming directly for them.
"[Wind Scythe]!"
That was my last offensive spell. All I had left were two Sandstorms—a neutral one and a strong one. Not ideal, since Sandstorm blinded allies as well as enemies.
Still, the Wind Scythe struck true, slicing across the troll's face. He stumbled back, roaring in annoyance, like a giant irritated by a swarm of ants.
"Aaah!" Clighton roared as he vaulted into the air, swinging his weapon with the full momentum of the leap.
In an instant, he cleaved off the troll's left hand. The severed limb hit the ground with a sickening thud, along with the artifacts it bore.
Sana'aviro's body lurched as his power waned.
"He's almost finished! Just a little more!" I shouted, charging in with my wind-infused daggers.
My strikes barely scratched him—mere chips against a mountain—but every bit of damage mattered.
As I disengaged, Tinalara darted in to follow up.
The rhythm was perfect. Three attackers pressing relentlessly, the spider keeping the troll off balance, Sheiran tossing in support—it was going so well. Too well that...
We didn't see it.
The mistake.
Whether it was poor positioning, an unnoticed shift in the troll's rhythm, or simply him powering up in desperation—I couldn't say.
My mind blanked as it happened. The cries of everyone calling his name sounded far away, even my own voice joining theirs.
"CLIGHTON!!"
The troll's weapon struck.
The blow carved into Clighton's collarbone, cleaving down and through—splitting him cleanly in two.
Tinalara tumbled out of her glide, crashing hard, frozen in horror as she stared at the halved body of her commander.
"B-boss... no..."
And Sana'aviro's next strike was already falling—aimed directly at her.
I threw myself forward with everything I had, muscles screaming as I forced out more strength than I thought I had left.
At the very last instant, I tackled her away. The troll's weapon smashed into the ground where she'd been, the impact throwing us further through the air.
Thanks to my unique passive, I managed to land on my feet, still carrying Tinalara in my arms.
But she wasn't truly there. Her expression was hollow, paralyzed in disbelief as her orange bangs covered her flickering eyes. Her trembling hands couldn't even grip her machete.
I glanced at Sheiran and Gola. They were safe, far back—but just as frozen, their young minds unable to process what they had just witnessed.
"[Sandstorm]!"
I unleashed the stronger version, leaving myself with only one spell in reserve.
The chamber drowned in a suffocating swirl of sand, reducing vision to nothing. But thanks to my Thief class's passive, I alone could see clearly.
"Tinalara, listen—" I cut myself off. Her gaze was still empty. No words would reach her right now.
Groaning, I set her down gently. My thoughts raced.
I'm the only one left who can fight.
I can't win alone.
Clighton… he's gone.
But I have to protect the survivors. I must.
A sharp tug at my waist pulled me from my spiral. The spider's thread.
It didn't care who lived or died—it just wanted to survive. That meant it would keep fighting, no matter what.
And so would I.
I charged forward without a plan, only knowing the spider would back me up.
The troll thrashed blindly in the sandstorm, swinging wildly, his weapon's gusts stirring the storm but not strong enough to break it.
I leapt onto his back, daggers plunging deep into his flesh, anchoring myself as he bucked and slammed around.
I tore one free, stabbing again. And again. And again. Blood sprayed with each strike as his roars shook the chamber.
When he hurled himself backward to crush me against the cave wall, the spider yanked me away at the last moment.
I swung through the chamber, watching as he slammed his own back into jagged stone, hurting himself worse than my blades ever could.
The spider launched me forward like a bullet.
Sana'aviro reacted instantly, slashing in a wide horizontal arc to intercept me.
At the last heartbeat, the spider adjusted my trajectory, and I soared just above the strike.
I slammed into the troll's stomach like a missile, daggers plunging deep into his guts.
I didn't stop. I unleashed a flurry of frenzied slashes, tearing his flesh and forcing more blood to spill. His roars shook the cave.
But they were still daggers. The wounds were shallow, not enough to bring him down.
I only stopped when the spider yanked me away again, saving me from being crushed as Sana'aviro tried to smash me against his own body.
Landing hard, I saw him shift tactics. He swung his massive weapon in wide arcs, using the flat side like a fan.
At first, I chuckled, mocking.
"You won't win that easily! I promised Clighton I'd kill you!"
But my smile faded. The currents grew stronger.
"...No way…"
The sandstorm unraveled, ripped apart by the winds. In seconds, it was gone.
The battlefield lay bare once more. My advantage stripped away.
I had one spell left—a weaker Sandstorm. But if he could dispel the stronger version, then the weaker one wouldn't stand a chance.
"Tinalara! I don't care how—take the kids and Clighton's body and run! I'll hold him off!" I roared, snapping them all from their shock.
The spider still carried the pendant. I could use it to enter that strange state, to channel outer mana—but I'd need time to set it up.
Time I could only buy with blood.
Spinning my daggers in hand, I steadied my breath.
The fight wasn't over. Not yet.
"Tina—"
"No!" she finally snapped. "I-I will fight! A soldier of the Eleventh Songbird Squad will always avenge fallen comrades!"
Tinalara pushed herself to her feet, knees trembling. For all her hardened front, she was terrified. Watching her ruler kill her commander had shaken her to the core.
"Sheiran, Gola—go look after Boss!" she barked, sliding into the wolf's stance.
"No, they can't see him! Kids, escape—now!" I shouted, my order clashing with hers, as I though seeing Clighton's current state would do the kids no good.
"W-we'll follow Tinalara's order, mister!" Sheiran cried, voice cracking, tears running down his face. "There has to be something we can do to save Mister Clighton!"
He grabbed Gola's hand. She sat frozen, sobbing, staring blankly at him.
"We're the last three of our tribe," Sheiran said through his tears, desperate to spark something inside her. "Tinalara told us. If we can't face this… if we can't stand up now… then our tribe, our people, are as good as dead. Forgotten!"
But Gola didn't move. She sat there trembling, streams of tears falling.
Of course she didn't. They were just kids. They should never have been forced into this.
"Gola!" Tinalara snapped. Her tone was sharp, scolding, but there was a fierce protectiveness beneath it. "I get it—you want to run, to see your parents again! But this is different now. You're alone. No one's coming to rescue you. Stand up and fight!"
And with that, the goblin warrior finally charged forward, gliding toward the troll in her wolf stance.
"Gola!!" I called out. "Don't listen—she's wrong!"
"Huh!? What are you say—"
"You're not alone! You'll never be alone!" I shouted over her. "You've got Sheiran. You've got Tinalara. And even if we part ways… you'll still have me! I'll always be rooting for you to learn magic."
As much as I wanted to shield them from all this, I understood why Tinalara said what she said.
"Fight! Not because no one else will fight for you… but because there are people who will! Because there are people who care about you, people you want to protect—and people who'll protect you back!"
I sprinted toward the troll alongside Tinalara, daggers in hand.
From the corner of my eye, I caught it—the orc girl rising shakily to her feet. She looked at us, then moved.
She and Sheiran rushed toward Clighton's body. Whether he was dead already or barely clinging on, they wouldn't abandon him.
And with that, our side surged with renewed fire.
Tinalara, reckless but fierce, narrowly slipped past the troll's sweeping weapon, countering with slashes of her own.
The spider didn't let up either, sinking fangs into vulnerable flesh and tangling Sana'aviro's movements until, at last, the giant troll tripped and crashed to the ground.
Now was my chance.
The spider flung me forward like a missile. I stretched both daggers ahead, body taut, every ounce of strength driving me forward.
I slammed into the troll's throat. The impact sent Sana'aviro reeling backward, his body crashing hard to the ground.
And before he even hit the floor, I crossed my blades in a vicious slash across his neck—flesh tearing, blood spraying—opening his throat wide.