The corridor no longer trembled.
Now, it creaked.
The impact of the skeleton's last strike had shifted the walls by a few centimeters, stones loosening from the ceiling and rolling across the floor with dry echoes. The air grew denser, heavier, as if the mountain itself were holding its breath.
Kidero slid back two more steps before managing to brace himself.
The flames on his sword still burned — but unevenly, unstable, reacting more to his effort than to the enemy.
— He… didn't even feel it — Ayame said through clenched teeth.
Ahead of them, the skeleton stood as it was.
Not regenerating — nothing had broken.
The thick bones remained intact, fitted together with unnatural precision. The joints did not creak, did not give, showed no sign of wear. The long sword rested firmly in its hands, heavy as a block of ancient metal.
The shadow clinging to it seeped slowly along the skeletal frame, like tired smoke — weak, but constant. It did not advance on its own. It did not attack.
It simply… remained.
— It doesn't fight like a creature — Shirō murmured, his gaze too focused. — It fights like something that has already won before.
The skeleton advanced.
One step.
Then another.
Each movement sent a faint vibration through the ground, as if its weight exceeded what its form should allow.
— Distraction on the left! — Kidero shouted. — Ayame!
She answered instantly.
Electricity erupted around her body, sparks racing along the corridor walls. Ayame ran in an arc, boots striking loose stone, and drove a direct blow into the skeleton's flank.
The impact burst into blue-white light.
For a single second — only one — the shadow shuddered.
— Now! — Kazuko shouted.
He lunged with everything he had.
The poisoned blade traced a precise arc, aiming for the joint between ribs and collarbone — a point that, on any other body, would have been fatal.
The strike landed.
And stopped.
The sound was not a cut.
It was a collision.
Clang.
Kazuko felt the shock surge up his arm into his shoulder, his fingers nearly losing the sword. The blade ricocheted away, deflected as if it had struck solid plating.
— Impossible… — he whispered.
The skeleton slowly turned its skull toward him.
The shadow slid a little farther forward, as if it had sensed something.
— Kazuko, move! — Ayame screamed.
Too late.
The skeleton rotated its entire body in a dry, brutal motion. The sword came up from below — not fast, but inevitable.
Kidero threw himself in front of it, blocking.
The collision was deafening.
Flames scattered through the air like dying sparks, and Kidero was hurled into the wall, striking it hard enough to force a sharp grunt from his chest.
— Damn it… — he spat, trying to rise.
Shirō extended his hand.
Shadows surged from the ground, wrapping around the skeleton's legs, pulling, compressing, restraining.
For a moment, it worked.
The enemy's movement slowed.
The shadow clinging to it reacted — not by attacking, but by expanding slightly, dissolving Shirō's spell like mist in the wind.
— It's nullifying everything that tries to limit its movement — Shirō said, feeling his magic recoil. — It's not defense. It's… permanence.
— Then we break it by force — Kidero growled, reigniting his blade with visible strain. — Even if it takes forever.
He charged again.
The corridor became chaos.
Kidero attacked without pause, wide, brutal strikes, each step shaking the floor. Ayame alternated focused electrical discharges, trying to overload the joints. Shirō hurled shadows to deflect blows at the last possible instant. Kazuko circled, searching for an impossible angle.
Nothing gave.
Each strike threw sparks.
Each impact returned pain.
The skeleton did not retreat.
Did not accelerate.
Did not show rage.
It simply… advanced.
— It's not trying to kill us quickly — Ayame realized, breathless. — It's wearing us down.
As if it had heard her, the skeleton raised its sword overhead.
The blow came down vertically.
The ground split.
A crack raced the length of the corridor, walls tilting inward. Kazuko lost his footing for a second — a single second.
It was enough.
The blade came horizontally, low, heavy, perfect.
Kazuko tried to retreat.
Tried to raise his sword.
There was no time.
The strike hit.
The impact was dry, brutal, sending his body flying as if it weighed nothing. Kazuko slammed into the ground and rolled to a stop near the wall, his sword skidding from his hand.
— KAZUKO! — Ayame screamed.
The skeleton took a step forward.
The shadow tightened slightly around the blade, as if it were… satisfied.
Something went cold in Kidero's stomach.
— No… — he murmured, forcing himself upright.
The group was gasping.
Wounded.
Cornered.
And the skeleton was still whole.
Its sword rose again.
And for the first time since the fight began, the corridor felt too small to contain what was coming next.
The battle was far from over.
But in that moment…
They were losing.