The ground thundered beneath their feet.
The Dungeon's core chamber trembled with every step of the towering Behemoth. Its obsidian-black flesh was veined with molten cracks, dripping lava-like blood that burned holes into the stone floor. Three glaring crimson eyes scanned the intruders who dared force it into a corner.
They were exhausted—bruised, bleeding, armor cracked—but each of them stood firm.
Kyle was first to charge.
His breaths came in ragged bursts, sweat mixing with grime as he spun his blue spear in a tight arc to parry the creature's descending claw. Sparks burst against steel. His boots skidded across the scorched ground, but he forced his stance firm.
"Kyle! Its joints!" Someone yelled.
Kyle clenched his teeth and dove low. A trail of shimmering azure mana flowed along his spear as he thrust directly into the beast's knee joint. The blade dug deep—enough to draw a fountain of glowing blood.
The beast roared. Its tail lashed like a whip.
