After a tense, silent trek through another winding tunnel, they reached the final chamber. It was a large, almost circular cavern, the ceiling lost in shadow. Piles of bones—animal and disturbingly humanoid—were scattered across the floor. In the center of the room, seated on a crude throne of piled stones and rotting wood, was the boss.
It was a Hobgoblin. Not the scrawny, cackling creatures they'd fought before, but something far worse. It was nearly seven feet tall, its body a mass of scarred, corded muscle. A jagged scar ran down one side of its face, and its yellow eyes burned with a cunning malice that was absent in its smaller kin. It gripped a massive, gnarled club that looked like an entire tree trunk.
Rohan, nursing his pride and his injured leg, let out a low whistle. "Alright, a Hobgoblin Champion. Now this is a real fight." He shot a pointed look at Soumya. "Okay, the talking computer had her moment. Now let the real Hunter handle this. Anil, you take the first hit. I'll flank it the moment it commits."
Soumya opened her mouth to protest, to tell them to wait, to observe, but Rohan was already moving. "Formation! Go!"
Anil, ever the dutiful soldier, braced his shield and charged, his heavy boots thudding on the stone floor. He let out a war cry, a deep-throated roar meant to draw the Hobgoblin's attention.
It worked.
The Hobgoblin rose from its throne, a low growl rumbling in its chest. It met Anil's charge not with a wild swing, but with a calculated, brutal shove. It didn't even use its club. It just slammed its open palm into Anil's shield.
The impact was like a thunderclap. Anil, for all his size and strength, was thrown backwards as if he were a child. He stumbled, his shield arm trembling from the shock, his formation completely broken.
"Now!" Rohan roared, seeing his opening. He darted in from the side, his mana-infused sword aiming for the Hobgoblin's exposed ribs.
But the creature was faster than its size suggested. It pivoted, swinging its club not as a weapon, but as a barrier. With a deafening clang, it parried Rohan's strike. The force of the blow was so great that Rohan's sword was torn from his grasp, sent skittering across the cavern floor.
The Hobgoblin grunted, a sound horribly like a chuckle, and followed up with a backhand that sent the disarmed Striker tumbling through the dirt.
"No!" Priya screamed, and in a panic, she launched a [Mana Bolt]. It struck the Hobgoblin in the shoulder. The creature barely flinched, looking at the fizzling spark on its skin as if it were a bothersome insect before turning its malevolent gaze on her.
The team was annihilated in less than ten seconds. Anil was stunned, Rohan was disarmed, and Priya was frozen in terror. This wasn't a fight; it was an execution.
But Soumya wasn't watching the execution. She was watching the executioner.
[Eidetic Recall engaged. Analyzing high-threat target: 'Hobgoblin Champion'.]
Her mind, a sanctuary of cold logic in the midst of the chaos, was recording everything. The speed of its pivot. The exact angle of its parry. The way its muscles tensed.
[Pattern detection in progress... Searching for combat tells...]
The Hobgoblin ignored the stunned Anil and the disarmed Rohan. It saw Priya as the weakest, most immediate threat. It raised its massive club high over its head, preparing for a devastating vertical smash that would crush the small Conduit into paste. As it did, a low, guttural growl rumbled from its chest.
[Tell Identified: A low growl precedes the vertical smash.]
It swung its arm back for a wide, sweeping attack aimed at the downed Rohan. Just before the swing, the muscles on its left shoulder bunched and tensed visibly. A sharp, almost snake-like hiss escaped its lips.
[Tell Identified: A sharp hiss precedes the horizontal swing.]
The patterns were there. Simple. Predictable. A binary system of death.
The Hobgoblin refocused on Rohan, who was scrambling for his sword. It raised its club again, the deathblow ready. The low growl echoed in the cavern.
Time snapped back into focus. Soumya's voice, sharp and devoid of panic, sliced through the air.
"GROWL! DOWN!"
Rohan was on the verge of death, his pride forgotten. He reacted without thinking, throwing himself flat onto the grimy floor. The massive club smashed down, shattering the stone where his head had just been. Rock fragments flew through the air like shrapnel.
The Hobgoblin, annoyed by the miss, turned its attention to Priya, who was trying to back away. It tensed its shoulder, its lips peeling back in a hiss.
"HISS! DODGE RIGHT!" Soumya commanded.
Priya stumbled, falling to her right in a desperate, clumsy scramble. The horizontal swing of the club passed through the air where she had been standing with the force of a freight train. The wind from the attack alone blew her hair across her face.
Silence.
Anil, Rohan, and Priya were all staring, not at the monster, but at Soumya.
The Hobgoblin grunted in frustration, turning its burning yellow eyes on the small, unmoving girl at the edge of the room. It had identified the real threat.
Soumya met its gaze, her heart hammering but her mind perfectly clear. She couldn't land a single blow. She couldn't block a single attack. But she could see its every move before it happened.
She had become the new shot-caller, the central nervous system of their broken team. The fight had become a deadly dance, and she was the only one who could hear the music.