The battle for the essence wasn't a duel; it was a desperate, ugly scuffle.
The chief's scream for "Percy" went unanswered—Erwen's first arrow had already silenced the crossbowman. But the remaining three weren't amateurs. The samurai, Illis, moved with a disciplined lethality that nearly sent my shield flying with a single horizontal slash.
"I'll stop the arrows! Go after the barbarian!" the skinny scout yelled, interposing his wooden shield to protect his comrades from Erwen's sniping.
I focused on the samurai and the chief, ignoring the sting as their blades found my skin. My left arm was a numb, poisoned weight, but that worked in my favor—I didn't flinch when they cut it. I just kept pushing, acting as the anvil for Erwen's hammer.
Then came the turn.
Whoosh!
Erwen's arrows weren't just wood and iron; they were vessels for fire. The skinny scout's shield, now a bristling hedgehog of shafts, suddenly ignited. He screamed, dropping the burning wood, and Erwen didn't miss the opening. An arrow caught him in the shoulder, and his sword clattered to the dirt.
"Illis! I'll take care of the fairy!" the chief roared, breaking off to hunt Erwen in the brush.
"Surrender, barbarian," the samurai sneered, trying to stall.
I didn't answer with words. I lunged. I dodged the scout's desperate left-handed stab, kicked his kneecap until the bone popped, and then turned my full attention to the samurai. He was good—too good for this group—but he made one mistake. He expected me to fight like a human.
I dropped my shield, feinted a punch, and instead lunged for his throat. I didn't use a blade. I used my teeth.
Rip.
The samurai collapsed, clutching a fountain of gore where his life used to be. I spat out a piece of meat, wiped my mouth, and felt the adrenaline begin to drain, replaced by a cold, agonizing ache.
The aftermath was a frantic, blood-soaked blur. Erwen emerged from the bushes, unscathed and trembling, to find me on my knees.
"Drink this," she urged, handing me a potion.
It tasted like liquid fire and tiny needles, but it did the job. As my wounds scabbed over and the poison receded, I checked my watch.
"Forty minutes," I croaked. "If we aren't through the portal in forty minutes, we're stuck here for three more days."
We didn't just loot; we scavenged. We stripped the high-value gear from the corpses, shoved mana stones into our bursting packs, and began a forced marathon back to the gate. My body felt like it was made of lead, but the thought of the city—of a bed, of safety—pushed me forward.
We hit the portal with seconds to spare.
– Return to the First Floor.
The transition spat me out face-first onto the stone floor. Erwen, as usual, landed like a gymnast.
"Safe," I wheezed, dusting myself off. "Safe by a hair."
We stood there in the dim light of the first floor, two exhausted, filthy survivors. I looked at the watch one last time.
– 15 seconds remaining.
"The loot!" Erwen cried out. "The essence! You were going to make me promise something!"
Right. The promise. The reason I'd handed her a fortune in monster-soul. But the floor was already beginning to shimmer, the air humming with the vibration of the labyrinth closing.
"Black Whale!" I shouted over the rising noise. "The Black Whale tavern! Meet me there!"
"OK!" Erwen shouted back, her eyes wide.
I opened my mouth to tell her a time—noon? evening?—but the world turned to white noise and static.
[The labyrinth closes.]
[The character is transported to Rafdonia.]
As the light took me, one thought remained in my mind: I really hope there's only one 'Black Whale' in this city.
End of Chapter 2
Current Inventory:
Bountiful Mana Stones (Second Floor Quality)
Looted Gear: Crossbow, Scimitar, various daggers, and high-quality backpacks.
Health: Heavily scarred but stabilized.
Allies: Erwen (Now a Goblin Archer Essence user).