Gulp.
The sound slipped out, small and traitorous, yet it echoed down the narrow T-section deep within the Nazas Dungeon as if the stone itself wished to remember it.
No one laughed. No one spoke.
Every soldier stood locked in formation, breath measured, bodies coiled tight with anticipation.
Shields rose as one, a wall of iron and wood layered with enchantments that shimmered faintly beneath the torchlight. Spears leveled forward in perfect alignment, a forest of deadly points bristling like the quills of some slumbering beast.
This was it. The final battle.
Today, they would challenge the Dungeon Boss of the Nazas Dungeon.
Unify it. Claim it.
Or die trying.
"Open it!" Lyssandra commanded.
Her voice cut through the suffocating tension like a blade through cloth, sharp and absolute.
Ten hobgoblins stepped forward in unison, their heavy shields shifting into position as they approached the massive double doors looming ahead.
The doors towered over them, ancient stone reinforced with dark metal bands, their surface etched with symbols worn smooth by time and something far older than time.
Behind the vanguard, swift goblins adjusted their grips on crossbows. Simple ones. Reliable ones. The magical variants had already been spent down to near uselessness, their enchantments fading after only a handful of shots.
Lyssandra could not afford more. Every last LP of her had already been poured into this moment.
The hobgoblins bore more than brute strength. The shields strapped across their backs pulsed faintly with resistance magic, ready to surge outward the moment battle began, bolstering allies with endurance.
Another line of hobgoblins gripped reinforced spears, their tips forged from materials capable of piercing stone as if it were wet clay.
To one flank, ten lightning wolves paced in tight formation. Their bodies hummed with energy, light armor hugging their forms, etched with runes that enhanced both speed and resilience. Their eyes glowed faintly, electric and restless.
On the opposite side, the slimes waited.
No, not water slimes anymore.
Ice slimes.
Their bodies had hardened into crystalline forms, pale and translucent, refracting the dim light into fractured glimmers. Within them, power gathered, ready to erupt into razor-sharp icicles at a single command from their Master.
The doors resisted for a moment, they did not move at all. Then, slowly, they answered.
A deep, aching groan reverberated through the corridor as dozens of hands pressed forward. Muscles strained. Teeth clenched. Boots dug into stone.
They pushed inch by inch, the colossal gates began to yield.
The sound of it was unbearable. Hinges screamed in protest, metal grinding against metal with a drawn-out shriek that set teeth on edge. It was the sound of something ancient being disturbed, something that had not been meant to open again.
Screeeeak...
Creeeak...
With a final heave, the doors parted fully.
Darkness waited beyond.
A vast chamber stretched out before them, so large it could swallow armies whole. The ceiling vanished into shadow. The floor extended into nothingness.
And all of it was drowned beneath a sea of violet mist.
It swirled slowly, thick and heavy, like silk curtains stirred by a wind that could not be felt. The fog clung low and high all at once, curling in unnatural patterns that defied simple air currents.
Nothing beyond it could be seen.
Not shape nor movement. Only opacity, dense and suffocating, like staring into liquid.
"Luna. Send a clone inside," Lyssandra ordered.
Luna did not hesitate. Her form quivered, then split cleanly into two. One remained full-sized, posture tense and alert. The other shrank rapidly, condensing into a smaller, rounded shape no larger than a child's head.
The clone slid forward. It paused at the edge of the mist, then extended a thin tendril, touching the violet surface with the lightest brush.
Nothing.
It withdrew, hesitating only for a breath. Then, with sudden resolve, it pushed forward and vanished entirely into the fog.
Time stretched. Seconds dragged into minutes as Luna's expression tightened, her brows knitting together as she reached out with her senses, trying to maintain the link.
After a long, suffocating moment, she spoke.
"My connection to the clone is gone."
A ripple of unease passed through the formation.
"I tried to follow it," she continued, voice steadier now but edged with tension. "It feels like it stepped somewhere else entirely. Not hidden or blocked. Just...gone. I think we have to cross this ourselves."
Silence settled again and it was thicker this time. Walking forward meant stepping blind into whatever waited.
A trap, an ambush. Separation then death, one by one, in the dark.
Lyssandra exhaled slowly, forcing the thoughts down. Hesitation would kill them faster than any enemy.
"Ready to move!" she called, her voice ringing out with renewed force. "Stay close. No one breaks formation. We advance together."
She stepped forward, placing her left hand firmly on the shoulder of a hobgoblin at the front. Her right hand closed tightly around Luna, grounding both of them.
"Advance!"
The vanguard moved.
One step.
Then another.
They entered the mist.
The moment they crossed the threshold, the world broke.
Sound came first. A shriek tore through the air, something raw and violent that seemed to originate from everywhere at once. It howled through their ears, clawing at their senses, drowning out thought.
Pressure followed. The air thickened instantly, pressing against their bodies from all sides. Breathing became labor. Each inhale dragged in dense, mana-saturated air that burned the lungs and left a metallic taste on the tongue.
Cold crashed over them. Their breath turned to fog, skin prickling as the temperature dropped in an instant. Frost began to form along armor edges and weapon tips, creeping like living veins of ice.
Then came the distortion. Light bent unnaturally, twisting into warped shapes that flickered at the edge of vision. The ground beneath their feet lurched, tilting and shifting without warning. Balance became uncertain. Up and down lost meaning.
Their stomachs churned violently. It felt as though they were being pulled apart and stitched back together at the same time, their bodies struggling to exist within a space that did not want them.
The mist thickened around them, wrapping tight, pressing in until even the nearest ally became a blurred silhouette.
Voices rose, whispers at first then screams.
Hundreds of them.
Layered, overlapping, rising into a deafening cacophony that hammered against their minds. None of it made sense. None of it formed words they could understand. But all of it carried pain. Rage. Madness.
The wind intensified as it tore at cloaks, rattled armor, tugged at limbs with unseen force. It felt alive. Hungry. As though it sought to drag them apart, to scatter them into the endless void.
Still, they moved, step by step while blinding. Clinging to formation through instinct alone.
Each movement was a battle against the space itself, against the pull of something vast and unseen that wanted them lost, broken, and alone.
"We're through!"
The words detonated.
Voices erupted in raw, unrestrained celebration. Relief tore through the group like a shockwave, crashing into weary bodies and minds.
Some laughed, breathless, almost hysterical. Others simply dropped where they stood, knees slamming against the ground as if the strength had been cut from their bones.
A few didn't make a sound at all, collapsing forward with trembling hands pressed to the floor, as though needing to confirm something solid still existed beneath them.
Air, real air. It rushed into their lungs in ragged, desperate pulls. Oxygen flooded systems that had endured too long in suffocating tension, and the sensation was almost painful, burning, overwhelming, alive.
For a fleeting, fragile moment, survival felt real.
"We made it!"
"We actually made it!"
A broken laugh. A choked sob.
Then
"Up! We aren't safe yet! Stand up!"
The command struck.
Lyssandra's voice sliced relief apart like a blade through silk. It didn't matter how exhausted they were. It didn't matter how desperately their bodies begged for rest.
Training answered before thought could. Every soldier snapped upright.
Before them stretched another chamber. It was vast, silent and
Wrong.
It was nothing like the one they had fought through to get here. This one offered no such illusions, no cover nor obstruction.
The space yawned open before them, enormous and suffocating in its emptiness. The floor stretched smooth and uninterrupted, vanishing into shadow at the far edges.
And at the center there was only one thing.