More than two centuries ago, the fabric of reality tore itself asunder. Creatures of myth, beings of magical origin, materialized without warning across the planet, tearing civilization limb from limb. Modern armies and their sophisticated armaments were little more than toys against these mystical horrors, leaving humanity to drown in a tide of despair. One by one, great cities fell, governments shattered, and the world descended into an age of unparalleled devastation.
Only after decades of brutal struggle did humanity uncover the truth within the sprawling depths of the karst formations: these 'creatures' were invaders from the Dungeon, an ancient, multi-layered realm from another world. But the pivotal revelation wasn't won by force of arms. It came when the Dungeon's true inhabitants—fae and demonoid beings, self-proclaimed guardians and curators—chose to offer guidance instead of war, extending a lifeline to a dying species.
To accelerate human development, seasoned adventurers were summoned from deeper floors, meticulously training the first generation of human adventurers in survival, magic, and combat. The very dungeons and portals, once perceived as harbingers of destruction, were discovered to be ancient, their true genesis veiled even from the beings that inhabited them. These ancient, multi-layered domains whispered of an existence far preceding humanity, remnants of epochs lost to memory, their deepest secrets still locked away by the ages.
Humanity finally achieved parity with other intelligent civilizations, but this precarious balance meant two worlds were now hanging in the balance. After a few decades of perturbed peace, human greed resurfaced. Leveraging the invaluable knowledge gleaned from the Dungeon's denizens and armed with their own rapidly evolving technology and magic, humanity launched an aggressive campaign to seize control of the dungeon. The initial floors transformed into a brutal battlefield, disrupting the lives of countless beings. As the conflict escalated, powerful advocates and adventurers from the deeper levels emerged to defend what they believed was rightfully theirs, bringing war to the surface. This retribution, far beyond human calculations, brought humanity to the brink of extinction. The delicate, foundational magical balance of realms fractured, rifts became more prominent, while new portals began to appear, further complicating the struggle for dominance.
A brutal two-front war ravaged the human realm. While legions fought for control of the treacherous dungeon, a relentless onslaught of invaders threatened their very world. In a desperate plea for resolution, a desperate cadre of human adventurers sought the aid of the dungeon's enigmatic curators. Together, adventurers from both factions established a new guild in the human realm, mirroring the martial order they had established within the dungeon's depths. They championed law, order, and peace, relentlessly striving to end the two-century war that had scarred the very fabric of both realms.
At last, peace descended, but the cost nearly shattered humanity itself. Civilization crumbled, its millennia of advancements reduced to dust, all casualties of an insatiable greed that devoured everything in its path. From the ashes, humanity slowly clawed its way back, taking its first tentative breaths after the apocalypse. They found themselves forced to coexist with the dungeon's inhabitants, a perilous new reality where unseen dangers lurked around every corner.
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Under the pale, watchful eye of the moon, the forest's overgrown depths held an almost prayerful breath. Its silence was shattered only by the ancient song of life and death that pulsed in the distance. From a shadow-draped grotto, a faint luminescence beckoned like a whispered secret, leading into the very veins of the earth. The grotto's maw, choked with the broken husks of recent goblin kills, plummeted into a winding, chaotic sprawl of tunnels and echoing halls, a hidden world consumed by disorder.
Deep within the goblin burrow's west wing, where prisoners languished, three adventurers and fifteen soldiers waged a desperate battle against relentless waves of goblins. They carved a bloody path through the corridor. "Oi, Bhanja!" one adventurer barked, his voice raw. "Take five soldiers, escort these prisoners to safety! The other team is pushing in the opposite direction, so it should be relatively safe, but keep an eye out for any stray goblin." He then surged forward, sword flashing, towards the deeper horde of goblins and hobgoblins, roaring, "The rest of you, with me!"
With a grim set to his jaw, the adventurer and some soldiers pried open the cell's latch, the sounds of the ongoing skirmish seemingly lost to him.
"Please stay calm while we escort you to safety."
One by one, the five guards and the adventurer worked feverishly, the clatter of each cell lock echoing amidst the growing roar of battle further inside the corridor. As each grate creaked open, they herded the bewildered prisoners away from the encroaching chaos. The remaining adventurers and soldiers, meanwhile, were locked in a desperate, grinding struggle against the churning tide of goblins and hulking hobgoblins, every swing and parry a testament to their grim determination.
"Rita, we're advancing. Secure the prisoners, then get them clear. I'm trusting you with this flank."
"Aye!"
The commanding adventurer and five soldiers melted away into the inky blackness, each step carrying them further from the relative safety of the main fight and deeper into the burrow's shadowed maw.
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On the northern side of the west wing, deeper within the goblin burrow's choked passages, two adventurers and ten soldiers hacked and carved their way through swarms of goblins, finally bursting into the grimy expanse of the mines.
"Damn, it's huge."
As the last goblin fell, another adventurer swept their gaze over the weary soldiers. "Where is Chief Kumar?" they inquired, a subtle tension in their voice.
A grunt from the back of the line. "Kumar's... with the others."
The adventurer swore under their breath, a short, sharp curse lost in the melee. "Mote, strategy! Chief Kumar isn't here. What's our next move?"
"We leave four to guard this spot," Tek (Mote) stated, his gaze fixed on the foreboding darkness ahead. "The rest of us are going in there."
"Alright"
Four soldiers began the task of securing and investigating the mines, while the main contingent forged ahead, their weapons clashing against a renewed assault from the goblins.
"Damn, it's never-ending. They breed like animals."
"They are animals... in a sense."
"Mote, focus."
After some time, the passage opened into a vast chamber, its air thick with the dust of freshly mined minerals. Mountains of raw ore shimmered under unseen light, juxtaposed against precariously stacked towers of wooden crates. Hordes of goblins scuttled frantically, some shoveling minerals into the waiting crates, others grunting and straining to pile them higher. In the very heart of this subterranean industry, three goblin shamans, their faces grotesquely painted, chanted in a guttural tongue around a flickering magic circle that pulsed with an ominous blue hue, a monstrous pile of crates at its center serving as their unholy altar.
"Damn! No time for speculation!" Kazi barked, already surging forward. "Engage!"
A hulking hobgoblin, its keen eyes surveying the frenzied activity below, abruptly snarled, a guttural roar that ripped through the chamber and snatched every goblin's attention toward the invading force. The chaotic mining operation ground to an instant halt; pickaxes and hammers were seized as weapons, while the shamans' ritual chants morphed into dark invocations, weaving protective magic around their forces. Empowered by the mystical aid, the hobgoblin leapt into the fray with surprising speed, a blur of muscle and fury. Its initial charge sent a soldier tumbling end over end. Their body crashed into a stack of crates with a splintering thud. The chamber erupted into a full-scale battle.
Tek, the portly adventurer, bellowed a challenge, his sturdy shield held high. With a surprising burst of speed, he slammed into the hobgoblin, driving the heavy shield into its chest with a sickening crunch.
"Damn! Mote, watch yourself."
"This hobgoblin is mine!" Tek bellowed, bracing for the next blow. "You lot, shut down those shamans and wipe out the rest of these greenskins!"
The chamber filled with the din of battle as soldiers and goblins crashed together. Recognizing the shift, the shamans wisely retreated, their guttural chanting now weaving protective and offensive spells. While Tek wrestled with the hobgoblin, dark, shimmering pulses of energy converged on him. He recoiled from the hobgoblin's grasp just as his shield slammed down, deflecting the magical barrage with a sizzling hiss.
"Kazi! Focus on the shamans! This hobgoblin isn't getting past me," Tek growled, his stance unyielding. "Bring them down!"
'Tek's right. An empowered hobgoblin is bad enough, but these constant disruptions from the back lines are killing our momentum.' Kazi saw an opening forming on the shaman's flank.
Kazi didn't hesitate. With a powerful surge, he launched himself towards the nearest shaman, a high-arching leap culminating in a flying kick. The shaman, startled, tried to dodge but tripped over a stray crate, tumbling backward just as Kazi's boot slammed into its chest. It went crashing into the stacked boxes with a crunch. Kazi roared, his guardian skill flaring – a raw, primal surge of power rippling through his muscles. He pivoted, unleashing a rapid combo of heavy punches onto the prone shaman, each blow echoing with sickening impact.
A soldier, following Kazi's lead, charged and engaged the second shaman, preventing it from aiding its fallen comrade. The remaining soldiers were locked in a desperate struggle against the goblins, their formation holding firm.
The third shaman, however, panicked. Seeing its brethren falling, it scrambled away from the chaos, making a desperate break for the chamber's entrance. Kazi, despite his focus on the shaman beneath his feet, caught the movement out of the corner of his eye. With a feral shout, he snatched a jagged chunk of ore from the ground and hurled it. The stone spun through the air, smashing into the fleeing shaman's leg with a sickening thud, sending it sprawling. Without a moment's pause, Kazi hauled the first shaman from its feet. He leapt again, a terrifying, airborne missile, and crashed down onto the newly fallen shaman, pinning both beneath his weight.
Tek was locked in a brutal dance of deflection and offense, his shield absorbing punishing blows while his mace lashed out at the empowered hobgoblin. A regular brute would have crumbled long ago beneath his assault, but this one, crackling with dark energy, was proving a relentless challenge, pushing Tek to his limits. As Kazi finished off the last shaman, he spotted his partner. "Damn!" Kazi called out, a triumphant grin flashing. "Thought I'd have to clean up after you!" As if on cue, the hobgoblin sagged to one knee, and Tek's mace descended, a final, decisive strike to the temple that sent it sprawling, unconscious.
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The air in the east wing of the burrow hung thick with a cloying scent of damp earth and something metallic – a sickly sweetness that hinted at recent violence. The flickering torchlight painted grotesque shadows on the walls, revealing smeared bloodstains and the scattered bodies of goblins, limbs twisted at unnatural angles. This was no mere skirmish; it was a charnel house, a dreadful painting painted by invading adventurers and soldiers. Three of the soldiers, their faces pale but determined, ushered the terrified children through the bloodied halls, clearing the remaining pockets of goblin resistance with swift, brutal efficiency.
Kirat, after appraising the hobgoblin, clenched his jaw and barely managed to bite out the warning, "Hobgoblin Champion! Stay away from it!" his voice strained against the encroaching chaos. As the hobgoblins, disoriented by the unexpected attack, surged towards Kirat, Bir moved with a burst of speed, a blur of motion as he intercepted the first hobgoblin in a flash of steel. Ale and Acharya exchanged a quick, grim glance. "Let's keep that shaman busy," Ale muttered, already sprinting towards the makeshift altar where the shamans chanted, their arcane energies beginning to coalesce. He wove through the scrambling goblins, his strikes precise and deadly, clearing a path through the throng. Behind him, Acharya executed a graceful backflip, evading a flanking goblin's crude weapon. He landed, a kick sending one attacker sprawling, before launching an arrow that struck true, piercing the throat of a goblin hot on Ale's heels.
"I got your back."
The cacophony of shouts and clashing steel, the sickly sweet scent of blood, the blur of bodies fighting and falling – it all slammed into Tara, stealing her breath. Her mind reeled, a whirlwind of frantic thoughts threatening to paralyze her. 'No time. No time to think.' A tremor ran through her hands as she instinctively called upon her magic, five shimmering hydro spheres blossoming around her, each glowing with arcane energy. With a surge of desperate resolve, she unleashed a rain of aqua bullets, the spheres erupting in all directions, a shimmering storm against the relentless horde.
"Aqua Bullet... STORM!"
Kirat, with a quick, almost dismissive flick, brushed the dust from his jacket, his gaze locking on the hulking figure of the Hobgoblin Champion. A guttural roar ripped from the Champion's throat, shaking the very earth, as it hoisted its enormous, wickedly huge sword high, a terrifying silhouette against the chaos. It lunged, a whirlwind of muscle and steel, just as Tara's frantic barrage of aqua bullets rained down indiscriminately across the battlefield. Kirat met the charge with a fluid, almost dance-like grace, his sickle scythe a blur of silver arcs as he moved. He parried the Champion's crushing blow, the clash of their weapons reverberating through the burrow like a thunderclap, sending a jolt of raw energy and waves in all directions.
Bir's world had narrowed to the glint of steel, the guttural roars of hobgoblins, and the sharp hiss of passing aqua bullets. Each enemy presented a unique challenge – a swing from the left, a thrust from the right – demanding constant adjustments in his stance and grip. The erratic rain of Tara's spells, while aimed at the enemy, added another layer of unpredictability, forcing him to weave through splashes and near-misses. It was a suffocating pressure, a fight on multiple fronts, yet Bir's movements remained sharp, his attacks precise, a testament to his practiced focus amidst the storm.
In stark contrast to Kirat's practiced composure and Bir's desperate tenacity, the less experienced Ale and Acharya found themselves struggling. A misplaced aqua bullet whizzed past Ale's ear, making him instinctively flinch, and he swore under his breath, barely dodging a goblin's clumsy swing. Acharya, having just narrowly evaded a spray that nearly knocked him off balance, glared across the flickering light and shouted, his voice strained above the din, "Can't you aim that thing? Don't you have any other spell?"
The Arch Shaman's dark pulse, a malevolent wave of shadows, bore down on Ale. He instinctively dropped, rolling hard, the wave passing inches above his head, the air chilling where it had been. He came up spitting dust, his eyes blazing with frustration. Spotting a loose stone, he snatched it up and, without breaking stride, hurled it towards Tara's general direction, the force of his throw matching the raw fury in his shouted, "Stop it, dammit!"
Ale's desperate pebble, hurled more in frustration than aim, found an unexpected mark, striking a goblin rushing Tara square in the chest with a surprisingly loud thwack. Kirat, even amidst the furious dance of steel with the Hobgoblin Champion, caught the periphery of the scene. He parried a monstrous overhead swing that would have cleaved him in two, the impact jarring his arm. With a groan of exasperation, he rolled his eyes skyward. Then, with a practiced grace that belied the danger, he executed a swift backflip, creating a sliver of space from the Champion's next attack. "TARA, calm down!" he roared, his voice cutting through the din like a whip, laced with a mixture of urgency and utter disbelief.
Kirat's exasperated roar cut through Tara's chaotic thoughts, snapping her back to reality. Her tense shoulders dropped, her focus returning as the water spheres around her collapsed, spilling cool water onto the battle-scarred ground. "The boys need help!" he yelled, his voice suddenly authoritative. "Leave the goblins to the soldiers! Focus on the shamans!" Tara's hands moved in a complex weave, and a surging, turquoise wave of water materialized before her. Tara launched herself onto its crest, riding the powerful torrent as it slammed into the goblin horde, sending them tumbling and scattering. She carved a direct path towards the mound. For the soldiers, the sudden cessation of the aqua bullet rain was a welcome relief. With a renewed sense of purpose, they threw themselves into clearing the immediate area of goblins and ensuring the safety of the rescued children.
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Tara's volley of shimmering hydro balls slammed into the Arch Shaman's defenses, but were casually repelled as if striking solid stone. Ale, meanwhile, reached the base of the shamans' mound, his gaze fixed on their leader, but his focus was fractured by the unsettling sight of seven other shamans lost in their trance, chanting an eerie melody that seemed to vibrate through the very stones. Just then, a dark pulse, faster than the last, surged towards Ale. He twisted, ducking beneath the swirling shadows, as an arrow whispered past him, launched by Acharya from the periphery. It streaked towards the Arch Shaman's head, only to be effortlessly deflected by the same magical shield.
Acharya's jaw tightened as the Arch Shaman, with a subtle smirk that seemed to mock their efforts, casually swatted away his arrow. "He blocks everything," Acharya hissed, a vein throbbing in his temple.
"Let me try torrent crash."
Ale recoiled, shoving himself backward, his boots skidding on the damp earth as he widened the gap between himself and the shamans' mound. "NO!" The word tore from his throat, a primal cry of alarm as the Arch Shaman's imperviousness and the hypnotic chant of the others clicked into a terrifying whole.
"What happened, Ale?"
"We can't risk waking them!" Ale insisted, his voice tight with urgency as he gestured towards the trance-bound figures. "One active shaman is bad enough, but a whole coven? That's a nightmare we don't need."
Tara dismissed the wave with a sharp gesture, its power dissolving into a cascade of droplets. She landed lightly next to Acharya, her brow furrowed in thought. 'He's right,' she conceded, looking towards the Arch Shaman. "So, what's the plan? How do we deal with this?"
A flicker of an idea crossed Ale's face. He turned to Tara, his gaze intense, "Can you bind them together?"
"Yes," Tara replied, a flicker of concentration already crossing her features. "But holding seven shamans in place will require my full attention. I won't be able to provide any other magical support."
A frustrated 'Chhhk!' escaped Acharya's lips as he shook his head, his irritation palpable. He didn't even bother to soften his tone. "What a useless mage!"
"Hey!" Tara snapped back, her eyes flashing with a spark of genuine anger. She took a step towards Acharya, her hands clenching at her sides. "I can still whop your ass even with one hand tied behind my back!"
Ale ducked, a dark pulse sizzling past where his head had been a second before. He didn't even pause to glance at the fleeing energy. "Acharya and I will create an opening!" he shouted, his voice ringing with desperate purpose. "Bind them together! He'll finish them off while I keep the boss Shaman busy!"
Ale launched himself into a dizzying aerial spin, a human top hurtling towards the Arc Shaman. Acharya's arrows hissed through the air, aimed squarely at the Shaman. But with a surge of arcane power, the Shaman's staff flared, conjuring a shimmering barrier that held Ale suspended, halting his whirling attack. Simultaneously, his other hand crackled with spectral energy, forming a shield that devoured Acharya's arrows without a trace. Meanwhile, the very ground around the mound began to writhe as watery tendrils rose, forming grasping hands that swept the surrounding shamans into a helpless group, dragging them towards the waiting Tara. The Arc Shaman's eyes widened in utter disbelief as his spell came undone, his triumphant roar cut short by a guttural, enraged cry, "Eyak eh eh eya!"
Landing with a thud on the mound, Ale launched himself at the Arc Shaman, a flurry of steel as his twin swords arced towards the foe. Yet, with a surge of energy, the Shaman conjured a barrier, soaring above the mound as Ale's desperate attacks glanced uselessly off the arcane shield. The captive shamans stirred, struggling against the watery binds that clamped their bodies, unable to cast magical rituals. Seeing an opportunity, Acharya snatched a goblin blade and furiously set upon the restrained prisoners, further igniting the Arc Shaman's rage. Ale, a relentless storm of blades, hammered at the Shaman's defenses, but his strikes found only the shimmering barrier. He knew he had to keep the pressure on, even as his blows failed to connect. With a guttural roar, the Shaman unleashed a devastating burst of dark energy. The barrier exploded outwards, a force wave that slammed into Ale, sending him spiraling through the air before he crashed and rolled across the hard-packed earth. Before he could regain his footing, dark pulses erupted from the Shaman, each strike aimed at Ale, creating a chaotic maelstrom of explosions and gathering smoke that swallowed the area.
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Bir moved like a dancer caught in a violent storm. Bir executed a rapid succession of back handsprings to keep out of reach of the closing hobgoblin circle. Bir's eyes darted through the swirling melee, absorbing the battlefield's shifting tide. Bir's mind processed the chaos in a rapid-fire sequence: the Arc Shaman, a storm of dark energy, was pressing the kids hard, but three against one, they might just hold their own. The soldiers, a disciplined line, were holding back the goblins and steadily ushering the younger children to safety. Further out, Kirat was locked in a tense stalemate with the hulking goblin champion. A plan was formed. 'Clear these hobgoblins, ' Bir decided, launching into another evasive spin, 'then I can help Kirat break that deadlock.'
The hobgoblins swarmed, a wall of steel and snarling faces. Bir met the first lunge with a ringing block, then spun, delivering a roundhouse kick that sent a second hobgoblin stumbling. Using that momentum, he vaulted into the air, blades flashing at a third, who barely managed to deflect the blow. The instant his boots hit the floor, another hulking foe tried to grab him from behind. Bir dropped, a blur of motion, executing a sweeping low spin kick that tripped the hobgoblin before rolling away from the ensuing pileup. There was no end to them; a seemingly endless tide of goblins and hobgoblins poured into the chamber from a rear passage – likely their barracks, judging by the sheer numbers. The hurried raid meant the burrow remained largely uncharted, and the unexpected appearance of a hobgoblin champion on the upper floor shifted the entire dynamic of the encounter. Casual culling would be easy for seasoned adventurers, but with prisoners to rescue and their dwindling numbers, every action had to be precise, every life accounted for.
Kirat was sent sprawling into the churned earth and jagged rubble, a cloud of dust blooming around his impact point. He rose from the debris, shaking his head. "Here we go again," he grumbled, his voice laced with grim humor. The attention of the relentless goblin and hobgoblin swarm, pouring in from the rear chambers, snapped to Kirat's location. They charged, a tide of snarling aggression, attempting to overwhelm him. Suddenly, with a swing, a brilliant flash of light erupted around Kirat, followed by a shimmering crescent wave that horizontally expanded through the ranks of his attackers. "Crescent Tide," he murmured, the words barely audible. In that instant, every goblin and hobgoblin within a ten-meter radius halted, frozen in grotesque mid-action. Kirat smoothly shifted his grip on the gleaming sickle scythe in his right hand, then, with an almost defiant casualness, began to smooth his unruly pompadour with his left as he began his steady approach toward the hobgoblin champion. The Champion's guttural roar, "ARRRHHHGGG! eyak eyak eeh," answered Kirat's nonchalance. It lunged forward, dragging its enormous sword, the heavy blade scoring a deep trail in the ground. A lone goblin, just beyond the magical stasis field, gazed in confusion at its unnaturally still comrades. He gave one a confused shove, trying to rouse him from the apparent trance. THUD! The upper body of the shoved goblin slid free and crashed to the floor, a fountain of blood arterial spray painting the floor crimson. Then came the deafening clash – the champion's monstrous sword meeting Kirat's elegant scythe with concussive force. A violent shockwave pulsed through the chamber, making the very stones tremble. In that instant, every immobilized goblin and hobgoblin within that ten-meter radius split cleanly in two, their upper halves sliding to the ground in a deluge of spewing blood that stained the earth a vibrant, sickening red. Kirat's movements were fluid, precise, and born of long practice. The hobgoblin champion, in stark contrast, was an unstoppable force of brute strength, capable of absorbing hits that would instantly end most warriors. Kirat focused on evasion, desperately searching for a weakness in the champion's relentless offense.
Kirat gasped, his lungs burning with each labored breath. "This brute... he's like a floor ten field boss," he wheezed, his voice tight with the strain. "Taking on this foe alone is impossible." His gaze instinctively flickered towards Bir's distant struggle, but the ground beside his head erupted as the champion's sword, a blur of dark steel, slammed into the earth. Kirat, a practiced opportunist, used the very blade that nearly claimed him as a launchpad, springing high towards the hulking foe. The champion, anticipating his move, swatted him out of the air. A desperate block from Kirat's scythe blunted the worst of the impact, but he still tumbled, a dizzying roll that sent him sprawling away from the towering adversary.
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As the smoke dissipated, a sphere of swirling water became visible, momentarily trapping Ale. Tara, her expression grim, had woven the hydro shield just as the Arc Shaman unleashed his deadly volley of dark pulses, saving Ale from being consumed. "Need a hand there, or maybe a full set?" Acharya's mocking tone cut through the clearing haze, a sardonic jab at Ale's predicament. But the Arc Shaman's attention was elsewhere, drawn by the sudden silence from his fallen shamans. His eyes widened in horrified realization, a low growl rumbling in his chest. Then, with a furious roar, he began to chant, his body consumed by swirling dark smoke. His eyes glowed with an eerie purple light, and the smoke around him solidified, twisting into the terrifying, gaping maw of a colossal beast. This ominous shield, pulsing with malevolent energy, formed a protective shell around the enraged shaman, just as Tara's hydro shield around Ale shivered and collapsed.
"Oh, he's not exactly thrilled about your... generosity."
"We'll see about that." Acharya's muscles tensed as he charged his bow; the arrow, a silver streak, launched into the air. "Piercing Blow!"
With a subtle backward glide, the Arc Shaman rose, his form enclosed by a translucent spherical shield. The menacing smoke beast, rather than dissolving, seemed to flow around the shield, creating a swirling, opaque outer shell. Acharya's 'Piercing Blow' arrow struck the coalesced magic with an audible thud. The force of the impact shredded through the smoky construct, sending plumes of dissipating dark energy outwards, but the solid spherical shield beneath held firm, unwavering. Almost immediately, wisps of smoke began to swirl and thicken around the still-glowing shield, rapidly weaving themselves back into the monstrous, gaping maw, reforming the beast's complete shape in a matter of seconds.
"Great. Just great," Acharya grumbled, running a hand through his hair in exasperation. "And the real bow was left at home for this impossible mess."
"Come on, man," Ale scoffed, shaking his head. "The bow doesn't make the archer, the archer makes the bow work."
"Hey, Miss. You're a seasoned adventurer, aren't you? We're lost here. What do we do?"
"Advice? I am just a wood-rank, you might as well ask a goblin for directions," Tara chuckled, though the sound was tight with nerves.
"Oh, we are so screwed!" Acharya exclaimed, a hint of frantic energy in his voice. "Screwed! There has to be something..." His gaze whipped around the collapsing chamber, desperately searching for an angle.
Ale's eyes narrowed, instantly assessing the Arc Shaman's predicament. He crouched, swords held ready. "He can't launch a counter-attack while maintaining that defense. Acharya, if you can shatter that smoke beast's cover, I can get to him."
Their conversation fractured as the Arc Shaman lunged, bypassing his previous position to appear suddenly between Tara and Acharya. His defensive shield was abandoned; instead, the smoke beast swirled like a protective, vengeful storm around his body. He hovered, and three obsidian orbs manifested, dark energy crackling as they spun faster and faster, growing to menacing size. Acharya, agile as a cat, flipped backward, gaining crucial distance. Tara, meanwhile, slammed her hands together, a shimmering hydro shield erupting to meet the threat. The orbs impacted the water barrier almost simultaneously, exploding in a blinding flash and deafening roar. The force slammed into the hydro shield, shattering it instantly and sending Tara sprawling several meters away, the residual energy of the blast tearing apart the smoke beast's form once more.
As the smoke beast dispersed and Tara staggered, Ale seized the moment. "Acharya! Now!" he roared, pointing a sword toward the exposed shaman.
"Piercing blow!"
The Arc Shaman whirled to face the whistling arrow, a thick shield crackling with nascent arcane energy blossoming before him.
A storm of electricity gathered, spitting sparks and roaring with a furious crackle before exploding into a blinding flash. "Thunder Strike!" Ale's voice thundered.
The 'Piercing Blow' hit like a drilling missile, shattering the shield into glittering fragments and unleashing a concussive blast of wind that ripped away the smoke beast, shoving the Arc Shaman brutally backward. He barely registered the impact before Ale materialized behind him in a burst of light, a storm of spinning blades, each strike landing with precise, agonizing speed. The shaman's instincts screamed escape, but before he could fully ascend, grasping whips of water erupted from the floor, hauling him back to the ground. Trapped, fear flashed in his eyes as he tried to unleash a desperate dark pulse at Ale from almost touching distance, but another arrow, true and swift, plunged into his hand, skewering it to his staff. Now firmly impaled and rooted, the shaman thrashed as multiple water whips coiled and tightened, ensuring his capture
Tara winked, a mischievous grin flashing across her face. "All according to my masterful scheme! But seriously, wrap it up. These water whips are getting heavy."
"Well, look at that," Ale said, a dry chuckle in his voice. "No Thunder Strike, how convenient?"
Electricity roared in Ale's grip, arcing violently onto his blades. For several brutal seconds, he unleashed a barrage of attacks, his swords a blinding dance of destructive force. Flesh tore and sizzled, each strike burning through the Arc Shaman's defenses in a relentless, painful assault.
"Piercing blow... OVERCHARGE!"
Ale instinctively ducked, the powerful gust of wind, a byproduct of the Piercing Blow, ripping through the Arc Shaman's injured form and whistling inches above Ale's head. The force of the blast simultaneously tore apart the hydro whips, freeing the shaman. But the Arc Shaman, wounded but far from defeated, didn't waste a moment. His eyes blazed with renewed fury as a surge of telekinetic power slammed into Ale, trapping him within a crackling magical sphere.
"Torrent crash!"
With concussive force, a gushing blast of water impacted the Arc Shaman, sending him tumbling violently and snapping his concentration like a brittle branch.
"Aqua Bullet!"
Ale stumbled back to his feet, eyes darting from the crashed Arc Shaman to Tara. She hovered effortlessly a few inches off the ground, her eyes shut tightly, a flicker of strain barely hidden on her face. From her outstretched hands, a relentless volley of shimmering 'aqua bullets' streaked towards the Arc Shaman, pinned by the force of the torrent.
"Miss! Excuse me!" Ale's voice rose, a clear alarm beneath the polite phrasing. "He's not moving. I think... I think he's dead."
Tara's torrent of aqua bullets abruptly halted. Her eyes fluttered open, and a small smile played on her lips. "Confirmation was merely needed," she stated, her gaze sweeping over the downed shaman.
Acharya groaned, rolling his eyes dramatically, "Overkill..."