The air in Zone C grew heavy and still as we approached the serpent's lair, a vast, sunken swamp shrouded in a perpetual, sickly green fog. The silence was unnatural, the usual chittering of forest creatures replaced by an oppressive quiet that felt like a held breath. The ground became soft and treacherous, a mire of black mud and tangled, thorny vines that seemed to clutch at our ankles. Every member of the team was on high alert, their new artifacts gleaming dully in the gloom, their faces set in grim, determined lines. The grief for Edgar had been transmuted into a hard, vengeful resolve, a potent fuel I had so carefully refined. This was not just a hunt for power; it was the first step in my crusade to fulfill a promise I had no intention of keeping.
We stopped at the edge of the swamp, the fog coiling around our boots. The stench of rot and stagnant water was overwhelming, mixed with a strange, metallic tang, like old blood and ozone.
"This is it," I said, my voice low. "It's in there. Waiting."
I closed my eyes, focusing my will. The air beside me grew cold, and the pure, dark silhouette of Edgar materialized, his spectral form a stark, silent contrast to the vibrant, living dread of the swamp. His appearance sent a ripple of renewed sorrow through the team, but they remained silent, their faith in my grim purpose absolute.
"Appraise the dominant life form within that fog," I commanded the shadow.
The ghost of Edgar tilted its head, its empty gaze fixed on the swirling mist. It stood motionless for a long, tense moment. Then, the information flowed directly into my mind, a flood of cold, terrifying data that made my own heart hammer against my ribs.
Creature: Gorgon-Hydra, 'Ouroboros'.
Rank: S.
Abilities:
Adamantine Scales: Renders the creature nearly impervious to all forms of physical and low-to-mid-tier magical attacks. High resistance to elemental damage.
Petrifying Gaze: Direct eye contact with any of its seven heads induces rapid, irreversible petrification. Effect is psychic and bypasses physical barriers.
Venomous Miasma: Exhales a corrosive, neurotoxic fog from its primary head, causing paralysis and decay.
Hyper-Regeneration: Possesses extreme regenerative capabilities. Severed heads will regrow within minutes unless the wound is cauterized by S-rank elemental energy or purified by holy magic.
Weaknesses:
The 'King Scale,' located directly beneath the jaw of the central, primary head. This single, iridescent scale is the nexus of its regenerative power. Piercing it will temporarily halt all regeneration.
Vulnerable to attacks that target the mind and soul directly.
Its Petrifying Gaze requires a direct line of sight and a moment of focused intent from one of its heads.
An S-rank monster. The appraisal confirmed everything Erica had told us and more. It was a fortress of flesh and scale, a creature whose very gaze could end a life. A frontal assault was not just suicide; it was an exercise in futility.
"Thank you, Edgar," I whispered, a cruel irony in the words. With a thought, I released the summon. His shadow dissolved, its purpose served. Conserving every drop of mana would be critical.
I turned to my team, my face a mask of cold, absolute confidence. "Listen carefully. This is how we kill a god."
My strategy was a symphony in three movements, a deadly dance of timing and precision.
"Phase one: The Lure," I began, my voice cutting through the fog. "Eric, you are the anchor. You will advance into the swamp alone. Your job is not to fight it, but to endure it. Use your shield, use the Buckler of Sparks. You will be our bait, drawing its attention, forcing its heads to focus on a single, immovable target. The rest of us will be positioned on the flanks, hidden."
I looked at Masha. "Your Grimoire of Hoarfrost. You will use it to control the battlefield. Forget attacks. I need you to freeze the ground, create walls of ice, make the terrain a treacherous prison for a creature of its size. Hamper its movement, block its line of sight to the rest of us. You are our cage builder."
"Phase two: The Sting," I continued, my gaze falling on Talia. "The moment its central head is distracted by Eric, you move. You are the only one with the speed to get close and the weapon to make it count. The Viper's Kiss daggers. The poison won't kill it, but the appraisal suggests the King Scale is a nexus. A potent neurotoxin applied directly to that point should disrupt its control over its own regeneration. You are not trying to kill it; you are trying to poison its very soul. One cut. That is your only objective."
"Phase three: The Execution," I said, my voice dropping. "Once the poison is delivered and its regeneration is crippled, we attack with everything we have. Erica, Lana, Jin, Kael—you will unleash a relentless, overwhelming assault. Erica, I need plasma lances, nothing less. We need to pierce those scales. Lana, your staff is a battering ram. Jin, your cloak will protect you from the miasma long enough to get close. Kael, you will copy Erica's most powerful spell and double the barrage. Rina," I looked at our healer, her face pale but determined, "you will do nothing but keep Eric alive. He is our wall, and he will crumble without you."
"And what will you be doing?" Lana asked, a challenging glint in her eye.
"I," I said, touching the Ring of the Maelstrom on my finger, "will be the failsafe. I will control the flow of the battle, and if any of you are caught, if the serpent turns its gaze upon you… I will ensure it has something else to look at."
The plan was audacious, bordering on insane. It relied on perfect timing and flawless execution. A single misstep would result in not just death, but a statue garden of our own petrified corpses.
They didn't flinch. They nodded, their faces grim, their trust in my strategy absolute.
"Take your positions," I commanded.
The team melted into the fog-shrouded swamp, a silent, deadly orchestra waiting for its conductor's cue. Eric alone walked forward, his heavy, armored footsteps a slow, deliberate drumbeat. He slammed the base of his tower shield into the muddy ground, the sound a dull thud that echoed across the water.
"Come on, you ugly bastard!" he roared. "Dinner is served!"
For a moment, there was only silence. Then, the black, stagnant water began to churn. The surface broke, not with one head, but with seven. The Gorgon-Hydra rose from the mire, a living mountain of glistening, adamantine scales. It was larger than any beast we had ever faced, its body a writhing mass of serpentine muscle. Six of its heads were reptilian nightmares, their eyes glowing with a malevolent, green light. The seventh, central head was larger, more intelligent, its eyes burning with an ancient, hateful ruby light. It was from this head that the thin, toxic miasma began to seep.
The seven heads fixed their collective gaze on Eric.
"Masha, now!" I commanded through a silent, mental link I had established.
The ground around the Hydra exploded into a jagged prison of ice. Thick, opaque walls shot up, blocking the gaze of the six outer heads, forcing them to smash and claw at the barriers. The swampy mire beneath the beast froze solid, its movements becoming sluggish and clumsy.
The central head, enraged, ignored the ice. It opened its maw and lunged at Eric, not with a bite, but with its gaze. The world seemed to warp around its ruby eyes.
Eric bellowed, slamming his shield down to cover his entire body, his eyes squeezed shut. He wasn't looking.
But the attack wasn't physical. I felt a wave of psychic pressure slam into him. Eric grunted, his armor beginning to frost over with a thin layer of grey stone. The gaze was working, even without direct eye contact. It was more powerful than the appraisal had suggested.
"Rina, now!"
Rina, hidden behind an ice wall, poured her life energy into Eric. A warm, green glow enveloped him, fighting back the encroaching petrification, buying him precious seconds.
The Hydra, frustrated, reared its central head back, its jaw unhinging as it prepared to unleash its venomous miasma.
"Talia!" I screamed.
This was the moment. With the central head reared back, the iridescent King Scale beneath its jaw was exposed. Talia exploded from her hiding place, a blur of motion. She ran not on the ground, but along the top of one of Masha's ice walls, her feet impossibly light. She was a phantom, a whisper of motion against the backdrop of chaos. She leaped from the wall, her body twisting in mid-air, her Viper's Kiss daggers held in a reverse grip.
She was a silver streak against the monster's dark scales. For a fraction of a second, she was the most beautiful, deadly thing in this world. She descended upon the serpent's throat, her blades aimed at the single, vulnerable point in its divine armor.
But the Gorgon-Hydra was an S-rank creature. Its intelligence was ancient, its battle instincts honed over millennia. As Talia descended, one of the six outer heads, having just smashed through its ice barrier, whipped around with impossible speed. Its gaze, a torrent of pure petrifying energy, locked onto her.
Talia's eyes widened in horror. There was no time to dodge, no time to look away. She was caught, suspended in mid-air, a perfect target.
My mind raced. The entire plan hinged on this single moment. If Talia failed, if she was petrified, we were all dead.
I didn't hesitate. I poured a massive amount of my own mana into the Ring of the Maelstrom. The black, muddy water of the swamp erupted. A colossal, churning whirlpool of mud and vines and stagnant water materialized directly in front of the attacking head, a violent, chaotic vortex that completely obscured its vision.
The serpent's head roared in fury as it was slammed by the vortex, its petrifying gaze hitting nothing but churning water.
Talia, her life saved by a fraction of a second, completed her attack. Her poisoned daggers plunged deep into the iridescent King Scale.
A soundless scream tore through the swamp, a psychic shockwave of pure agony that made us all stagger. The Gorgon-Hydra thrashed wildly, its seven heads roaring in a symphony of pain and rage. The poison was working. Its regeneration was crippled.
But our victory was short-lived. The central head, ignoring Eric, ignoring the whirlpool, its ruby eyes burning with focused, absolute hatred, turned its gaze directly on the source of its pain. It looked at Talia, who was still clinging to its throat, her daggers buried deep.
And this time, there was nothing I could do to stop it.