Before the eyes of the young adventurers—paralyzed by the situation—the paladin reacted instantly and slit the throats of the creatures that were innocently stirring from their sleep.
— Move and finish them! she ordered. — Lysandra, flash them!
Trembling with adrenaline, the elementalist obeyed with the same cool-headedness as her teammate:
— O Hemera… bless me with your divine light and illuminate the darkness of these halls… [Lux Illuminare]!
A brutal burst of light flooded the room, revealing a good twenty goblins sprawled on the ground.
In the heat of the action, Clara loosed an arrow at one of them. Unfortunately, it didn't kill it on the spot. The demon's screams immediately echoed through the chamber and down the corridors:
— GYAAAAAAAAAAH!!
— Fuck! You've got to be kidding me! Artoria bellowed.
Clara—the cause of the commotion—looked sick, eyes wide as her victim writhed in pain, thin spurts of blackish blood seeping out. The scene gradually spread doubt and terror through the young adventurers' hearts.
But in a lucid snap, Lysandra seized the opening. She raised her voice with more intensity than usual:
— Everyone, fall back!
Her companions reacted fast and hurried to pull away toward the back line. Taking a deep breath, she extended both arms forward with intense focus.
Please… she thought, praying to the elements.
— O Geb… bless me with your destructive strength and bury my enemies beneath an avalanche of rock… [TERRA RUINAE]!
A faint thread of dust wrapped around her as she drew her arms in and clapped her hands. The ceiling vibrated violently at once. Huge chunks broke loose, until part of the chamber collapsed onto the goblins with a deafening crash.
The action was brief.
Devastatingly effective.
After the sudden turnaround, a thought rang through her mind: "Not bad."
— Well done, Lysandra! the group cried, grabbing their savior.
She felt relieved to see everyone still standing. Still, confusion struck her—whether it was that intrusive voice in her head, or the weakness her body was beginning to show after the many spells she had just cast.
Despite the wave of joy and the adventurers' relieved faces, Artoria kept her composure and snapped them back to order at once:
— Stay alert. There might be more…
Kevin cautiously stepped forward through the rubble scattered across the floor. Seeing the way seemed clear, he turned to the others with a grin:
— See? That wasn't so bad!
But as the warrior relaxed after the victory, his companions' faces suddenly fell right in front of him. Watching their terrified expressions, he couldn't help turning to look at what frightened them so much.
And to his utter shock, he saw the abomination lurking in the shadow he'd just approached.
Silent as a cat at first, it revealed itself little by little—its massive build emerging, its demonic aura freezing him in place.
— A… a giant…
As the word slipped out, the creature grabbed the boy by the skull and lifted him off the ground with unsettling ease.
— Wh… what is that?! Artoria stammered in turn.
It stood close to two meters tall. Its face was hideous. Its musculature was grotesquely ostentatious.
Lysandra only understood what it was after a moment. Refusing to believe it, she answered the question indirectly:
— It's… it's a hobgoblin!
— AAAARGH, HELP!! Kevin screamed, thrashing.
Tired of his desperate flailing, the demon crushed his skull with a simple squeeze. The echo of that brutal gesture sent ice through everyone's veins. The warped sounds—groans, cracking bone, pulped brain—filled the room, pinning the victim's friends in total helplessness.
After Kevin's final breath, the creature tossed his body aside without a shred of empathy.
— NOOO!!
Blazing with rage as she saw the corpse hit the filthy tiles, Artoria charged the hobgoblin without a plan, weaving awkwardly through the debris from the cave-in.
The demon met her impulsiveness with a brutal clinch, clamping onto the sword arm that threatened it. A contest of strength locked them both in place—each holding with staggering tenacity.
Then, in a single beat—before anyone could react—the demon snapped her wrist, twisting her gauntlet in the same motion.
Under the crushing pressure and the pain that exploded up her arm, Artoria immediately dropped the sword.
— AAAARGH!
Her scream rang through the chamber, followed by an audible grind of teeth. Without letting go, the hobgoblin lifted her until her feet no longer touched the ground.
At its mercy, it started sniffing her noisily from every angle, as if trying to define her.
Once it seemed satisfied, it got rid of her with a fist to the stomach that sent her flying a few meters away.
With Artoria neutralized, it didn't waste time turning toward the three terrified girls stationed near the entrance.
Seeing it advance without fear, Clara finally snapped out of it and hurriedly fired three arrows into its torso. But the stings had no real effect—other than to enrage it.
Irritated, the demon lunged in a low charge and grabbed her by the leg the moment it was in range. Clara showed no resistance—she barely had time. It lifted her and slammed her into the ground with savage force, shattering bones with a crash as violent as the blow.
Clara's muffled cry echoed through the room before she passed out.
One single strike had been enough to send her into a limp, lethargic state.
Staring at the stunned girl with a stupid air, the hobgoblin tossed her toward a cluster of goblins that had survived the collapse. Woken abruptly by the adventurers, the little demons received her with obscene whimpers of joy, "thanking" their kin for the unexpected offering.
Unconscious, Clara couldn't fight back as the cowards tore at her leather clothes.
I… I have to help her…
Lysandra's body wouldn't respond. No matter how hard she tried to move, it refused to obey her will. She was forced to watch, powerless, what was happening.
Seeing them behave like that suddenly brought back the terrifying anecdote Clara had shared about goblins.
Are they… are they going to hurt her? N-Now?! In all this chaos?! she thought, living the scene like an endless nightmare.
Behind her, Nami looked just as wrecked. She was curled into herself, head between her knees, shaking and mumbling:
— I… I can't… They're… they're far too strong for simple adventurers like us!
Then, in a clumsy rush, she stood up, looking at the scene again as if to confirm her decision.
— S-Sorry!
The spontaneous apology said everything. She turned on her heels and bolted into the dark tunnel they'd come from.
She didn't want to help.
She didn't feel capable.
The only option she saw was to run—even if it meant abandoning the others.
Her frantic footsteps echoed down the corridor until a muffled cry imposed silence again.
Wh… why? Lysandra wondered, stunned by the sudden choice.
A sting of resentment rose despite her gentle nature. She couldn't understand such a cowardly move—one that only made an already extreme situation worse.
That doubt lasted only a heartbeat, because the hobgoblin's dark stare fixed on her.
Lysandra knew she was its next target.
But before it could happen, a violent migraine split her skull. Fate seemed determined to strip her of every chance, every ounce of fight she had left.
She dropped to one knee and clenched her teeth. Her consciousness blurred.
And then—what felt like a spontaneous blackout—she stood back up.
Her body had taken over.
Her legs no longer trembled. Her posture was straight. Her eyes held none of their former innocence—cold now, surveying the room in unwavering silence. Her breathing was light, almost imperceptible.
No one noticed—except the creature facing her.
As if time slowed, she extended an arm toward it. After a silent incantation, she snapped her fingers, her voice deeper and more mature:
— Gasum Inflammare!
A violent jet of flames suddenly swallowed the hobgoblin, vaporizing the darkness of the chamber in amplified roars:
— GYAAARGH!!!
The demon—so strong, so confident until now—thrashed like a victim before an executioner. Its flesh burned fiercely, releasing a nauseating stench in infernal crackling.
But the attack didn't finish it.
It stayed on its feet despite the agony it showed.
And as it burned where it stood, it was Lysandra who collapsed to the ground.
She'd hit her limit.
Let's hope there aren't any more…
A broken, ragged laugh echoed from farther away—near where Artoria had been thrown. She hadn't died from the hobgoblin's brutal grip.
Struggling upright, she staggered toward it, arm hanging uselessly, still dazed from the clash.
— It's… it's my turn, you bastard…
She dropped to one knee, intending to cast a spell.
That reckless act—given her condition—drew the elementalist's attention:
— What are you doing? You're not in any shape to fight… she said in a familiar tone.
Artoria stayed silent, but the expression she wore made it clear she took it as a challenge. She finally laughed, spitting a blood-thick glob onto the floor.
— We'll see about that… Before I die, I'm taking this piece of shit monster with me!
Artoria pictured the demon as the source of the trouble rising from this dungeon. She was ready to sacrifice herself to end it for good and save the companions still alive.
But it was only a preconceived idea.
Just another blind impulse.
Ignoring Lysandra's warning, she began to stammer through an incantation:
— O Hemera… bless me with your destructive light… hear my prayers and grant me your power… spread your justice across the world and illuminate the future of your children… judge evil and banish it forever from these lands…
The strange words Artoria spoke stirred a vague memory in the elementalist. She'd heard them somewhere before.
But they were far too advanced for this young adventurer.
— [Lux… Dies… IRAE]!
A wide circle formed beneath the hobgoblin. The symbols embedded in its perfect geometry radiated, bathing the room in a subliminal glow.
Frenzied vibrations followed—felt throughout the chamber—so ominous it seemed the entire place might implode.
Time froze again, a gentle silence spreading through the chaos that would not end.
And after that ridiculous calm, a colossal beam of light erupted from the circle and pulverized the creature, spraying heaps of charred flesh across the floor.
Artoria watched her enemy's grotesque disappearance for a moment—then collapsed like dead weight.
For her part, Lysandra let her act without intervening. Faced with the incredible power of this novice on the verge of death, a spontaneous thought crossed her mind:
"Some of them are pretty promising."
Just as she thought she could finally breathe, small demonic whimpers reminded her the group's ordeal wasn't over.
— Tch…
She forced herself up and moved toward Clara—but it was too late. The goblins had already begun their vile work, abusing her body.
Mm… Lysandra might die if I push further… But she might also take all the glory, the voice in her head mused.
The ranger's fate meant little. What mattered was ending this before she passed out.
With casual disdain, she extended her hand and performed another instant incantation:
— [Ventus Secare].
A broad, pressurized current of air cleanly severed the little demons' heads in a single precise sweep, silencing them in the dark fumes of their own blood.
Showing no emotion at the swift victory, she dropped to one knee, exhausted.
That should do it, but…
She'd overused her power—she knew it.
On the edge of blacking out, heavy footsteps suddenly echoed in the room.
On instinct, she turned toward the source of the ominous sound.
Merde… not now… I'm going to…
A second hobgoblin was stepping into the place where the first had appeared.
But she barely had time to see it before her consciousness faltered again.
Lysandra's face returned to its natural, innocent expression.
I… feel like I fell asleep… she thought, clutching her head.
She couldn't feel her body. The migraine and fatigue were at their peak. All she saw around her were trails of black blood and charred flesh.
Wh… what happened?!
Disoriented, she finally noticed the demon a few meters away. She thought it was the one that had brutalized Artoria. It felt like her lapse had lasted only a fraction of a second—as if nothing could have happened in that time.
And yet, the state of the room proved the opposite.
As if to ignore what she was seeing, she looked toward the exit corridor, forcing herself to think clearly and focus on the essentials:
Is… Artoria alive?… Is… Clara okay?… Where is… Nami?… Should I… run?… No… I can't… I can't do that…
As those thoughts churned, more goblins appeared in front of her exhausted eyes—hopping, chattering, grimacing in constant noise.
All the hope Lysandra had felt for this new life was swept away in an instant.
Her vision blurred little by little; she fought not to faint again.
I… I'm sleepy… No! Th-This isn't the time!… But what's the point…
A tear slid down her pale cheek. It wasn't sadness—just resignation.
— Goodbye… my friends…
A deep, distant voice kept Lysandra awake:
— Fate really is capricious…
Four blazing eyes, buried in the corridor's darkness, drew closer with a slow, measured menace.
She could hear the heavy breathing of a beast—maybe another wolf—growing stronger, louder, more defined.
Despite her weakness, the elementalist still expected the worst.
And yet, a faint hope survived in her mind.
Because that voice, reaching her from the depths of the darkness… sounded friendly, simply.