The mountain shook as the monolith split open fully, spraying shards of obsidian across the battlefield. From the darkness within, a massive clawed hand emerged—dripping with viscous, black mana.
The protagonist grabbed Lyra, lifting her gently but urgently into his arms.
"Ashen!" he shouted over the roar of splitting stone. "We have to retreat, now!"
Ashen nodded grimly, already moving to cover their escape. His spear spun in wide arcs, cutting down smaller Void fragments that scattered from the cracking monolith like predatory spores.
The air grew heavier with every passing second, pressing down on them like an invisible ocean.
And then, with a deafening screech that rattled their very bones, the thing inside the mountain fully emerged.
It was enormous—a titan of ancient malice.
Its body was a patchwork of Void-forged metal and flesh, its many faces twisted in silent screams. Hollow eyes searched the battlefield hungrily.
Ashen's voice was tight with awe and horror.
"What in the name of the Shrines is that?"
The protagonist didn't answer. His mind raced, adrenaline surging.
He could feel Emberfang snarling within him, desperate to unleash its full power, but the beast inside warned him:
"Not yet. You are not ready."
Gritting his teeth, he pushed forward.
They ran.
Up the jagged mountain paths, through tunnels that oozed with Void tendrils. The creature gave chase, its massive form distorting the very space around it. With every step it took, the mountain quaked anew.
Lyra, despite her injuries, gritted her teeth and held on.
"Don't drop me," she murmured against his chest, half-conscious but still fighting.
"Never," he promised.
They burst into a cavern illuminated by eerie, blue crystals—mana still untouched by the corruption. For a moment, they found shelter.
Ashen slammed his spear butt into the ground, panting. "We can't keep running. It'll tear through the whole mountain to get to us."
The protagonist lowered Lyra gently against a crystal, letting the healing mana seep into her wounds.
"Then we don't run," he said. His voice hardened. "We fight."
Ashen arched an eyebrow. "You want to fight that thing? It's older than nations, stronger than gods."
"We have to delay it," the protagonist said. His gaze flicked to Lyra, whose breathing was already stabilizing in the mana field. "Long enough for Lyra to recover. Long enough to find its weakness."
Ashen sighed, but a grim smile tugged at his lips.
"Alright. I always knew I'd die stupid."
He hefted his spear. "Let's do it."
—
The monster crashed into the cavern moments later, its multitude of mouths opening in a chorus of gibbering hunger.
The protagonist and Ashen stood side by side, facing it down.
The protagonist's flames ignited once more, not wild and reckless this time—but controlled. Condensed into searing lines that coated his skin, his aura blazing with purpose.
Ashen twirled his spear, his own aura flaring with deep, earthen strength.
Without a word, they charged.
The first clash sent shockwaves through the cavern, splintering crystals and sending shards flying like shrapnel.
The monster swung a massive arm down, trying to crush them both.
Ashen darted left, striking at one of the monster's exposed joints. The blow barely nicked it, but it slowed the swing just enough.
The protagonist vaulted upward, flames propelling him, and struck with a burning punch directly into the beast's shoulder.
BOOM!
The force rocked the monster back a step.
Not enough.
The monster bellowed and unleashed a torrent of black mist—a Void breath that burned everything it touched.
Ashen raised a barrier of stone from the ground to shield them, but it cracked under the pressure.
"Plan B?" he grunted.
The protagonist's mind raced.
If brute force wouldn't work, maybe the environment could.
He looked around—noticed the unstable crystal formations overhead.
If they could bring them down...
—
"Buy me thirty seconds!" the protagonist shouted.
Ashen didn't hesitate. He charged forward, a blur of spear strikes and stone-shaping, drawing the monster's wrath.
Meanwhile, the protagonist channeled his mana deep into the cavern's walls, heating the base of the crystals. His flames danced higher, thin lines of searing heat spiderwebbing upward.
The monster roared and swiped at Ashen, but he was fast, ducking and weaving, leaving gashes along the creature's legs and arms.
"Anytime now!" Ashen barked.
Almost there.
The crystals above cracked, heat and tension warping their structure.
The protagonist leapt back just as the first massive crystal detached—and with a sound like a mountain screaming, the ceiling came down.
CRASH!
The crystals exploded into a cascade of shrapnel and mana, burying the monster under a tidal wave of radiant destruction.
The cavern shook violently. Dust and light filled the air.
For a moment, there was only silence.
Then—the rubble shifted.
The monster wasn't dead.
But it was wounded.
Its left arm dangled uselessly, and parts of its chest oozed corrupted energy.
Ashen wiped blood from his forehead. "You just made it mad."
"Good," the protagonist said, voice cold. His aura flared brighter.
Lyra stirred, pulling herself upright, the healing mana suffusing her strength.
"I'm not missing the fun," she rasped, pushing to her feet.
The protagonist caught her eye—and their bond felt stronger than ever, unspoken understanding crackling between them.
Together, the three of them turned to face the monster one last time.
This time, it was personal.
Round two began.
The protagonist led the charge, his body wrapped in a tight sheath of blue-white flame. Every punch he landed sent shockwaves that cratered the ground. He moved faster now, his training, his rage, his hope coalescing into a singular force.
Ashen flanked from the left, his spear strikes finding the monster's wounds with surgical precision.
Lyra danced around its legs, slashing tendons, each cut surgically placed.
The monster fought back savagely, tendrils whipping, mouths biting. It knocked Ashen sprawling once, slammed Lyra back—but they rose each time, fueled by something deeper than pain.
Hope.
Fire.
Defiance.
At last, the protagonist found his moment. As the monster reared up for a final, devastating strike, he drove his fists into the ground—and from the impact, a ring of pure flame erupted outward, trapping the monster in a blazing cage.
He leapt through the inferno, straight at the creature's exposed core—a writhing, black heart visible through the shattered armor.
Gathering every ounce of mana he could muster, he thrust his hand forward, flame condensing into a single, brilliant lance of light.
He plunged it into the monster's core.
The cavern lit up like a second sun.
The monster shrieked—a sound that rattled the world—and then disintegrated, falling into ashes and smoke.
The mountain was silent once more.
—
They stood there, breathing heavily, staring at the smoldering ruins.
Ashen finally chuckled, low and exhausted. "I think I broke a rib."
Lyra smiled weakly. "At least you have all your limbs."
The protagonist turned to Lyra, heart pounding not from battle—but from something else.
Slowly, almost shyly, he offered his hand.
She took it.
Their fingers intertwined.
For a long moment, they stood there, surrounded by fire and ruin, but finding something unbreakable between them.
And then—before the moment could deepen—the ground trembled again.
A deeper, colder presence stirred beneath the mountain.
Not the titan they'd slain.
Something older.
Something still waiting.
The protagonist's hand tightened around Lyra's.
"This isn't over," he said quietly.
Lyra met his gaze, fierce and unafraid. "Then we'll face it together."
Ashen cracked his knuckles, stepping up beside them.
"And kick its ancient ass."
—
As they turned to face the deeper tunnels spiraling downward, a single black feather drifted down from the shadows above, sizzling as it touched the scorched ground.
The true enemy had seen them now.
And it was hungry.