[POCO'S POV]
"Hoooo, there you are!"
The voice echoed through the temple, even though it was open air. The sound twisted through the pillars like it had a will of its own—like it wasn't bouncing off stone, but whispering inside my ears.
I froze.
"You're strong for your height, I can tell," the voice croaked, dry and brittle, like an old broom scraping tile. "You survived my traps."
She sounded like an old witch who lived off frog stew and regrets.
"Yeah, yeah, barely!" I shouted back, shifting my stance so my back leaned against the temple gate. "Where are you? Are you a ghost?!"
Because listen—I'm not scared of monsters.
But ghosts?
That's a whole different department of nope.
My knees did a little internal vote.
And they unanimously agreed to tremble.
"I know you've been looking… for me," she hissed.
"So, you're Morgana, huh? Great. Lovely. Now show yourself, before I scream and throw my pillar blindly."
I scanned the dark arches, sweat collecting on my neck.
Then something moved.
She crawled out of one of the broken stone coffins like a centipede dipped in nightmares.
A woman—if you could still call her that.
Her long black hair dragged along the floor like it had weight, hanging in dripping strands like wet vines. Her back was bent the wrong way, legs twisted like she'd forgotten how to be human. Bones cracked with every movement.
Her skin was patchy, like wet paper clinging to bone. Parts of her face had peeled off, revealing grey sinew. Her tongue lolled out—long, bloated, and glistening with drool. It twitched like it had its own opinion on eating me.
She stared at me with two mismatched eyes—one too big, one too shriveled—and smiled.
Like I was dessert.
"Ihhhhh—what are you?!" I yelped, stepping back. "Are you dead?!"
She didn't answer that.
Instead, she tilted her head and sniffed the air like a cat who'd just discovered a new brand of tuna.
"You survived my traps," she said, still crawling low, her limbs clicking like she was made of rusted joints. "You're not an ordinary examinee. I can add you to my collection…"
Then her eyes flicked behind me.
I turned—
The gate.
The spiders, zombies, and skeletons were still there—clawing at the invisible barrier, moaning, twitching, one spider even tapping politely like it wanted to borrow sugar before devouring my face.
"Oh, great! Just when I thought I was safe!"
"Hey, are we on the same topic here?!" I snapped. "You're not answering my question! Are you deaf or what?!"
She didn't respond.
She opened her mouth.
Her jaw unhinged.
Un. Hinged.
"You're flesh… seems delicious..." she hissed, and then lunged.
"SEE?! Different topic again! She CAN'T hear me—AHHHHHHHH!"
I flung myself sideways just as she launched like a spider with anger issues.
She landed where I was standing—hard—and skittered along the ground like some horror crab, slashing her blackened claws through the air.
"YOU'RE NOT GONNA COOK ME—!" I shouted, rolling behind a stone pillar. "I'M NOT SPICY ENOUGH!"
She cackled—actually cackled—and crawled along the wall like gravity didn't apply. "No spice…? That's fine. I like them raw…"
I gagged. "Lady, no offense, but I've had better dates with rats!"
I tried to summon a Stone Wall, but she leapt and smashed through it with her face. Her face.
Chunks of rock exploded. I screamed.
She landed on all fours, inches away.
So I panicked.
And screamed again.
And threw a random rock at her.
She caught it with her tongue.
Her tongue.
I nearly cried.
"Please tell me this is a dream. Or a hallucination. Or an allergic reaction to undead trauma—"
She dashed again—I ducked under her arms, did a weird shuffle-sprint combo that definitely wasn't dignified, and screamed as I ran.
"NOPE! NOPE! NOPE! You can KEEP your collection! I'm limited edition!"
As I dashed toward the inner gate of the temple, she hissed, "You can't leave! Not without joining me…"
I grabbed a statue and threw it behind me. It broke in half.
"That's what I think of your interior decorating!"
Then I slipped, flailed, caught myself, and charged through a hallway like my life depended on it.
Because it did.
And somewhere behind me?
Morgana let out a scream-laugh that would haunt me for the next seven therapy scrolls.
She lunged again—arms stretched, mouth wide, tongue out like a starving ghoul.
I ducked just in time.
She flew past me—and slammed into a dark corner of the temple.
Her body hit the wall with a disturbing CRACK. I flinched. But when I looked… nothing.
She was gone.
"Okay. Nope. Nope nope nope. Where did she go—?!"
I squinted into the shadows.
"Okay, Poco… serious mode on."
***
I adjusted my glasses, holding tightly to my giant pillar.
I'm literally shitting tight now, but it's time to get serious.
She's obviously a necromancer... in a weird way.
But come to think of it — do all necromancers look like this?
What if they gather somewhere? Are they all bent and snapping like broken puppets?
"Flexible" isn't the right word for her.
She twists her body like a rope with no bones.
And she summons disgusting things like zombies and slimy spiders—gruhhh!
I'm still not over that slime splash earlier.
No matter what, I need to find her weakness.
Fast.
"Spider spit!"
The voice echoed right before I saw it—thick webs shooting toward me like a net.
I barely had time to react.
The sticky strands hit me square on, slamming me backward into one of the cracked temple pillars.
My arms and legs got pinned instantly.
The web was tough — like iron wires dipped in glue.
I struggled, but the more I moved, the more it pulled tight.
Then—
From the dark—
Morgana launched forward like a human drill, her arms stiff and pointed straight ahead, spinning as she came.
New move.
New nightmare.
I gritted my teeth.
"Pebble Flick!" I barked.
I twisted my fingers against the pillar—flicking three sharp stones I'd been keeping in my palm.
The Pebble Flick wasn't a normal throw—
I charged the rocks with a small earth burst, launching them at high speed with sharp precision, aiming for weak points like eyes, joints, or exposed skin.
The pebbles whistled through the air — tiny bullets of pain.
"GRRRR—!" Morgana snarled, her body twisting mid-spin to dodge.
The stones missed barely — grazing past her shoulders and slicing tiny cuts into her paper-thin skin.
She landed sideways, claws scraping the ground, her mismatched eyes locking onto me with pure anger.
It wasn't playful anymore.
I felt the weight of that stare.
She was serious now.
I grit my teeth harder, heart pounding against the webs straining on my chest.
Enough running.
I yanked my arms backward with everything I had, using Titan Strength to rip through the sticky web strands.
They tore with a wet SNAP, sticking to my sleeves but giving way.
I stumbled forward, free.
Maybe... maybe I should stop running scared.
Maybe being aggressive is the only way she'll back off.
Let's see if this insane plan works.
I grabbed a few stones from my pouch, feeling the weight in my palm.
Another "Pebble Flick!"
I launched them forward — tiny missiles flying ahead of me toward Morgana's face.
But this time, I didn't charge blindly behind them.
As I sprinted, I whistled sharply through my teeth —
and the giant stone pillar I left stuck behind Morgana earlier ripped free from the ground, flying straight toward her back like a runaway battering ram.
Her mismatched eyes widened — but it was too late.
"Mud Grip!" I shouted.
I slammed my palm to the ground mid-sprint.
The earth under Morgana's feet melted into thick, sticky mud —
and in an instant, it hardened around her ankles and legs like cement.
Mud Grip — turns soft soil into instant hardening mud that traps enemies where they stand, locking their movements and slowing their reactions.
Morgana screeched, twisting her body violently, but her legs were stuck.
She couldn't dodge.
Not from the pebbles coming at her face—
not from the pillar hurtling toward her back—
and not from me.
"Golem Punch!" I roared.
I gathered earth around my right hand — thick layers of rock swirling and hardening into a giant stone glove almost twice the size of my normal fist.
The pebbles struck first —
small sharp impacts peppering her arms and chest, forcing her to flinch and shield herself.
She stumbled — trapped.
The flying pillar closed the distance fast from behind — about to smash her spine.
And me?
I came up from the front, launching my stone-arm fist back, ready to drive it through her stomach like a cannon.
"TAKE THIS—!" I bellowed.
"Huh? What the—?! Shit!" I cursed as I realized—
She jumped.
Literally.
Straight upward—
leaving her two mangled feet stuck in the ground like old shoes abandoned at a festival.
I panicked and jumped too—
barely dodging my own giant pillar hurtling right where I had been standing.
THUNK-CRASH-KRACK!
The pebble shots and the flying pillar collided midair —
scattering shards and stone dust everywhere.
BOOM!
My giant pillar slammed full-force into the temple pillar I had been pinned against earlier—
the impact shook the whole hall, cracks spiderwebbing across the ancient stone.
I hovered midair for half a second, blinking.
"Well that was creepy!" I yelled, landing hard on one knee.
"She just—left her damn feet behind! Like they're detachable or something!"
I wiped the dust off my glasses, heart hammering.
This was getting worse.
Way worse.
My head snapped upward as I heard scraping.
Morgana was gripping the ceiling now —
her grotesque arms twisted around a stone beam like a spider holding onto its web.
Her long grey hair hung down, dripping like wet ropes.
She smiled at me — a wide, broken smile that sent chills down my spine.
And then she hissed in that distorted, sickly voice:
"Hoooo... you wish to own me too? Then come, little doll... break yourself for me."
I barely had time to breathe before she moved.
Morgana dropped from the ceiling—
arms twisting unnaturally mid-fall—
ripping her own left arm off and hurling it at me like a thrown spear.
"WHAT THE—?!" I yelped, ducking just in time as the rotten arm stabbed into the floor behind me.
She landed on all fours—
then whipped her head forward.
Her long grey hair snapped like tentacles—
slamming into the pillars and digging into the ceiling again, lifting her off the ground like some sick marionette.
Before I could react, she spat—
A glob of slimy green acid shot toward me.
"NOPE!"
I threw a Stone Shield up just in time—
the acid hit it with a sizzle, eating through the surface like boiling soup.
"Gross—gross—gross—!"
She swung at me again—this time her hair itself trying to grab my legs.
I leapt sideways, skidding across the dust.
I flicked a pebble toward her exposed side—
"Pebble Flick!"
—but she snapped the stone midair with her jaw like a feral dog.
"You're not normal!" I shouted.
She laughed, her body clicking and twitching, strings of webbing drooling from her mouth.
She hurled another wad of sticky web at me—
I ducked under it, feeling it splash against the wall like wet cement.
Breathing hard, I slammed my palm down.
"Crater Smite!"
The ground cracked under her, throwing her balance off mid-attack.
She staggered—
one of her hair-tentacles yanked free from the ceiling, swinging her sideways.
For the first time—
I saw it.
An opening.
I grinned, blood still in my mouth.
"Gotcha, freak."
"Slab Step!" I barked.
A stone platform pushed up under my foot, tossing me higher into the air—
just enough to heft my giant pillar with both hands.
"Take this, you horror puppet!" I shouted, flinging the stone like a boulder catapulted from a castle wall.
Morgana twisted in midair—
bones snapping and cracking —
dodging sideways in a slithering, sickening way.
The pillar slammed into the temple wall with a deep KRANG, knocking loose dust and chunks of stone.
"Tch—missed," I muttered.
I whistled sharply between my teeth.
"Return Stone!"
The pillar rumbled, yanked itself free, and whipped back toward me like a loyal hunting beast.
Morgana clung to the side of the wall, her face peeling back into a wide grin as she drooled long strands of slime.
Her voice rasped out, half-giggle, half-sob:
"Chase me, pebble boy... chase me~ like all the others..."
I caught the returning pillar mid-spin, my knees almost buckling from the force.
"Gonna catch you, alright," I muttered, setting my stance again.
"Crater Pitch!"
I hurled the stone once more—
this time harder, aimed straight at her middle.
Morgana shrieked —
her long grey hair shot out, latching onto the wall like twisted ropes, slinging her downward with terrifying speed.
I tracked her through the dust—
She dropped fast—
landing dead center on a massive obsidian slab, half-buried into the cracked temple floor.
My boots skidded across broken gravel as I slowed myself.
I tightened my grip on the pillar, breathing heavily.
Waiting.
Watching.
Morgana crouched low over the stone, her body twitching and convulsing.
Her hair curled around her like black, dripping vines.
And then she started... changing.
Her voice rose in a whisper — almost a song, but broken at the ends:
"Tear... grow... new arms... new mouths... better~ for catching you..."
I stared, horrified, as her shoulders began to bulge and tear.
New limbs, raw and wet, sprouted from the seams of her rotting skin.
"By the ancients," I breathed out.
"She's spawning herself like a cursed tree..."
I shifted my stance, raising my pillar again, bracing it vertically like a giant hammer about to drive a nail.
"Let's see you wriggle out of this," I muttered.
I charged forward—
aiming the hammerhead straight down at Morgana, who was still hunched low in the middle of the temple on that cursed obsidian stone.
I swung down with everything I had.
BOOM!
The earth shuddered under the impact.
But—
Morgana had already leapt away, springing into the air like a broken insect.
My pillar smashed into the stone slab instead, sending cracks spiderwebbing across the ancient floor.
Dust exploded upward.
For a heartbeat, I thought I missed again—
but then I felt it.
A shift.
I glanced sideways—
and my stomach dropped.
The invisible barrier around the temple—the one holding back the spiders, skeletons, and moaning dead outside—
was gone.
The monsters that had been clawing at the air moments ago were now free—
and they turned their glowing eyes toward me like starving wolves spotting fresh meat.
"You clever ghost—witch—monster! Whatever you are!" I shouted up at Morgana, swinging my pillar back defensively.
She just hung there from the ceiling, laughing softly, her hair twisted into hooks.