Hypnotic Gaze was an absolute nightmare to deal with. It inflicted one of thirteen random debuffs, each annoying in its own way. Unlike the lingering mist of Thalorien Forest, these effects didn’t last long, but that didn’t make them any less frustrating.

  The worst part? The trigger was absurdly simple. Anyone who made direct eye contact with Nyrathos while its eyes gleamed would fall victim to the skill. This forced us to fight while keeping our gazes locked on its body, never its face.

  Muradin was the only one who got hit by it repeatedly. No surprise there, given that he was the one holding the line against Nyrathos’ relentless attacks. Luckily, most of the debuffs could be cured with Rejuvenation.

  Unfortunately, we got careless.

  In our brief moment of victory after destroying the Slytheris nest, all of us looked straight into Nyrathos’ molten gold eyes.

  Orin’s heart nearly stopped.

  The moment her gaze locked onto Nyrathos’, a chilling realization struck her. She was done for. But her instincts took over.

  With a flicker of thought, she instantly summoned a potion into her palm. However, she didn’t know which one to choose. Each debuff had a different antidote. She could only rely on her instincts and pray she had picked the right one.

  Less than a second. That was all the time she had.

  Then, the effect hit.

  Her legs stiffened first, turning to stone as the Petrification spread rapidly upward. Her stomach, her chest, it climbed relentlessly. She tried to lift her arms, but her shoulders locked in place. Her throat tightened. Her lips refused to move.

  Her wide, blue eyes stared ahead, refusing to close.

  Then, warmth spread through her body. Moonlight Essence.

  Relief flooded her as feeling returned to her fingers. She wasted no time. Before Nyrathos could lunge, she hurled an Enhanced Flameburst Flask straight at the beast.

  A searing explosion engulfed it. The serpent writhed and screeched, flames licking at its scales. Its weakness to fire was evident, buying Orin just enough time to assess the battlefield.

  Her team was still suffering. And she had a huge problem.

  Only one Moonlight Essence left.

  Her heart pounded. She had prepared just one antidote for each of the dangerous debuffs, anticipating the worst. But for Petrified, she had made an exception. She packed an extra, just in case.

  Now, she had to make a choice.

  Her eyes darted across her fallen teammates, each struggling against an unknown curse.

  Who should she save?

  ***

  Nyrathos sank its fangs deep into its prey.

  Crunch! Splash!

  The sickening sound of teeth piercing flesh mixed with the gushing of blood, the sizzle of venom, and the agonized screams of its victim.

  It had been two minutes since the entire Ironwood team had turned to stone.

  “Dang it!” Orin’s grip tightened around her staff.

  "I'm out of fire potions!" she shouted, desperation creeping into her voice.

  No response.

  Her teammate was too busy holding the line against the monstrous serpent.

  Two minutes felt like an eternity, yet somehow, they had survived without disaster. If they could last just three more minutes, the petrification would wear off, and their team would be whole again.

  Orin didn’t stop moving. She cycled through her remaining potions, throwing everything she had at Nyrathos to slow it down.

  Meanwhile, Muradin stood his ground.

  He had taken the brunt of every attack, shielding their immobilized allies while fending off the beast’s relentless onslaught. His massive frame was a familiar sight on the battlefield, but this time… his condition was far worse.

  Wounds covered his body. Blood seeped from beneath his dented, corroded armor, its metal warped from venom burns. His shield, once sturdy and proud, was barely recognizable, riddled with holes, half-destroyed.

  And yet, he refused to fall.

  Three more minutes.

  Blow after blow rained down on him.

  Muradin gritted his teeth, bracing himself as Nyrathos’ tail came whipping toward him with bone-crushing force. He raised his shield just in time.

  CLANG!

  The impact rattled his entire body, nearly knocking him off balance. His arms ached from the sheer force, but he refused to give in.

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  With a roar, he countered with Shield Bash, slamming his shield into the monster’s snout. The attack barely staggered it, but it bought him a fraction of a second. Just enough to breathe.

  Bastion Strike… No, he couldn’t.

  The opening wasn’t there. Nyrathos was too fast, too unpredictable. If he missed, the retaliation would be deadly.

  So he focused on one thing.

  Survive.

  Just a little longer…

  Suddenly, a dazzling explosion of energy engulfed Nyrathos.

  Orin, out of offensive items, had no choice but to use her last resort, Mana Bomb.

  One minute.

  That was all they had to endure. Just sixty more seconds.

  Then, in a few seconds, everything fell apart.

  The massive serpent suddenly whipped its head around, eyes locking onto a lone figure lying motionless on the cavern floor. Eryndor.

  Orin’s breath caught in her throat.

  No. No, no, no!

  He was too far away. The rest of the team was clustered together, but Eryndor had been knocked aside during the battle, completely separated.

  Muradin, battered and barely standing, tried to move, but his body wouldn’t respond. His muscles screamed in protest, his legs buckling beneath him.

  There was no one left to save him.

  "ERYNDOR!" Orin screamed.

  Her eyes squeezed shut, unwilling to witness the impending death blow. Nyrathos lunged, its razor-sharp fangs aimed directly at Eryndor’s unmoving body.

  BAAM!

  A thunderous impact shook the cavern.

  The sheer force of it sent rocks exploding in every direction, shrouding the battlefield in thick clouds of dust.

  Orin’s breath shuddered. Tears spilled down her face as she hurled her last remaining Mana Bomb, a desperate, useless act.

  Her Mana was completely drained.

  Muradin stood frozen, his fists clenched, his bearded face pale. His normally fierce eyes glistened with unspoken grief, a storm of rage and sorrow battling within them.

  CRASH!

  A sickening crack echoed through the cavern as something slammed into Nyrathos’ skull.

  The beast reeled back, clearly stunned.

  A voice rang out from the dust.

  "You guys are ugly as hell when you cry."

  Orin’s head snapped up. Her eyes widened in disbelief.

  Eryndor was standing.

  Grinning, staff in hand, looking completely fine.

  Unlike Elena and Darwyn, who were still turning to stone, Eryndor had somehow broken free from the petrification.

  Orin didn’t waste time questioning it. She immediately pulled out a medium-rank healing potion and tossed it to Muradin.

  Eryndor, not waiting for explanations either, smashed his staff into Nyrathos’ head again. And again.

  The serpent let out an ear-splitting hiss before retaliating. Its massive coils snaked around him, tightening.

  Eryndor’s cocky grin faltered. His face turned blue.

  For a moment, the battlefield fell into a suffocating silence.

  Then suddenly…

  FWOOOSH!

  A volley of arrows rained down on Nyrathos, striking its body from every direction.

  Not just from Darwyn.

  Not just from Elena.

  But also from Silkshade Phantom, her summoned companion, as well.

  Nyrathos recoiled, its grip loosening just enough.

  Eryndor, gasping for air, didn’t hesitate.

  With a sharp, brutal thrust, he drove his staff straight into Nyrathos’ eye.

  The beast let out an unearthly shriek, its massive body convulsing before finally slithering away into the darkness.

  ***

  The battle raged on, now evenly matched once more with the full Ironwood team back in action.

  Orin focused on healing the wounded, pouring potions over their injuries while meditating to restore her Mana.

  Meanwhile, I kept supporting Muradin, reinforcing his defenses as he endured Nyrathos’ relentless assault. Between the monstrous serpent’s deadly strikes, I cast Galestride on Darwyn, boosting his speed as he and his sister repeatedly targeted a single weak spot on its massive body.

  Nyrathos was weakening.

  Its movements became more erratic, more desperate. It lashed out blindly, burning through the last of its energy in a frenzied rampage.

  Luckily, its reckless attacks were wild, unfocused. We dodged with relative ease. It was only a matter of time.

  Everything was going according to plan.

  Until it wasn’t.

  Without warning, Nyrathos changed tactics.

  With a sudden, violent jerk, the beast hurled boulders in every direction.

  “Scatter!” Muradin roared, but there was no time.

  The massive rocks rained down, too many for him to block alone. We scrambled to evade the deadly barrage, the cavern shaking beneath us.

  We could sense it. A blur. A lunge. A sickening sound.

  I heard it before I saw it, fangs piercing flesh.

  A low, wet crunch. A horrible sizzling noise as venom seeped into a body.

  No scream.

  That was what made it worse.

  No scream. No cry of pain. Just silence.

  Dread coiled in my gut. My breath caught in my throat as I turned.

  Elena.

  She lay motionless on the cold stone floor.

  A gaping wound marred her chest, her once-bright armor now drenched in crimson. Blood trickled from her mouth, nose, eyes, and ears, pooling beneath her in a grotesque display of mortality.

  My stomach churned.

  Darwyn’s frustration exploded into rage. With a feral cry, he loosed a storm of arrows, driving Nyrathos back. But the Guardian was no longer our priority.

  Orin and I rushed to Elena’s side.

  I poured Rejuvenation over her again and again, chanting the spell with frantic desperation. Orin uncorked our only high-rank healing potion, tipping the shimmering liquid past Elena’s pale lips.

  Nothing.

  The magic didn’t take. The potion didn’t work.

  Her condition only worsened.

  Blood spilled faster. Her body, already ashen, turned a deep blue-purple.

  The poison had spread too far.

  Panic set in. My hands shook. Orin’s breathing grew ragged.

  We knew.

  We knew.

  Elena had seconds—mere seconds—before she was gone.

  Darwyn’s voice cracked in the background, shouting over and over, demanding to know if his sister was still alive.

  Neither of us answered.

  We couldn’t.

  Elena’s body grew colder.

  Her heartbeat faded.

  Her breath slowed.

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