We had prepared for everything—everything.

  Contingency pns. Emergency strategies. Simutions of worst-case scenarios. We even accounted for injuries, ambushes, interference.

  But not this.

  This wasn’t in our pns.

  A sickening crack rang out. Orin hit the ground hard, a choked cry escaping her lips as blood soaked through her robes.

  “I—I’m sorry…” she gasped, clutching her side. Her breathing came in sharp, panicked bursts. The wound wasn’t fatal, but it was bad.

  Elena and I were already at her side, tending to her wound while Darwyn barked orders. We managed to stabilize her.

  But the real problem wasn’t the injury.

  It was the pouch.

  Orin’s sub-space pouch, the one holding all our specialized items, was torn. Magic flickered uselessly around the broken seals.

  Gone. Every key component of our pn, every crucial item we had stored. Gone.

  That meant we only had the emergency healing potions we carried individually.

  “Tsk.” My voice came out as a whisper, but my mind was already scrambling for a new solution.

  I turned to Orin. “How many times can you use Materialization?”

  Orin hesitated, then bit her lip. “Mmm… about five or six times.”

  “Good. Focus on that.” I quickly listed the essential materials she needed to recreate using her spell.

  She nodded, teeth clenched in pain, and began focusing. The air shimmered around her hands as her spell sparked to life. Not ideal, but we didn’t have another choice.

  “New pn.” I exhaled sharply. I just hoped it would work.

  ***

  [Grave’s Whisper progress increased – Consciousness reduced by 14%]

  The air felt heavier. It was more than fatigue, it was like something was eating us from the inside.

  It had been ten minutes since the st incident, and we could feel ourselves getting weaker. Our movements slowed, reactions dulled. Grave’s Whisper was burrowing into our minds, dulling us like prey about to be devoured.

  To make things worse, the Glowink Fsk’s effect had worn off. That meant we had lost our main way of tracking the invisible Gravelurker.

  Now, we had to rely on Ilumne, a light spell cast by Darwyn.

  Ilumne not only provided visibility but also detected concealed enemies. However, its range was extremely limited.

  That meant… we could only react at the st second.

  And that wasn’t nearly enough.

  SLAASH!!

  Agony erupted across my ribs. I staggered, breath punched from my lungs as Gravelurker’s cws scored a searing line across my side.

  It wasn’t deep, but the pain fred instantly. I staggered back and immediately cast Rejuvenation to patch myself up.

  But the reality of the situation was clear…

  Not only were we struggling to dodge its attacks…We couldn’t even nd a proper hit, because no one could stop its movements.

  One hour had passed.

  The effects of Grave’s Whisper had worsened.

  I could feel it in my sluggish movements, in the way my mind struggled to focus. The progress must’ve exceeded 40% by now.

  Gosh! We didn’t have much time left.

  Then I saw it, reflected in the dull glow of Ilumne, my team.

  Everyone was wounded, exhausted, and this battle had dragged on far longer than expected. Fear crept into our expressions as a terrifying realization set in.

  We might not make it out.

  “Hey, don’t make that face,” Muradin teased, noticing my tense expression. “You look like someone pissed in your drink.”

  I blinked at him. He grinned, battered but unbothered. “Yeah, it doesn’t suit you. That kind of face is better on Darwyn, anyway.”

  “Excuse me?” Darwyn scoffed. “Shut up, you overgrown beardling.”

  Despite everything, I couldn’t help but let out a bitter smile at their usual banter.

  Then, Muradin grinned.

  “Alright, it’s my turn to come up with the pn.” He winked, full of his usual reckless confidence.

  “A-Anyway, let’s focus!” Elena cut in nervously. “The monster will attack any second now!”

  Just as she said that, a shadow moved within the dim glow of Ilumne’s detection range.

  Gravelurker was coming.

  SHHHNK!

  A sharp, wet sound filled the cavern.

  Time froze.

  Gravelurker surged from the darkness, faster than we’d ever seen. In a blur of motion, its pincer smmed through Muradin’s torso, lifting him off the ground.

  Muradin let out a sharp grunt while his body jerked violently.

  "MISTER BROMIR!!" Orin shrieked, horror written all over her face.

  But Muradin, that reckless idiot, just grinned through bloody teeth.

  “Hah… You lot really can’t do anything without me, huh?” he said lightly, as if he weren’t currently impaled. His voice was weakening. “Well? What are you waiting for?”

  I had never seen Darwyn this furious before.

  “You bastard, DIE ALREADY!!” he roared, unleashing a relentless barrage of arrows, each one striking precisely to Gravelurker’s eye.

  Elena and I followed suit, firing everything we had at the monster.

  Gravelurker screeched, jerking its head back as it ripped its pincer out of Muradin’s body. A sickening wet sound echoed as blood sprayed from the wound.

  Then, the moment we had been dreading and anticipating finally arrived. The Gravelurker’s entire body began to shift, its form warping in a grotesque dispy. Its massive frame twisted and bulged, as though it were shedding its skin, preparing for something far more deadly.

  The deep purple of its exoskeleton turned a burning crimson, pulsing violently as the monster convulsed in agony. It stomped its thick, jagged legs against the ground, thrashing wildly.

  “GET MURADIN!” I shouted.

  We didn’t waste the chance.

  We scrambled, grabbing his twitching form. Potions, every st one, poured into his mouth and wounds.

  “Come on, come on, come on.”

  For a horrifying moment, nothing happened.

  But then—

  He coughed. The gaping wound in his gut began to close.

  His breathing steadied.

  And Muradin Bromir was still alive.

  Barely.

  But just as we exhaled in relief, a sound cut through the chamber.

  Not a roar. Not a screech.

  A scream.

  A shrill, bone-piercing wail that sounded like hundreds of voices crying out in agony—yered and echoing through the cavern like the death throes of the damned.

  The walls trembled. My ears rang with white noise, and for a moment, I couldn’t even hear my own heartbeat.

  We froze. All of us.

  I didn’t need to look at my team to know how they felt. I felt it, radiating from each of them.

  Terror.

  Elena’s hands were shaking so hard she couldn’t hold her bow properly. Orin had gone pale, her lips pressed in a tight line as she clutched Muradin’s arm like a lifeline. Darwyn lowered his bow for a full second, his expression bnk, jaw sck with disbelief.

  I could barely breathe. My chest was tight. My instincts screamed at me to run, to flee, to get as far away from that thing as possible.

  And somehow, somehow we knew. And if we didn’t stop it now…

  It would devour us. Mind, body, and soul.