As the group of adventurers, led by Colin, moved deeper into the forest, the surrounding atmosphere began to change subtly, but undeniably ominously.

  The trees, already imposing by nature, seemed to lean over the path like ancient guardians.

  A mist began to form, faint at first but quickly gaining density, enveloping everything in a curtain of dampness and mystery.

  A growing tension settled on his shoulders.

  The forest, with its growing darkness and the mist that seemed to swallow every sound, created a perfect stage for legends and tales of terror to come true.

  "This is getting dangerous," commented Renovich.

  "Afraid of fog?" scoffed Noretu. "Kylone and I are used to it, based on our experience, what should be at the end of this fog is..."

  And it was then, further on, emerging from the mist like figures from a nightmare, that they saw the undead.

  Skeletons, some still wearing the rags of their past lives, wandered aimlessly, their movements erratic and purposeless, except for the basic instinct to attack the living.

  "Undead, obvious," commented Noretu, conjuring a fireball in his hand.

  Standing out among them was an imposing figure, a Minotaur skeleton that stood over three meters tall, its horns as menacing in death as they must have been in life.

  Noretu, looking at the creatures and then at his companions, broke the silence with a voice as arrogant as it was cocky.

  "These abominations will not rest until we are all consumed. One of us must stay behind, holding them off while the others advance."

  Everyone exchanged glances, and then Noretu turned to Renovich.

  "Renovich, right?" he said. "Can you hold them here? As long as the witches aren't killed, the dead will keep getting back together."

  Renovich stared at the mass of undead and then at his companions.

  "All right, we'll manage inside," said Colin.

  "As soon as that which is contained, I'll run in," he said, giving Noretu a firm look.

  In his hand, the sword glowed with a light of its own. Without hesitation, he advanced, the blade singing through the air, ready to meet the enemy.

  The first skeletons emerged from the mist, their disjointed forms moving with malevolent intent. Renovich met them with implacable calm, every movement of his sword an extension of his will.

  The first blow was a precise thrust, piercing a skeleton's skull with such force that it scattered the bones in a spectral rain.

  He spun on his heels, the blade slicing horizontally through another opponent, separating head from shoulders in a fluid movement that left little room for retaliation.

  As more creatures joined the battle, Renovich's deadly dance became more desperate, but no less formidable. Every blow was calculated, every dodge a testament to his dexterity.

  He didn't just fight; he orchestrated a ballet of destruction, where every move was as much defensive as offensive.

  In one agile movement, he found himself sliding his sword under the outstretched arm of an undead, taking advantage of the opening to drive his sword into the spot where the heart should have been, causing the creature to fall apart, bones and rotting flesh falling everywhere.

  Colin understood why he was the only warrior left after the Bugbears' attack. Renovich was extremely skilled.

  There was a beauty in that tenacity, that refusal to give in to the inevitable. Even when an imposing and menacing Minotaur skeleton emerged from the mist, its empty eyes fixed on Renovich, the warrior didn't flinch.

  With a defiant roar, he faced the beast, dodging its clumsy blows with surprising agility, looking for a weak point, a moment to strike.

  And then, with a cry that was both a battle cry and defiance of the heavens, Renovich advanced. His sword, drenched in force, found the space between the Minotaur skeleton's ribs, also finding the core of necrotic energy that kept the creature upright.

  Swish!

  With a blinding glow, the sword and the warrior became one.

  "What are you doing standing there?" shouted Renovich. "Go!"

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  His companions advanced, and Renovich continued his fight.

  As Colin, Safira, Noretu and Kylone entered the cave, they left behind the clamor of battle and the thick fog that enveloped the forest.

  The transition from the open air to the enclosed environment of the cave brought an oppressive silence, with only the sound of their footsteps and restrained breathing breaking the stillness.

  The space was damp, the cold air carrying the smell of wet earth and old stone. The darkness seemed almost tangible, coiling around them.

  Noretu, sensing the need for light, stretched out his hand, words of power whispered between his teeth.

  A sphere of fire appeared above his palm, bathing the cave in a golden light that cast dancing shadows against the jagged walls.

  "It's good that your companion was here," said Noretu. "He can handle it; there's no need to worry."

  "I'm not worried," replied Colin.

  The light revealed stalactites hanging like the claws of some sleeping monster, and the floor covered in stones and small pools of water that reflected the light like broken mirrors.

  Colin, with the ring on his finger, noticed something else. He saw trails of mana, delicate, glowing lines that intertwined across the floor of the cave, leading them deeper.

  These trails, invisible to ordinary eyes, pulsed with a subtle energy, a silent guide through unknown depths.

  "Can you see the mana trails?" commented Noretu. "You seem to be hiding secrets too. We must be close."

  "Noretu, Kylone," he said, his voice firm but low. "Lead the way. Safira and I will cover our rear. If anything or anyone follows us, we'll be ready."

  It wasn't difficult to recognize that Colin's intention wasn't to guard against an enemy, but against those two.

  With a debauched smile on his face, Noretu led the way, his companion a little behind.

  Kylone, although quiet, had his hand firmly on his sword, ready to draw it at the first sign of danger.

  […]

  

  As they continued through the cave, a subtle but undeniable feeling of change crept into their senses.

  The walls, once merely damp and uneven, began to transform, covered in drawn trails that pulsed with a dim, ethereal light.

  These drawings, complex and intricate, seemed to tell ancient stories, mixing arcane symbols with images of mythical beings and events.

  "We're getting close," commented Noretu. "Get ready!"

  The path narrowed until, at the end of the tunnel, a faint torchlight became visible.

  The light grew as they approached, until they opened up into a wide space, a large chamber.

  The chamber was littered with bones, spread out like a macabre bed, the remains of countless creatures and perhaps humans. But it was the back of the chamber that completely captured his attention.

  There, a figure dominated the scene, as bizarre as it was terrible.

  A greenish-skinned witch, her skin wrinkled and scarred by centuries of seclusion and dark practices. Her long nose protruded like a crow's beak, and her long white hair fell messily over her shoulders and down her back, partially covering her nakedness.

  Her breasts were shriveled and drooping, and her smile, which was missing teeth, was pure evil. But what truly chilled the blood was the fact that she had two heads, each with its own evil eyes, fixed on the group with a glint of hunger and madness.

  "Disgusting," said Noretu. "So, cuties, where's the fairy?"

  "Ahh, visitors," one of the heads hissed, his voice as rough as dry leaves blown by the wind. "So rare that we receive guests here."

  The other head laughed, a sound that chilled the blood. "Yes, so rare… and so delicious!"

  The group prepared for the confrontation. The two heads of the witch began to murmur simultaneously, their voices intertwining in a chant.

  "That's not a good sign," said Kylone.

  The air around the cave vibrated with the energy being conjured, and from the ground, as if responding to the ancestral call, earth elementals began to take shape.

  Large and imposing, their structures were made from the stone and soil of the cave itself, their incandescent eyes glowing with an eerie light.

  Noretu, recognizing the threat that elements posed, didn't hesitate.

  Raising his hands, he summoned fireballs, each more powerful than the last, and hurled them at the nearest earth creature.

  Boom! Boom! Boom!

  The flames exploded against the elemental's rocky skin, but to everyone's dismay, the impact seemed to do no more than irritate it, the burn marks disappearing almost as quickly as they were made.

  "Crap!"

  Realizing the futility of their attacks against the elementals, Colin, Safira and Kylone made the tactical decision to leave Noretu to face the earth creation, while they turned their attention to the witches.

  "Safira! With me!"

  "Yeah!"

  The witches, for their part, were far from physical opponents; they manipulated magic with minimal gestures, fingers dancing in the air like conductors of a mortal orchestra.

  With simple movements, they summoned blades of air as sharp as any sword, cutting the space between them and the group with surgical precision.

  Swish!

  Colin dodged on instinct, seeing the cut mark being made on the wall behind him.

  He led the way, sword in hand, charging forward with fierce determination.

  Safira and Kylone flanked him, each aware of the waves of magic the witches were throwing in their direction.

  "Look, sister, they're warriors; isn't it amazing?"

  "The more they resist, the more delicious they are!" replied the other.

  Swish!

  It was Safira's turn to jump away, and then two more arms appeared in the witch's armpits.

  Crunch!

  "It'll be better if you take them chopped up to the pot!"

  "Let's split up!" roared Colin, confusing the witches' movements.

  The fight was a dance of deflections, dodges, and quick attacks, trying to find an opening in the witches' magical defenses.

  At a critical moment, one of the witches focused her attention on Colin, her fingers weaving a particularly complex gesture in the air.

  Swish!

  An invisible blade of cutting energy shot towards him, too fast to be completely avoided.

  Colin felt a sharp blow to the chest, a sudden heat followed by a piercing coldness. He looked down, seeing blood beginning to stain his clothes, the cut deep and dangerously close to his heart.

  Even though he was wounded, Colin didn't allow the pain to dominate his will.

  He advanced again.

  Safira and Kylone, seeing Colin wounded, redoubled their efforts, their attacks, becoming more desperate and determined.

  Kylone, with a roar of fury, finally managed to break through the magical barrier protecting one of the witches, his sword digging into the rotting flesh of the creatures.

  Schtick!

  "I did it!"

  Crossing eyes with those two, Kylone felt she had to get away as quickly as possible, so she jumped.

  Even though she was wounded, the witch showed no sign of fear or pain.

  Apparently, the battle wasn't as easy as they had predicted.