“Lila,” I whispered, glancing down at her. “We’re relying on you. Guide us to the closest Eyebat."

  Lila nodded confidently. “This way,” she whispered, pointing toward a corridor to our left.

  We moved cautiously, hugging the stone walls and treading lightly. The oppressive silence of the Hall of Silent Watchers wasn’t on our side—every sound felt deafening. To make matters worse, the eyebats’ wings didn’t make a sound, adding to the challenge of navigating without setting them off.

  Lila’s directions were precise, and after a few minutes of creeping forward, we stopped at the edge of a hallway. I pressed my back against the stone wall, glancing around the corner with caution.

  There it was.

  An Eyebat hovered in the distance, its eye scanning the corridor ahead as it patrolled. Its leathery wings flapped silently, keeping it aloft as it moved steadily.

  It hadn’t noticed us yet. Its back was to us, and the distance between us was enough to keep us hidden.

  “Perfect,” I murmured, ducking back behind the wall. “It hasn’t seen us.”

  The plan was straightforward. We’d use the webbing again, just like last time. The only difference was that this time, we had the element of surprise.

  “Rangers,” I whispered, motioning toward my slimes. “Get into position. Stay behind the wall and aim for the moment it’s in view.”

  The Rangers quivered slightly, raising their crossbows, each one loaded with web-coated bolts.

  “Stay quiet,” I said, my voice low. “Wait for my signal. The moment it passes the corner, you fire. No hesitations.”

  The slimes shifted subtly, spreading out just enough to cover more ground while keeping hidden. They were ready to spring and ensnare the Eyebat the instant it appeared.

  The faint shadow of the Eyebat’s wings grew larger as it drifted closer, its patrol leading it straight toward our ambush point. I held my breath, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.

  Almost there…

  The instant the Eyebat’s grotesque form floated into view, I gave the signal.

  “Now!”

  The Rangers fired, their web-coated bolts flying through the air. The sticky threads unraveled mid-flight, forming a wide net as they closed in on the unsuspecting enemy.

  The Eyebat’s massive eye widened in alarm as it realized the trap, but it was too late. The webbing sprang, wrapping around its wings and body.

  The creature thrashed wildly, its wings flailing but unable to escape the sticky trap. With a muffled thud, it hit the ground, bound tightly by the webbing.

  “We got it,” I muttered, a small grin creeping onto my face. “Perfect execution.”

  “Good,” I replied, stepping closer. “Let’s finish this and move on to the next one.”

  Eyebats were solitary by nature, making them easy targets for an ambush. With no risk of facing more than one at a time, it all came down to patience. Lila’s Pathfinder ability made tracking them simple, and as long as we avoided alerting the dormant gargoyles, the task was far less dangerous than it could’ve been.

  Time dragged on in a steady grind. The gaps between each Eyebat were significant, forcing us to walk in prolonged silence. We moved cautiously, knowing the monsters on this floor weren’t our only threat—other adventurers could be just as dangerous.

  Over the course of two days, we managed to kill more than forty Eyebats. Each ambush followed the same plan: Lila guided us, the Rangers fired web-coated bolts, and the Vanguards finished them off once grounded. It was efficient, almost mechanical by the end.

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  Forty Eyebats. Eighty experience points.

  It was halfway to my next level, a steady gain that I couldn’t complain about. But even as the process yielded results, the repetition gnawed at me.

  Every Eyebat we killed was another chance for an awakened crystallized heart—a chance that never came. Each time I harvested a standard heart from their bodies, frustration built. Two full days of grinding, and I had nothing to show for it except for ordinary materials.

  Even their eyes, valuable as they were, couldn’t dull the sting of disappointment.

  The achievement I’d earned after defeating the Overfiend boss—the one granting a 10% chance of converting standard crystalized hearts into awakened variants—only applied to bosses. If it had extended to regular monsters, I might have seen progress by now. Instead, all I could do was hope and grind.

  I glanced at my army as we rested between ambushes. Over the past two days, I’d used every bit of mana I could spare to summon new slimes. With my mana pool at 30, I’d summoned eight new slimes each day, adding 16 to the ranks. I always reserved a few points of mana in case I needed the shapeshifting ability during an emergency.

  Now, I had 44 slimes.

  The army was growing steadily, a sight that brought a great amount of satisfaction even amidst my frustration.

  Anyone would be frustrated. The odds seemed impossibly low, but stopping wasn’t an option. I needed that heart—it was the key to expanding my arsenal, to diversifying my skill set. They had exactly what I was after.

  Lila, perched in her usual spot, looked up at me, her small face scrunching with concern. “You okay, Leon? You’ve been quiet.”

  I exhaled, forcing myself to relax. “I’m fine,” I said, though the tension in my voice was hard to miss. “Just... trying to be patient.”

  Clack, clack

  Crouched in the hallway, frustrated by the slow grind, I was jolted from my thoughts by an unexpected noise. Heavy breathing. Rapid footsteps. Someone was running—and they were close.

  I’d just finished looting another Eyebat when the sound reached me. Instinctively, my muscles tightened. This wasn’t normal. In two days of cautious farming, I hadn’t seen another adventurer or heard anything to suggest one might be nearby.

  I turned toward the noise, my eyes narrowing as I peered down the dimly lit corridor. The flickering torches barely lit the way, but I could make out a shadowy figure sprinting toward me, their outline becoming clearer with every step.

  Whoever they were, they were in rough shape. Their ragged breathing echoed down the corridor, and their frantic, uneven steps screamed exhaustion. Their desperate movement made it clear—they were running away from something.

  The figure stumbled into view, a lone adventurer, battered and exhausted. Fear was etched into their face, their wide eyes darting back over their shoulder as if they couldn’t bear to look forward.

  Whatever had happened to them, whatever they’d seen—it was enough to reduce them to this.

  I didn’t stick around to find out more. Whatever was chasing them, I wanted no part of it.

  “Hide,” I ordered to my slimes, motioning upward. They responded instantly, climbing up the nearby pillars and disappearing into the darkness of the ceiling above.

  I darted to the nearest pillar, pressing myself against it. My breath slowed as I tried to be as quiet i could be, peeking just enough to keep an eye on the scene.

  "Help! Someone, please!" Their voice cracked, breaking into desperate, panicked screams.

  But it was too late.

  From the shadows behind them, something moved. At first, it was subtle—a faint ripple in the air, and then, it emerged.

  A whip-like appendage shot forward, cutting through the air. It didn’t strike the adventurer. Instead, it slithered toward their face, forcing itself into their line of sight.

  A serpent-like limb, eerily smooth and sinuous, but it didn’t end in a fang or a mouth. No, at its tip was a eye.

  The appendage's eye gazed directly into the adventurer’s own.

  The effect was immediate. The adventurer’s body began to slow, their frantic sprint faltering as their movements became sluggish. Their terrified screams reached a fever pitch as they tried to push forward, but their legs refused to obey.

  I watched as the slowing turned into something worse. Their skin began to pale, harden, and crack. Each step brought with it the sound of creaking and snapping, like stone under pressure. They weren’t just slowing—they were petrifying.

  My breath caught as the full realization hit me.

  The massive form behind the serpent-like limb emerged from the shadows, and my stomach dropped.

  It drifted closer, its massive form towering over the adventurer it was chasing. The serpents weren’t separate entities—they were its limbs, dozens of them sprouting from its large, spherical body. Each moved independently, writhing and coiling with an eerie, fluid grace, and at the tip of every limb was a single, unblinking eye.

  But the most terrifying part was the creature itself.

  The central mass was a massive, grotesque eyeball, its surface veined and slick. It had no hands, no feet—just that single, monstrous eye and its writhing tentacle-like limbs.

  The adventurer’s screams turned into a choked gasp as the petrification overtook them completely. Their body froze mid-step, their face locked in an expression of pure terror as they became nothing more than a statue, standing in the middle of the hallway like a grim monument.

  I pressed myself tighter against the pillar, my mind racing.

  What is it doing here? Why do i keep encounter them!

  This wasn’t just another monster.

  This was the boss of the Hall of Silent Watchers: the Oculothorax.

  =======================