The battle had barely begun…
And already, it was hell.
They could barely handle a single Werewolf.
So facing five… ten… more than fifteen creatures—it was a death sentence.
Lior panted, palms pressed against the stone, Telluric Condition vibrating like an alarm in his mind. He felt everything. Too much. Every claw, every paw, every impact. His mind threatened to shatter under the flood of information.
Dean, meanwhile, fought like a madman. He screamed, pierced, parried, staggered back, barely dodging. His sword was red to the hilt. But he was bleeding too. Far too much.
"To your right!" Lior shouted. "NO, behind!"
Too late.
A claw pierced Dean's shoulder. He dropped to his knees, a scream tearing through his throat.
Lior screamed his name.
But already, another beast was leaping.
Dean rolled to the side, raised his shadow like a protective wall—Shadow Twin flickered briefly, intercepting the creature—but it was only a moment's breath. A gasp of survival.
The monsters were surrounding them.
They climbed the walls.
They dropped from the ceiling.
They rose from the shadows.
And all of them... wanted to rip them apart.
Lior felt his fingers clench, his mana slipping through his hands like water.
> [Telluric Condition – Mana Critical: 21]
Dean spat blood, his voice broken:
"Tell me we're getting out of this…"
But Lior wasn't sure.
He wanted to believe. Wanted to convince himself it was possible. That their struggle meant something.
But the ground still trembled.
And in this sea of claws and shadows… dawn still felt so far away.
Dean staggered, one knee on the ground, his sword stabbed into the dirt to keep from collapsing. His left arm hung uselessly. His Night Vision allowed him to see every horror ahead of him… and each one stared back like he was already meat.
Lior, still on the ground, had blood in his mouth. He bit his lip until it bled just to stop from screaming. His Healer ability dulled the pain—but didn't stop it. Didn't heal. It was like trying to extinguish a wildfire with droplets of water.
> [Warning – Pain Level Critical] [Status: Internal Bleeding / Rib Fracture]
He heard everything.
The ground vibrated faster and faster. They were surrounded. Their breaths formed clouds of freezing mist. The beasts circled them, not attacking yet… they were toying with them.
A Werewolf approached slowly. Huge. Its fangs snapped through the air. Its red eyes gleamed with a hunger that felt almost… intelligent.
Dean stood up, barely. He placed himself in front of Lior. His whole body trembled.
"… You're not touching him."
The beast growled. Then leapt.
Dean raised his sword. Lior screamed, hands stretched out, Telluric Condition activating by reflex.
He felt the timing. He understood the moment.
And he screamed:
"NOW, DEAN!"
Dean twisted his sword at an impossible angle, deflecting the monster mid-leap. The Werewolf crashed into the wall with a sound like meat exploding.
But another was already coming.
Then two.
Then three.
The duo was being overwhelmed.
Blood splattered the walls. Lior felt his muscles shaking. His mana collapsing.
> [Telluric Condition – Mana Remaining: 9] [Healer – Cannot Reactivate: Rest Required]
"…Dean," he whispered.
But Dean didn't answer. He kept fighting. Out of instinct. Rage. Love.
Lior crawled toward a rock, using it for support. He was done. Spent. And still… he refused to die.
Not here.
Not now.
Not without a fight.
His fingers brushed against a flat stone. A plan. An idea. He let his remaining mana gather beneath him.
Then he whispered, sweat and tears mixing with the blood on his face:
"I'm going to dig your grave, you damned monster…"