Brett glanced up from his glowing notification just as the others stirred. One by one, the blue light around them faded, replaced by wide grins and excited chatter. They all stood, brushing the crumbs off of their clothes.
Perberos stretched his shoulders, his bow in hand. “Leveling up feels good,” he said, his grin boyish despite the gri streaked across his face. “Got a new skill called Dead Eye Shot. It lets focus on a target’s weak point from way out. Apparently, the longer I take to aim, the more damage it will do.” He mid drawing back his bowstring, eyes narrowing. “Can’t wait to try it on sothing that deserves it. Should be a really good opening shot”
Bheldur gave a low chuckle, hefting his axe. “You and your fancy distance tricks. I got Cleave the Line. If I build enough montum, I can hit every enemy in my swing path. Not subtle, but it’ll do the job.”
Perberos smirked. “You an the job of turning stuff into paste?”
“Exactly that,” Bheldur said, grinning.
Carcan smiled softly, the light from her staff reflecting in her eyes. “I learned another healing spell called Vital nd. It can close wounds faster and even restore a bit of stamina.” She hesitated, glancing at her system screen. “But there’s sothing else. A support skill called Battlefield Insight. It’s… strange. It lets sense the flow of combat around , where allies are positioned, how injured they are… I don't know why but I can kind of sense now how much health you have left, and even how much mana you have left.
Brett’s brows rose. “That sounds incredible. Like… a sixth sense?” Instantly imagining a party HUD from so video gas.
Carcan nodded. “Exactly. I get the impression it will help focus and sohow know what’s going on with you. It’s hard to explain, but I think it’s ant to help guide the group more effectively.”
Bheldur whistled. “Sounds like the gods themselves are giving you commander instincts.”
Perberos gave her a quick nod. “Good. We’ll need that when things get rough.”
Brett smiled at them all. “We’re getting stronger. All of us.”
For a brief mont, the air between them ward with shared pride. The fatigue, the fear, all of it felt worth it as they stood shoulder to shoulder, five adventurers staring down the path ahead, ready for whatever ca next.
Brett pushed himself forward, stretching his back as the adrenaline of the fight finally began to ebb. The goblin camp around them still smouldered, a dull orange glow from dying fires mixing with the acrid haze that hung low over the clearing. The air was thick, carrying the burnt stench of oil, wood, and goblin flesh.
He frowned at the smoky veil. “Let’s see what this does then,” he muttered, raising his staff toward the swirling murk. The familiar hum of mana gathered at his fingertips, and he whispered the word, “Gust.”
A sharp wind exploded outward from his palm, rushing forward in a wide cone. The smog peeled back instantly, billowing away as though struck by an invisible wall. Dust and embers whirled through the air, the blast clearing a corridor of open ground through the haze.
As the last of the smoke thinned, the goblin camp beca clearer, crude remains of tents, overturned cooking equipnt, and the jagged remains of a bonfire pit all erging into view.
Brett lowered his hand, impressed despite himself. “I don’t think this’ll help much in a fight,” he said. “But utility-wise? It’s going to be great for clearing paths, or finding things hidden under smoke or fog.”
Perberos stepped beside him, squinting into the cleared space. “You’re wrong,” he said, tone casual but certain. “A spell like that could save lives in a fight.”
Brett glanced at him. “How’d you figure?”
Perberos smirked faintly. “You ever heard of swamp creepers? Nasty things that breathe out clouds of poison. You can’t see them, can’t breathe, can’t shoot straight. A wind spell like that could blow the whole cloud back in their faces, maybe even make them choke on their own toxins.”
Brett paused, picturing it. “Huh. I hadn’t thought of that.”
“Trust ,” Perberos added, not looking away from the camp. “You’ll be glad to have it when the air itself turns against you.”
Brett chuckled under his breath. “Fair point. Guess Gust isn’t so useless after all.”
Josh grinned as he stretched his arms out, the tension in his muscles easing after the chaos of the fight. “Alright,” he said, glancing around at the others, “you’ve all been showing off your fancy magic and new tricks. My turn.”
Bheldur smirked. “Go on then, show us what the mighty warrior’s learned.”
Josh cleared his throat with mock seriousness. “It’s called Lion’s Roar,” he said, puffing out his chest slightly. “Basically, it lets shout loud enough to pull enemies’ attention to . Makes them want to focus on instead of you lot. Scales off strength, too, so the tougher I get, the more intimidating it’ll sound.”
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Brett raised an eyebrow. “So… it’s a taunt?”
Josh shrugged. “Yeah, but a really loud one.” He took a deep breath, setting his stance, and with a wide grin added, “Might as well give it a test run.”
Before anyone could protest, he cupped his hands around his mouth and bellowed. A deep, thunderous roar left his throat, that rolled through the clearing and echoed across the camp. It wasn’t just loud; it rattled. Birds scattered from the trees, smoke rippled in the gust that followed, and even Bheldur’s beard seed to flutter in the vibration. Brett understood instantly why it was nad after a lion.
The group stood there in stunned silence for a heartbeat.
Then, from sowhere across the camp near another campfire, a groggy voice shouted back, “By the gods, Josh! We just sat down! So of us were trying to sleep, you absolute asshole!”
A burst of laughter followed. Brett doubled over, clutching his sides. Carcan had to wipe a tear from her eye. Even Perberos, normally composed, was grinning wide.
Josh winced, scratching the back of his neck. “Woops. Alright, maybe I should’ve warned everyone first… or waiting for daylight.”
Bheldur clapped him on the shoulder, still chuckling. “Aye, but it certainly works. I’ll be honest, if I were an enemy, I’d charge straight at you just to make that noise stop.”
Josh laughed, shaking his head. “Guess that ans it’s working as intended.”
Josh’s roar still hung faintly in the night air, fading into the gentle crackle of campfires and the murmur of distant voices. The group’s laughter slowly died down, replaced by a comfortable quiet. A cool breeze drifted through the clearing, carrying with it the faint sll of smoke and stew.
Bheldur was the first to break the silence. He sank down onto a nearby log, his axe resting across his knees. “Hard to believe we’re all still standing,” he said quietly, staring into the fire. “That fight could’ve gone a lot worse.”
Perberos nodded, his sharp eyes reflecting the flas. “Aye. The way those goblins ca pouring at us after the shaman cast their magic. I’ve fought skirmishes before, but this was different. More coordinated. More desperate. A couple of tis I thought we were screwed.”
Josh folded his arms and looked toward the distant, still-smouldering ruins of the goblin camp. “Yeah,” he murmured. “But we held our ground. Everyone did their part.” He shot Brett a grin. “Even if I nearly ended up as roast at.”
Brett snorted, trying not to laugh. “You’re welco for the extra tan. Honestly, I was just testing the spell’s effective range.”
Carcan smiled faintly at their banter, but her expression softened as her gaze flicked toward the far end of camp, where Zolma’s party sat in a sombre circle. A single torch burned low beside them. She drew in a shaky breath. “They lost Koz’ru,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “I saw Zolma keep trying to heal him… she just, she wouldn’t stop.”
Bheldur’s laughter faded. Brett’s smile faltered. Even Josh’s confident stance eased as he followed her gaze.
Carcan blinked quickly, wiping her eyes with the heel of her hand. “I just. I’m glad we’re all still here,” she said softly. “That we made it through.”
Josh stepped closer, his tone gentle. “We got lucky,” he admitted. “But it wasn’t just luck. We’ve got each other’s backs. That’s why we made it.”
Bheldur gave a slow nod. “He’s right. None of us would’ve walked away alone. We’ll drink to Koz’ru later… and to making sure his sacrifice ant sothing.”
Perberos raised his water skin slightly in silent agreent.
For a mont, they stood or sat together around the fire. The night air felt a little less heavy. The flicker of the flas cast a soft, golden glow on their faces, warming the quiet space between them.
Brett finally broke the silence with a small grin. “Alright,” he said, nudging Josh’s shoulder. “If we’re all done getting sentintal, I’m going to get so more stew. I’m starving again.”
Carcan laughed through her sniffle, and the tension lifted just a little.
Josh chuckled. “Now that’s a plan I can get behind. Will you bring back a double serving? And an extra loaf?”
Brett walked away, flipping his finger up at his friend, who laughed, before jogging to catch up.
—-
Caistina crouched low on the earthen rampart, the faint hum of gathered mana flickering between her fingertips. The air around her shimred each ti she released a spell, bright lances of blue light cutting through the darkness and striking another goblin as it stumbled from the portal below. The creature barely had ti to squeal before it collapsed, its body dissolving into dust.
She exhaled slowly, her breath visible in the cool night air. “Seventy-three…” she murmured to herself, counting the kills under her breath before another shadow lurched through the gate. “Seventy-four.”
The flow wasn’t slowing. If anything, it was steadying.
Another goblin erged, followed closely by two more, then an orc, its heavy fra pushing through with a guttural roar that sent ripples across the clearing. Caistina’s eyes narrowed. She lifted her staff, muttered an incantation, and a bolt of energy slamd into the creature’s chest. It staggered, snarled, and fell backward into the shimring light before vanishing again.
Her pulse was steady, but her thoughts weren’t.
This isn’t normal.
She leaned her staff against the wall and rubbed at her temple, glancing at the flickering distortion that marked the dungeon’s entrance. “Ronald,” she whispered, almost as a prayer. “You’d better be making progress in there.”
Another orc appeared, followed by a goblin clutching a crude dagger. Then another. Then three more.
She raised her staff again and unleashed a sweeping arc of wind. The spell tore through them, cutting the smaller creatures apart and leaving the orc stumbling blood pouring from several wounds. An arrow from one of the nearby rangers finished it off.
Caistina lowered her hand, her eyes fixed on the portal.
When the orcs start coming as quickly as the goblins… that’ll be the tipping point.
That would an the dungeon’s internal balance had shifted, that the deeper monsters were being forced upward, the core growing unstable. When that happened, it would no longer be a controlled breach.
It would be an eruption.
She took a slow breath and glanced over her shoulder at the camp, fires glowing warm in the dark, the soft sound of laughter drifting up from the trainees who’d survived the battle. It was a fragile peace, a brief calm before the storm she could already feel forming.
Her grip tightened on the staff.
“We don’t have much ti,” she muttered. “Hopefully others can arrive and help drain off the mana in ti…”
Then she turned back toward the gate, mana beginning to gather in her palm once more. The steady hum of the dungeon pulsed beneath her feet, slowly building the anxiety she felt in her heart.
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