Del took an involuntary step back, breath catching as the air pulsed with a violent surge of mana. It was like a physical force, pressing against his skin, rattling through his bones.

Then—

Lightning split the darkness.

The bolt screamed forward, searing white, the sudden heat scalding the air.

Del dived to the side but the man to his left never had a chance.

The blast hit him square in the chest, his body jerking violently, a sickening snap of bone echoing through the cavern. He was flung backward like a ragdoll, his limp form slamming into stone with a gut-wrenching thud.

Del didn’t have time to process if he was alive or dead—there was no time.

“Elara!” His cry was instinctive, but even as he called, he saw her arrow flash forward, sharp and true.

It buried itself in the Night Man’s leg.

The mage roared, a guttural snarl that reverberated off the cavern walls, his free hand sweeping down in a brutal motion. He didn’t just pull the arrow out—he snapped the shaft in half as he turned toward the archer’s position.

Another spell built in his palm, lightning crackling between his fingers—

Then another bolt lanced out, this time from the hip, wild and unfocused.

Stone exploded where the shot hit, sending shards of rock flying as the blast just missed Elara’s position.

That was our opening.

We surged forward.

Swords drew arcs of silver as we closed the gap, but the Night Man was fast—far faster than he should have been.

His staff swept outward in a brutal arc, carving through the air—

And then—

A blast of force erupted from the motion.

It hit like a wall, an invisible hammer that crashed into Del’s chest, lifting him clear off his feet. The others were flung back, boots dragging deep furrows into the cavern floor as they were shoved away.

Del landed hard, the impact rattling through his spine.

His vision blurred for half a second, the world tilting sideways, but he forced himself up.

The mage was already lifting his staff again.

Another spell.

Another death waiting to happen.

But—

Sam’s arrow struck.

It came out of nowhere, a blur of motion, aimed straight for the mage’s skull.

The Night Man’s reaction was instant.

His staff jerked up, knocking the arrow aside just in time, but the deflection wasn’t perfect.

The arrow’s razor edge bit into his cheek, opening a sharp crimson gash along his face.

For the first time—his expression twisted in surprise.

More arrows followed immediately, cutting through the air in rapid succession.

His off-hand snapped up, fingers curling into a tight motion—

A shield flared into existence, translucent and shimmering, a rippling barrier of energy.

The arrows slammed against it—and dropped harmlessly to the floor.

The shield shuddered under the force but held.

Then, with a snarl, the Night Man pushed forward, his next spell already forming—

And the real battle began.

"Push forward!"

Del’s shout was almost drowned in the cacophony around them.

Another arrow whipped past, a blur of fletching and steel, but the Night Man batted it aside with a flick of his staff, the motion casual, dismissive.

Then—Merl struck.

The massive war hammer tore through the air, the force of its swing distorting the very space around it, a brutal weight moving too fast for something its size.

A shield snapped up in response, flaring to life in a sickly, translucent shimmer.

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The impact was thunderous.

The barrier fractured instantly, but it stole enough of the momentum that when the hammer slammed into the mage’s shoulder, the Night Man only staggered instead of crumpling.

Still—his eyes widened.

The first sign of true alarm.

Then he spoke.

A string of guttural, biting syllables, the language grating against the air itself, twisting the space around his mouth like oil rippling over water.

The effect was immediate.

The air shimmered violently, thickening, a pulse of dark energy radiating outward.

Del barely had time to brace—

It hit like a shockwave, knocking them all backwards once more, their bodies jerking uncontrollably as the force pulsed through their bones.

Two men dropped instantly, hitting the stone floor with ragged gasps, writhing and retching as the magic twisted their insides.

Del’s vision blurred, his breath shuddering in his throat as the very air around them seemed to thicken, pressing against his limbs like unseen shackles.

His sword felt heavier, every motion sluggish, his legs stuck in unseen tar.

‘Fuck. We’re sitting ducks like this.’

Merl, a sickly green tinge creeping into his usually ruddy face, gritted his teeth and forced himself upright, muscles bunching as he raised his hammer again.

Del fought to do the same, forcing his body to respond through sheer will, but every movement was painfully slow, like pushing against deep water.

Then—

A sudden rush of energy.

A shift.

A wash of fresh air broke through the choking thickness, rippling outward in a wave of green light.

The cavern floor shuddered—

And then, grass sprouted beneath their feet.

Lush, vivid green, unnatural in its suddenness—but blessedly real.

Del inhaled sharply, the pressure around his limbs releasing.

He didn’t need to look to know who was responsible.

‘Oh, good girl.’

Elara had turned the Night Man’s magic against him.

They could move again.

Del surged forward just as Merl’s hammer came down in another crushing arc—

The mage barely evaded, twisting aside just in time, the weapon smashing into the ground instead, rock splintering outward in a deafening explosion.

Shards whipped through the air, slicing past them like flying razors.

Del threw up an arm just as one jagged piece caught him across the cheek, searing pain flaring up his face.

Behind him, he heard a curse of pain—someone hadn’t been fast enough.

But there was no time to check.

A knife—small, fast—whistled through the air, low and deadly, aimed straight for the mage’s ribs.

Jake.

It hit.

Not deep—not enough to be fatal—but it landed.

The Night Man jerked as the blade sank just past the cloth of his robes, eyes widening with genuine shock.

For the first time, the arrogance cracked.

For the first time—he looked at them and realized how outnumbered he was.

At that moment, with a howl of pure fury, a flash of ginger fur launched through the air, teeth bared, claws extended, a living missile of rage.

The Night Man barely had time to react.

Misty slammed into his wrist, claws digging deep, fangs sinking into flesh.

The mage screamed, staggering as blood splattered in dark droplets against the cavern floor. His fingers spasmed violently, and the staff slipped from his grip, clattering to the stone with a sharp, resonant crack as he flung out his arm hurling Misty from him.

Del didn’t see where she landed in the dark but wasn't going to waste the opening.

He lunged, covering the last few feet in one burst of motion, sword flashing downward—

The blade bit deep, carving a long gash along the mage’s other arm, slicing through fabric and flesh alike.

The Night Man reeled, his robes slick with blood, but he wasn’t finished yet.

His lips curled in a snarl, and then—

Flame erupted outward.

The blast surged from his body, expanding in a circular inferno, forcing everyone back as the Night Man stood like some denizen of the hells wreathed in flames

Del threw up his arms, the heat licking against his skin, singing his sleeves.

A cry of alarm rang out as the nearest chained prisoner flinched, their bindings dangerously close to the roaring fire.

For a split second, Del thought the flames would catch—

But Paolo was faster.

He lunged, grabbing a bucket of what had once been stagnant cave water, and hurled it over the fire’s leading edge.

Steam hissed violently, the flames faltering just enough to keep from engulfing the victim.

The Night Man, bleeding heavily now, stumbled back, his breath coming in harsh, ragged gasps.

His eyes darted wildly, searching for an escape, a chance to turn the tide—

That’s when the pitchfork hit him.

One of the villagers, a broad-shouldered man who had been hiding behind cover, flung it like a spear, the prongs tearing into the mage’s side, embedding just above the hip.

The Night Man howled, his body jerking in agony, his free hand clutching the weapon protruding from him.

And then—Merl moved. Charging through the flames from behind in a rush of pure fury.

Del barely saw the massive swing, just a blur of iron and momentum—

The hammer connected with the back of the Night Man’s skull with a sickening crunch.

The mage’s body jerked forward violently, his eyes going wide—

Then he collapsed.

Silent. Motionless.

The flames flickered, and died.

Merl exhaled, rolling his shoulders, and muttered, “I live with fire, you fucking dick.”

Then he kicked the body.

For a long moment, there was nothing.

No one moved.

The only sound was the faint crackling of dying embers and the sharp inhales of battle-worn breath.

[You killed Human Mage lvl 3, Experience gained.]

Del stared at the words, his mind slow to process them through the lingering adrenaline rush.

Misty trotted over, rubbing against his legs as if in apology for her unexpected nap earlier.

Del let out a breathless chuckle, his shoulders finally loosening.

The others began to move, stepping toward the fallen mage, staring down at the lifeless body with a mix of relief, disbelief, and grim satisfaction.

Elara stepped forward, her face still taut with tension, and ripped the mage’s cape free, bundling it around the fallen staff, taking care not to touch the wood directly.

“We need to have this checked out,” she said firmly, her voice still laced with residual caution.

No one argued.

“No one wanted to go near it.”

The adrenaline drained away fast.

Del felt his legs wobble slightly, his grip on his sword loosening.

He saw it in the others too—the way their shoulders sagged, the way Merl exhaled sharply, letting his hammer rest heavily on the ground.

A collective exhale.

The battle was over.

But the work wasn’t.

Jake was the first to speak, still staring toward the prisoners.

“…Now what?”

Del followed his gaze.

The five chained figures still hung from the pillars, their heads slumped forward, bodies marked with ritual wounds.

The pentagram on the floor no longer pulsed, the dark metal dull but not lifeless—

But whatever magic had been woven into it was still there, waiting.

Elara’s expression hardened.

“I need to figure out what’s going on here and undo it.” She inhaled deeply. “If I do it wrong… the backlash could be violent.”

Paolo barely even hesitated. “Then do it right.”

Del sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. “I’m going to check out the tent.” He glanced at Paolo, his voice quieter. “You should see to the injured.”

He turned his attention back to the circle.

His jaw tightened.

‘Hang tight, people.’

‘We’ll get you down as soon as we can.’