"Good news is that we know why they wanted to ambush you outside," Eleanor said even as another pained cry reached our ears, only to be cut halfway. I wanted to admonish her, but the uncharacteristic tenseness in her tone stopped me. It was clear that she was trying to handle the shock in her own way.

Instead, I watched, trying to understand what was going on. The black flames were calming down, but the speed at the mist was gathering — which was something I had only seen on the boss monsters — had only hastened, increasing the visibility around us.

All except the black flames, which were letting out an equally black, suffocating smog, making me glad that my helmet had an integrated filter. Eleanor was already coughing.

I grabbed one of the spears I had yet to throw, and a flash of mana melted the iron, which I then used to fashion a breather filter, which would hopefully be enough to handle what was going on.

Even as I created that, I watched through the smog. We weren't able to see much, just several shadows, most trying to escape ineffectively, while the other shadows followed.

"What do we do?"

"I … we need to kill them," she said. "I have never heard of people being able to absorb dungeon mist, but it can't be good news. And, we need to do that now," she said as she took a step forward.

I grabbed her shoulder. "No," I said.

She looked at me, disappointed. "You can go if you want. We need to warn the fort, after all," she said, doing her best to hide her disgust. She wasn't very successful.

I appreciated the effort. "I'm not saying to retreat, but we can't just rush forward blindly," I said even as I started dragging her toward the ballistas. Her expression was alighted with understanding. "How long would it take for the ballistas to recover?" I asked.

"In a mana-dead dungeon? A lot," she said.

"What if we can supply it with more mana?" I asked.

"A minute, maybe two?" she responded.

"Good, keep the ballistas safe. I'll be back in a moment," I said as I turned, ready to use the Fleeting Step, hoping that I would be fast enough to go to the nearest safe house and return just as fast. I was already doing my best…

"A-am I," I found myself suddenly asking. The modified Fleeting Step was fast, but it wasn't the fastest thing in my arsenal. No, the fastest Perk available to me was the Floating Stride. One that I couldn't use due to my fears. And, now, Eleanor might die because of it.

"Come on, Devon. For once in your life, ignore your stupid fear," I growled, pushing myself. My hands trembled, and my legs lost their strength, but I bit my lips, the taste of my own blood filling my mouth. "Come on," I growled again.

And jumped.

The sensation of flying was as disgusting as I remembered. My whole body was locked in place, and I had been hit by a sensation of falling that played a part in some of my worst nightmares.

The desire to save Eleanor didn't suddenly cure me of my phobia. The sensation of flying was just as hateable and disgusting as I remembered, and not having anything underneath me made it ten times worse. Luckily, Floating Stride didn't require any input from me until I landed.

Well, landed was a generous description of what had happened. Crashed was a better descriptor, but my armor was there to take the worst of the damage, and my Dexterity meant I was able to roll to my feet with fascinating alacrity.

I jumped again. Then, I crashed again. And again… It was ridiculous, horrifying, and humiliating at the same time, but where a second might be the difference between Eleanor's death and survival, none of it mattered.

When I reached the safe house, I picked a huge pile of shells I had placed there for safety and a manual crusher. When I had been putting them there, I was certain that I was being excessive and paranoid. Now, I was furious that I hadn't littered the whole floor with them, maybe even with steam-powered variants.

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Unfortunately, as usual, hindsight was the greatest strategic planner.

The return trip was more of the same, which meant I arrived at Eleanor's side with an undignified tumble. It would have been a horrible shock if it wasn't for one important detail.

Eleanor was surrounded by four men … no, monsters would have been a better descriptor. They were roughly man-shaped, but their skin looked like melted messes, and the way they fought was no different than beasts.

Very strong beasts, faster and stronger than Eleanor. Her armor was already half-ripped, with her recovery working overtime to cure her wounds. Her only advantage was the lack of coordination they had been showing. They were faster and stronger, but one thing they lacked was smooth control.

Suddenly, I was very glad that I had pushed myself, as she was already at her limit.

"Tag," I shouted even as I jumped to the mix, my hammer already dancing.

"No, they are too strong —" she shouted in panic, ready to help me when one of their attacks threw me away, but barely managed to dent my armor.

[-14 Health]

"My armor can hold them back, don't worry," I said. "Just fill the container with the shells, point the mouth to the ballista, and rotate the crank —" I explained, my words interrupted by another hit that threw me away.

They were strong enough to throw me around like a rag doll.

"Be careful, they are getting stronger," she warned even as she followed my command, which was something I was glad for.

"Noted," I said as I switched my weapon, donning my spear. The fact that Eleanor couldn't put them down even with her new sword meant that they were able to recover from a horrifying amount of damage. My hammer might have been capable of delivering that, but on a straight line, they were too fast.

Breeze Spear focused on mobility. As I shifted to it, I was able to dodge their attacks far more effectively. Not enough to avoid every attack, but maybe reduce their hits by sixty percent. For the rest, I relied on my armor, being thrown around like a toy.

However, as I fought with them, I understood why Georg had been very reluctant to bring them into the dungeon. Whatever their ailment was, it was getting stronger the more dungeon mist they consumed. A part of that transformation was them getting faster and stronger in real-time.

Luckily, that growth was accompanied by an even greater loss of control, which meant that, as time passed, it got easier to avoid their attacks. I started paying attention to the damage my weapons had been causing, expecting it to recover faster and faster.

To my surprise, the opposite was true. As for what was responsible, a hypothesis drifted to the top of my mind the moment I sensed a familiar aura around them, one that reminded me intensely of the fourth floor.

The mist was transforming them into something closer to the monsters of the dungeon, along with giving them the same weaknesses.

I wondered if I let the transformation go long enough, could I kill them alone. But, that curiosity wasn't strong enough to countermand when Eleanor warned me to pull back. I retreated, and the twang of the ballista followed.

A direct hit, reducing their number to three.

"Good work," I called even as I attacked them with mana, distracting them from ballistas. I did my best not to be distracted by the body, which started burning with the same black flames. I couldn't afford the distraction.

As I engaged with them once again, I was able to notice another, fortunate familiarity they had with a rabid beast. Their intelligence wasn't too far away. The pain from my spear suitably distracted the remaining three.

More importantly, dealing with the three of them was markedly easier than resisting four. The number of blows I was receiving had dropped significantly, then turned into nothingness when Eleanor shouted again.

I pulled back. Another twang of a ballista, and their number dropped to two. Then, yet another, and one remained.

To my surprise, once he was alone, he turned to escape. "Keep him back," Eleanor shouted. "We can't let him go free."

"Open the container!" I shouted even as I chased him — or was it a better descriptor at this point?

Eleanor seemed surprised by my shout, but luckily, her shock didn't prevent her from following that direction, as we lacked the time necessary for me to explain why. The transformed monster in front of us was too fast on a straight line for us to catch up.

And, I didn't want to imagine what might happen once it got loose in the dungeon.

The container parted open, and concentrated tainted energy radiated from the box. Just like the dungeon monsters, the transformed man seemed captivated by it, ignoring his — its — previous survival instincts to rush toward the box.

Under the tainted energy, its transformation started to hasten as it started to grow, as a disgusting mixture of a monster and a tumor.

"Focus on its limbs, and keep it immobile," I ordered Eleanor as I switched to my hammer, and we started attacking it. The concentrated dose of tainted energy hastened the transformation exponentially, but it also exacerbated its weaknesses to our silver weapons, which I had designed explicitly against the corrosive aura.

As we fought, Eleanor's armor, despite all the enchantments it had, didn't survive against the transformed creature's corrosion aura, slowly turning into a rusty mess.

Even then, it took almost half an hour for us to kill it properly. Its remains disintegrated, just like the other corpses, once again catching that distinctive black flame.

We collapsed to the ground, listless. There was a lot to be done, but none of them was as important as breathing…

"You owe me an armor," she growled between her desperate panting.

I just grumbled an answer. I was too spent to do anything else. But, I had to admit, after what had just happened, spending a day at the forge, working with metal sounded very tempting.