Elira surged in front of Caelus with a warrior’s instinct, her shield raised in a protective arc as the orc’s axe came crashing down toward him. The impact reverberated through the air, the force of it rattling her bones, but she held firm. Her eyes locked onto Caelus with a fierce, unspoken urgency.

“Move!” she barked, her voice sharp and commanding, cutting through the chaos around them. “Move! Now!”

Caelus blinked, his mind snapping back to the present. The fire of battle had momentarily clouded his thoughts, but Elira’s unwavering presence pulled him from the haze. Without a second thought, he pushed himself off the ground, his muscles groaning in protest as he regained his footing.

He moved to her side, his instincts kicking in. With a swift, practised motion, he swung his sword, cleaving through the thick press of orcs that surrounded them. Each strike was powerful, his blade cutting through the air with a deadly grace. He swung again, and again, the weight of his sword sending orcs stumbling back, but something felt off.

As he slashed through the blackened smoke and bodies, a chilling realisation seeped into his mind, sharp and unmistakable. No matter how deep the blade struck, no matter how violently he severed limbs or pierced armor, they were only staggering, retreating, but they weren't dying. Their wounds healed before his eyes, the gashes sealing themselves, the blood vanishing as if swallowed by the darkness around them. These orcs weren’t dying.

Caelus’s breath caught in his throat. Something was wrong. This wasn’t the fight he had thought it was.

Each one he struck staggered back, dark blood spilling from its wounds, only for the creature to rise and stagger forward again after a brief moment, driven by some unholy force. Caelus gritted his teeth, his body aching from the effort of fending off their relentless attacks.

“They’re not going down!” he shouted, deflecting a heavy blow from an orc’s crude sword.

“Of course they’re not,” Lorian replied breathlessly, casting a spell of ice that barely slowed the next wave of attackers. “They’re undead! The only way to stop them is to break the curse itself.”

With their backs to each other, the champions formed a circle, protecting the small group of villagers they’d managed to pull from the wreckage of the village. Magnus was at the centre, his face a mask of concentration as he summoned another wave of vines, desperately trying to bind their enemies. But even his magic could only hold the cursed creatures at bay for so long.

“Together!” Elira shouted, planting her shield in front of the group like an unbreakable wall. “Focus on keeping them down!”

The team moved as one, each of them falling into familiar roles despite the relentless horde. Riven’s shadowy form darted in and out of the darkness, dispatching the reanimated orcs with quiet, deadly efficiency. Magnus’s vines snaked up to grab the orcs’ legs, twisting around their limbs to keep them from advancing on the group. Elira stood as a fortress, her shield absorbing blow after blow as she protected the villagers. Lorian healed and fortified the team with restorative spells, his hands glowing as he moved quickly from one to the next. Overhead, Darius swooped down from above, his massive wings shielding the others from falling debris and stray projectiles the orcs hurled their way, occasionally driving his halberd into the orcs that got too close.

Caelus met the bandit lord’s eyes, feeling the weight of the towering orc’s malice in that twisted sneer. The orc’s muscled arms flexed as he lifted a massive axe overhead, the blade crackling with dark energy that pulsed like a heartbeat—one synchronised with the other corrupted orcs around him, feeding them power. But Caelus was ready.

“Caelus! Move to the right!” Seraph's voice rang out, sharp and urgent. Her eyes blazed with white light threaded with hints of gold, like twin stars focused entirely on the battlefield. Strands of her hair floated weightlessly around her face, caught in an unseen current as her powers took hold, piercing through the haze of the present to glimpse into seconds yet to unfold.

Without hesitation, Caelus trusted her command, sidestepping at the last possible moment, feeling the whoosh of the blade close enough to ruffle his hair. Just as the axe fell with a speed that belied its weight, it sliced down toward him and crashed into the ground where he’d been standing, shattering it on impact. He glanced back at Seraph, catching a glimpse of the ethereal aura that surrounded her like a cloak, the raw power of foresight channelling through her with an intensity that seemed almost overwhelming.

He responded instantly, slashing his sword across the bandit lord's exposed side, activating Dark Edge as he struck. Shadows cascaded along his blade, sinking into the wound and tearing it open, deeper and wider, leaving a blackened gash across the orc's torso.

“Thanks, Seraph!” he called, bracing himself as he returned to the fray, knowing each of her warnings would mean the difference between life and death in the chaos that surrounded them.

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The bandit lord staggered but quickly regained his footing, his laughter abruptly cut off. A deep growl rose from his chest, filling the air like a rolling thunderclap. “Is that all you’ve got, little human?” he spat, his voice filled with defiance as he lunged forward with surprising speed. Elira barely brought her shield up in time to parry, their weapons clashing in a burst of sparks that lit up the surrounding darkness.

With a fierce shove, the bandit lord pushed Elira back, raising his axe for another strike. This time, Caelus countered with a sudden feint, drawing the orc off balance. He then spun low, slicing across the orc's legs with deadly precision. Blood sprayed, and the giant creature roared in pain, one knee buckling under the force.

But the orc’s resilience was unmatched. He rallied again, swinging wildly and forcing Caelus to duck and weave, his focus narrowing to the flashes of the dark axe. It was only when the orc raised his axe for a final, overhead blow that Caelus saw his chance. With every ounce of his strength, Caelus surged forward, driving his blade up and through the bandit lord's heart.

The orc’s laughter ceased, his sneer frozen in shock.

"Stay sharp! They’re undead, remember? They don’t fall that easily!" Darius shouted, his voice cutting through the chaos.

Planting her feet firmly, Elira gripped her shield, bracing it with both arms as a wave of cursed orcs surged forward. Sparks flew as their blades and claws clashed against her barrier, but Elira held steady, every muscle taut as she blocked their relentless assault. She shot a glance over her shoulder, urgency flashing in her eyes as she fought to keep the line unbroken.

At that moment, the tide shifted. As the Bandit Lord stumbled back, hitting the ground with a resonant thud, his hulking form momentarily immobilised, a flicker of movement in Lorian’s bag caught his eye. His hand hesitated mid-spell as he noticed something small and round emerging—a pair of gleaming, determined eyes peering up at him from beneath the leather flap of his bag. The little slime bounced out of the bag, landing on the ground with a wet plop and surveying the chaos with its wide, gleaming eyes. And, with surprising intent, it wobbled toward the fallen bandit lord.

With a surprising leap, the slime launched itself at the bandit lord’s motionless form, its jelly-like body engulfing the twisted, cursed flesh. At first, nothing happened—then, as if on command, the dark aura around the orc’s body started to dissolve, shimmering as the slime “purified” it. The corrupted energy faded, leaving behind nothing but dust, and the orc’s body finally crumbled to the ground.

A stunned silence fell over the battlefield. The undead orcs froze, their bodies losing all life and falling to the ground like puppets with their strings cut.

The spell was broken.

Caelus sank to the ground, letting his sword rest beside him as he felt the heavy weight of exhaustion settle in. The adrenaline that had kept him sharp in the heat of battle was quickly draining away, leaving his muscles sore and his limbs trembling slightly. His legs felt as if they might give out entirely if he tried to stand.

I really shouldn’t use Blood Fury over and over again, he thought, grimacing as he rubbed his aching shoulder. The power had surged through him like wildfire, granting him strength in the heat of combat, but now that the fight was over, he felt the steep cost.

He leaned back, closing his eyes for a moment, the memory of the battle replaying in his mind, a mix of chaos and determination. He’d pushed himself to the edge and barely made it back. But how did…

The slime sat there, radiating delight as though saving the team had been its proudest achievement.

Elira’s laughter bubbled up, her eyes shining as she looked at the happy slime. “It became yellow. It looks kind of like… cheese?” she said, biting back a grin.

Lorian’s eyes lit up with unrestrained excitement. “That’s it! It’s name is Cheese!” Without waiting, he crouched down, scooping up the slime, which jiggled in his hands with a satisfied glee. Lorian flipped open his spellbook with one hand, balancing Cheese carefully in the other, who wobbled cheerfully in his arms. His fingers traced down the worn pages until he found the entry he’d been looking for.

“Colour changes depending on mood…” he read aloud, eyebrows raising with interest as he scanned the text. Cheese’s yellow form seemed to glow brighter, its eyes crinkling in what could only be described as a delighted smile, as if it understood.

Magnus leaned over his shoulder, intrigued. “It’s sensitive to emotions?”

Lorian grinned, lifting Cheese to eye level. “Guess you’re a lot more complex than you look, huh, little guy?”

Cheese’s colour shifted ever so slightly, becoming a softer, warmer yellow, almost as if it were blushing.

From behind them, Seraph let out a long, exasperated sigh that seemed to echo across the clearing. “Please tell me we’re not actually keeping it…”

Riven crossed her arms, looking between Lorian and Cheese with a raised eyebrow. Despite herself, a faint smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. “You’re serious about this, aren’t you?”

Lorian’s pleading gaze shifted to Caelus, then to Magnus, eyes wide with an almost childlike hope. Magnus chuckled, glancing over at Caelus with a small shrug, as if passing the final decision to him. “What do you think, Leader?”

Caelus looked down at the slime in Lorian’s hands, a strange mix of confusion and reluctant acceptance flickering in his eyes. Cheese blinked up at him, its wide-eyed innocence tugging at the last bits of his resolve.

Darius, ever composed, added in his deep, thoughtful voice, “Why not? Keeps the kid happy, and you can’t deny that Cheese is useful. It saved us all back there.”

Caelus sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose as he wrestled with the idea. “Are we seriously calling it that? How do we even…” he muttered, but even he couldn’t resist the way Cheese’s small face seemed to brighten under his reluctant gaze. “Fine,” he relented, voice firm but softened by the smallest of smirks. “But if it becomes a problem…”

Lorian’s face lit up, his smile stretching from ear to ear as he held Cheese up high, spinning in a small, triumphant circle. “Did you hear that, Cheese? You’re officially part of the team!” The slime gave a delighted jiggle, its yellow body quivering with joy, as if it understood every word.

The little slime wobbled with glee, its entire form shimmering a joyful yellow as it snuggled happily against Lorian’s shoulder. The champions looked around at each other, shaking their heads with a mix of bemusement and relief. They had saved the village, fought against curses, and gained an unexpected new ally.