"Wrong. Do it again." Morthak intoned with icy precision, his voice devoid of warmth.
"But—"
"Again." The single word cut through my protest like a blade, leaving no room for argument.
Swallowing my frustration, I clenched my teeth and began anew. With trembling fingers, I traced the circle in the air, my movements deliberate and painstaking. As I worked, my concentration sharpened to a razor’s edge, willing mana to flow into intricate circuits and runes within the forming spell. The effort clawed at my reserves, leaving me drained. Memorizing runes and circuits had seemed an insurmountable task before, but now? That was child’s play compared to the oppressive weight of this exercise.
The spell itself resisted completion, as though the universe conspired to stifle it. Or perhaps it wasn’t the universe—it was him.
Morthak, the heartless old tyrant, watched impassively, his skeletal staff clutched in one hand. His aura seeped into the air like a miasma, thick and suffocating. This wasn’t ordinary energy; it was a deliberate force, a crushing presence that unraveled my spells at their very core.
After what felt like an eternity, the circle finally took shape. It flickered, unstable, as if it might disintegrate at any moment. Then, with a faint hum, the runes blazed to life. The spell collapsed inward, leaving behind a tiny, flickering orb of light—no brighter than a dying ember.
"Hmm. You’ve managed to produce something." Morthak’s voice was an infuriating blend of condescension and mild approval. "A 1st-tier spell. Not remarkable, but given the conditions, I’d say... passable."
I glared at him, my chest heaving as sweat dripped from my brow. "How do you expect me to cast anything with... with that thing you're doing to the air?!"
"Ha!" Morthak’s laughter was dry and brittle, like old parchment crumbling in the wind. "Girl, this 'thing' is [Negative Field]. A 5th-tier spell designed to suppress low-level mages. Most wouldn’t even be able to light a candle within its reach." He slammed his staff against the ground, and the oppressive field around us thickened, pressing against my skin like a leaden blanket.
I stared at him, incredulous. "And what good is it to cast spells under this? Why not just teach me to dispel it?"
Morthak smirked, his hollow eyes glinting with something like amusement. "Dispel it? Hah! The simplest way to end a spell is to kill the caster. But that’s not the point. Training in the [Negative Field] forces you to adapt, to innovate. You don’t grow by mastering the easy; you grow by enduring the impossible. You, girl, have the raw talent to overcome this. But talent is nothing without fire forged by struggle."
Before I could respond, he struck the ground again. The impact sent a shudder through the earth, and from the soil erupted bones, cloaked in a sickly green mist. They clattered together with an unholy resonance, assembling themselves into humanoid shapes. Soon, a row of skeletal figures stood before me, their empty eye sockets glowing faintly.
My heart raced. "What... What is this now?"
"A challenge." Morthak replied coldly. "If one of them so much as touches you, you fail and start over. Your task is to destroy them—but only with magic." His tone left no room for negotiation.
I staggered back, panic creeping into my voice. "Wait! I’m not ready for—"
His staff struck the ground once more, and the skeletons surged forward with jerky, unnatural movements. The first swung at me, its bony fingers slicing through the air. I barely dodged, tripping over my own feet and crashing to the ground. Pain shot through my palms as they scraped against the dirt. Before I could scramble up, cold, skeletal hands clamped around my ankle, their grip like iron.
Morthak’s laughter rang out, sharp and mocking. "Ha! Not even thirty seconds! Perhaps I overestimated you."
I wrenched my leg free and shot him a glare. "You shameless, miserable old—"
"Enough." he snapped. "Resetting. Three... two... one..."
The skeletons returned to their positions, unnervingly precise.
"No—wait! Please!"
"Begin."
----------------------------------------
How long have I been at this? The thought flickered through my mind, bitter and sharp, as the crimson hues of the setting sun bathed the battlefield in an eerie light. My body ached, my movements sluggish as I narrowly dodged the skeleton’s jagged strike. Its bony fingers swiped through the air, missing by inches.
With a strained breath, I cast a simple spell—[Rock Throw]. A jagged pebble materialized in my hand, its weight almost laughable, and I hurled it at the skeleton’s knee. The impact bent the joint grotesquely backward for a brief moment, slowing it just enough to give me hope, but then... snap! It returned to its original state, as if mocking my feeble attempt.
“Damn it!” I cursed aloud, my voice cracking under the weight of my frustration.
“They’re skeletons, girl,” Morthak’s gravelly voice cut through the dusk, rich with condescension. He stood not far away, his ancient staff planted firmly in the dirt, his expression as immovable as stone. “No joints to break, no muscles to fatigue, and no stamina to drain. They’ll keep coming as long as my mana holds.”
Damn it! Damn it! My thoughts spiraled in a storm of panic and despair. That old, wretched tyrant expects me to manage this?! My legs trembled as the skeletons advanced, relentless and unyielding. The most exercise I’ve ever done is pacing the hive, and that wasn’t even daily! How am I supposed to focus enough to cast anything stronger than this? I—
A voice interrupted my chaotic thoughts, soft but insistent.
“Queen Mother... are you alright? We can stop this. Just say the word!” Emi’s presence in the link was like a cool breeze, but even her concern couldn’t pierce the haze of fear gripping my chest.
“I—” The words caught in my throat. That moment of hesitation cost me dearly. A skeleton’s jagged blow connected with my side, sending me sprawling to the dirt. Pain exploded through my ribs as Morthak’s voice boomed over the chaos.
“Again!” His command was merciless.
I curled into myself, knees hugged to my chest, trembling. Tears stung my eyes, mixing with the dirt on my cheeks. I can’t do this... I’ve never had to endure anything like this. If I defy him, he might hurt the hive—or worse. What do I do?
“Ho ho ho, what’s this? Giving up already?” Morthak’s cruel laughter grated against my ears, taunting me.
“Yes!” I snapped, my voice shaking with exhaustion. “I’m done! This is pointless—exhausting! I can’t keep going!”
“Pathetic.” Morthak sneered, rolling his shoulders. “You can’t even fend off two low-level skeletons. Do you honestly think you’ll survive out there? A weakling like you? How have you made it this far?”
“I’m not a fighter!” I shot back, forcing myself to stand, though my legs wobbled beneath me. “I’m a support! I help others fight better—I don’t fight head-on!”
“What a convenient excuse for failure,” he replied with a smirk, his tone dripping with scorn. “Even scribes know how to wield a knife in desperation. But you? No technique. No focus. No balance. You’re a disgrace when it comes to survival.”
His words cut deeper than any blade, but I refused to back down. “I don’t need to fight!” I shouted. “I’m a creator—a thinker! I make tools, spells, weapons! I’m not some soldier marching to war!”
Morthak’s grin twisted into something darker. “Then let me teach you a lesson in reality.” He raised his staff, green smoke curling from its tip like a living serpent. It snaked along the ground, wrapping around the skeletons. The air grew heavier, a sickly-sweet smell of decay invading my senses.
The skeletons froze for a moment, their erratic movements replaced by something unnervingly deliberate. They straightened, their hollow eyes glowing faintly as they turned toward me with newfound purpose.
“What... what’s happening?” My voice quivered, the words barely audible.
Morthak chuckled, low and menacing. “New rule: survive. If you won’t push yourself, I’ll push you. Let’s see how far your breaking point truly lies.”
The skeletons charged. Their attacks were sharper, faster, more coordinated. I stumbled backward, dodging as best I could, but then—crack! A bony fist collided with my jaw. White-hot pain radiated through my skull, blinding me.
I hit the ground hard, my head spinning, blood dripping from my nose. Through blurred vision, I saw them closing in, fists raised for another strike. The hive’s collective rage screamed through the link, their fury like a storm battering my mind. But it was no comfort. Physical pain was unyielding, a reality I couldn’t escape.
I rolled through the snow to avoid the skeletons, clumsily standing up and struggling to catch my breath. I tried to call out to Morthak, to beg him to stop, but I wasn't fast enough. The skeletons cornered me again, kicking and punching without mercy. Realizing the situation was spiraling out of control, I activated my skill [Crystal Fur], followed by [Spectral Shardage] and [Crystalline Energy Veil]. These skills bought me a moment to think. As soon as the abilities took effect, the skeletons around me began to emit magenta smoke. Their bones seemed to evaporate slowly while small crystals pelted their bodies, causing visible damage. Seeing this, the skeletons retreated, but to my horror, as soon as they left the area of effect, the green smoke surrounding their forms began to heal them. Cracks, dents, and even holes in their bones vanished as if they had never existed.
"Damn it, damn it! This isn’t training anymore—it’s just a beating! What does he want from me?! I can’t do this. I can’t—"
I’ve always been the type to give up easily. If something doesn’t work, I stop trying. Sometimes it feels like a sign from the universe, you know? If things don’t go your way, maybe it’s better to just let go. I’ve done it before—gave up my basic principles to start a hive, stopped hunting bigger creatures when the risks outweighed the rewards. I even gave up my home, running away when things got hard.
I left the kobolds behind, abandoned the place I’d spent years building and calling home. I fled like the coward I am. And truthfully? I don’t regret it. A living coward is better than a dead hero. But at some point, I stopped trying altogether. When did that happen?
Was it when I gave up brewing potions to appease the hive? When I let my people suffer for the sake of others? Or when every idea, invention, and project I tried ended in failure? I’m weak. I need someone to protect me. The boys need me, but I don’t know if I’m strong enough to be there for them.
What does that make me? Useless? A quitter? A liar? Or just someone too aware of her limits? My body hurts, my mind is exhausted, and I’m so… angry! Fear and frustration swirl together in this hollow pit that has taken over my thoughts. I want to give up so badly, but Morthak won’t let me. He keeps pushing me with these hellish lessons, ignoring my exhaustion. It’s like he’s trying to break me completely.
What did I do wrong? Why does it always have to be me? Why can’t I have one damn moment of peace?
"Mom? Are you okay?" The sound of a familiar voice—a chorus of them—cut through my spiraling thoughts.
I looked up and found myself in an empty, endless space. Snow fell from the black void above, but when it touched the ground, it vanished as if it had never existed. My body ached, covered in mud, dirt, and scratches. I was trembling from exhaustion, barely holding myself together. In front of me, floating in the void, was a small ball of golden light, surrounded by whispers. Words echoed softly, overlapping yet distinct: “Mom?”
The voices repeated, growing louder, each one tinged with concern.
I struggled to my feet, each movement agonizingly slow, and stepped toward the light. The ground beneath me was a dark, wet surface that rippled like water with every step. It reflected my image back at me—a miserable, broken figure. But the sight wasn’t entirely real. It felt distant, like it belonged to someone else. As I approached the ball of light, it began to tremble. Thin, golden threads emerged from its surface, reaching out and connecting to me. They spread further, latching onto the void, weaving an intricate web that filled the space with a breathtaking pattern of glowing lines.
For the first time that day, I felt at peace. No one was trying to kill me. No one was pushing me to work harder than I could bear. For once, I had nothing to worry about. It might not last long, but I really, really needed to stop. Even if just for a second.
“Ahaaa~”
"Mom? Are you okay? You look so tired. What can we do for you?" The voices spoke in perfect harmony, resonating through the glowing lines around me. As they spoke, the threads lit up, filling the space with a mesmerizing lattice of sparkling light. It was then that I realized—these threads were a manifestation of the link between me and the boys.
Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
Touching the lines, I could instantly discern who was on the other side. Though thousands of identical threads surrounded me, tangled and intertwined, I could never, ever mistake one for another.
"Ah, my boys… Thank you. Mommy is just… frustrated. It’s hard to learn anything from Morthak."
"We must expel him! We must hurt him like he hurt you! No—he deserves to die. They all deserve to die. We failed you—"
"No!" I interrupted, my voice firm but gentle. "Don’t do anything foolish. My children, you are smarter than that. You know when a tree is too big to cut down. We cannot, and will not, touch Morthak. His methods may be… brutal, but in his own way, he is just trying to help."
"He doesn’t do this to help!" The swarm’s voice boiled over in unison. "He wants our knowledge. He wants our magic. He wants to take you from us!"
"No, that’s not it." I said, trying to calm their anger. "He’s not doing this for the [Node], or out of curiosity. He was already planning to help before he even knew about us. He’s just… strange. Sometimes, I like to think he’s a nice guy—by the standards of this world, at least."
"He’s a monster! An emotionless corpse!" they countered.
"Maybe, but we’re not much better." I admitted. "I just… I want to stop. To give up trying. But I can’t. He won’t let me stop."
"The Queen Mother should not be forced into anything!" The swarm's voices grew louder, more agitated. "He is a direct threat to the hive! We need to kill him, kill him now, no matter the cost!"
"No!" I shouted, my voice cutting through the noise like a blade. "I already said no! I cannot lose you. Any of you. You are my responsibility. No one will die as long as I live!"
"But—"
"THERE ARE NO BUTS!"
My scream reverberated through the room of wires, causing the threads to ripple violently before silence fell over everything.
"Let me help, then." A familiar voice echoed softly through the link.
I turned toward the voice and saw a golden thread, brighter and steadier than the rest. Without a doubt, it was Hans. As always, he came to my aid when I needed him most.
"Hans, dear, there is nothing you can do. This is my fight—my training."
"No." he replied firmly. "Everyone fights for the Queen. It is our sacred duty and privilege to come when called. I will protect you from any and all pain I can. I am Hans, the first of thousands, the eldest son of the illustrious Queen of the hive. All who dare to harm you will be crushed by me—by all of us."
"Ha ha… Thank you, dear. But what can be done at this point?"
"All for one. That’s what we are." another voice chimed in. It was Steve. "I’ll tell you what we’re going to do. We’re going to show this walking corpse what happens when you poke a hive."
As he spoke, I noticed the threads around me beginning to move. They wrapped around each other, merging into thicker and stronger strands. Soon, they began twisting around my body. My skull felt like it was about to explode.
So much information. So many visions. So many experiences. It all surged through me like a tidal wave, overwhelming my mind. I felt the link changing—not in a bad way, but in an entirely new way. The thousands of threads intertwined into a single, thick rope, forging a connection unlike anything I had ever felt.
After what seemed like hours, I found myself in a blank void. Around me, the room was white and featureless. I tried to look at myself but saw nothing—no body, no form. It was as if I were a disembodied consciousness floating in the emptiness.
Slowly, the white void began to shift and change, taking on the shape of a room filled with hundreds of books. They were scattered across the floor, lining ancient shelves that were covered in roots and black thorns.
The place seemed full of old furniture, claimed by time. The floor was uneven, with weeds and stones scattered across, puddles forming from leaks in the ceiling. Several broken windows let in the wind, and random objects lay scattered about. But I didn’t care about the room. For some reason, I felt like I had something important to do. I stood up and started walking through the strangely familiar space, until I found myself standing before a massive, rustic wooden door—over 10 meters tall and set into stone walls. The door was carved with the image of a woman with short hair holding an orb in her hands, surrounded by hundreds of eyes, roughly etched into the wood.
Without needing to do anything, the enormous door opened as I approached. Stepping inside, I found myself in a hall of infinite proportions. The entire space appeared to be a floating island in an endless void, bathed in golden light. Clouds drifted lazily across the sky, and a blood-red sun hung, half-hidden, behind them. The floating island seemed to be a garden, with thousands of rainbow-colored clove-like flowers in full bloom.
The place was filled with humanoid figures, all identical in shape and size, their blank white forms standing motionless as if waiting for me. I walked across a stone bridge, passing through the garden, and reached the island’s center, where several abstract figures stood near a large water mirror. They gazed into it lazily, as if watching something, but I didn’t understand what it was.
I looked into the water mirror myself and saw Morthak. He was staring directly at me, muttering something before sending his skeletons in our direction.
As they drew near, one of the figures by the mirror whispered something. Instantly, my body moved on its own, gracefully evading the slow, clumsy advances of the skeletons as though engaged in a strange, uncoordinated dance. Morthak watched for a moment, a smirk crossing his face as he said, “I see, I see, finally,” before striking his staff on the ground and summoning two more skeletons.
Now, four skeletons surrounded me, trying to grab me. But I danced around them effortlessly, dodging their every move. After a while, I felt it was time to strike back. More voices whispered through the link, and my body began to form a spear from the roots on the battlefield. I used it to trip one of the skeletons, smashing its legs and sending it crashing to the ground. Without wasting time, I drove the spear into its skull, but it didn’t stop moving. So, I summoned more roots, growing them from the spear, crushing and pinning the skeleton to the ground.
Morthak clapped slowly, clearly impressed, his mischievous smile widening. Then, the remaining skeletons began to change form. One turned into a bone spider, moving with astonishing speed, camouflaging itself in the snow. Another became a bone viper, slithering into the ground and vanishing from sight. The last turned into a bone vulture, its skeletal wings flapping as it soared into the air, with green energy swirling around it.
The bone spider leaped toward me with alarming speed, but I was ready. The ground beneath me trembled, and a deep fissure split open. The spider fell into it, struggling to regain its balance. Before it could, two massive earth hands emerged from the sides of the crater and slammed down, burying the spider in the dirt.
Before I could celebrate the victory, the bone viper struck, lunging at my ankles. But I was faster. With a quick movement, I dodged the viper’s strike and crushed its skull with my root spear. Even with its head shattered, the viper continued to writhe, refusing to die. I conjured a floating bubble of acid and threw it at the creature. The viper melted instantly, its body dissolving into the snow.
The bone vulture, still in play, began flinging bone feathers at me. They were sharp, like razors, designed to tear into flesh. “HA! Girl, I knew you were something, but this! Now that’s what I’m talking about. Let’s make things a little more difficult, yeah?” Morthak’s voice rang out, filled with sick amusement. With a slam of his staff, the eye sockets of his staff’s skull began to glow with green smoke, and the crystal ball in its jaw pulsed with light. The battlefield was soon filled with guttural, otherworldly whispers.
"We already told you, we want to stop." we said.
"HAHA! And what did I say before, girl? I'm gonna push you to your breaking point!" Morthak replied playfully, undeterred as his strange spell continued.
"It's no use. You won't listen to us, and you'll do whatever you want anyway. Talking is useless." We entered combat stance.
"HAHAHA! VERY GOOD! VERY GOOD! It's been so long since I've had this much fun!" Morthak's macabre laughter filled the air as he raised his staff high and slammed the tip into the ground.
Green cracks radiated from Morthak's staff, spreading across the ground. Soon, the earth split open, forming a massive green crater filled with thick smoke. From the heart of the crater, a spectral figure began to rise—a giant dried mummy, adorned with countless golden accessories. Crowns, necklaces, belts, rings, earrings, and pendants gleamed in the eerie light. The mummy crawled slowly from its tomb, revealing a macabre figure more than five meters tall. Despite lacking lungs, it took a deep breath, and with it, a high-pitched, guttural cry filled the air.
From the ground, bones of every size, shape, and texture began to emerge, cloaked in a swirling green smoke. The bones darted through the air and began to merge with the body of the bone vulture. As the transformation took place, the once small and plain bird grew into a monstrous creature—a massive bird of bone and green smoke. The mummy, now little more than an illusion, faded away, turning into swirling green smoke that flowed toward the vulture. The transformation completed, and green flames ignited in the vulture’s eyes. A guttural squeak echoed from its throat.
"[Specter Summons: The Lord of Sorrow]." Morthak announced with a wicked grin. "HAHAHAHA! One of my favorites! Let's see how you handle this!"
We steeled ourselves, locking our gaze on the bone vulture soaring overhead. We quickly started planning how to destroy the creature. But then—without warning—it vanished. In an instant, it turned into a blur and disappeared from sight.
A primal sense of danger surged through us—the same feeling we had when facing Morthak himself. We forced our body to react instinctively, dodging just as the vulture reappeared. The only thing we felt was a strong gust of air passing by us. As we watched, the vulture, its eyes glowing with fiery light, opened its wings like a parachute. From its wings, a rain of bone feathers began to fall toward us.
Reacting quickly, we conjured a bubble of acid, spreading it across the sky to form a wall of super-corrosive liquid. As the feathers hit the liquid, they lost their speed and began to melt away, disintegrating in the acid. Realizing its attack had failed, the vulture opened its beak wide, releasing a barrage of energy skulls that rocketed toward us.
A sudden sense of danger gripped us. We jumped aside just in time, narrowly avoiding the skulls. But to our horror, the skulls altered their trajectory and began to chase us.
We hit the ground on our knees, placing our hands on the earth. Drawing upon all our magical energy, we channeled it into the soil. As the skulls closed in, they seemed to detonate upon striking the ground, summoning an earth golem with strange proportions—a towering figure with a golden crystal in place of a face. The golem absorbed the energy skulls effortlessly, its massive body protecting us. It then turned toward the vulture and began lumbering forward, its steps slow but determined.
[Notice]
You have learned the spell, [Golem Call], Do you want to add this spell to the [Spells] list?
"Impressive..." Morthak's slow clap echoed through the air. "Are you a [Summoner]? Or perhaps a [Golemancer]? No matter your answer... Your golem’s big, sure, but it’s terribly weak."
As the words left his mouth, the bone vulture soared from the sky, its wings folding in as it spiraled downward like a living projectile. The creature descended with terrifying speed, its sharpened talons outstretched, and before the earth golem could even register the danger, the vulture’s claws tore into its rocky body. It seized the golden crystal embedded in the golem's face, and in a matter of moments, the golem collapsed into a heap of crumbling dirt.
But then, something unexpected happened. The crystal, now gripped by the vulture’s talons, began to burn the bird’s claw. With a screech of agony, the vulture let go, flapping wildly, trying to shake off the molten pain searing its limb. Its talon, half-melted, fizzed and bubbled as it hovered in the air, seething with frustration.
Morthak raised an eyebrow. "What kind of strange magic is this?" he muttered, a hint of curiosity now creeping into his voice.
It became clear, then, what the vulture’s weakness was: Life Magic. But using it here, especially near an outsider like Morthak, was dangerous. Still, the threat was too real to ignore, too urgent. The dilemma tugged at us, gnawing away at our minds like an invisible predator. As the decision churned inside us, the figures in white surrounding the courtyard began to stir, whispering their disagreements, each voice clashing like a thousand discordant notes. In that moment, we were paralyzed, unable to move until an agreement could be reached. But just as the vulture began its dive again, a reflection in the pool caught our attention, its ripples distorting the image of the predator coming toward us.
Instinct took hold. We jerked our body out of the way, stumbling, and the collective realization spread through us, drawing our focus back to the battle. The courtyard seemed to tighten, the air heavy with the tension of a hundred unseen forces. The vulture screeched, its beak splitting the air as it released a barrage of energy skulls, each one hissing with deadly intent.
Without thinking, we leapt to the side, narrowly dodging the skulls that rocketed toward us. But the vulture wasn’t finished. The skulls swerved mid-flight, their trajectories shifting, now locked onto us, homing in on our every move. Desperation surged through us as we fell to our knees, hands pressed into the earth. Magic pulsed through our veins, and with a roar that resonated in our chest, we flooded the soil with our energy.
The skulls hit the ground, detonating in bursts of violent magic. From the dust and chaos, a golem—strange in its proportions, its face a blank golden crystal—emerged, towering over us. With ease, it absorbed the incoming barrage, its massive form an unyielding wall. It turned toward the vulture, then began its lumbering march, each step like the rumble of distant thunder.
Morthak chuckled from behind us. "Impressive, but not enough. Your golem’s big, but it’s weak."
The bone vulture screeched again, its wings snapping forward as it dove for the golem. It spun, closing in like a sharp blade. But this time, the golem did not fall. The vulture’s claws pierced the stone but met an unexpected resistance. A hiss of pain filled the air as the bird recoiled, and its claws, now scorching, released the crystal from their grip. The golem crumbled, scattering into a mound of dirt and rubble.
Morthak’s smirk faltered, his eyes narrowing as he observed the scene. "Fascinating... What kind of magic is this?"
A shadow of realization fell over us: the vulture had stumbled upon something that even it couldn’t resist. The crystal—a vessel for a life-giving force—had burned it. With that knowledge, we steeled ourselves. Life Magic would be our answer. But there was a catch. It was dangerous to use it too close to Morthak. The weight of the decision lingered, but as the vulture turned toward us, preparing to strike again, we knew there was no other choice.
We whispered into the water mirror before us, our fingers dragging through the air. Golden projectiles of magic—[Mana Bullets]—tore through the air, leaving trails of luminous light in their wake. The vulture disappeared in a flash of green smoke, only to reappear moments later. But it wasn’t fast enough. The projectiles turned mid-flight, homing in on their target, and struck the bone vulture square in the back.
At first, the damage seemed trivial, but then—like a creeping sickness—the moss, fungi, and slime began to consume the vulture. Its wings—once strong and deadly—became a twisted mass of roots and decaying growths, slowly being torn from its body. The vulture screamed, a horrified screech that echoed through the courtyard, but it was already too late.
It fell to the ground, its body now a grotesque patchwork of fungus and moss, as though it were an ancient tree rotting in a forgotten forest. With trembling wings, it struggled, but the decay was relentless. It flapped weakly, scraping at its back with its beak, tearing itself apart in the process. The green smoke that billowed from its body began to burn brighter, the magic of life that had once poisoned it now fueling its desperate survival.
But even as the vulture struggled, we were already upon it. Without a word, we enveloped it in a shimmering [Mana Bubble]. The creature shrieked in futile rage as the bubble pulsed with energy, burning it upon contact. Its talons scraped uselessly at the magic surrounding it, each touch a futile effort.
With a deliberate motion, we pressed our hands against the bubble. The magic contracted, drawing in tight, suffocating the vulture’s struggles. Then, we filled the bubble with [Drops of Life], a magic so potent it caused the vulture to ignite in a fiery green blaze. The creature screamed, a guttural cry muffled by the magic that trapped it. The bubble quivered with the energy of its defiance.
Minutes passed—twelve long, agonizing minutes—until the vulture finally collapsed into a pool of black, oozing liquid, its form nothing more than a stain upon the ground.
[Warning]
You killed a [Bone Vulture], you gained 6530 Xp
We fell to our knees, exhaustion crashing over us like a wave. Every part of us ached—our body, our mind, our very soul. We gasped for breath, the weight of the battle pressing down upon us.
Then, from the shadows, a slow clap broke the silence. Morthak’s smile stretched wide, twisted and macabre, his eyes glinting with a mix of admiration and something darker.
"HAHAHA! Now that’s a show!" he cackled, his voice ringing with dark amusement. "Now I see how you’ve survived this long."