The cavern trembled as the Broodmother reared back, its once dull black carapace now glowing with sinister crimson veins. A low hiss echoed through the chamber as the monster mutated before Alaric’s eyes. Its legs elongated, dripping with acidic venom, and its eyes turned a malevolent shade of red.
“Just my luck,” Alaric muttered, clutching his side where Bran’s shield had smashed into him. Blood seeped through his tunic, his breathing ragged. The betrayal stung almost as much as his injuries.
But there was no time to dwell on the treachery. The Mutated Broodmother lunged at him, its claws slashing through the air.
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Alaric’s body screamed in protest as he rolled out of the way, his movements sluggish from the pain. The acidic venom splashed onto the stone floor where he had been moments before, sizzling ominously.
“Think, Alaric,” he told himself, gripping his sword tightly. “You’ve faced worse... you’ve survived worse.”
But the truth gnawed at him. He had never fought a monster of this caliber alone, and his limited arsenal of skills made the fight feel impossible.
Essence Infusion wouldn’t last long enough to give him a real edge, and his lack of combat abilities left him reliant on sheer grit and strategy.
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The Broodmother’s glowing eyes locked onto him, and it spat a glob of venom in his direction. Alaric ducked behind a jagged rock, the venom burning through the surface like molten steel.
“I need to slow it down,” he thought, eyeing the glowing red core pulsating beneath the monster’s abdomen. “That has to be its weak point.”
He activated Essence Infusion, drawing power from a discarded spider corpse nearby. His agility spiked temporarily, and he darted out from his cover, narrowly avoiding another venomous projectile.
The Broodmother screeched, slamming one of its legs down in an attempt to crush him. Alaric slid under the leg, his sword slashing into the joint. A crack appeared in the carapace, but the blow wasn’t deep enough to incapacitate it.
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“Damn it,” he cursed, stumbling to his feet.
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The cavern was littered with the corpses of smaller spiders, and Alaric used Essence Extraction repeatedly, siphoning power to enhance his agility and strength. Each infusion gave him a fleeting boost, but it wasn’t enough to turn the tide.
The Broodmother cornered him against the wall, its venom-coated mandibles snapping dangerously close. In a desperate move, Alaric shoved a nearby spider corpse into its jaws. The acidic venom reacted violently with the corpse, creating a brief explosion that staggered the monster.
“Got you!” he shouted, lunging forward. His sword plunged into the crack he had created earlier, and he twisted the blade with all his strength.
The Broodmother screeched, its movements growing frantic as it thrashed about. Alaric was thrown back, landing hard against the cavern wall.
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The monster’s core was now fully exposed, its glow flickering as the Broodmother weakened. Alaric struggled to his feet, blood dripping from his temple. His vision blurred, but he forced himself to focus.
“This ends now,” he growled, summoning the last remnants of his strength.
He activated Essence Infusion once more, this time combining it with the essence of the Broodmother’s fallen offspring. A surge of power coursed through him, sharpening his reflexes and dulling the pain.
The Broodmother lunged at him in a final, desperate attack. Alaric sidestepped at the last moment, driving his sword straight into the glowing core. The cavern was filled with a blinding light as the monster let out a final, ear-splitting shriek.
When the light faded, the Broodmother lay still, its body collapsing into ash.
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Alaric sank to his knees, his body trembling from exhaustion. He stared at the pile of ash that had once been the dungeon boss, a bittersweet sense of triumph washing over him.
But his moment of relief was short-lived. Footsteps echoed through the chamber as Derek, Bran, Selene, and Mara re-entered the room.
“Well, well,” Derek drawled, clapping sarcastically. “You actually killed it. I didn’t think you had it in you.”
Alaric forced himself to stand, gripping his bloodied sword. “You... you planned this.”
“Of course we did,” Selene said with a smirk. “We needed someone to weaken the Broodmother for us. Thanks for the hard work, by the way.”
“We’ll be taking the loot now,” Derek added, drawing his sword. “And whatever coin you’ve got left. Dead men don’t need money, after all.”
Alaric’s eyes burned with anger, but his body was on the verge of collapse. He knew he couldn’t take on four experienced hunters in his current state.
“I’m not going down without a fight,” he said, his voice trembling but resolute.
TO BE CONTINUED...