Chapter 45: Fierce Battle

“Just do it! It's our only chance!! Quick! The boar spirit is already getting attacked by the rats!” Niko's voice was sharp with urgency, his eyes flashing with determination. There wasn’t time for second-guessing or hesitation—only action.

Zheng, though visibly unsure, had no choice. The situation was unraveling fast, and Niko’s plan seemed like the only thread of hope they had left. His jaw clenched tight, and with a quick nod, he crouched low, pushing aside his doubts. He leapt onto the back of the ghostly boar spirit, its ethereal form glowing faintly in the dim, eerie light of the castle's interior. The faint shimmer of the boar's spectral body provided just enough substance for Zheng to grip, but it felt like holding onto smoke.

The boar spirit, still glowing a dim green, snorted and charged forward with renewed vigor. Its sharp tusks skewered the swarming rats as it barreled through the throng, sending their grotesque, twisted bodies flying in all directions. The rat swarm hissed and screeched, surging in waves, but the boar cut a path through them with brutal efficiency.

Niko, standing further back, struggled to maintain his concentration. Controlling so many spirits at once was taxing—far more than he’d ever experienced before. His brow was slick with sweat, his muscles trembling from the strain. Each moment felt like his mind was being pulled in a thousand different directions. His own body, weakened and battered from earlier battles, felt like it was falling apart. Blood seeped through his torn robes, the rats’ gnashing teeth and claws leaving painful gashes across his legs. The bites stung like fire, and it took everything in him to push the pain away, to focus on keeping the spirits moving in perfect sync.

"Zheng!" Niko shouted, his voice raw and desperate. "Get the attention of that filthy ratman up there! Do whatever you can, but we need him distracted or dead!"

The wise ratman, still perched atop the cracked stone staircase, sneered down at them with cold disdain. His skeletal staff glowed with sickly green energy, and he muttered something in an ancient, guttural tongue. The rats surged around him, their numbers seemingly endless. The once-grand hall of the castle had become a nightmarish battlefield, swarming with vermin and the stench of death.

Zheng clung tightly to the boar spirit as it charged, plowing through the swarm. His heart thundered in his chest as they neared the base of the staircase where the ratman stood. But just as the boar gained momentum, its glow began to dim, flickering like a dying flame. It was weakening, and fast.

The wise ratman watched the boar's approach with a twisted smile. He raised his staff high, the dark green energy pulsing with malevolent power. The air crackled with tension as he prepared to strike.

Niko felt his pulse quicken. He could sense what was coming—he had felt the ratman’s vile magic. The staff pulsed once, twice, and then a massive sphere of glowing green slime shot forward, aimed directly at Zheng and the fading boar spirit.

“Watch out!” Niko yelled, but the warning came too late.

The slime ball slammed into Zheng’s chest, sending him flying backward. He was ripped from the boar spirit and hurled across the hall, his body twisting midair before crashing down the stone steps with a sickening thud. He hit the ground hard, landing in a heap at the base of the staircase. His body was motionless for a moment, blood dripping from the fresh wounds left by the rats and the impact.

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“Zheng!” Niko’s scream echoed through the chamber, but it was drowned out by the chaos of the battle around them.

Niko’s mind raced. The battle was slipping out of their control, the rats too numerous and the ratman too powerful. Desperation clawed at him. His spirits, normally an unstoppable force, were struggling against the sheer volume of enemies. The weight of the situation bore down on him—this could be the end.

But then, just as despair began to creep in, something changed.

The ghastly orb that Niko had summoned earlier had been killing small rats nonstop—the one hovering just above the stairwell—suddenly cracked. With a loud bang, the orb shattered, releasing a blinding green light that illuminated the entire hall. In its place, a towering figure materialized. It was a mantis spirit, standing over seven feet tall, its limbs long and razor-sharp, gleaming with a deadly, otherworldly sheen. It had finally met the threshold to evolve, after killing so many rats.

The wise ratman’s smile faltered as he turned toward the sudden eruption of light. His eyes widened in shock, but it was already too late. The mantis spirit lunged, moving with unnatural speed. In one swift, fluid motion, its scythe-like arm sliced through the air, severing the ratman’s head clean from his shoulders.

The ratman’s head tumbled down the staircase, landing with a wet thud at Zheng’s feet. A geyser of dark blood sprayed from the stump of its neck, painting the stone steps in crimson. The ratman’s body wavered for a moment before collapsing in a heap at the top of the stairs.

For a moment, the world seemed to pause. The rats, once so fierce and numerous, faltered. Their connection to their master severed, they began to dissipate. One by one, they vanished into thin air, their bodies flickering out of existence like embers in the wind. The oppressive weight of the battle lifted as the tide of rats was no more.

Niko staggered backward, his legs giving out beneath him as the overwhelming exhaustion finally took hold. He collapsed against the stone wall, his entire body trembling from the effort of keeping his spirits in line. His vision blurred, the edges of his sight darkening as fatigue and blood loss threatened to drag him into unconsciousness. The pain from the rat bites burned through his legs, every movement sending fresh waves of agony up his spine.

Around him, the surviving members of his group were pulling themselves together, each one as battered and bruised as the next. Fumito leaned heavily against the wall, clutching his side where a rat’s bite had torn through his armor. Ivanic wiped blood from his brow, his javelin still clutched tightly in his hand. And Zheng, groaning in pain, pushed himself to his feet, using the staircase for support but his consciousness fading by the second.

They had won. But the cost had been high.

Niko’s vision began to swim as he teetered on the edge of consciousness. His spirits flickered and vanished, returning to the void from which they were summoned. His body slumped against the stone wall, the cold surface pressing against his back, and he exhaled a shaky breath. The notifications of his victory—level-ups, achievements, territory accomplishments—flashed in his mind, but they were distant, hollow echoes compared to the overwhelming fatigue pulling him under.

As the darkness closed in, one thought remained clear in Niko’s mind: they had survived this nightmare, but it wasn’t over. The world outside was still waiting, and it was as dangerous and unforgiving as ever.

With that final thought, Niko let the darkness take him, his body succumbing to the deep.