I’d experienced Byron’s [Frost Aura] enough times to recognize it. But, he shouldn't have been able to find us this fast—

Hey! It seems you are afraid.

+1 has been added to all stats.

And, again:

Hey! It seems you are afraid . . .

Did the mere sight of a pursuing Byron trigger two [Fear] stacks?!

Three more silhouettes rounded the corner behind him, including a large four-legged beast which soon outpaced the rest. It howled in a dreadful voice, shrill enough to thaw the chill in my veins.

Only one ranker in Red Wyrm possessed the ability to mimic beasts . . .

Beelith.

“Nicola,” I spat, grabbing the ashen-faced Mage by the shoulder. “Use [Ecstasy] or something! Anything!”

Nicola blinked. Her golden eyes sparked with life, roused from her stupor. She cast a spell even as I pulled her into a run.

“Where are you going?” Paz asked, lagging behind us. “We can’t outrun them. Not with [Frost Aura]. We best stay and fight.”

As if to support him, an earlier [System] notification blinked:

You have been affected by the ability [Frost Aura].

You have been inflicted with [Slow].

Reflexes and movement have decreased 1.5x.

Damage taken from all sources has increased by 1.5.

The movement penalty was bad enough, but did Paz think that fighting with a debilitating debuff to defense was any better?

“Damien,” he urged.

“Do you have a death wish?!” I asked.

Red Wyrm answered in his stead. The ground beneath us lit up with a gargantuan sigil, brimming with magic energy. It broke apart the next second with a roar that threatened to collapse the dungeon.

The [Earthquake] threw us into the walls—headfirst in my case. My composure plummeted together with my health meter, which fell by over thirty percent.

All. From. One. Hit.

Fuck.

Paz unwrapped himself from Nicola, whom he had been thoughtful enough to shield with his body. Defiance flashed in his expression, but it died the next second as a gigantic [Fireball] barreled down the corridor.

The four-legged beast howled in joy and crossed another twenty meters in the blink of an eye.

I didn’t even think. I sprang off the wall and flipped out of the way of the fiery ball of death which proceeded to explode in our midst. The resulting wave of heat and flame stole another portion of my health.

But, I lived. As always.

Paz and Nicola weren’t so lucky. They hadn’t managed to dodge fast enough, though Nicola had summoned a tentacle to absorb the worst of the blast.

The heatwave from the resulting spillover threw them to the ground. My heart stung as her cries mingled with the crackle of the flames.

We were going to die here if we chose to stand our ground. We had all of the guts and a hint of tenacity, but Red Wyrm had proven to be the better team in the opening salvo. The fact that we had just finished a marathon fight worsened our odds, and . . . Beelith’s wolf form drew closer, followed closely by Byron.

The corridor in front of us stretched off into the darkness. We could try to outrun them, but Paz had hit the mark when he said it would all be for naught.

Our circumstances left us a choice: Die while running or die while taking a stand. I ached to put Red Wyrm in their place, but the confrontation had happened sooner than anticipated.

If we fought them here in this corridor, our chances of victory could sail past zero and enter minus ten.

More like minus hundred . . .

Byron’s [Frost Aura] extended far enough to stifle the remnants of the [Fireball]. Actual ice formed on the surface of the walls.

Beelith howled in laughter. In a few seconds, she would reach the T-junction in front of the item room, which left one route open to us now that a direct escape was no longer an option . . .

A hard left into the corridor of runes.

I activated [Stealth] and charged for our pursuers.

“D-Damien?” Nicola sputtered.

Paz laughed and followed after me.

“Damien, we can’t take them—”

“I know!” I hissed at Nicola. “But, we have to do this. This is our only chance!”

Paz kept laughing without a care. “You absolute madlad. You think this is a better choice than fighting to the death?”

I didn’t reply him, but Nicola caught on, regardless, if the way her breath hitched was any indication.

“You can’t be serious,” she said in a high pitch. “You’re asking to die!”

“Shut up and follow!”

Our sudden turn must have thrown off the enemy casters because they missed their next shots—a rock ball and a second [Fireball]—which sailed over our heads.

We had traveled a short distance away from the junction at the start, but we stood closer to it than Beelith who yipped as we charged her, pleased that we had abandoned escape.

Oh, we aren’t trying to fight you, you ugly bitch.

We just needed a few more seconds to reach the junction. A few more . . .

Beelith crouched low to the ground, upping her speed for the final lap before the clash. I arrived at the T-junction at the same moment she did, and—

[Dark Stalker]!

I blended into the shadows. She lunged in tandem, teeth poised to bite, and sailed past my former position.

The dreaded corridor stood just out of reach.

Gosh–fucking–darn it. This was the worst plan I’d ever enacted, and I’d done a lot of stupid shit, including kneeling before a wraith for mercy.

I had hinged our entire survival on the slim chance that the teleport runes didn’t result in death. But, I couldn’t run into the booby-trapped corridor, not until I'd ensured the safety of my teammates.

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Paz intercepted Beelith’s wild lunge, buying Nicola the time she needed to forge ahead.

The shapeshifter was smarter than I gave her credit for. After my vanishing trick, she had surmised that we didn't intend to fight.

She bounded off the shaft of Paz’s half-pike with a force that sent him tumbling and lunged at Nicola’s spine.

I interposed a [Decoy] between them before she could connect, but it died the next second beneath an onslaught of claws.

Paz righted himself in record time and joined the fray. The twin distractions allowed Nicola to slip past my hidden self and into the teleportation corridor.

To Nicola’s credit, she didn’t so much as blink. She ran across the booby traps without sparing a single glance over her shoulder.

The tiles lit up beneath her . . . one, two . . . and then she was gone, leaving motes of blue light floating in her wake.

“Byron,” Beelith cried in a guttural voice. “They’re getting away!”

Paz swung at her with his half-pike. Seeing as he was confident enough to engage her in this form, Beelith had to be using a lesser skill and not the terrifying [Shapeshift] he had warned about.

Despite that, he only intended to feint, and he ducked around the wolf-woman the first chance he got.

A bright light erupted from out of nowhere, stealing my vision for a fraction of a second. It left Paz as an indent in the wall. His half-pike clattered to the ground.

Oh no.

Byron strode into the melee, dressed in heavy armor with a horned helmet on his head. He held a short axe in one hand and a thick slab of iron in the other . . . oh god, was that meant to be a shield?

Bright light dimmed into nothing on the shield’s surface, revealing it as the source of the earlier skill.

“[Shield Bash], huh?” Paz said with a cough. “That fucking hurt.” His health meter slipped into the final fifth, while our enemies stood around him in perfect condition.

Byron raised his axe. “The elf. Where is he?”

“Do you have nothing better to ask?” Paz wheezed. “Or were you hoping I’d answer?”

“He used some kind of disappearing trick,” Beelith growled. “Not [Stealth] or I’d have sniffed him out. Something more potent. I don’t think he walked onto the runes—”

Byron glanced at the trap-filled corridor. “He didn’t. For what does he gain by avoiding death if he trades it for an even worse fate?”

My breathing faltered.

“Then again,” Byron continued. “Cowards often choose a terrible death over an honorable one. And, the way of cowards, though amusing, is difficult to decipher.”

Beelith chuckled: A horrible sound worsened by the fact that it emerged from the throat of a wolf. “He might have given us the slip. But, without his teammates, he’ll die in the Labyrinth anyway.”

“Heralds,” Paz swore with a groan, “what a team of fucking bootlickers. Are you sure you’re a wolf? Because you sound like bottom-feeder trash right now.” He pried himself out of the wall. “I know it hurts to lose your main enemy, but I’m two times as tough as Damien and just as sexy. Who wants the first lick? I promise to make it worth your while.”

Oh, Paz . . .

The Mage and Warlock remained a safe distance away. The latter sneered at Paz and raised a hand to silence him, though he stopped with a single look from Byron.

Paz slipped into a boxing stance. “There’s nothing cowardly about dying the way you choose. They’ve chosen their way. This is mine.” [Draconic Aura] flooded the corridor, deepening the red of his eyes. “Come at me if you dare—”

Byron slammed his fist into his gut, forcing Paz to gasp and lose his lunch. He grabbed him by the hair before he could fall and watched his health bar empty in disinterest.

“You’re the one, aren’t you?” Byron said. “The one who cheats death. What means do you use to achieve this?”

Paz groaned. “It’s a very common affinity. I call it: Go to hell.”

Byron punched him again. “I wonder how long that grin of yours would last. I’m going to kill you and drag your body along with us just so I can do it again and again.”

He hooked his axe to his belt and raised a small knife to Paz’s chin.

Oh, screw that.

I threw a monster core at each pair of rankers and appeared behind Paz the moment they flinched.

Paz’s eyes widened in surprise then went lifeless as I chopped off his head.

Red Wyrm froze—enough time for me to punt the decapitated head into the teleportation corridor.

It bounced once and rolled to a stop. And then, it disappeared in a flash of white.

The members of Red Wyrm gaped with priceless looks, which gifted me another life-saving second to slip out of reach.

Byron reacted first. His [Shield Bash] brushed past my arm and splayed me onto the ground. I avoided a direct hit, yet every bone in my body lit up like I’d been shot with a gun.

I gritted my teeth to quell the sensation and rolled away from a wild pounce by Beelith. An earthen wall rose to arrest my movements. However, Beelith switched back to human form at the same time and kicked me through the half-formed wall like a soccer ball.

I wheezed as my HP flatlined from the blow, though it held up just enough to protect me from severe injuries.

[Dark Stalker] had less than five seconds to come off cooldown which was all I needed to escape the assault.

Beelith scaled the crumbling wall of earth with fingers transformed into blade-tipped claws. Her snout remained elongated in anticipation of feasting on my corpse.

But, I wouldn’t die here.

Not to Byron.

Or his cronies.

Or even the fucking Labyrinth.

I’d survived the goddamn Pyramid of Rebirth! No group of young adults was going to supersede that.

The Sticky Bomb I had attached to Paz’s corpse—the same one I’d earned after the fight with the Way-keeping Boss—detonated, dousing Byron and Beelith in a spray of guts.

Beelith screamed.

I took the moment to slip into [Dark Stalker], narrowly avoiding an axe slash to the face.

The caster brothers refused to join the fray, what with their teammates caught in the line of fire. They, however, moved toward the entrance of the rune-filled corridor to block off my escape.

I had been forced away from the T-junction during the fight. But, I didn’t care, I could just flee the other way—

Two abrupt walls of earth and fire rubbished that notion. They rose from the ground, reaching a height close to the ceiling, many times longer than I was tall.

“Beelith,” Byron said. “Use [Bestial Shape].”

The blond woman shifted back into her grey wolf form. An evil glint persisted in her eye due to the earlier shower of blood.

“You fight dirty, elf,” Byron said, peeling Paz’s entrails off his shoulder. “But, I suppose that trait comes with your race. Nothing good ever waits at the end of a dungeon trap. So, I’ll say it just this once: Give up.”

The wall of flames roared behind me. With my HP gone, I wouldn’t survive the passage. And, even with it available, I had a feeling that those flames could burn a man faster than he could breathe.

Byron stepped away in the opposite direction. His [Frost Aura] rose again, catching me by surprise. I clasped a hand around my mouth to prevent the misting of my breath, but it turned out to be futile. [Dark Stalker] handled it just fine.

“You have three seconds,” Byron said, “to accept my offer of an honorable death. Three seconds, or I will kill you in the worst way possible.”

He came to a stop, but his message was clear. I could surrender on his terms, or try to brave the walls . . . or him . . . or his teammates who guarded the corridor.

And yet, all of those options were nothing but diversions.

Byron often acted out of a childish sense of superiority. But, he wasn't dumb and had earned every bit of his reputation. All of his posturing had to be a ploy, to distract me from his actual plan.

“He’s still here,” Beelith said and growled low in her throat. “I can smell him.”

You just admitted earlier that you can’t, lady. Not while [Dark Stalker] was active, at least. Nice try.

“What does his affinity do anyway?” the Warlock asked, keeping his eyes peeled on his surroundings.

“Something to do with illusions,” Beelith said. “Confusion, perhaps.”

“No,” Byron answered, and he frowned at the space between his teammates. “It is Fear.”

The Warlock did a double take. “Fear? Isn’t that kinda stupid?”

“We’ve faced worse,” the Mage said, and he thumped his staff against the ground.

I had expected a magic spell, yet nothing prepared me for the gargantuan sigil that appeared without the slightest hint of magical accumulation.

The ground between Red Wyrm and the twin walls broke apart, and then it surged upward in a field of spikes.

“That had to do it,” the Warlock said with a laugh and slapped his teammate on the back.

Beelith shifted to support the Mage who leaned now on his staff. “No one can survive this—”

“No one?” Byron said. His [Frost Aura] intensified. “He’s not there!”

I landed behind the casters and tugged the Chain Nail out of the wall. Byron’s group had prevented me from going through the obstacles, but they’d said nothing about going above.

“Of course not,” I said.

The casters turned around in shock.

Beelith’s lupine features contorted in rage. “Filthy elf—!”

I raised my middle finger in a quiet salute. And then, without looking, I hopped backward onto the runes and dissipated across time and space.