Mathideus was many things.

A husband.

A noble.

A Warrior.

A cosmetic enthusiast who spent long hours each day grooming his hair.

But, a fool he was not.

Damien’s warnings were ill-timed and not wholly unrelated to his enmity with Byron. However, Mathideus considered himself a good judge of character.

And, Damien was good.

Sure, the elf had many secrets of his own and seemed ignorant of the larger world outside Dreadwood. He also tended to act uncomfortable in his skin and wielded a taboo affinity.

However, Damien wouldn’t have made such wild claims if he didn’t believe them. And, Byron, for all his newfound charisma, remained one of the most terrifying individuals in Skeelie.

The Guardian of Apathy might not be capable of mass murder, but Mathideus considered himself a good judge of character.

And, Byron was bad.

So, it was with a high level of discretion that he issued suggestions—not commands because there were no commands among sworn brothers—to the members of Glamring. If they caught wind of foul play, they were to engage Red Wyrm’s casters and keep Molochia Beelith off his back.

His blade, on the other hand, would be pointed at Byron.

Victory in the face of such odds would be hard to pull off, especially without Pastorius to keep enemy attacks at bay. And, at the thought of Pastorius, his heartbeat faltered. Glamring had consisted of the four of them for as long as he could remember, and now . . .

No. This wasn't time for grief. Glamring would have to beat Red Wyrm with a one-man disadvantage. But, this was where Maybelline—the raven-haired firecracker—could help. The woman was a powerful Shifter in her own right, and let it not be said that ravens quailed before wolves.

A firm hand slipped into his.

Allen, his partner, sought him with worried eyes. “Do you need a break? I can force Byron to issue one if you ask.”

“No,” Mathideus said and returned the squeeze. The coalition had taken two breaks already. Asking for another would ruin the momentum. “Let’s be done with this madness. The longer we dally, the more my heart wavers.”

Allen nodded. He shared a look with Jesse, their Shaman, who pulled a trinket out of his dark hair and crushed it.

A warm feeling enveloped Mathideus, restoring his HP.

Mathideus whispered his gratitude for the healing, then pushed his way to the front of the flank.

The chimeras kept coming.

Many times, during the fighting, he lost sight of his brothers. But, they always reappeared beside him, slinging magic and steel. Allen swung his polearm, wounding a swath of monsters with a single arc of lightning. The strange scent of burned air that followed his attacks reached Mathideus’ nostrils.

More chimeras.

“Halt!” Mathideus said, protecting an injured ranker. She lay prone with a chest wound and breathed in slow, uncertain gasps.

“Halt, dammit!” Mathideus repeated over the sounds of fighting.

Byron didn’t make the call. He roared from his spot on the frontlines and bashed a chimera with his shield. Byron also refrained from activating his powerful [Frost Aura], which had the benefit of slowing the chimeras’ movements and enhancing the damage they took from all sources.

Mathideus could understand that, considering how low his own MP had fallen due to sustained use of [Rally]. However, without it, the coalition would have since fallen into despair.

He needed to conserve his renewables, especially if Damien was right. But, he couldn’t bear to see another ranker die.

He gritted his teeth and upended a health potion into the dying woman’s mouth. No [System] warning followed the action. Which was good. Her life could yet be saved.

The chimeras didn’t let up.

“We need a break, Byron,” Mathideus hissed, stomping up to the Guardian.

“Just a little more,” Byron said over the sounds of fighting. “Then, we’ll take three hours.”

“We don’t have a little more!”

Stolen story; please report.

Byron fixed him a glare but eventually acquiesced. He ordered a holding action, which caused their rankers to activate their wards.

It didn’t stop the flood of monster spawns. But, at least, the chimeras wouldn't trouble them while they desperately meditated. The real problem lay in the fact that they had just expended their final breath. The casters would need to regain their MP which meant an end to the assortment of barriers.

“Enemy team!” someone yelled, barely an hour into the break.

True enough, shockwaves resonated across the neighboring walls, proving that the competition had caught up to them.

Byron shifted restlessly, but Mathideus dissuaded him with bared teeth. “We are not moving until half our forces are back to full strength, at a minimum.”

“The end lies just beyond this hallway.”

“We are not moving.”

Byron growled, then schooled his features. “As long as the wards stay active.”

Mathideus agreed.

Two hours later, the wards failed.

The chimeras rushed through the breach, screaming their challenge. They consisted of every breed of vermin he had faced since the start of the dungeon. Slow Wolf Crabs with their sideways advance; poisonous Horse Snakes with their hooves, and tails, and flames; Sea Locust Chickens with their powerful club arms; hordes of cannibalistic Lion Roaches . . . and, leading the charge, the super-powerful Cynocephali which had taken Pastorius’ life.

Mathideus once again found himself inundated with fangs and claws. And, just like before, Byron—despite leading from the forefront—did not activate his debuff.

Even Molochia Beelith, who should have been difficult to miss in a melee, had abandoned [Bestial Shape] and vanished into the crowd. Mathideus did not like this, but there was only so much he could do while drowning in a wave of monsters.

Guts and visceral matter rained upon his head, joining the sweat that poured down his brows. The taste of salt hung heavy in his mouth, along with the hint of something else . . .

Trepidation? Fear? The latter in particular was nearly alien to him given that he was attuned to Courage.

The assault from the chimeras intensified the further in they traveled. A few more rankers fell. Mathideus was just about yelling for aid when a landmark he hadn’t seen since the dungeon run began loomed into view.

A flight of stairs led up to a translucent barrier contained within a stone archway. The barrier itself glimmered with the blue hue of magic energy, inviting the rankers to share in its respite.

“An exit!” someone said. “The final chamber is near!”

“No one gets left behind! Bring everyone who can’t stand across!”

The last comment was made by Byron, who stopped to help two wounded rankers to their feet.

Cheers erupted among the crowd. A frenzy overcame the rankers, instilling within them a second wind. Mathideus swept his longsword across swarms of chimeras, dulling the [System] notifications before they even appeared.

He had leveled up sometime during the battle, although he wasn’t completely certain. All that mattered was that he stood now at the foot of the stairs with dead chimeras sprawled around him. The last of the Leclerc he was; the first to come this far since the Labyrinth reappeared. And yet, he wavered.

“To me!” Byron said, charging up the steps.

“Stop,” Mathideus said weakly. “We should organize a small party. Scout ahead . . .”

No one listened.

They stormed up the stairs, spurred on by the Cynocephali that chased after them.

Where was the other coalition? They should have reached the staircases by now, assuming they didn’t burn themselves out in their advance. It was also possible that they had been eliminated, though Mathideus shuddered to think about the losses.

Up ahead, Byron vanished through the barrier and into whatever lay behind it. Other rankers followed after him, driven by euphoria. A few who had chosen to help the wounded lagged. The chimeras gained on them.

“No one gets left behind,” a Warlock chanted, skipping down the stairs to secure their passage. “Help them, Mathideus!” He released a [Fireball], buying time for a couple of rankers to hobble past.

Mathideus joined him in his defiant stand, and the sword of the Leclerc sang again. Lightning sparked from his side, proof that Allen wasn’t far behind. Between them and the Warlock, they cut a path for the stragglers to climb.

This Warlock . . . wasn’t he the one on Byron’s team? The one denoted as a Warlock of Rage. Byron had shown a surprising change in personality, but Mathideus didn’t expect his lackeys to also be capable of honorable deeds.

It was odd that the Warlock didn’t immediately follow Byron through the barrier. The members of Red Wyrm were known to be fiercely protective of their leader. Then again, the entire coalition had fallen into a frenzy the moment the final goal came into sight . . .

Mathideus frowned and plunged his sword into the throat of a rampaging Lion Roach Chimera. The entire coalition had fallen into a frenzy . . .

Frenzy . . . Rage . . .

[Frenzy]?

Mathideus stiffened, and the sand fell from his eyes.

You have resisted Charm.

The Warlock grinned at him. “Great work, eh?” His gaze drifted to Mathideus’ sword which now stood poised at his neck.

“You . . .” Mathideus started. “You did this. You controlled their actions.”

“I don’t understand—”

“Don’t lie to me! There’s only one affinity I know of that can induce this sort of behavior. And, you are attuned to it.”

“That’s enough,” a new voice said. “I’m the one you should hold responsible.”

Byron appeared behind the Warlock. The same Byron who had been first through the barrier . . . except that version of him was fake.

The real Byron tossed Allen down the stairs. But, Allen didn't stir. Blood flowed down his head.

Mathideus took one look at his unconscious partner, and then he lunged at Byron for all he was worth.

A large clawed arm slammed into his side, blowing a chunk of health off his HP. Beelith cackled in his ear. Mathideus tried to retaliate, but an ice cone punched into his gut.

He held onto his sword, burning with intent to defend himself, but his arms didn't move as he desired. He was just too tired and angry and confused . . .

None of the four members of Red Wyrm had passed through the barrier. They had urged the coalition through with no intention of doing so themselves.

"Traitors!" Mathideus yelled, but he lost that train of thought as another clawed attack smashed into his side. The ground churned beneath him, turning from a flight of stairs to a steep incline before he could find his balance.

As Mathideus tumbled down into the waiting arms of the chimeras, one thought flashed through his mind.

I’m so sorry, Damien.