Beelith attacked before Paz finished speaking.

The enemy casters did too. As did Nicola. A large boulder formed out of thin air and rocketed down the corridor, only to meet its demise at the end of Nicola’s [Eldritch Beam].

Paz scaled the wall of fire and vaulted over Beelith’s charge. He landed in the path of the enemy Warlock who waved his hands around to conjure a flaming arrow. Beelith charged again, drawing Paz's attention.

“Look out!” I said.

The air rippled around Paz. Without even looking, he waved his spear and deflected the arrow into the enemy Mage. The flaming missile exploded upon contact with the Mage's back and threw him onto his face.

Paz followed up with a strike at the galloping Beelith. But, she evaded it and raked her claws across his side. He switched to a new stance, flaring [Draconic Aura].

“Futile,” Beelith said and spun around for a second go. “I commend you for picking the [Deflect Missile] skill. But, try using it to stop these teeth!” She dashed forward with a snarl, ready to tear into flesh.

Paz adjusted his grip on his spear and sidestepped her at the last possible second. He smacked her across the skull, punting her into a wall.

Aman tackled the fallen Mage, who was still reeling from the sudden snipe to the back. The Warlock tried to help his friend, but a summoned tentacle slapped his chest and launched him through the barrier.

Paz chuckled at the wounded Beelith who floundered on the ground.

“Not so strong, are you,” he said, “now that the level difference has been narrowed? Get up, fleabag. I’ve not paid you enough for the last encounter.”

. . . Which was a big boast coming from him, but Paz seemed to have gained some levels.

A quick use of [Identify] put him at the cusp of silver rank—level 24—just like Nicola. I had killed three rogues in the time we had been separated. How the hell was I the weakest member of our trio?!

The Warlock returned through the barrier, unharmed by the wall of fire. A spark of flame grew between his palms: a [Fireball] waiting to be unleashed.

“Think fast, Paz,” I said, emerging from out of [Stealth]. I threw two knives at him with all the strength I could muster.

Paz understood the assignment. He activated his [Deflect Missile] skill and propelled the knives in the direction of the Warlock. The skill doubled the speed of the knives, extending their reach.

The Warlock dodged one knife in an impressive display of agility, but the other struck the flame between his hands dead on. The [Fireball] detonated prematurely, throwing Paz, Beelith, and the Warlock in different directions.

The abrupt explosion also ended the scuffle between Aman and the enemy Mage, flinging both aside like ragdolls. The Mage lost what remained of his health but landed too far away for any of us to press the advantage.

I pulled a disoriented Paz away from the conflagration and nodded in approval as Nicola’s tentacle grabbed Aman.

We took a moment to regain our breath.

“Damien, you bastard,” Paz said, shaking his head. “You made it out of that mess with the teleportation tiles, huh? And, I thought I was the undying one.”

I helped him to his feet. “You don’t know the things I’ve suffered.”

“And, neither do you. I can't even begin to explain what I've survived.”

“Boys,” Nicola said, “sorry to interrupt your pissing contest, but we still have a fight that needs to be won.”

“We always win our fights,” Paz grumbled. “Stop nagging us, mom.”

I stifled a chuckle. This was it. The camaraderie I had missed over the past two days. I’d known Paz and Nicola for less than two weeks and already felt closer to them than anyone in my adult life. Was this why Byron had become so broken? Because he had lost his friends?

Beelith, now back in human form, rose to her feet. Despite the damage taken, her health meter remained at its peak. It seemed her wolf form came with a separate HP which forced her to revert once expended.

The Warlock of Rage and the wounded Mage sheltered behind her. They rapidly emptied potion bottles.

“Annoying,” Beelith spat. “These flies won't stop buzzing. They get us to waste our time here while Byron faces the final challenge alone.”

Her blond hair came loose from its braids and fell over her eyes. The effect lent her a deranged look that wasn't helped by her crooked nose.

“It’s just us and them,” the Warlock said. “I caught a glimpse of the outside when I fell through the barrier. The area beyond this corridor is swarming with chimeras. All nearby rankers have fled for the portals.”

I perked up at that. Portals? The exit portals had appeared?

Beelith sneered. “Great. I guess we can go all out now. Pity. I wanted to reserve this for the final boss.”

“Damien,” Nicola whispered. “Get ready.”

For what?

Beelith howled, a sound of utter rage that had no business coming from a human throat. Her skin split open—actually, split open—to reveal red pulp and slimy innards. A bloody mass climbed out of her flesh.

Paz tensed from his spot beside me. “Ugh. If that’s what I think it is, then our situation has just gotten hairy. She’s using [Shapeshift], the premier Shifter technique.”

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

Not-Beelith kicked the husk of her old body aside. In her place stood a massive bipedal monster with long arms, stout, digitigrade legs, and a powerful torso.

I knew this creature. I had seen it numerous times in various media back on Earth. The fur was a dead giveaway, and if that wasn’t enough, the drool-dripping snout helped clear all doubt.

Beelith had just transformed into a goddamn werewolf.

“D-demon!” the Rider of Hope said, clutching a vital potion. Without his spear or his mount, he seemed utterly useless.

His leopard mount hadn’t returned after being killed by Beelith. A limitation of Beast Riders, perhaps? Nevertheless, the man made his tribesmen proud by standing his ground. He pulled two machetes out of his inventory and rolled his wrists.

Beelith crouched onto all fours and snorted a single word that sent chills running down my spine. “Eat.”

“Now, Damien!” Nicola said.

A magic sigil flared beneath the members of Red Wyrm. They pounced away, but it had only been a feint. Nicola instead fired an [Eldritch Beam] through the wall that had been erected over the final chamber.

“Go!” she said.

“What? No!” I stammered. “It’s five versus three. We stand a better chance fighting them and going after Byron together!”

Beelith bounded toward our group, crossing half the distance in a single stride.

Paz rushed to meet her. “Don’t argue, Damien. You know she's right!”

The machete-wielding Rider dashed forward to support him. Both fell under a vicious tackle from Beelith, who was massive enough to pin each man down with a single arm.

“Damien!” Nicola said. “We can’t let Byron win while we’re stuck here.”

“But, Nalum—” I said.

A flaming missile flew for my head. Aman fired an arrow into its path, causing it to divert off course due to his ability.

Fuck!

I shot my teammates one final look and took off in a dead run for the chamber. A flying rock fist punctured my chest, but I had traded places at the last moment with a [Decoy].

The real me surged through the breach in the wall and landed in a field of darkness. Ferocious magic rocked the area behind me, threatening to collapse the wall. More noises erupted as the battle in the corridor commenced in full.

Once again, I was alone, leaving my friends to fend for themselves. This time, there were no teleportation tiles or easy ways out.

I took a brief moment to gather my wits. Whether or not I liked the current situation didn’t change the fact that my teammates depended on me.

We had made a promise in the tavern to beat Byron and win the dungeon heart. Our future safety depended on it. That, and the fate of Nicola’s siblings. Byron had casually murdered twenty-three rankers for a chance at victory. Chickening out now was akin to endorsing his actions.

And, honestly, fuck Byron.

He was the driving force behind my participation in the festival. I’d known from the moment I placed my name on the guild board that either of us would die.

And, it wouldn’t be me.

My eyes adjusted to the darkness, thanks to my racial perk. It was too easy to forget that being an elf granted advantages not documented by the [System]. I could move near soundlessly in difficult terrain and possessed enhanced senses. But, none of that mattered right now, seeing as the darkness had started receding.

An exit stood at the end of the unlit passageway, illuminated by bright yellow lighting. It was a welcome change from the red hue that colored the rest of the Labyrinth. But, change here could only mean a few things—none of it good.

I followed the golden light to the mouth of a large chamber built like a royal court. Brilliant, red tapestries hung from the walls, connected to a distant ceiling crisscrossed by rafters. The grand theme of the outer corridor continued here, with intricate gargoyles and creepy scones erected on the walls.

A lush, red carpet extended from the doorway to a large pit at the other end of the hall. Blood-colored mist rose from the pit, which looked eerie enough to make my skin crawl without the enhancements.

A dais occupied the area beyond the pit, complete with a throne, as though built for a king to enjoy the sight of his enemies falling to their deaths. And, atop that throne, a gothic scepter hovered. The scepter gave off a mysterious energy, one that repulsed and attracted the mind at the same time.

Despite their intriguing designs, neither the black scepter nor the pit commanded the most attention. That honor belonged to the deadly fight that raged a heart-stopping distance away from the drop.

Byron and Nalum clashed with a creature that looked straight out of a fever dream. It was a wolf crab and a horse snake, a sea locust, a chicken, a lion roach, and a Cynocephalus all at once. Parts of its body wafted in the breeze, hinting at a similarity to the Enenra.

The giant beast wielded countless arms and legs that twisted in ways they had no business doing. Five rotten mouths shrieked in five grotesque heads, each resembling a different animal. The beast exploded with movement, powered by muscles that writhed like giant worms beneath its skin. Even from this distance, an overpowering stench of rotten flesh clouded my tongue.

I had barely finished processing what it looked like, when [Scaredy-cat] went haywire and issued three Fear stacks.

Three fucking Fear stacks.

Byron and Nalum had abandoned their enmity to join hands in battle. They had managed to whittle the beast to half of its health. What remained stood at a value multiple times my own. [Identify] supplied a single name:

The Chimera LVL 30.

A transparent barrier occupied the doorway to the final chamber. Unlike the barriers outside, this one did not block the senses from examining the interior. A flick of a pebble proved that it allowed inward passage: a mechanism intended to trap potential intruders.

This was what the Labyrinth wanted us to beat? A level 30 monster? The strongest enemy I had faced was the Primal Dread Monkey at level 31. But, even that would fall in no time to The Chimera.

Did the base template matter, then? Was it possible for two monsters of the same level to differ greatly in power? It probably was, considering the same also applied to rankers, but that mystery could wait. What mattered now was that my friends and the [System] somehow expected me to fight this beast.

A single blow with multiple arms sent Nalum skidding much too close for comfort to the pit. Byron responded with an ice cone, but The Chimera shrugged off the attack. The beast then whaled on Byron with over thirty arms attacking from multiple directions.

Byron raised a transparent wall to defend himself. It shattered like glass. He pulled an item from his inventory . . . And, a loud bang went off, shoving The Chimera a few meters toward the pit.

The pit . . .

All three combatants employed the same strategy as they danced around the chamber. The pit signified instant death, thus highlighting the importance of victory by battlefield removal.

The Chimera had already claimed one casualty in battle. A shift in the position of its arms revealed the broken body of Aman’s leopard mount. The Chimera held the corpse like a trophy, waving it with multiple arms above its head. A nasty strike nearly earned it a second trophy had Nalum not succeeded in pulling off a dodge.

You can still run now, a small voice said in my ear. This fight is clearly beyond the likes of you. What does a former shut-in know about honor or the struggle of life and death? Crawl away, Damien. Let Byron get his due.

Crawl away . . .

I looked back at the distant corridor which trembled with the impact of battle. Across the barrier, The Chimera kept waving its prize. Red tapestries dangled from a ceiling covered in rafters.

Steeling myself, I stepped through the doorway.