My gaze landed on the crimson-scaled beast, and something deep within stirred—a sensation I couldn’t quite pin down. Yet the bitter truth loomed. Undeniable. Ominous. This creature, magnificent as it was, didn’t stand a snowball’s chance in a forge. Stage 5 or not, it was up against a gold-rank abomination.

It all felt dreadfully wrong. But the moment that scaled terror made its move, I’d vanish—straight into the fourth dimension, flying off like a thief in the night. Because if I stayed, there’d likely be no dawn for me. Why this abomination had kept me alive was no puzzle, mind. It had probably seen the runes sputter and fail when it seized me. Not exactly a riddle to deduce I’d been the one mucking up their sinister little plans. Likely, they’d want to wring me dry for information about some imagined benefactor.

The elves were already retreating into the cave, Heralas at their helm, as the battle raged on. A shame, really. But my chance to escape hinged on the abomination getting properly distracted. Here’s hoping the beast would put up a decent fight. Or so I thought.

The elf stood amid the wreckage. It was a tapestry of carnage at his feet. Chitin, flesh, scales, and stone all reduced to unrecognizable heaps of ash and ichor. His vines glistened as they slithered over the ground, writhing like serpents sniffing out fresh prey. Yet his gaze never wavered, fixed firmly on the far-off beast.

The air shifted.

Before I could so much as blink, a storm of vines erupted from the ground, dozens twisting and darting forward, their tips crackling with light mana sharp enough to cleave scale from bone. The poor beast didn’t even twitch. And then, in the blink of an eye, it was over—or so it seemed.

I almost closed my eyes to spare myself the grim spectacle. But I didn’t. And by Thalador’s mercy, it’s a good thing I didn’t.

Because the moment the vines touched the beast, its form folded in on itself, rippling like water disturbed by a stone. The elf’s smug grin faltered, a rare crack in his polished arrogance. His vines struck nothing but empty air.

And I, well, I shared his bafflement. The beast wasn’t some mere illusion—I’d stake my life on it. The hues never lied. It was as real as the earth beneath our feet, right up until the instant the vines reached it. My eyes widened in astonishment.

The beast’s image flickered, then reappeared a few paces to the left, now just a touch closer. It tilted its massive head, jaws gaping, drool cascading like a leaky cistern. It made no sound, no move, yet its presence felt... ravenous. When the drool met the earth, it sizzled faintly.

The abomination sneered, his vines slithering back, reshaping themselves into serrated blades before vanishing entirely. He squared his shoulders, widening his stance. “Illusions? How utterly pathetic. Is that the best you’ve got, you wretched vermin?”

The beast didn’t so much as flinch. Its maw stretched even wider, drool now pouring in torrents. And still, it simply... waited.

The entire battle clawed at something deep within me, an unease that grew with every passing moment. What was this creature?

A low rumble broke my thoughts, and the ground beneath the beast gave way. Serrated vines, countless and bladed, erupted in a deadly cascade, aiming to skewer it where it stood. But once again, the beast rippled—its body folding inward—and reappeared a few steps ahead, closer still. Its gaping maw stretched even wider, saliva cascading like a crimson waterfall mixed with streaks of blood.

The cycle repeated. The vines writhed and attacked from every conceivable angle, probing, slicing, encircling in a net of death. Yet not one strike found its mark. The creature didn’t dodge, didn’t even blink. It simply dissolved, folding reality around itself as though the very idea of harm was an affront.

And yet, as the battle raged on, the beast grew ever more horrifying. Its jaw hung grotesquely now, tearing apart under the weight of the hunger that radiated from its being. Blood mixed with saliva, pooling beneath it, and its neck bulged unnaturally where the hungry maw strained its very flesh.

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Then, for the first time, it moved.

Not with the deliberate menace of a predator, but with a chilling, fluid grace. Its wings unfurled slightly, their span impossibly large, a grotesque mockery of proportion. The ground beneath its claws shimmered as if the dungeon floor itself recoiled at its touch.

The abomination’s frustration mounted. He launched another attack, then another, each more furious than the last. Vines lashed out in blurs of motion, slicing, coiling, seeking to ensnare the beast in a web of relentless strikes. But the creature defied them all—not by evasion, but by ceasing to exist in the space they occupied.

Each time it vanished, the space it left behind shimmered faintly, like a lingering echo of its presence. And each time it returned, it was more terrifying. Its jaw tore further, blood streaming freely now, dripping in grotesque rivulets. The sight was almost too much to bear, yet I couldn’t look away.

Then came the sound.

A low hum filled the dungeon, faint yet resonant, wrong in a way I couldn’t describe. The noise seemed to settle in my very bones. Discordant. Alien. Something inside me screamed. This was not right.

The abomination attacked again, vines bursting forth in another futile effort to trap the beast. But this time, as the creature dissolved once more, the elf hesitated. His vines hovered protectively around him, their tips bristling with mana. “Face me properly, beast!” he snarled, frustration dripping from his voice.

The beast reappeared, its bloodied snout mere inches from the elf’s face, and my heart seized.

“Properly, you say?” it sneered, its mangled jaw curling into a cruel mockery of a grin.

The elf immediately screamed as vines erupted in every direction, skewering the beast through head, body, limbs, and jaws. For a moment, it seemed the beast had been felled. Yet even as the abomination’s cries grew more desperate, the impaled beast shimmered and rippled—dissolving once more as though it had never been there.

I stood frozen, unsure of what I was witnessing. More red-scaled creatures emerged—out of bushes, from the shadows of trees, and, impossibly, from thin air. Above him. Behind him.

...Behind me?!

Chilled to the marrow, I fought every fibre of instinct screaming for me to activate Dimensional Lamina. Instead, I held firm as the serpentine creature slithered ever closer, lowering its sinuous head until we were eye to eye. It lingered, a heartbeat stretching to an eternity. Then, as if my terror were a jest it found amusing, it winked.

With a casual flick, it dropped something at my bound form before slipping back into the shadows. It was only then that I noticed it—something familiar. My eyes widened. The badger?! She scampered towards me, snout-first, and threw herself into an embrace. My snout, to be precise.

But… how? I was certain I’d left her miles behind. Questions swirled like storm clouds in my mind, but none thundered louder than what on earth was that red-scaled beast? It bore a resemblance to a dragon, but not quite. No answers presented themselves, so I settled for the immediate.

I activated Dimensional Lamina, slipping briefly into the fourth dimension before reappearing, unbound. The red-scaled beast didn’t seem remotely hostile—quite the contrary. I glanced at the badger, still happily nestled by my claws, clutching my bag of monster cores as if it were her prize. My gaze shifted to the battlefield. The chaos was far from over.

The elf was still a lowgold. Around him, vines erupted and coiled, digging into his flesh as they wove together into a titanic, writhing mass. His form swelled, grotesquely verdant, until a towering giant loomed before me. Vines, thicker than trees, burst forth in every direction. It was a dreadful spectacle.

And yet, the red-scaled beast grinned wider, almost mockingly. This had been a game to it all along. Illusory clones? No. I knew better. Each one was terrifyingly real. The clones descended on the giant, ripping chunks of flesh with voracious glee. The elf’s regeneration was impressive but futile—outpaced by the relentless, ravenous swarm.

Every attack the giant managed was shrugged off with a casual disdain. The red-scaled beasts—a swarm now numbering in the hundreds—devoured it alive, laughing, roaring, and tearing in a macabre symphony. The elf’s screams echoed, piercing the air, growing shriller as desperation set in. It tried to flee.

Foolish. Its legs were severed in moments, more beasts emerging to swarm its writhing form. They came from every direction—above, below, beyond what the eye could comprehend. A scarlet tide, relentless and consuming. My head spun, caught in the surreal horror of it all. I wasn’t even their target, and yet it felt as though reality itself was fraying at the edges. Turning into a nightmare.

The giant’s regeneration faltered, its screams reaching a shattering crescendo. Then, from the monstrous mass, a naked elf burst forth. It clawed at its head, sobbing, screaming, utterly broken.

PEST.

The word hung in my mind, a death knell. The beasts closed in for the final act, tearing the elf apart limb by limb, savouring the destruction as they consumed him alive. And then, as if the curtain had fallen, they vanished—rippling out of existence until the battlefield lay still, as if they had never been.

The wind stirred, and I stood slack-jawed, struggling to piece together what I’d just witnessed.

“Don’t strain that little dragon brain of yours,” a voice purred from behind me, smooth as silk and twice as chilling. My blood ran cold.