“Why isn’t Montas’ holy fire affecting it?!” Leon’s voice cracked with disbelief. The golden flames that should have obliterated the monstrous black goat instead vanished, absorbed into the creature’s shadowy form. Its fur writhed as though alive, mocking the futile assault.

Dark Beasts were supposed to be vulnerable to holy energy—it was their greatest weakness. But this abomination not only endured the attack, it consumed it, leaving no trace of the divine fire.

“Damn it! This is impossible!” Leon growled, his knuckles whitening as he gripped the hilt of his flaming sword tighter.

Nearby, Velanna’s sharp eyes narrowed, her hands trembling slightly as she summoned her magic. Despite the tension, her voice remained steady. “If holy fire won’t work, let’s see how it handles pure light. Stand back!”

She brought her hands together, pressing her palms tightly. A radiant magic circle burst into existence before her chest, glowing with an intensity that seemed to push back the oppressive darkness. Her voice rang out like a clarion call.

“Pierce through, Lumen Sagitta!”

From the magic circle, a colossal arrow of pure light shot forth, crackling with unrestrained energy. It tore through the air with a deafening roar, so bright that even Dante, far from the battle, had to shield his eyes.

The light arrow struck the Spawn squarely in the chest. For an agonizing moment, nothing happened. Then it erupted in a blinding explosion, illuminating the battlefield and flooding the area with radiant light.

The creature’s scream this time was different—shrill and agonized, a sound that clawed at the very soul. When the light faded, the damage was clear: a gaping, smoldering hole marred the Spawn’s chest. Thick, tar-like blood spilled from the wound, pooling at its twisted feet.

“It worked!” Leon exclaimed, his earlier despair giving way to a surge of hope. “That bastard isn’t invincible after all! It’s weak to light!”

Aelric tightened his grip on his silver blade, a fierce grin spreading across his face. “Finally! A weakness. Let’s finish it!”

But Velanna didn’t share their relief. Her expression was grim, her glowing hands trembling with unease. “No... Something’s wrong,” she murmured, her voice barely audible.

“What do you mean? You hurt it!” Leon turned to her, confusion etched across his face.

“Yes, but...” Velanna’s eyes locked onto the Spawn’s chest, widening in horror. “The wound—it’s too shallow. That should have done far more damage.”

Before anyone could respond, the reality became clear. The wound, still oozing black ichor moments ago, was closing at an alarming rate. The writhing shadows surrounding the Spawn seemed to weave themselves into its flesh, knitting the wound shut with an unnatural speed.

“It’s healing…” Leon’s voice was thick with disbelief. “Even for a Dark Beast, this level of regeneration is... impossible.”

Aelric’s jaw clenched, his expression hardening. “Then we’ll have to hit it harder—end this in one strike. Velanna, can you manage that?”

Velanna hesitated, her glowing hands faltering before she nodded resolutely. “I’ll need time to charge a stronger spell. Keep it distracted.”

“Leave that to us,” Leon said, his flaming sword reigniting with a sharp hiss. “Aelric, with me. Keep it off Velanna.”

Aelric smirked, stepping forward with his gleaming blade at the ready. “Let’s see how long it can keep up.”

The battle reignited with ferocity. Leon, riding the airborne Montas, launched a series of precise aerial strikes, his flaming sword cutting arcs of golden light through the darkness. Each dive was calculated, designed to disrupt the Spawn’s movements and force it to react.

On the ground, Aelric held his position, his sword flashing like silver lightning. With every sharp motion of his hand, the blade darted through the air, striking at the Spawn’s legs and sides. The attacks were relentless, exploiting the blind spots left by Leon’s aerial assaults.

The Spawn lashed out with its grotesque limbs, each strike imbued with horrifying strength and speed. The ground quaked with every missed blow, and its guttural roars echoed through the forest. Yet Leon and Aelric’s synchronization was near flawless—Leon’s attacks commanded its attention, while Aelric’s precision strikes exploited every opening. Together, they maintained an unrelenting rhythm, forcing the creature onto the defensive.

Velanna stood at a safe distance, hands glowing brighter as she gathered her energy. Her breathing was steady, each exhalation controlled, and she murmured, “Lumen Sagitta... maximize.” Her focus was absolute as she prepared her next move.

Dante, meanwhile, stood on the sidelines, his fists clenched tightly. He couldn’t look away from the battle. There was something about the way the Spawn moved—it gnawed at him, whispering of a deeper, more sinister truth.

“It’s not just attacking randomly,” Dante muttered to himself, his voice barely audible. “It’s... learning.”

Velanna’s spell reached its zenith, her magic circle pulsing with radiant power. Then, as though in response, the Spawn’s body convulsed violently. Its abyssal maw gaped wide, and a horrifying sight began to form—a black light arrow, mirroring Velanna’s own spell. The pitch-black projectile exuded an aura so malevolent that the air seemed to shudder under its weight.

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Leon, astride Montas, felt his grip tighten on his flaming sword. An instinctive wave of dread swept through him. On the ground, Aelric faltered for just a moment, his usually steady hand trembling as he realized the magnitude of the attack. This wasn’t merely an assault—it was pure malice incarnate, a force beyond reason.

Without warning, the black light arrow shot toward Velanna. It moved with terrifying speed, a streak of darkness slicing through the battlefield. It radiated an inevitability that left no room for doubt—its target was marked, its destruction certain.

“Velanna, move!” Leon’s voice tore through the chaos, but Velanna didn’t flinch.

Instead, her glowing hands moved with fierce determination. Channeling every ounce of her power, she released her spell. A maximized Lumen Sagitta burst forth from her magic circle, a radiant arrow streaking through the air to meet the incoming darkness.

The collision was cataclysmic. Light and shadow clashed with a deafening roar, the force of their impact creating an explosive vortex that tore through the battlefield. Trees splintered and fell, their trunks no match for the sheer magnitude of the shockwave.

Dante pressed himself against a massive tree, shielding Billy’s unconscious form. His knuckles whitened as he held on, the howling wind ripping at his clothes. He cursed under his breath, praying the storm would pass before it claimed them both.

The Armed Sentinels, though mechanical, struggled to withstand the chaos. They clawed at the ground, their iron limbs digging into the dirt as the vortex threatened to tear them apart. Their usual unshakable precision seemed almost human in its desperation.

As the maelstrom subsided, the battlefield was left in shambles. Velanna groaned, forcing herself upright. Her glowing hands trembled as she steadied herself, her sharp gaze fixed on the Spawn.

The creature stood unscathed amidst the wreckage, an ominous aura radiating from its grotesque form. From its gaping maw, three black light arrows began to take shape. These were larger, darker, and far more menacing than the first, their warped energy bending the very air around them.

Leon staggered to his feet, leaning on his sword for support. His voice was hoarse with despair. “Three at once... We won’t survive this.”

Aelric, his flying sword hovering defensively at his side, assessed the situation grimly. “We can’t stop those arrows,” he said sharply. His gaze flicked to Dante and Billy. “If those fire, we’re done.”

Velanna clenched her fists, her mind racing. But the odds were insurmountable. Her arsenal seemed utterly inadequate against this abomination.

Before she could speak, the cold, mechanical voices of the Armed Sentinels pierced the silence. Moving in unison, the three stepped forward. From compartments in their chests, they retrieved identical iron spheres, etched with intricate glowing runes. Bright yellow talismans wrapped around the spheres fluttered unnaturally, as though stirred by an unseen force.

Velanna’s unease deepened as she watched. “What are those?” she murmured.

The lead Sentinel spoke in its monotone voice, unshaken. “All personnel, seek cover. Activate emergency protocol.”

Without hesitation, the Sentinels pressed buttons on the spheres, and a low, ominous hum filled the air. The runes flared brighter, pulsating with unnatural energy. In perfect synchronization, the Sentinels hurled the spheres toward the Spawn of the Black Goat.

Leon’s eyes widened as realization struck like a hammer. “Everyone, take cover!” he bellowed, his voice sharp with urgency.

The spheres arced through the air, their runes blazing ever brighter as they approached their target. Yellow talismans ignited mid-flight, trailing burning fragments like shooting stars. Each moment stretched, heavy with anticipation and dread.

Velanna scrambled backward, finding refuge behind a toppled tree. She pressed herself tightly against its charred surface, her glowing hands trembling faintly as she clung to her concentration. Leon spurred Montas into motion, the beast leaping with feline grace as Leon shielded his head with one arm. Aelric darted for a boulder, his silver blade hovering protectively by his side.

The spheres struck the ground near the Spawn of the Black Goat, embedding themselves deep into the cracked earth. For a brief, eerie moment, the battlefield fell silent. It was the kind of silence that felt unnatural, a vacuum of sound that made the air thick with tension.

And then, the explosion came.

A cataclysmic burst of light and sound erupted from the impact, tearing through the landscape like a divine wrath. The ground quaked violently, fissures ripping through the earth, while ancient trees shattered like brittle glass. The force of the blast flattened the surrounding forest, a storm of debris engulfing everything in its wake.

The Spawn’s distorted cry rose above the chaos—a shriek so inhuman, so layered with agony and malice, that it clawed at the sanity of everyone who heard it.

Dante clung to Billy, his back pressed against the massive tree that offered the only semblance of protection. His body shook under the sheer pressure of the shockwave, the boy’s limp form a weight that kept him grounded. Around them, the world became a maelstrom of destruction.

When the dust finally began to settle, Velanna peeked cautiously over the edge of her cover. Her breath hitched as her sharp eyes searched the hazy battlefield. “Did it work...?” she whispered, her voice brittle, as if afraid the answer would shatter her.

As the choking veil of dust cleared, the scene came into horrifying focus. The Spawn’s grotesque form was in ruins—its upper body obliterated entirely, leaving behind two twitching, malformed legs. The jagged remnants of its lower half stood eerily still, as though frozen in defeat.

Dante opened his eyes, squinting through the haze. For a fleeting moment, hope bloomed in his chest. “It’s dead,” he muttered, disbelief and relief fighting for dominance in his voice.

But he was wrong.

The Spawn’s shattered body convulsed violently. Its mutilated legs spasmed, each movement jerking unnaturally. Then, with a sickening wet sound, the remains began to writhe and pulse, tendrils of black sinew twisting together. Flesh regrew in an obscene display, knitting itself into a new torso, new limbs, and finally, the grotesque goat-like head crowned with its cruel, jagged horns.

In seconds, the abomination stood whole again, as if the devastating attack had never happened. The faint scent of charred flesh was the only evidence that it had been wounded at all.

Dante’s breath caught, his mind struggling to grasp what he had just witnessed. “You’ve gotta be kidding me...” he whispered hoarsely, clutching Billy as if the boy were his last anchor to sanity.

The Armed Sentinels, always precise and unwavering, hesitated. For the first time, their mechanical efficiency faltered. The lead Sentinel tilted its head slightly, an almost human gesture of disbelief. When it spoke, its cold, metallic voice carried an unsettling trace of something else—fear.

“This... cannot be. Even Spiritual Arts-infused artifacts failed to destroy it?”

Another Sentinel broke the silence, its tone as emotionless as ever. “Captain, this situation exceeds operational parameters. Recommend immediate evacuation with the prisoner.”

The lead Sentinel remained still, processing the enormity of the situation. Then, as if sensing something unseen, it suddenly tilted its head upward, gazing toward the sky.

“No need,” it said flatly. “The Envoy Prisoner has arrived.”

The words barely registered before a lazy, almost mocking voice drifted down from above, carried on the wind like an unwelcome song.

“Well, well, who’s the asshole that ruined my nap?”