We react to the first spray of quills. Luckily we are close together and people immediately hide behind Medeor and his giant shield. Even then, though many bounce off, still more embed themselves in the solid metal shield with a devastating noise, and it is evident Medeor had trouble standing his ground. Adding to that, the attack seemed almost casual coming from our aggressor, the quilled, pierced man standing in the center of the room.

Despite the ominous beginning, at least one of us is not worried at all. Immediately after the attack has been defended against, Visel chuckles audibly.

“Seems a rather terrifying foe. At least, it would be, had it not such a poor choice in design” He obviously meant the large metal rings, piercing the quill-man’s bare torso skin, clinging slightly as he makes small shuffles. Visel’s power should be to make any metallic object hurt all it comes into contact with. He raises his hand holding a dagger with a smirk upon his face.

The thrown dagger has little force behind it, but the power shows immediately after it makes contact with the quill-man’s torso rings, as it starts tossing and turning, accompanied by loud jingling sounds. Sparks are seen flying from one ring to the next. Is Visel’s gift electric in nature? I push away the intervening thought and move to kick the quill-man while he is down, but Visio interrupts.

“Don’t move. My power will also hurt all who are near, at least if they are wearing anything metal. Besides, nothing has stood up to it yet” He is obviously confident in his victory, but I wish I could go cut its head off or something, since I have no idea how much damage this attack is doing.

Minutes pass, while the quill-man tosses about in agony. I look over my companions. Both Medeor and Ahorn has a somewhat unpleasant look on their faces. I can understand that sentiment. This monster isn’t like other monsters. They do not flinch from pain or stop in their pursuit to hurt humans, behaving almost entirely mechanical, but this one is squealing and obviously lamenting its fate.

Though he has a somewhat sadistic grin on his face, I also notice the increasing amount of sweat piling up on Visel’s face. Bead after beard appears from the hair and runs down the temples and forehead. I think a little about how these “active” gifts conflate with stamina in opposition to those like my “passive” one. I then discard it, as I can never experience it and I never really understood what I couldn’t experience.

Though we have let our guard down, thinking Visio would take care of this, I ready myself at once. Visio’s attack has stopped, and so have the squealing. Visio’s breath is ragged and he mutters “Sorry, seems I” is all I manage to hear before being deafened by a terrifying roar. The quill-man has regained his footing and is looking pissed.

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With impressive force, he spins around and quills from his back fly at us. I immediately understand that this attack is nothing like the last, and as a result of that, try my hardest to dodge rather than taking cover with Medeor. I immediately move to close the distance as I hear somebody scream “Ostir!” behind my back.

I spot Ahorn has also moved. He is not the hero for nothing, he must also have sensed defense would be useless. I immediately think only to open a path for the one-shotting man to get a hit in and yell at the top of my lungs to drag the attention of the quill-man.

It works. A flurry of spikes is flying towards me. I try to dodge to the left, but my charge has shortened the distance too much, and the terrifying power of the spikes tear flesh off my right arm and leg. The pain makes me collapse and I suddenly fear the worst for our little group, but soon another man overtakes me and leads a charge with a yell, seemingly having the same idea I had. It is Spetus, charging forward with sword and shield.

Another flurry of spikes is sent towards him by a flailing arm, but when they make contact with the shield, they fall to the ground, quite unlike the situation earlier. Really, I am not one to talk, but that gift of his is so strong. He approaches and finally makes contact with a hefty swing. The beast moves its body to receive it with its torso piercing, as if they were chainmail. The attack bounces off and a spiked arm moves to counter. There must be way more power behind those spikes when they are still attached, since the move sends Spetus flying, but this should be the end. The amphibian-like man with a staff has reached his range safely, and with one short thrust, the beast collapses as if any of its strength or vigor was just a lie.

Silence falls, before I register a “Shit!” coming from behind us.

It is Connir, whom uttered it, and his attention is on his comrades. I can’t see much, other than only he and Vegar are left standing over there. Vegar is holding his hand over his mouth, and looks slightly grossed out.

“What’s the damage?” Ahorn asks, to which Connir immediately replies.

“Think Medeor will make it through, but Visel and Ostir are done for.”

I immediately feel my heart sink. I did not know them well, but more people died. And worse, without me being here, they wouldn’t have. It seems to have caught Ahorn’s attention and he reproaches me.

“Don’t pity yourself. Pity the dead and move on. It was their choice to make, not yours.” I am reminded of our little conversation earlier and try to push the feelings away, but it isn’t that easy.

“Anyway, it should be down here, right?” Ahorn asks as he gesture towards the set of stairs that appeared.

“Down where?” The question comes from Spetus, who has gotten up after his beating, but clearly not unscathed. He is holding a bleeding arm and his eye look really gross.

“Hn?” Ahorn and I are confused. “You can’t see it?” I ask.