The cavern reeked of decay, its shadows stretching long and jagged under the flickering light of Lyra’s staff. The Manticore’s massive form dominated the space, its amber eyes gleaming with malice. Muscles rippled beneath its tawny fur, and its scorpion tail twitched, dripping venom onto the rocky ground.

Lyra took a cautious step forward, her druidic magic curling around her voice like mist over a still lake.

“Peace,” she intoned, her words laced with old magic. “We mean you no harm.”

The beast hesitated. For a moment, the cave seemed to hold its breath.

Then, the Manticore’s ears flattened. It roared, the force of it shaking dust loose from the cavern walls, and lunged.

Lyra barely had time to react. She thrust her staff forward, and a barrier spell flared into existence just in time to absorb the strike. The impact rattled her bones, sending her skidding back.

“So much for diplomacy,” Garett muttered behind his helm, shifting into a combat stance. He moved with a calculated ease, his polearm gleaming as he positioned himself between Lyra and the charging beast.

With a swift motion, he tilted his helm just enough to expose his mouth and pulled a small vial from his belt. A crimson liquid swirled within—the Ramvarg potion. He downed it in one gulp, feeling its raw alchemical potency surge through his veins. His reflexes sharpened, his senses honed to a razor’s edge.

Lyra’s eyes narrowed. Ramvarg. That was a Fenralis-enhanced potion. But something about his movements felt... off. Fenralis warriors were known for their fortification spells and tank-like endurance, yet Garett moved like a shadow, slipping past the Manticore’s swipes instead of meeting them head-on.

The beast lunged again, claws flashing like steel. Garett pivoted, but it was too late, the attack connects.

A flickering barrier of energy flared around him—the Azeroth Drive activating on its own.

Relief flickered in Garett’s mind, he already knew it worked earlier, but he had no idea how much strain it could handle nor how reliable it was. He couldn't afford to rely on it recklessly. The scientist in him made mental notes of the data.

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Nyx hissed from above, her wing-like ears fluttering as she darted through the air. With a flick of her tail, she whipped up a slicing wind, cutting across the Manticore’s flank. The beast snarled and turned toward the celestial familiar, momentarily distracted.

“Now!” Lyra called, her hands weaving a sigil in the air.

"Glacialis Mortem!"

A blast of jagged ice surged from her staff, spearing into the Manticore’s eyes. Frost bloomed along its skull, freezing deep into the sockets. The beast screamed, thrashing wildly as frost-thorns erupted from the wounds.

Garett saw his opening.

"Lancea Fenriris," he whispered, surging forward.

His polearm spiraled in a brutal thrust, the air twisting violently around it. The drilling impact tore through the Manticore’s ribcage, sending a shockwave that rattled the cavern walls. The beast let out a final, choked roar, its legs giving out beneath it.

The cave fell silent.

Garett held his stance for a moment longer, his chest rising and falling with steady breaths. Then, he yanked his weapon free, the last remnants of crimson-streaked frost breaking away from the wounds.

Behind him, Lyra approached the fallen creature, her voice quiet. “I tried to reason with it,” she murmured. “But something is wrong with the Vale’s creatures. They’re restless.”

Garett studied her expression. Guilt. He didn’t know why, but he recognized it.

Lyra shook her head, pushing her thoughts aside. “Help me with the extractions. Then we’ll give it a proper passing.”

Garett nodded, rolling his shoulders before kneeling beside the beast. He carved out one of the Manticore’s massive paws—proof of the kill for the Adventurer’s Guild. Meanwhile, Lyra carefully extracted the venomous stinger, sealing it in a glass vial.

Only after the parts were secured did Lyra raise her staff once more.

"Vora Ignis."

A pillar of white-hot flame engulfed the corpse, consuming it in a matter of moments.

As the fire died down, a low, sharp hiss broke the silence.

Nyx landed between them, her golden eyes fixed on Garett with undisguised hostility. Her fur bristled, and her ears flattened as she let out another warning hiss.

Garett regarded her impassively, making no move to challenge or soothe the creature.

“Nyx,” Lyra murmured, stepping between them. She ran a gentle hand down the celestial familiar’s back, her touch calming. “It’s alright. He helped.”

Nyx’s tail lashed, but after a tense pause, she backed down, though her golden eyes never left Garett.

Lyra exhaled, smiling faintly. "She’s overprotective. Give it time. Thank you, I wouldn’t have made it if you hadn’t come."

Garett gave a small nod, his expression unreadable.

They stepped out of the cavern. The dying sun stretched long shadows over the trees, casting the world in a deep gold. Vallorien was closer than Eldermere, and night was coming.

“We’ll head for the capital,” Lyra said, her voice thoughtful. “It’s safer.”

Garett didn’t answer immediately. He gazed at the horizon, watching as the last light of day bled into twilight. His grip on his polearm was relaxed, but there was a weight behind his silence.

After a long pause, he finally said, "Then let’s not waste time."

As they walked, the forest behind them faded into the dark, the echoes of the battle already slipping into memory.