"Let's take a breather," Jack said, looking at the others. Cael, already resting against the stone wall, nodded but remained silent. The two spectral wolves stood vigilant by his side, their glowing eyes scanning the darkness for any sign of movement.
Lyla sighed in relief, slumping down next to one of the walls, her body clearly still fatigued from their recent battle. Jack knew they couldn’t afford to rest for long—the undead Legionnaires had already moved on, their relentless march leaving no room for delay.
"We follow the undead once we’re ready," Jack muttered. "The sooner we catch up, the better."
Cael looked up, his face grim. "Do you think they're guiding us somewhere? Or are they just obeying some command of the Dungeon?"
Jack thought for a moment. "Could be both. But right now, they’re our best shot at navigating these tunnels."
Lyla looked uneasy. "They may lead us straight into another fight with... whatever that was."
"That’s why we need to be ready," Jack said, glancing at his sword, its blade still marked with the residue from their last encounter.
After several minutes of rest, the group stood once more. The wolves shifted silently, padding ahead, noses low to the ground. They seemed alert, on edge, as if sensing something in the air. Jack and the others followed cautiously.
As they neared the next chamber, the sound of battle echoed ahead of them. Jack motioned for the group to stop, his hand raised. "Hold on. Something’s wrong."
They crept closer, staying near the shadows. The chamber ahead was much larger than the previous ones, its ceiling lost to the darkness above. What they saw made Jack’s blood run cold.
The undead Legionnaires had formed a defensive perimeter around the center of the chamber, their ancient armor gleaming faintly in the low light. And surrounding them, fighting in tandem, was a pack of ghouls—emaciated, pale-skinned horrors with claws sharp as blades and eyes glowing with savage hunger. They weren’t attacking the Legionnaires though; instead, they were working with them.
But it wasn’t the ghouls or the Legionnaires that caught Jack's attention. In the center of the battlefield were three enormous Shoggoths, their grotesque forms shifting and writhing like living nightmares. Each one was a massive, pulsating mass of flesh, eyes, and tendrils, constantly reshaping itself as it lashed out at the attackers. The combined forces of the undead and ghouls fought with grim determination, but it was clear they were struggling to hold the line.
One of the Shoggoths lashed out, a massive tendril striking a Legionnaire and sending it crashing against the far wall. The undead soldier's body shattered into dust upon impact. The ghouls fared little better—though faster and more agile, they were being thrown aside like ragdolls whenever they got too close to the Shoggoths.
Jack watched as one ghoul lunged at a Shoggoth, sinking its claws deep into the creature’s flesh, only for the monster to absorb the blow and reform around it. Black tentacles erupted from the monstrosity. The ghoul shrieked as it was pulled into the Shoggoth’s mass and dissolved into nothingness.
Jack watched in horror as the Shoggoth continued to devour the ghoul, its body shifting and writhing, absorbing the creature entirely. The shriek of the ghoul faded into the dark, pulsating mass of the Shoggoth, leaving behind a sickening silence. Black ooze dripped from the abomination’s form, and its many eyes blinked slowly as it turned its attention back to the remaining ghouls.
"Crap," Jack muttered under his breath, gripping the spear in his hand more tightly. He activated Soulrage, the enhanced strength coursing through his limbs, but even that didn’t make him feel any more confident about fighting the monstrous thing before him.
The ghouls, undeterred by their comrade's fate, charged again. One of them vaulted over the others, attempting to strike from above, but the Shoggoth anticipated the move. It launched a barrage of tentacles, each ending in a jagged, blade-like appendage. The ghoul was torn to shreds in midair, its pieces raining down into the waiting maw of the Shoggoth.
Jack could see the growing desperation in the ghouls' movements. These mindless creatures might not understand fear, but the primal instinct to survive had them scrambling to attack from all sides. The Shoggoth, however, was far too powerful, its amorphous form shifting and reshaping with ease, deflecting and absorbing every strike.
Jack stepped back, his mind racing. He could feel the Soulrage Skill throbbing in the back of his mind, urging him to give in to the rage, to let his instincts take over. But he resisted. Charging in recklessly like the ghouls would only get him killed.
The battlefield was a storm of chaos as Lyla and Cael charged toward the rightmost Shoggoth. Their expressions were set with grim determination, the air around them crackling with energy. The monstrous, formless creature they faced pulsated like a living nightmare, its black mass undulating as it stretched tendrils of ooze out in every direction.
Lyla’s eyes glowed with arcane light, her hands flickering with elemental energy. She called forth nearly a dozen thorns, hurling them toward the Shoggoth. The spiky missiles slammed into the creature, but instead of damaging it, the Shoggoth's surface rippled, and the impact was absorbed like a stone thrown into a pool of water.
Meanwhile Cael was having problems of his own. The Shoggoth he was fighting gave a nauseating squelch, a gaping maw forming on its shifting surface. Rows of jagged teeth emerged from the goo, snapping wildly at the Rogue.
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Cael dodged the bite, avoiding most the razor-sharp fangs. A few of them stabbed into his armor but couldn’t penetrate the enchanted bone. He slashed at the Shoggoth with his daggers, carving deep into the black, gelatinous body. For a moment, it seemed like the blow had cut through, but then the creature began to reform, closing the gash like it had never been struck at all.
"What are we even fighting?" Cael growled.
Meanwhile, on the left, the wolves, leaped toward their own target, their fangs bared and claws ready to tear into the leftmost Shoggoth. Goldeyes summoned his Spectral Pack to aid him. The summoned wolves were sleek and fast, moving in perfect synchrony, flanking the amorphous creature from both sides. But the Shoggoth was no ordinary foe. As the wolves lunged, the creature's form began to shift and writhe, multiple mouths bursting open across its surface, snapping and gnashing at the wolves with bone-crunching force.
One wolf darted in to bite, only to be caught in the jaws of a newly-formed mouth. The Shoggoth bit down, crushing the wolf in a spray of spectral energy that quickly vanished. Another wolf leapt from behind, but the Shoggoth’s body morphed again, this time sprouting long, sinewy tendrils. The tendrils lashed out, wrapping around the wolf’s legs, pulling it into the black mass where it dissolved into nothingness.
Despite the slaughter, the remaining wolves continued their assault, circling, dodging the tendrils, and ripping into the creature with furious bites, but no matter how much they tore away, the Shoggoth regenerated, reforming its dripping, tar-like body as if the damage was inconsequential.
At the center of the battlefield, Jack faced his own horror. The Shoggoth before him was a seething, pulsating thing, constantly shifting in size and shape, as if it could barely hold itself together. Its surface was covered with dozens of bulbous, unblinking eyes, and every so often, a massive tentacle would erupt from its mass, thrashing through the air with frightening speed.
The Shoggoth lunged at him, a twisted amalgamation of tentacles and jagged teeth rushing forward. He dodged to the side, narrowly avoiding being ensnared by the tendrils.
He countered with a powerful, sweeping strike, his spears edge cutting deep into the Shoggoth’s body. This time, black ichor sprayed from the wound, and for a moment, Jack thought he might be doing real damage. But just as quickly as he struck, the wound began to close, the ooze bubbling and sealing itself shut. The Shoggoth retaliated, lashing out with a newly formed limb—a thick, barbed tentacle that snapped through the air toward Jack’s head.
He ducked, the tentacle smashing into the ground beside him, shattering stone with its impact. Jack snarled, the Soulrage skill thrumming inside him, begging to be unleashed. But he kept his focus, knowing that raw fury wouldn’t be enough to take down this monstrosity.
“It’s like hitting water!" Jack muttered through gritted teeth. These Shoggoths seemed stronger than the one they had killed before. Maybe they were a higher level.
The three Shoggoths were relentless, pressing forward with each attack, their bodies constantly morphing, mouths and eyes appearing at random as they lashed out at their foes. The air was thick with the acrid stench of decay and something darker, something ancient, as if the creatures carried the very essence of madness with them.
But slowly, through sheer effort and coordination, the group began to push the Shoggoths back. Lyla unleashed a torrent of magic, her Aqua Surge spell slamming a miniature tidal wave into the rightmost Shoggoth. Cael was relentless in his attacks as his daggers cut deep again and again. Jack hacked away at the central creature, his strikes growing more precise, targeting the moments when the Shoggoth was reforming.
The wolves, though outnumbered and diminished, darted in and out, tearing at the leftmost creature, their jaws snapping at the Shoggoth’s tendrils, trying to break it apart. The undead helped where they could, slashing at the monsters with weapons and claws.
It seemed to be working. The Shoggoths writhed, their movements becoming more erratic, slower, as if they were finally being overwhelmed by the relentless assault.
But then, something shifted.
All at once, the three Shoggoths began to pulsate in unison. Their bodies rippled, merging with the ground, and then, to Jack’s horror, they started to move toward each other. The battlefield trembled as the three creatures began to flow together, their black, writhing masses merging into one.
"What's happening?" Lyla shouted, her voice filled with alarm as the massive creature began to take shape.
The Shoggoths' bodies fused into a single, colossal monstrosity, towering over them. Where there had once been three, now there was only one—massive, unholy, and incomprehensibly grotesque. Its surface was a living nightmare, covered with shifting mouths, snapping jaws, and countless writhing tendrils. Eyes blinked open all over its body, hundreds of them, each one staring in a different direction, filled with hunger and malice.
As the three Shoggoths merged into a singular, colossal mass, its shape began to contort and shift, warping into something grotesque and unnatural. Where there had once been an amorphous blob of writhing tendrils and mouths, a new, monstrous form began to emerge—something vaguely familiar yet horrifyingly twisted.
The black, tar-like flesh of the Shoggoth rippled, bubbling up as it stretched and molded into a mockery of a wolf’s shape. Its body grew lean and hunched, supported by grotesque, sinewy limbs that bent at odd angles, joints jutting out with unnatural sharpness. Each leg was massive, ending in paws too large and too distorted, with claws that dripped black ichor, long and jagged like shards of bone. The creature’s bulk hunched low, giving it a predator’s stance, yet its very form seemed unstable, shifting in and out of solidity, as if its body could barely hold the wolf-like shape it was forced into.
The head that formed was the most terrifying of all—a horrific parody of a wolf’s skull. Its maw was elongated, filled with rows upon rows of jagged teeth, far too many to fit in any natural creature’s mouth. Thick, black ooze dripped from its fangs, sizzling as it hit the ground. Multiple mouths opened along the sides of its head, snapping wildly, producing unnatural wails that echoed like a chorus of madness.
Its eyes—so many eyes—blinked open across its skull and neck, each one glowing a sickly yellow, filled with a malevolent hunger. Some of them blinked in unison, while others twitched and shifted independently, as if each eye had a mind of its own. Its gaze was wild and unfocused, yet it seemed to take in everything around it with a predator’s keen awareness.
The back of the creature bristled with thick, uneven tufts of black fur that seemed to sprout randomly from its gelatinous form, giving it the semblance of a wolf’s mane. Yet beneath that fur, its flesh rippled and morphed constantly, sprouting tentacles and mouths that lashed and snapped at the air, as if the creature’s true nature was too chaotic to be fully contained within its monstrous, wolf-like form.
The air grew thick with the stench of decay and sulfur as the beast let out a low, guttural growl. The sound was inhuman, a deep, reverberating noise that felt more like the earth itself was groaning. Its jaws parted, dripping with black ooze, and from deep within its throat came an eerie, distorted howl—an abominable parody of the wolves it’s form now mocked.