Jack took a step back, gripping his spear tighter. The Shoggoth-wolf was a nightmare made flesh, a grotesque caricature of the wolves they had fought beside. Its mere presence filled the air with a sense of dread, as if the very fabric of reality was being twisted around it. The creature’s hulking form loomed over them, a predator of unimaginable size and power, its many eyes glinting with sadistic intelligence.
As Jack steadied himself, the first wave of undead soldiers surged forward, attacking the monstrosity from all sides. Ghouls, with their rotting flesh and long, hooked claws, scrambled over one another in their desperate charge. Their eyes burned with a sickly green glow as they threw themselves at the Shoggoth-wolf, their feral instincts guiding them toward the hulking beast like moths to a flame.
Undead Legionnaires, clad in tattered armor from forgotten battles, moved in tandem with the ghouls. Their movements were slow but deliberate, weapons raised in a grim semblance of military formation. Rusted swords and spears glinted under the dim light, striking at the monstrous abomination's legs and sides.
The wolf-Shoggoth met them with unholy fury.
The moment the first ghoul’s claws sank into its shifting, black mass, the beast retaliated. A massive tentacle shot out from the creature’s flank, wrapping around the ghoul with a speed and strength that defied its size. The ghoul let out a choked scream as it was lifted into the air, its body convulsing violently. Black tendrils slithered over the ghoul's decaying form, burrowing into its flesh as it was absorbed into the Shoggoth’s body. Within seconds, the ghoul was reduced to nothing—dissolved entirely into the formless mass of the creature.
Another ghoul managed to leap onto the creature’s back, clawing at its thick, bristling fur. It tore chunks of flesh away, but each wound it inflicted closed almost instantly, the Shoggoth’s regenerative abilities far outpacing the damage. Before the ghoul could retreat, one of the creature’s many mouths opened along its spine, stretching grotesquely wide before snapping shut around the ghoul. There was a sickening crunch as the ghoul was swallowed whole, its wails abruptly silenced.
The undead Legionnaires fared no better. One soldier lunged with his rusted spear, driving it deep into the Shoggoth amalgamation’s side. The weapon stuck fast, sinking into the creature’s shifting flesh, but the blow was meaningless. The beast’s body rippled, pulling the spear—and the soldier—deeper into its mass. Another tentacle lashed out, wrapping around the Legionnaire's waist. The soldier’s armor creaked and buckled under the pressure, before the tentacle slammed him to the ground with bone-shattering force. His lifeless body was absorbed moments later.
All around the abomination, more ghouls and Legionnaires met similar fates. The battlefield was a grotesque display of bodies being torn apart, absorbed, or crushed. Every attempt to attack the creature only resulted in more destruction. The Shoggoth-wolf's many mouths snapped and gnashed, tearing through the undead forces with wild, chaotic hunger. At times, its form would ripple and twist, mouths disappearing and reappearing elsewhere, tentacles elongating, sprouting from different parts of its body in a never-ending nightmare of flesh.
One of the larger ghouls, more muscular than the rest, managed to drive its claws deep into the Shoggoth-wolf’s hind leg, tearing at the flesh with brutal determination. The creature howled, its mouths releasing an ear-piercing scream. But instead of retreating, the wolf twisted its body, eyes flashing with cruel intelligence. A series of smaller tentacles erupted from the wound the ghoul had made, wrapping around the creature's arm and legs. In a single, fluid motion, the wolf wrenched the ghoul’s limbs in opposite directions, ripping it apart like paper.
Jack gritted his teeth, watching the carnage unfold before him. The undead forces were nothing to this monstrosity. It was systematically dismantling them, feeding off their bodies and growing stronger with every second.
"We’re losing them," Lyla shouted, her voice cutting through the chaos. She stood a few feet away, hurling waves of Witchfire at the wolf, each one fizzling out as they hit its rapidly regenerating form. "If we don’t do something, it’ll tear through everything we’ve got!"
The Shoggoth-wolf let out another guttural roar, shaking the ground beneath it. The remains of the undead army lay scattered around it, their bodies broken, absorbed, or devoured. Yet the creature was far from sated. Its many eyes turned back toward Jack, Lyla, and Cael, hunger glinting in each one. The destruction of the undead had only whetted its appetite.
"Now!" Jack shouted, his voice cutting through the din. Without hesitation, the party threw themselves against the monster. Monsoon moved first, Water enveloping him as he charged, his paws pounding the bloodied earth. He bit at one of the beast’s limbs, his fangs biting deep into its shifting flesh. A fountain of black ichor sprayed from the wound, but the flesh rippled and knitted itself back together almost instantly.
Lyla was next. Her hands blazed with raw magic as she summoned a hail of thorns, sending them toward the Shoggoth-wolf’s head. The creature snarled, its many mouths opening wide as the thorns struck, one after another, piercing its grotesque form. For a moment, it faltered, its body writhing in pain—but then, with a hideous groan, it reared back and lashed out with a thick, barbed tentacle. Lyla ducked, narrowly avoiding the strike as it smashed into the ground where she had stood, leaving a crater in its wake.
Jack’s turn. His heart pounded as he rushed forward, spear raised high.
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The Shoggoth-wolf twisted with impossible speed, its form flowing like liquid as it lashed out at him with a spearing tendril, black and jagged. Jack reacted instinctively, calling on Ironsoul Aura to shield himself. He reached deep within, summoning the protective energy to shield him.
Nothing happened.
Pain exploded through Jack’s chest as the tendril pierced him, slamming into his side and driving deep into his body. He gasped, choking on the sudden agony. His spear slipped from his grip, falling to the ground with a dull thud. The tendril had missed his heart—barely—but the wound was deep, and blood was already pouring from the gash. He staggered back, clutching at the slick, black mass embedded in him, trying to pull it free.
The Shoggoth-wolf let out a triumphant roar, its many eyes locking onto him as if savoring his suffering. The tendril writhed inside his body, twisting, seeking to tear him apart from within.
"Jack!" Lyla’s voice cut through the haze of pain, her eyes wide with horror as she saw him impaled.
He gritted his teeth, trying to push through the agony, but every movement sent searing jolts of pain through his chest. His vision blurred at the edges, his strength rapidly fading as he struggled to stay on his feet. He could feel the life draining out of him with each passing second.
The Shoggoth-wolf loomed closer, drawn to his vulnerability like a predator scenting blood. Its many mouths grinned with malicious intent, and Jack knew that if it got hold of him now, it would devour him—just like the others.
"Not... yet," Jack growled, forcing himself to remain upright despite the agony ripping through his body. He couldn’t fall—not here, not like this.
Lyla was already moving, her hands glowing with healing light. She reached Jack’s side in seconds, pressing her palm against his wound, channeling magic into his body. The warmth of her healing touch stemmed the bleeding, but the tendril was still lodged deep inside him.
Goldeyes, seeing the danger, leapt toward the Shoggoth-wolf with a roar of fury. His eyes blazed with angry fire fire as he ripped at the tendril impaling Jack. The beast screeched, recoiling as the wolf tore through the tendril, severing it from its body. The portion embedded in Jack remained, but the rest of the tendril slithered back into the creature’s mass.
Freed from the immediate danger, Jack collapsed to his knees, gasping for breath as Lyla worked to stabilize him. The wound was bad—really bad—but it wasn’t fatal. Not yet.
"Jack, stay with me," Lyla urged, her voice tight with fear and focus as she continued to heal him. "We’re not done yet."
As the healing energy flooded through him through him Jack checked his available SP. They stood at 82/280. No wonder Ironsoul Aura hadn’t activated. He didn’t have enough SP to use the Skill. The though made him grimace in self disgust but it also made him think. He checked the description for another of his newly upgraded Class Skills.
Yes. Yes, that could work.
The Shoggoth-wolf, though momentarily driven back, showed no signs of retreat. If anything, its fury seemed to grow with each passing second. Its body rippled, distorting and warping even further as it prepared for another assault.
Currently, Goldeyes was holding it off with his Spectral Pack while Monsoon circled, looking for an opening.
Cael rushed over to where Jack lay, frantically withdrawing a healing potion and pouring down Jacks throat. As the cool liquid mended him, Jack watched the chaos unfolding before him, heart pounding, as the eldritch abomination lashed out at the group with its many writhing tentacles.
The goblin returned to the fray, darting in and out of the fray like a shadow, his twin daggers flashing in the dim light as he sliced at the creature's shifting mass. He was quick and precise, aiming for any exposed flesh he could find. But no matter how deep his blades cut, the wounds closed almost instantly, black ichor sealing the injuries as fast as they were made.
Goldeyes, with his Spectral Pack at his side, was keeping the beast’s attention, using the summoned wolves to harry the abomination from all sides. Monsoon circled, his fur rippling with the elemental power of Water as he searched for a weak spot. The battle was a delicate balance—a dance of death where one wrong move could shatter everything.
Off to the side, Jack stood up. His spear felt heavier in his hands than it should have, a reminder of the near-fatal wound he’d suffered. Cael Lyla’s healing had closed most of the gash, but the pain lingered like a dull fire in his chest. He couldn't afford to rush in blindly—this monstrosity had already torn through their undead forces with terrifying ease. A single misstep would mean certain death.
He tightened his grip on the spear, his knuckles white as he steadied his breathing. His eyes never left the wolf-Shoggoth, its body a twisting mass of dark flesh, eyes, and mouths. It moved with a strange, fluid grace, shifting and flowing as it attacked, making it hard to predict where its next strike would land. The thing was fast, far faster than something of its size had any right to be.
The Shoggoth-wolf roared, a sound that shook the ground beneath them, as its massive form twisted and surged forward, aiming a tendril at Cael. The rogue barely managed to dodge, rolling to the side as the ground where he’d been standing was torn apart. Cael retaliated, hurling one of his daggers with deadly precision. The blade sank deep into the creature’s side, but again, the wound healed over in seconds.
Jack’s pulse quickened as he watched the monster turn its attention back to Goldeyes, its mouths gnashing hungrily. His spear thrummed in his hand, the weight of his decision heavy. He couldn't just charge in like the others. His strength wasn’t enough to overpower the beast, not in a direct confrontation. But that wasn’t his role here.
No. He had something else in mind.
His eyes flickered to his remaining Soul Points—82. Not enough to use Ironsoul Aura, but just enough for what he needed. He would have one chance, and he couldn’t afford to waste it.
The wolf-Shoggoth lunged at Goldeyes, its massive body rippling as it lashed out with another tentacle. The summoned wolves scattered, leaping to avoid the deadly strike. Goldeyes met the creature head-on, teeth bared, fury in his eyes as he clashed with the abomination.
There.
Jack saw it—a moment of vulnerability as the creature’s focus shifted entirely to Goldeyes. Its attention was split, tendrils drawn away from its core. This was his moment.
With a deep breath, Jack charged, spear lowered. He moved with purpose, his body a coiled spring of tension, ready to strike. The air around him seemed to thicken, time slowing as he closed the distance between himself and the beast.
Closer.
Closer.
His heart pounded in his ears as he raised the spear high, eyes locked on the spot just beneath the creature’s ribcage—if it had ribs. He wasn’t sure. But that dark, pulsating mass in its center, where the black ichor flowed the thickest, seemed vulnerable.
He thrust.