"I'm going to have to disagree with your assessment," Dave declared, determination coursing through his veins as Sherlock's violin swelled within his soul to a crescendo.

His eyes rapidly swept the smithy, seeking inspiration in the face of imminent danger. And there, amidst the labyrinth of tools and weapons, he knew exactly what he had to do.

Thanks to Remicra, Dave now held an armful of arcane magisteel arrows, the very same material utilized by the eccentric and unhinged mage, Alaster Rim, in the construction of his impenetrable safe room. Magisteel was expensive due to its dual properties of being an exceptional conduit for magical energy, whilst simultaneously able to disrupt magical machinations of adversaries and hexes.

As memories of Alaster wafted through Dave's consciousness, he recalled, with a small shudder of paranoia, the peculiar fact that shadow creatures remained utterly unperturbed by fire. These elusive children of the Shadow Empress could only be deterred by the presence of red triangle hexagrams, symbols of the authority of their mother.

Dave's eyes narrowed as he tossed a motley assortment of receipt scrolls and a haphazard pile of bamboo sticks into the gaping maw of forge. In mere moments, a fire of incandescent brilliance roared to life, casting a kaleidoscope of dancing shadows and bathing the room in a warm, ethereal glow. The rhythmic crackling of the flames echoed through the dark recesses of the smithy.

Dave stepped to the nearest wall and used the sharp edge of a magisteel arrowhead to strike a line across one of the red runes etched into the ancient stones. The rune flickered and died as the arcane metal carved right through the crystalline ink, disrupting its structure.

"What are you doing?!" Remicra inquired, her voice quivering with trepidation.

"Making the shadows work for me," came Dave's response. He bounded through the fire-lit smithy, deftly slicing through triangular hexagrams one by one.

In a fluid motion, Dave tossed a magisteel arrow to Remicra. "Help me out!" he urged.

"I must admit, I never thought you'd be brave enough for a beautiful last stand," the dragoness remarked with a wry smile, her teeth glinting in the gloom.

With uncanny speed, Dave and the dragoness rapidly disrupted all of the red runes.

Having done that, the pair retreated to the back stairwell where a single red rune remained just as the dancing shadows cast by the fire within the smithy began to stir, coalescing into a living presence that seemed to pulse with a malevolent energy.

A three-eyed, void-kitten emerged from the darkest corner, its form a curious amalgamation of false innocence and darkness.

"Hey, little buddy," Dave said, panting. "Five verrrrry tasty hunter snacks are coming your way, so get ready!"

The shadow creature tilted its head as if considering Dave's words. In a moment, rivers of darkness began to flow towards it. The kitten stretched and warped, its form unfolding into a tall centipede with far too many thin legs woven from blackest ink. Numerous silver eyes blossomed across its head as it rapidly grew bigger.

"Quickly, rid yourself of anything metal!" Remicra commanded, her gaze fixed upon Dave.

Without hesitation, Dave complied, casting aside his bag of jingling coins, his adventurer ID, and even the prized magisteel arrows, depositing them unceremoniously on a stairwell step.

His hands moved with the ease of an experienced bug-hunter, deftly winding his arbalest and aiming it towards the heart of the smithy.

"It's... growing larger," Remicra observed, her voice barely more than a whisper, as the shadow critter swelled to the size of a ten meter python, its grotesque form casting an oppressive pall of dread over the room like a suffocating blanket.

"Maybe it simply appreciates our efforts in dismantling these bothersome red triangles?" Dave grimly replied with a nonchalant shrug.

"Perhaps," the dragoness conceded, a shudder rippling through her.

"Once they arrive, play the role of my captive," Dave whispered urgently, his breath warm against her ear as he swiftly tied a bundle of rope around her scale-covered wrists. "Got it?"

Wordlessly, Remicra inclined her head in agreement, her eyes flickering with a dangerous fire that belied her now submissive posture.

In another minute, the air in front of them suddenly rippled in a manifestation of incoming gateway magic.

Dave secured his helmet on his head, then grasped Remicra in a vice-like hold from behind, the Bakelite arbalest pressed menacingly against her temple. The view they presented was one of a battle-hardened, fully armored warrior and his struggling captive.

The shadow centipede noticed the presence of the portal and slithered into the gloom above, concealing itself amongst the ancient wooden beams overhead.

Four imposing figures emerged from the depths of the portal. Dave's heart clenched in recognition, as he beheld Overseer Princess at the forefront, her crystalline eyes alight with a fury that seemed to bore into him like twin ice-blue daggers. To her right stood Corrosionist, his ratty whiskers quivering with barely contained malice. Enthraller, an uncanny amalgamation of girl and blue octopus, flanked her left, her hair-tentacles undulating with a sinister grace. Faemonger, the tall, rotund figure bringing up the rear, was partially obscured by a shaggy black beard, his thick waistcoat adorned with two metal cages brimming with glowing fairies.

"Intruder!" Princess barked, her voice cracking like a whip across the still air of the smithy, her accusatory tone demanding an explanation. "State your business in Lord Burgundy's smithy!"

"Stay back, or your precious blacksmith slave shall receive a steel arrow through her skull!" Dave threatened, seeking refuge behind Remicra's trembling form.

"Greetings, my enigmatic stranger," the Enthraller crooned, her unnaturally white eyes set within her azure visage focusing intently on Dave. "Pray tell, what brings you to this hallowed forge at such a late hour?"

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Dave felt a sudden, inexorable urge to submit to her mellifluous words and confess the truth that tugged at the edges of his consciousness. He had prepared for this, however, drawing upon his prior experience with Cedez and the knowledge that charisma magic held no sway over the incorporeal. Allowing Sherlock to speak through him, he resisted the siren call of the Enthraller's voice.

"I'm here to pilfer the valuable wares of this establishment," Sherlock declared through Dave's lips, his words laced with a brazen confidence. "I've spent many a night surveying this smithy. Your blacksmith is but a pitiful weakling, and the vast stores of metal here are ripe for the taking."

"A common thief, is it?" Princess narrowed her eyes at Dave, her suspicion mounting like an ominous storm. "Disarm him!"

"Stay perfectly still, my dearest nocturnal visitor," the Enthraller trilled, her melodic voice weaving a spell that threatened to bind Dave in its enchanting snare.

Dave's body quivered with the strain of resisting her siren call.

The rat-faced Corrosionist, garbed in a grimy gray robe, raised his gnarled hand aloft, thin fingers splayed like the boughs of a skeletal tree.

"Rustify," he spoke.

In response to his innate magic, the metal tools in Dave's vicinity began to corrode and decay, crumbling away into rust. However, his Bakelite armor remained unscathed, much to the consternation of the rat-like mage.

Seizing the moment of their surprise, Dave—wielding Sherlock, who in turn wielded his own body—swiftly pivoted and aimed his arbalest at the ratman, the weapon's bowstring taut with deadly potential. With a decisive motion, he pulled the trigger.

The Bakelite-bamboo arrow whistled through the air, finding its mark in the ratkin's left eye. The hapless hunter realized, far too late, that his spell held no power whatsoever over the synthetic material.

"Minus one," Dave declared, a note of grim satisfaction lacing his voice.

"Release me, you repugnant bastard!" Remicra feigned a desperate struggle in Dave's grasp. "Do something, you incompetents! He's of a higher level than me! I cannot break free!"

"You ain't going anywhere, dragoness," Dave growled theatrically, the words dripping with exaggerated menace. "Now be a compliant meat shield and cease your squirming!"

The ratman, though grievously wounded, clung to life with a tenacity born of desperation. The Bakelite arrowhead had failed to penetrate his brain completely, and he now thrashed on the ground, a pitiful figure, his thin hands pawing at the arrow lodged in his eye, as if he could somehow stem the tide of pain that threatened to consume him.

"I implore you to kindly surrender, my dearest gentleman-adversary!" the Enthraller sang, her melodic voice straining to weave its charismatic spell once more.

"Kindly go to hell, Miss Octopus, unless you want an arrow in your eye too," Dave-Sherlock-Dave control chain spat back, their combined defiance unyielding.

With a furrowed brow, the Enthraller whispered to Princess, her voice tinged with frustration. "He's either very high level, or possesses a shielding artifact. My commands aren't being obeyed!"

Seizing upon this moment, Remicra suddenly spun Dave through the air with the force of a whirlwind. His Bakelite boot connected with an invisible something, and a high-pitched voice let out a mewl of pain as a dark-robed figure flashed into existence, tumbling headlong into the forge. The figure's cape quickly caught on fire.

“Hey! What did I say about squirming!” Dave quickly forced Remicra back into his arms.

"Grahrhghh!" Chameleon flailed helplessly, shifting from female to male to female forms, mostly visible now, a dance of agony that seemed to mirror the flickering flames that now consumed her robe.

"Moron number two is down," Dave remarked coolly, his voice dripping with contempt as he observed Chameleon rolling on the floor, desperately attempting to smother the flames engulfing his cape.

Princess growled, her frustration palpable as she took a step forward, her gray, stone hands clenched into fists of barely restrained fury.

In that charged moment, Remicra made a sudden attempt to bite Dave, her teeth bared in a visceral snarl.

"What did I say about moving? Stay down!" Dave barked, bringing a Bakelite-gloved fist down upon Remicra's head with decisive force. As the dragoness crumpled to the floor, the ex-programmer let loose a sinister laugh, a mocking sound that reverberated through the smithy like the distant roll of thunder. He placed his armored foot atop her prone form, reloading his arbalest with the practiced efficiency of a seasoned warrior.

The Overseer's movements ground to a halt, her eyes wide with uncertainty. The intricate dance of deception, masterfully performed by the dragoness and the adventurer, had succeeded in casting a shadow of doubt over her mind. The geocrys found herself questioning whether she possessed the prowess to best Dave in the brutal ballet of physical combat.

Princess crossed her arms, her eyes narrowing into slits of pure malice as she regarded the pretend-bandit with a mixture of fury and grudging respect.

"You're stronger than you look, thief," she hissed, her words dripping with venom. "You really think you're going to get away with taking Lord Burgundy's metal?"

"Yes," Dave replied, his eyes meeting Princess's gaze. "Go on, show me what other amusing tricks are up your sleeves."

With an imperious snap of her fingers, Princess beckoned Faemonger to her side. The shaggy, rotund man lumbered forward. Clasping the cages filled with ethereal fairies within his meaty hands, he deftly unlocked them.

The shadow kitten-centipede looming above the two hunters seemed to bristle with palpable rage at the sight of the released, glowing fae. In an instant, a hundred void-blade legs struck the fairies, cutting through them like whispers through the night.

"No, my pretties!" Faemonger croaked, his voice a mournful dirge. He looked up and his mouth fell open in pure horror.

"A shadow!" Princess yelped, her face contorting in shock. She suddenly noticed that the runes weren't glowing properly. "The barrier is disrupted! Retreat!"

Faemonger, the first to react to the looming danger, wasted no time in making his escape. Abandoning the corpses of his fairies, he fled through the portal, his corpulent body disappearing into its ethereal, rippling embrace.

The geocrys, however, was not so fortunate, as she stood just a few steps from the gate. A blade, forged from the very essence of focused shadow, struck through her raised arm with a chilling ease, as though she were made of butter rather than the unyielding stone. The merciless attack rent the stone woman's arm asunder, leaving a gaping wound that erupted with a geyser of black blood, a testament to the power of the Shandria-guarding void that had been unleashed upon her.

Cradling her missing arm, Princess leapt into the portal with a hiss of pain, her crystalline eyes filled with panic and fury. She left her associates to fend for themselves, their lives now hanging in the balance like little flies caught in the merciless grasp of the arriving spider.

The shadow, undeterred by the dwindling number of its prey, turned its attention to the ratkin, its blade-like feet finding purchase in the man's foot and shoulder. With a scream of agony, the ratkin crawled into the portal, leaving a trail of blood in his wake. The crimson droplets, suspended in the air like a macabre painting, seemed to bear witness to the cost of the folly of the five hunters.

Chameleon, the last to retreat, was not spared from the shadow's wrath either. As she made a desperate bid for sanctuary, blood flew through the air, painting a vivid tableau of violence as a void-blade sliced through Chameleon's retreating form, shredding his cape in half.

Dave, his heart pounding in his chest, watched the scene unfold before him, acutely aware of the shifting tides of fate that had brought him to this precipice. As the shadow creature continued its relentless pursuit of the shapeshifting hunter, he knew that they had overcome the five to one odds stacked against them.

A shadow blade struck right through the portal and the gate shuddered and suddenly winked out.

“Holy shit,” Remicra uttered from the floor. “I think it managed to stab the waymancer too!”