No Other Alternative
Nico panted, his shoulders sagging slightly as the tension slowly left them.
They were safe for now.
However, the brown-haired boy did not disillusion himself. He and his team had only survived due to a stroke of good fortune and the fact that the Dungeon Boss wanted to toy with them… before it eventually plunged its horrid fangs into their bodies, savouring the rich blood contained within.
Nico didn't know quite how to feel about that. Sure, it helped that the hegemon of this Dungeon underestimated them, viewing them as mere bugs in its path.
And rightly so, for he was reasonably sure that only someone with a Mana Core could vanquish it.
But it was also extremely vexing to be treated as such. To be shown that he wasn't worth its time reminded him of his weakness, and that right now, he was akin to a miniscule and insignificant particle of air in the grand scheme of things.
Releasing a complicated sigh, Nico went over to inspect the half-blood for any injuries. Finding none, he repeated the process with Oliver and Isaac and was relieved that they were also unharmed.
He inwardly knew things wouldn't stay like that. But for now, he was content to savour the moment when they were all physically fine.
Sparing an indifferent glance toward the cloaked figure, Nico shook his head and sighed.
'The sheer nerve of that guy.'
The brown-haired boy chanced a peek at the metallic band, discovering that they had been teleported a fair distance away from the demonic army chasing them down. Enough not to have to move in formation again, but also not quite far enough that they could afford the luxury of not worrying.
As the party of five travelled through the hazy gloom, the mood of their group turned sombre, if not a little tense. Even Isaac's usual cheeriness failed to change that as they went along; the he-elf wisely understood that this was not a time for light-hearted jokes.
Nico's mind tried to recall the sensation he had felt after the initial wave of fear when meeting the Dungeon Boss.
The savage, brutal, and sharp feeling… like he was a whetted knife on the verge of turning razor-sharp.
'The essence of the Spear is sharpness.' Nico's eyes gleamed in the misty gloom.
The corner of his lips rose, a sense of excitement flooding his veins.
He was close. He could feel it.
A little more, and he sensed he could understand a portion of the deeper essence which encompassed all spears.
That was sure to help his combat power rise.
It may not give him a qualitative evolution like the formation of a mana core would, but Nico would grasp at every opportunity that would help him make it out of this hell alive, like a parched man seeking water.
Simply because... he had no other alternative.
***
Time flowed agonisingly slow for the weary and battered youths. They were nearing the latter stages of the Ceremony, and those who had come so far desperately wanted to reach the Dungeon Core and let all their hard work pay off.
One group in particular had it worse than others. And for one reason, and one reason only:
They were being hounded by the Dungeon Boss and its loyal subordinates.
Rumble after rumble, shift after shift, the Demons always caught up with them without fail.
It was as if something was deliberately leading them to their position to finish them off.
Nico, Leon, Oliver and Isaac cursed their lives.
Their armour was battered and filthy - particularly the vanguard and the older elf, with the latter having had to wield his sword whenever things got especially dire -, and grime covered their figures in copious amounts.
Nico's previously lustrous leather armour appeared worn, having been put through the grinder. The three golden tips of the brown-haired boy's spear seemed to have gained a coppery shade as if proudly displaying the amount of blood the ominous weapon had shed.
Leon's metallic armour had dents in several places from a couple of blows he had received in an earlier fight. The half-blood limped forward, ignoring the constant pain. His mind fixated on the grubby shield in his grasp.
Meanwhile, Isaac's, and Oliver's charming features gained a rugged feel, gifting them with a different, more mature kind of allure.
Their once delicate visages were now marred with the grubbiness that came with battle, dried blood sullying their blessed features.
The older sibling, who was the dirtier of the two, grumbled at the sordidness of it all.
Lastly, the cloaked figure remained exceptionally clean, with the barest hints of dirt or grime covering his frame.
A fact that earned him no shortage of scathing looks from Oliver.
Isaac chuckled every time he saw the dark expression on his older brother's face.
It amused him greatly every time his brother revealed his obsessive desire for things to be clean.
Recalling the memories of Oliver scolding him for getting too dirty after playing with the other kids, a fond smile appeared on the green-haired youth's once-handsome visage.
This act of reminiscence was enough to dispel some of the lingering exhaustion and dejection from his mind.
The group pressed on, allowing themselves a peek at their bracelets every so often to track the progress of their foes. It was currently the third day after their fateful encounter with the Dungeon Boss.
In each of the past three days, they had fought against a trio of the big monster's minions, managing to survive through a mixture of ingenuity and rough, brutal conflict.
Their numerical advantage also helped.
However, even with the odds stacked in their favour, the difficulty of the next battles progressively increased. Whether that was because, with each victory, their energy had been sapped and drained, continuing to dwindle, or because of a different reason, the group of youths did not know.
What they did know was that they had to give more energy in each confrontation to come out victorious.
And, when their stamina was constantly being depleted - they still had to fight the normal denizens of the dungeon, on top of making sure to stay away from the Dungeon Boss and its group - that was becoming increasingly harder to do.
Add to that the fact when night descended onto the Dungeon, and the labyrinth ceased its erratic shifting, the abominable force could catch up to them with ease... shrouding the already bleak atmosphere with a thick, dire sense of misery.
Strangely though, the squad of youths discovered that the Dungeon Boss had still apparently wanted to keep wearing them down, for no attack had commenced.
Instead, the demonic pack had stayed out of sight, silently stalking them through the misty gloom. If Nico and the rest of his team dashed for it, to increase the distance between them and the abominations, the arachnids followed.
If the youths decided to settle down in one place, the monstrosities also settled down.
It was a remarkable show of patience and one that Nico had thought their foes would not have exercised.
And yet, these spiders had done just that.
He wondered just how much the loyal underlings feared their leader for them to obey its commands, despite the growing hunger that gnawed on their warped consciousnesses.
All in all, the arachnids' readiness to listen to the Dungeon Boss's orders had severely affected their ability to sleep.
So, on top of being extremely fatigued from consecutive clashes during the day, they had to deal with a lack of sleep and fear that their demonic adversaries would suddenly strike at night.
'Damn it all. What kind of hell is this?' Nico cried to himself, his expression bleak and face haggard.
The grime on his face served to conceal a part of the glaring bags under his eyes.
He sighed and habitually bit the inside of his cheek, scanning the map for the location of the azure dot.
He found it after a second.
It was getting closer and closer to their position.
Mentally preparing himself to fight the last remaining trio of loyal arachnids before the Dungeon Boss mostly likely made its move, Nico struggled not to let despair overwhelm him.
Indeed, if nothing changed, their chances of seeing the peaceful vista of a clear blue sky ever again were very slim.