Colossal Beast

Arthur Leywin POV

I stood shoulder to shoulder with Brald, united in purpose as fellow front line augmenters.

Before departing, Jasmine and I had taken a cursory glance into the depths of the dungeon. The intel we gathered hinted at an intriguing characteristic of this dungeon: the presence of undead mana beasts. It was a phenomenon I had never encountered before. Legend had it that once the dungeon was cleared, in place of the fallen beasts, eerie grey creatures emerged, some bearing uncanny resemblances to their predecessors.

Unlike most, dungeons were as bright as daylight to me. One detail didn't escape my attention: a considerable swarm of bat runners lurking in the shadows. I was on the verge of sounding the alarm, but Brald's instincts caught on.

"Batrunners!" he thundered. "Though individually weak, they're formidable in numbers. Conservation of mana is crucial in this dungeon. Brace yourselves!"

Adrenaline coursed through my veins, invigorating my senses and dulling any cautionary restraint that might've held others back. In this perilous abyss, while many tread carefully, surveying each twist and turn, I revelled in the pure unadulterated joy of confrontation. With a slight adjustment of the mana flow within my core, I could feel my abilities amplify, tingling with newfound power. A surge of speed propelled me ahead of Brald, leaving a trail of ethereal blue wisps in my wake.

Brald might've shouted a warning, his voice barely reaching my ears, but I was already upon the bat runners. Thirty of the grotesque creatures, their eyes gleaming with malevolence, met me in battle. The sensation of the ground vibrating beneath the synchronised flapping of their wings, and the shrill cries they emitted, added a chilling soundtrack to our confrontation. My blade danced with grace, each swing releasing a barrage of wind blades so sharp that they sang in the air, splitting it apart. Like a conductor directing an orchestra, I orchestrated their demise, each note more deadly than the last.

But then Lucas impulsively decided to produce a spectacle of his own. Flames, vast and uncontrollable, spewed from his fingertips, bathing the area in a searing glow. I could feel the heat licking at the edges of my protective aura. The initial appreciation for the sheer beauty of the fiery tempest was soon replaced with exasperation. We had a plan, a strategy and he had just thrown it into the wind.

Without missing a beat, and with a deep sigh hinting at my annoyance, I moulded the ferocious wind at my command, directing it towards the raging inferno. The wind coiled around the flames, weaving them into a more contained, yet more powerful, form before thrusting them at the few remaining bat runners. My precise cold wind and Lucas's wild burning fire resulted in a display of elemental mastery that few had witnessed.

Lucas's audacity earned him an icy stare from Brald. "Next time, adhere to the plan and conserve your mana," Brald's words came out more as a command than a suggestion. "That spell was excessive." And with that, our stalwart leader moved ahead, not even pausing for a rebuttal.

But Lucas couldn't let the moment pass without a quip. "Doesn't matter. They're dead, and the others saved their mana," he retorted, smugness evident in his voice.

Though I'd never admit it aloud, Lucas had a point, albeit a weak one. But discipline and strategy mattered. And in this dungeon, unpredictability could be lethal to all of us.

No sooner had we continued our descent into the next chamber, a haunting chorus reached our ears. The grim, unmistakable sounds of bones clicking into place, flesh oozing and re-forming. The very ground beneath us seemed to shudder in revulsion. Whirling around, I beheld a sight that would've driven a lesser adventurer to madness: the bat runners, those we'd just vanquished, were reforming. The charred ones, reduced to ashes by Lucas's fire, were coalescing into their previous grotesque forms. "So, the tales of the undead were true," the words spilled from my lips, a mixture of awe and anticipation.

As I took in the eeriness of the scene, an almost primal instinct gripped me. My fingers wrapped around the hilt of my sword, it's cold comfort grounding me. A voice in my head whispered, "Dismantle, disassemble. Ensure they never rise again."

Attempting to infuse some calm into the escalating situation, Brald reached out, perhaps to offer words of wisdom or a pacifying touch. But I was already beyond reach. Releasing just a hint of my formidable aura – my notorious bloodlust – the very air grew heavy, saturated with impending doom. The bravest of our party, seasoned adventurers like Brald, took a step back, their eyes widening in barely concealed fear. Others, less accustomed to this show of power, staggered, gasping for breath.

Drawing on my internal reservoir of mana, I felt the familiar rush of strength course through my limbs. My enhanced speed and power turned me into a blur, my blade cleaving through the undead with surgical precision. Limbs separated from torsos, heads from necks ensuring no immediate chance of regeneration.

As I reigned in my overwhelming presence, the atmosphere slowly lightened, but the impact of my actions lingered. Our group hesitated, glancing around, their expressions a mix of admiration, fear, and concern. We then proceeded to the next chamber, the weight of our collective experiences pressing down upon us. Lucas, always one to challenge authority, seemed to ponder voicing his thoughts, but one piercing gaze from Brald quelled his burgeoning rebellion.

The chamber stretched on, bathed in a muted glow, shadows flickering and dancing on the walls like elusive spirits. The faint luminescence seemed to stem from phosphorescent mosses and fungi clinging to the walls, lending an eerie beauty to the cavernous depths. To the untrained, it was but a picturesque tableau of nature's hidden grandeur. But I, attuned to the most minuscule shifts in the environment, caught the anomalies.

There it was – the faintest rustle, a barely discernible tremor of movement. Like whispers in the wind, they were signs that we were not alone in this cavern. A sudden, high-pitched click, like the sound of a tongue snapping against the roof of a mouth, punctuated the silence. The next sound I recognized instantly... The sound of something cutting through the air at a blistering pace.

Without a second's hesitation, I lunged towards Samantha, interposing myself between her and the imminent threat. The weightless dance of my blade met and repelled the projectiles; sharp, deadly spikes that sought to pierce and paralyse their target. With each deflection, I channelled mana into the very air, materialising slicing gales that sought out their originators.

Samantha, recovering from her initial shock, murmured her gratitude. Her eyes, wide with a mix of astonishment and relief, darted to the now neutralised spikes that lay scattered around her feet, their gleaming tips stained with a sinister residue.

Brald, ever the analytical mind, picked up one of the spikes, turning it over in his hand, the dim light catching the intricate etchings on its shaft. "I've been through this chamber before," he murmured, a perplexed frown deepening the lines on his forehead. "These... preparations, they weren't here."

I pointedly gestured towards the now-exposed mana beasts, their lithe forms slinking from the dark corners they'd previously occupied. Despite their stealth and cunning, their petite size and frail constitution indicated that they weren't high-ranking threats. "They're orchestrators," I explained, "not just mere tools."

A subsequent investigation into the depths of the cavern brought us face to face with a new marvel. An immense cavern, almost cathedral-like in its majesty, stretched before us. Its floor was pockmarked with numerous holes, each one pulsing and glowing with an inner light – raw, unbridled mana in its purest form.

Brald's cautionary note brought us back to the reality of our surroundings. "Stay clear of those holes. Mana geysers can be deceivingly serene one moment and cataclysmic the next." He pointed out a geyser erupting, its bright plume releasing a noxious-looking gas that shimmered and sparkled in the ambient light.

I heard his warning, but a sense of indomitable confidence flowed through me. The steady progress I had made in my training, bringing me to the precipice of achieving a white core, instilled in me a belief in my resilience against the majority of perils.

However, nature always has a way of reminding one of their mortality. As if in answer to my hubris, the very ground beneath our feet trembled. The vibrations grew in intensity, causing stalactites, which had held their place for millennia, to shake loose from their ancient moorings. But this seismic activity wasn't solely the work of the geysers. From the deepest abyss of the cave, a monstrous behemoth, covered in layers of rock-hard armour and glowing with a fierce internal light, began to rise, threatening to eclipse the very chamber it inhabited.

Brald, taken aback, answered Kriol's frantic query, "This...this is new."

Lucas quipped, "Just an oversized insect."

I smirked inwardly, "He missed that biology lesson. Worms aren't insects."

The behemoth worm retreated, creating a vast chasm in its wake. Elijah murmured, "It's oddly unaggressive."

However, Oliver, our gangling emitter, shattered our collective focus with his brazen advance, clearly to gain someone's admiration.

Brald's rebuke was soon drowned by the geysers' ominous rumble. Acting swiftly, Jasmine and I enveloped our teammates within wind barriers, guarding them from the impending eruption.

Post the calamity, Brald's reproach echoed, but their bickering became intolerable. A hint of my suppressed aura was enough to restore order.

"Oliver, we're on a mission. Check your emotions!" I sternly reminded.

Elijah's inquisitive tone interrupted, "You...The eruption...how?"

"The ambient mana gave it away," I explained.

Our brief respite was disrupted by the worm's return. Our ensuing collaborative effort eventually repelled the creature. But as the geysers once again rumbled to life, Jasmine and I seamlessly formed barriers, shielding our comrades.

As we trod the sinuous pathways of the dungeon, I took in the erratic movements and uneasy expressions of my team. It dawned on me that our collective focus was waning, our path uncertain. It wasn't a role I relished, but someone had to step up. 'It seems the mantle of leadership falls on me today,' I thought as my eyebrow twitched in frustration. Placing myself at the helm of our group I began to formulate a plan.

"Samantha, Elijah," I articulated, ensuring each word dripped with urgency, "Your abilities are paramount now. Always be on standby, ready to conjure a protective barrier at the slightest hint of danger." Their firm nods acknowledged my directive, signalling they were primed for the challenge.

Sensing the weight of our journey and the fatigue it bred, I proposed, "We should take a brief hiatus, gather our strength for the challenges ahead." Settling on an alcove, I leaned beside Jasmine and procured a weathered canteen filled with cool water from my satchel.

As moments melted into hours, I noticed Brald, his demeanour a stark contrast to the stalwart leader I knew. His once assertive stance was replaced by slouching shoulders, a reflection of internal strife. His whispered confessions of retiring after this quest weren't mere rumours; they were harbingers of an end. "You," he began, hesitation evident, "ought to lead them forward."

Following a contemplative pause and drawing solace from Jasmine's reassuring nod, I responded, "Very well."

Re-energized and refocused, we pressed on, soon arriving at a more refined section of the dungeon. The corridor's end was marked by grand double doors, bedecked with intricate runes. My heart raced as I meticulously traced the inscriptions. Amidst cryptic mentions of corruption and the undead, a distinct rune suggesting temporal manipulation linked to aether piqued my curiosity. The prospect of unveiling an arcane aspect of aether was nothing short of exhilarating.

Brald, his voice echoing his bewilderment, interjected my thoughts, "This isn't what I remember. There was never such a door in previous expeditions."

Following a wordless exchange with Reginald, he stepped up confidently, invoking a powerful incantation. "Impact Blast!" he roared. The resonating spell nudged the doors apart, creating a minuscule gap. Seizing the moment, Reginald exerted his strength, flinging the doors wide open.

What unfolded before us was utterly ethereal. An expanse of verdant meadows, kissed by sunlight and swaying to a silent melody, stretched as far as the eye could see. An impossible sight, given our subterranean location. Reginald, taken aback like the rest of us, murmured, "This is... unprecedented. Brald, this wasn't part of the plan, was it?"

Amidst the group's collective astonishment, only Jasmine, Elijah, and I sensed the incongruity of our surroundings. My voice, a blend of caution and authority, broke the spell, "This might be a trap. Remain on high alert."

Kriol, seemingly enchanted, countered, "But it's so serene. Look around — just meadows and ancient trees as far as one can see."

My instincts screamed that this tranquillity was a façade. And sure enough, a thick, opaque mist began to envelop our party. My senses, honed by years of arcane training, detected the subtle underpinnings of sound magic within the haze. As the illusion started to manipulate perceptions, I overheard Kriol's voice, laced with shock and longing, "Clara? Is that truly you?"

Reginald, battling his own surge of emotions, clarified, "Kriol's fiancée... Clara. But she cannot be here. I witnessed her tragic end. We mourned her, honoured her memory."

Recognizing the urgency, I summoned the tempestuous powers of the wind, dispersing the beguiling mist. But the clarity of vision revealed a more ominous spectacle. Amid a thicket of dense, winding vines, an immense figure towered over us, its unwavering gaze promising an encounter we'd not soon forget. The Dungeons depths of the dungeon had yet more mysteries to unveil.