The surface of the underground lake didn't break like glass; it bubbled like boiling sludge. The stench, previously only faint, now exploded to fill the chamber—a miasma of centuries-old rotting flesh and suffocating swamp gas.
Elian took a step back, his boots squeaking on the wet stone floor. His left hand, weighed down by the Ring of Weight, trembled not from exhaustion, but from his body's instinct screaming to run.
"Don't run," Lunaria's voice sliced through the tension, calm yet sharp as a blade. "If you turn your back on it, you die."
From the center of the lake, a black mound slowly rose.
At first, it looked like a massive rock covered in red moss. But then, the mound moved. Water and mud cascaded down, revealing its true form.
It was neither dragon nor snake. It was a Grave-Shell Turtle, mutated into an Undead. It was the size of a small house. Its shell wasn't made of keratin, but of a conglomeration of rib cages, skulls, and rusted iron shields from adventurers who had died here, fused together by black necrotic slime.
Its long, grey-scaled head extended, its wrinkled neck riddled with holes venting green smoke. Its eyes were blind, covered by thick white cataracts, yet it sniffed the air with massive nostrils.
"Tier 4... No, perhaps close to Tier 5 because the environment strengthens it," Lunaria analyzed, her face hardening. "This is bad. Its skin is too thick for normal arrows, and my magic will be dampened by its natural Anti-Magic Shell."
"Tier 5...?" Elian swallowed bile. "That's equivalent to an Imperial Sword Master."
The giant turtle opened its mouth.
GROOOAAAR!
The roar wasn't produced by vocal cords, but by the grinding of bones and the screams of spirits trapped within its shell. The sound wave hit Elian like a physical blow.
"Ugh!" Elian staggered, his knees buckling. The weight of the ring on his finger felt doubled by the creature's aura pressure.
"Elian!" Lunaria shouted, leaping aside as the monster spat a ball of green acidic liquid at them.
SPLAT!
The stone floor where they stood a second ago hissed and melted, creating a hole a meter deep. Acidic smoke billowed up.
"Plan change!" Lunaria shouted from behind a stone pillar. "I will draw its attention. Your job isn't to kill it—you can't scratch its skin with that fruit knife. Your job is to get the Mirror of Souls on the altar in the middle of the lake!"
Elian stared at the altar. It was about fifty meters from the shore. But there was one big problem: The altar was surrounded by the swamp water where the monster swam.
"How can I get there?!" Elian shouted, his voice nearly drowned out by the monster's roar. "I can't swim fast with this ring!"
"Use the collapsed pillars! Jump! Don't touch the water!" Lunaria commanded.
Lunaria began to draw her crystal bow. Three light arrows formed.
Whoosh! Whoosh! Whoosh!
The arrows struck the turtle's head.
Ting! Ting!
Two arrows bounced harmlessly off its hard scales. One managed to pierce its softer neck, burning a bit of its rotten flesh.
The monster roared in anger, its attention shifting fully to Lunaria. It began to move slowly but surely toward the Elf Queen, its massive legs churning the lake water into small waves.
Now.
Elian forced his legs to move.
He ran along the lake's edge to the right side, where a row of fallen ancient stone pillars formed a broken bridge toward the altar.
Every step was torture. The Ring of Weight made his legs feel like they were being pulled into the earth. His lungs burned from inhaling toxic air. His right shoulder throbbed in rhythm with his panicked heartbeat.
Jump.
Elian leaped from the edge to the first pillar protruding from the water.
The distance was only two meters. for a normal Elian, this would be easy. But with double gravity, Elian almost failed.
His feet landed on the moss-slick surface of the pillar. He slipped.
"Damn!"
Elian fell to his knees, his hands gripping the sharp stone edge to keep from falling into the black water. The Karambit in his left hand scraped the stone, creating sparks.
He looked down. In the black water, he saw white shadows swimming. Water Ghouls.
They were waiting for him to fall.
Elian crawled back up onto the pillar, gasping for air. His fingernails were broken, blood seeping from the tips.
"Focus, Elian. Focus," he whispered to himself, trying to calm the thunder in his chest.
He looked toward Lunaria. His teacher was dancing among the rubble, dodging acid sprays and tail swipes. Lunaria deliberately avoided using large-scale magic so the cave structure wouldn't collapse on them all.
Elian jumped to the second pillar. This time more stable.
Third pillar.
Fourth pillar.
He was getting closer to the altar.
However, Elian's luck had limits.
As he landed on the fifth pillar—which was only ten meters from the altar—the turtle monster suddenly stopped chasing Lunaria.
Its massive head turned. Its nostrils flared.
It smelled something more interesting than the pure Mana of an Elf. It smelled the scent of Dragon Bone and the Blood of Fate flowing in Elian's body. To the undead, Elian was a luxury meal glowing in the dark.
The monster ignored Lunaria's arrows raining on its back. It turned, staring at Elian with its blind sockets.
"Oh, no..." Elian whispered.
The monster opened its mouth. Not to spit acid, but to inhale.
"ELIAN! GET DOWN!" Lunaria screamed, her voice filled with rare panic.
Elian didn't ask questions. He immediately dropped flat against the cold, wet stone surface.
WHOOOOSHH!
The monster exhaled a Breath of Decay—a thick, deadly grey fog.
The fog passed right over Elian's body. Though not hit directly, the heat and corrosive nature of the fog's edge singed the back of Elian's cloak and hair.
"Argh!" Elian stifled a scream. The skin on his back felt blistered.
The stone pillar in front of him—the sixth pillar—crumbled into dust upon contact with the breath. The path to the altar was cut off.
Elian was trapped on the fifth pillar, surrounded by Ghoul-infested water, with a giant monster readying a second attack.
Think... Think...
Elian hit his own head, trying to drive away the pain and panic.
Distance to the altar: six meters. But the bridge pillar was destroyed. He couldn't jump six meters with this Ring of Weight. Impossible.
Unless... he took off the ring?
Elian's right hand moved toward his left index finger.
"DON'T TAKE IT OFF!" Lunaria's voice echoed, as if reading his mind. "If you remove it now, the sudden surge of your mana flow will send the monster into a berserk state! It will blow this whole place up!"
Elian's hand froze.
The monster began to move closer, swimming through the water. Its wake shook the pillar Elian stood on.
Elian looked around. He saw the altar. On top of it, the Mirror of Souls stood elegantly, its frame made of pure white bone, its surface dark as a whirlpool.
Then he looked up.
The cave ceiling was covered in large, sharp stalactites. One of them, the largest, hung directly above the monster's head, cracked at the base from the vibrations of the fight.
A crazy idea—a suicidal idea—formed in Elian's mind.
He couldn't kill the monster. But he could use the environment.
Elian reached into his cloak pocket with trembling hands. He pulled out the bottle of Silver Oil, now half empty.
He didn't apply it to his weapon.
He poured the remaining oil onto his right Karambit until it was soaked, then he took a piece of cloth from his cloak, wrapped it around the handle, and lit it using the friction of a small flint he carried.
The Karambit ignited with bright silver fire in the darkness of the cave.
The light was blinding. The monster, sensitive to light and heat, reacted instantly. It roared, its head snapping toward Elian.
Elian stood tall on the shaking pillar.
"Come here, you ugly turtle!" Elian shouted, his voice cracking but loud.
As the monster's head rushed toward him like a freight train, Elian didn't dodge. He waited until the last second.
One second.
Half a second.
Now.
Elian threw the flaming Karambit not at the monster, but upward. At the base of the giant stalactite on the ceiling.
His throw was weak due to the ring's weight, but his accuracy—thanks to Nature Sense—was perfect. The Karambit embedded itself right in the crack of the stalactite. The burning silver oil exploded slightly as it reacted with the flammable cave moss.
BOOM!
The small explosion was enough to collapse the already fragile structure.
The giant stalactite, weighing dozens of tons, snapped.
CRACKAAA!
The monster, whose head was already a meter from Elian's face, didn't have time to look up.
The giant spike fell straight down, slamming into the monster's neck shell, pinning its head to the shallow lake bed.
BLAAARRR!
The impact created a small tsunami in the lake.
Black water mixed with mud slammed into Elian, sweeping his small body off the pillar.
"Wuaaah!"
Elian was thrown into the air, then splashed into the cold, deadly lake water.
Darkness swallowed him instantly.
Underwater, Elian held his breath. His eyes stung from the dirty water. He felt cold hands starting to grab his legs. Water Ghouls.
They pulled him down. The weight of the ring on his finger made him sink like a stone.
I'm going to drown...
His lungs began to burn for oxygen. The dead hands tore at his clothes, scratching his skin.
Just as his consciousness began to fade, Elian's flailing hand touched something hard on the lake bed.
A root.
An ancient tree root penetrating the lake bottom.
The World won't let him die that easily.
Elian felt a small pulse of mana from the root. Not great magic, just a little nudge. Enough to give him a foothold.
Elian kicked with all his might, ignoring the Ghouls scratching his calves. He shot upward toward the surface, toward the dim light coming from the altar.
Gasppp!
Elian's head broke the surface. He coughed violently, vomiting black water.
He was right at the edge of the small island where the altar stood.
With the last of his strength, Elian dragged his body up onto the dry rock. He crawled like a worm, his body covered in fresh claw marks, shivering from the cold.
Behind him, the turtle monster was still roaring, pinned under the stalactite. It wasn't dead, but it was trapped.
Elian lay on his back in front of the altar, staring at the cave ceiling which now had a hole where the stalactite used to be.
"I... am alive..." he whispered hoarsely.
He turned his head. The Mirror of Souls stood there.
But when Elian looked into the mirror, he didn't see his mud-covered reflection.
He saw a beautiful woman with long black hair, wearing a dress of black petals, smiling sadly at him. Behind the woman, the shadow of a giant tree burned.
"Who..."
Before Elian could ask, the shadow in the mirror reached out a hand as if to touch Elian's cheek from behind the glass.
And Elian's consciousness was swallowed by exhaustion.