The priest's light stabbed into the cavern like a blade, scattering shadows. My form shuddered, instinct screaming to recoil, but I held firm, spreading wider along the stone like ink spilled on parchment.
The captain lifted his sword, silver gleaming with enchantments. His voice carried like iron.
"Form up. Shields in front. Mages behind. Don't let it slip away."
"Slip away? Buddy, I'm not a rat. I'm the nightmare that eats rats."
I struck first. A tendril lashed out, black and jagged, slamming into the crossbowman. He yelped, his shot loosing wildly into the ceiling. Sparks rained down as the bolt clanged against rock.
"Contact!"
the dagger-woman shouted, spinning toward me. She darted forward, her movements sharp, fluid, dagger edges glowing faintly with enchantments. She slashed—fast, precise. Too precise.
I melted backward into mist. Her blades cut nothing but air. She cursed, spinning, but my shadow surged beneath her feet, coiling like a snake. She barely leapt free before a tendril stabbed upward where her chest had been.
The priest's chant grew louder, light swelling. Holy symbols flared in the air, searing against my shadow like fire. I hissed, tendrils retreating for a heartbeat.
"Keep the pressure!"
the captain barked. He charged, shield raised, sword gleaming. Garrick would've admired the form. I didn't.
He swung. Silver met shadow. My tendril solidified just in time, the impact reverberating like metal on metal. Sparks flew. The sheer force shoved me backward, shadows splattering against the stone.
"Strong. Alright, shiny boy, I'll give you that one."
I retaliated. Shadows split into five blades at once, slashing from every direction. The shieldbearer dove in, intercepting three. His tower shield rang with each strike, runes glowing faintly. The captain parried the fourth, sparks hissing.
But the fifth blade—thin and precise—slipped past. It grazed the mage's robe, slicing a clean tear across her thigh. She shrieked, stumbling back, crimson crystals clattering against the stone.
Her eyes snapped to me, furious, cheeks flushed red. Whether from pain or embarrassment… I wasn't sure.
"…Not planned. Totally not planned. …Okay, maybe 30% planned."
"Focus, Arissa!"
the captain barked.
So that was her name. Arissa. I filed it away. Names were power.
The battle raged. Bolts of fire and light clashed against my mist. Shadows rippled, devouring weaker spells, dispersing stronger ones. Every time they thought they had me cornered, I split, coiled, struck from a new angle.
The dagger-woman—quick, relentless—nearly clipped my core once. The priest's holy light seared like acid every time it flared. And the captain… he was unyielding, sword strokes disciplined, shield steady.
They weren't like the goblins, or even the crystal beast. This was strategy. Formation. Pressure.
For the first time, I felt it: a real fight. A clash not just of power, but of will.
And I grinned.
"Yes. More. Push me. Make me sharper. I'll carve every skill out of your corpses if I have to."
I surged upward, shadows condensing into a colossal humanoid form, towering over them. White eyes burned through the dark as I raised a massive blade of pure shadow.
The chamber shook with my voice, rolling like thunder:
"I am not your prey."
The blade came crashing down.