Asher spun through the air, his body a blur of controlled chaos. A spear cut through the space where his head had been a heartbeat before—he felt the wind of its passage ruffle his hair. His blade was already moving, a silver arc of death.
*CRACK.*
The soldier's skull split like overripe fruit, the sound wet and final. Brain matter and bone fragments sprayed outward. Blood splattered across Asher's face, hot droplets hitting his lips. He didn't flinch. Didn't slow.
"I'm JUST getting started." The snarl came from somewhere deep and primal.
He flipped his weapon in his grip, the familiar weight and balance centering him. His muscles burned with exertion, lungs heaving, but the adrenaline flooding his system made him feel invincible.
"You haven't seen what I can DO!" The roar tore from his chest, echoing off stone walls, a declaration of war.
Lucius Vance lay sprawled across his throne, eyes staring at nothing, blood pooling beneath him in an ever-widening lake. The throne had become a monument to his failure, his deathbed dressed in velvet and gold.
The Ghost Beast's claws scraped against stone as it sprinted, the sound like knives on slate. Its translucent form rippled with each powerful stride, closing the distance to Lord Vutagon Mondanza with terrifying speed. 'Almost. Almost.'
But Mondanza veered hard, his survival instincts overriding panic. He dove into a tunnel at the arena's edge, robes tangling around his legs.
A moment later, the steel bar grill door *slammed* shut with a reverberating *CLANG* that echoed through the chamber.
The Ghost Beast hit the barrier at full speed. The impact sent shockwaves through the metal, but the bars held firm, barely even shaking. The creature's claws dug deep, trying to find purchase, trying to *rip*, but the steel was too thick, too well-forged.
An eerie, bird-like screech tore from the Ghost Beast's throat—frustration and fury given voice.
'Sorry, Zane—I failed you. He has escaped.' The words carried weight, shame.
Zane relayed the message, his mental voice tinged with disappointment.
Cipher's expression remained carved from ice, not a flicker of emotion crossing her features.
Inside, though, her mind raced, recalculating, adapting. 'One target escaped. Acceptable losses. Move forward.'
"Tell him it's alright—it's not a big deal. We'll use the north wing to escape. Tell him to head that way."
The message passed. 'Alright, I'm on it.'
The Ghost Beast pivoted with impossible speed, its form blurring as it raced toward the north wing, clearing a path through flesh and steel.
'Cool.' Zane's response was simple, satisfied.
Cipher's fingers pressed against her bow, feeling the smooth wood, the taut string. Her mind worked through trajectories and timing with mechanical precision. "Now, Zane—I need a little fire on my arrows like you did when we fought the Winzors."
Zane's chuckle rumbled through their connection, eager and dark.
'Absolutely—no problem.' She could feel his anticipation, his hunger for destruction.
"Zane, let's head near Nova and the others." The command was calm, controlled.
Without hesitation, Zane banked hard, wings cutting through dust-filled air. Cipher's stomach lurched with the sudden change in direction, but she held firm, trusting in his grip.
Below, Nova was a dervish of violence, her blade never still, always seeking the next target.
"Nova, Ren, Asher—head to the north wing! The Ghost Beast is already clearing the way!" Cipher's voice cut through the chaos like a blade.
Nova's breath hitched, lungs burning, but her resolve crystallized into diamond-hard determination. "Got you!" The response came without hesitation, automatic.
Cipher's gaze snapped to the massive man who had released the Ghost Beast—the one whose key had started this cascade of chaos.
He was locked in brutal combat with Asher, their weapons meeting in showers of sparks, the *clang* of steel on steel ringing out like bells.
'He'll slow us down. Eliminate the obstacle.' The thought was cold, tactical.
Cipher drew her bow, the string pressing into her fingertips, the tension familiar and comforting. She exhaled slowly, steadying her aim despite Zane's movement. Released.
The arrow cut through the air with a sound like tearing silk, a streak of light and death. It punched through the soldier's chest with a wet *thunk*, the impact driving him back a step.
"AAGH!" His scream was raw, primal, cut short as flames erupted from the arrow's shaft. Fire consumed him in seconds, his flesh blackening and cracking, the smell of burning meat filling the air—sickeningly sweet and nauseating.
Asher spun, eyes finding Cipher floating above like some avenging angel. His chest heaved, sweat pouring down his face.
Cipher's lips curved into something sharp and satisfied. "You're welcome. Now—we need to GO!" The urgency in her voice was unmistakable.
Nova had already broken into a sprint toward the north wing, her legs pumping, lungs screaming for air.
Cipher pressed her hand against Zane's scaled side, feeling the heat radiating from him, the power coiled beneath his skin. "Zane—let's cause a little destruction." Her smile turned wicked. "Starting with the arena."
Zane's chuckle was pure darkness and delight. 'My pleasure. Thought you'd never ask.'
'Finally.'
He inhaled deeply, his chest expanding, and Cipher felt the heat building, the air around them shimmering.
Then he released it—a roaring torrent of hellfire that painted the world in shades of orange and red. The wooden stage ignited instantly, flames racing across its surface like living things, hungry and insatiable.
The heat washed over Cipher even from this distance, making her skin prickle, sweat beading on her forehead. The roar of the flames was deafening, a living thing that devoured sound and air.
"Good work, Zane." Satisfaction thrummed through her voice.
The Dark Pit Arena was dying. Wood splintered with sharp *cracks*, beams collapsing in showers of sparks.
Flames devoured everything they touched, climbing walls, racing across ceilings. The ground shook, tremors running through stone as the structure began to fail.
"Guys, hurry—otherwise, we'll be buried alive in this hell dungeon!" Cipher's voice rang out above the roar of destruction, urgent and commanding.
Nova, Ren, and Asher sprinted toward the north wing, their boots pounding against stone. Debris rained down around them—chunks of burning wood, fragments of stone. Asher felt something hot graze his shoulder, searing through fabric. He didn't slow.
The Ghost Beast tore through the remaining soldiers like they were made of paper, its claws rending flesh and bone, clearing their path to freedom. Bodies fell in its wake, broken and bleeding.
Cipher soared above them, carried by Zane's powerful wings. Her bow was a constant presence in her hands, arrows flying with mechanical precision.
Each shot found its mark—throat, eye, heart. Soldiers who attempted to block their escape fell, one after another, their screams adding to the symphony of chaos.
'Almost there. Almost—'
Then—
A sound like thunder. A massive rock, dislodged from the ceiling by fire and structural failure, plummeted downward. It fell with terrible inevitability, a boulder the size of a wagon.
*CRASH.*
The impact shook the ground, sending shockwaves through stone. Dust exploded outward in a choking cloud. When it cleared, the north wing entrance was sealed—completely, utterly blocked by tons of stone.
Nova, Ren, and Asher skidded to a stop, boots scraping against stone. For a heartbeat, they could only stare in horror, their minds refusing to process what their eyes were seeing.
'No. No, no, no—'
Nova's heart plummeted into her stomach, ice flooding her veins. Her breath came in short, panicked gasps. "Cipher!" The name tore from her throat, desperate and terrified.
The flames roared louder. The ceiling groaned.