A growl behind them was the only warning they got. It sounded harsh, almost inhuman.
One of the dead had crept up unnoticed through the red mist and lunged at Shay. Its bony fingers stretched toward the back of the knight's neck.
Shay sensed the danger behind him—that survival instinct that even pain hadn't been able to extinguish. He turned to defend himself, but the movement caused the javelin still lodged in his leg to flare up in pain. A sharp, searing pain shot through his leg, as if fire had been poured into it. A choked cry escaped his throat as his knee buckled. He crashed to the ground, still clutching the warhammer.
Shay, sprawled on the floor, could barely see. The undead was descending upon him like death itself.
That's when Milo appeared.He held his breath and raised the sword in his hands. The bastard sword felt as heavy as a mountain. It was larger than he could properly handle, and his body could barely keep it upright. His arms trembled, his muscles ached, and it felt like his tendons were about to snap. But in that moment, something stronger than the pain pushed him forward.
The movement surprised even him. There was no technique, no elegance—just instinct and desperation. The sword sliced through the air with a whistle, in a clean arc that came crashing down on the undead's skull, just as its fingers were inches from Shay's nape.
The blade hit hard, burying itself in the rotted bone and tearing out chunks of what was left of its brain, but it didn't go deep enough to stop the creature entirely.
The force of the blow threw Milo off balance. With the sword stuck in the undead's skull, it pulled him forward like an anchor. His legs tangled under him as he tried not to fall. A startled grunt escaped him as he felt his whole body tipping forward. He hit the ground hard—first his knees, then his chest slammed against the cold stone, and finally his face crashed down, kicking up a cloud of dust around him.
Milo accidentally inhaled a deep breath of the mist. The red gas filled his lungs, burning like fire as it went down. He started coughing so violently he thought his ribs might break. Each spasm hurt more than the last, and his throat already felt shredded, as if torn apart from the inside.
The injured undead turned its attention to Milo. It twisted its head toward the halfling lying on the ground and reached out its skeletal fingers to grab him. But that distraction was exactly what Shay needed.
The knight twisted his body with effort, pushing up with his good knee. The tendons in his neck stood out like cables beneath his skin, and he clenched his teeth so hard it looked like they might shatter. He grabbed the warhammer with both hands and raised it in a perfect arc, building speed from the ground up.
The weapon slammed directly into the undead's jaw.
The sound was a wet crunch, like a rotten melon smashing against stone. The jaw shattered completely, taking part of the maxilla and half the skull with it. Bone fragments and teeth flew in all directions, spraying the air and splattering Shay's face.
The creature collapsed instantly. And Shay went down with it.Unlike Milo, he had been breathing the poisoned mist from the very beginning, without a single pause. The blow had knocked the air out of him, and as he inhaled again, the toxic gas surged deeper into his body. He doubled over in a violent spasm.
Both warriors were on the ground.Though their will remained strong, their bodies could no longer keep up.
But where they fell, the woman was only getting started.
She moved like a huntress amid the chaos. Everything about her was precision and control. No hesitation, no tremble. Every step, every twist, every strike seemed rehearsed a thousand times. It was as if she knew every corner of the chamber and exactly what needed to be done.To her, this wasn't a fight—it was a dance.
With impressive agility, she lunged at the first dead thing that dared approach. A skeleton draped in scraps of dried, blackened flesh raised its claws with the clumsy stiffness of those who no longer lived. But it never touched her.
She slipped between its legs like water through stone, reappearing behind it in a single fluid motion. With a precise strike of her dagger, she sliced through the vertebrae in its neck. The blade slid between the bones as easily as a hot knife through butter. The undead's head came clean off and rolled across the floor.
"Now this is fun" the woman muttered, a wild smile lighting up her face. Her eyes burned with an almost feverish intensity.
She stood still for a moment, surprised by herself.She didn't remember being able to move like that. Her body reacted on its own, It was as if her muscles had a memory of their own.
More of the dead were closing in, drawn by the noise... and by what still lived.Her eyes, bright with adrenaline, gleamed with delight.
And then, in a gesture of complete confidence—or perhaps pure arrogance—she slid the dagger back into her belt.She clearly didn't think she needed it.Not against these slow, clumsy things.
When the second undead charged at her—a fresher corpse, with flesh still clinging to the bones and the torn uniform of some long-forgotten warrior—the woman didn't back away. On the contrary, she stepped forward, as if she were about to greet it.
The undead spread its arms to grab her, its jaw grinding as it moved.
But just before impact, the woman ducked and slipped past the embrace. She drove a punch straight into its chest, making its ribs crack. Without giving it a chance to react, she followed with an upward blow to the jaw, hitting so hard that several teeth flew out.
The undead staggered backward, and she—completely immersed in her violent rhythm—finished the sequence with a spinning kick that struck the chest dead-on. The body was thrown backward and hit the floor with a dull thud that echoed through the chamber.
She pounced on the fallen undead, straddling its torso. Without hesitation, she sank her fingers into the sides of its skull, digging her nails into the rotting flesh.
A fierce smile spread across her face as she pressed down hard. There was no disgust in her eyes—only wild delight. With a quick and brutal motion, she twisted her hands. The sound of tearing cartilage, snapping tendons, and breaking bone filled the air as the undead's head was wrenched from its body.
The woman stood up with the head still in her hands, while drops of dark liquid dripped onto the floor. She tossed it aside like a broken toy, not even bothering to look at it again.
Then she heard it. Footsteps.But they weren't like the clumsy, dragging steps of the undead. These were heavy, wet—like something large and soft slamming into the ground as it moved. Through the thick red mist, she caught sight of a figure moving toward her.
"Perfect" she thought. "You'll be my next victim."
Without a second's hesitation, she charged toward the figure with the same fierce confidence as before.
The mist parted for a moment, and what she saw made no sense. It was a creature pulled straight from a nightmare.
Its skin was bloated, with a sickly color somewhere between rotting green and filthy brown, like sun-baked carrion. But the worst part was the eyes. Dozens of them covered its body, scattered with no pattern—on its head, its shoulders, its chest. All different sizes, all bloodshot red and veined.They looked in every direction… until, suddenly, they all turned to her.
Its face was so deformed it barely resembled a face anymore. A massive mouth took up nearly its entire head, lined with multiple rows of long, dagger-like teeth that glistened with a sickening wetness. Thick, yellowish strands of fluid hung from its twisted lips, dripping constantly onto the floor—where they sizzled and smoked upon contact with the stone.
The woman tried to stop... but it was too late. The momentum of her charge carried her straight toward the creature.
The abomination's arm moved with impossible speed for something so large. The blow struck her square in the chest.
All the air was knocked from her lungs in an instant. Her body flew backward through the air, as if it weighed nothing at all.
The impact against the wall was brutal — the rock cracked from the sheer force.
She dropped to the ground like a sack of flesh, bounced once, and lay still. A thin trail of blood slipped from her mouth, pooling beneath her cheek. Another wound on her forehead began to bleed as well, the blood running down her face and covering her left eye.
The hit had been so powerful that the shockwave pushed the red mist outward, clearing a circle around her. For the first time, she could see Milo and Shay on the ground, corpses strewn across the chamber…and the creature advancing toward her.
The woman tried to get up, but every movement sent waves of pain through her entire body. With trembling fingers, she reached for the dagger on her belt. Feeling the cold metal in her hand gave her a fleeting moment of calm amidst the agony.
She drew the weapon just as the creature's shadow loomed over her.
Before she could strike, the creature came down on her with impossible speed for something so massive. One of its limbs crushed her right forearm with brutal force.
A scream tore from her chest. The dagger flew from her hand, skidding across the wet floor and vanishing into the darkness.The pain was pure electricity—like every nerve in her arm had been set on fire.
Just a few meters away, Shay was fighting to stay conscious. Unlike Milo, who still hadn't moved, the knight still held on to a shred of awareness. Every breath felt like losing a battle against the poison in his lungs. And yet, his red, burning eyes never left the scene unfolding before him.
The creature loomed over the fallen woman. Its many eyes blinked with a twisted curiosity. From its enormous mouth slithered a long, segmented tongue—like that of an insect, but covered in tiny suction cups that pulsed as if alive. The beast lowered its head, bringing that revolting appendage closer to the woman's face.
The tongue moved fast, wrapping tightly around her neck. The suction cups latched onto her skin, and she felt something hot—like acid—begin to seep in.
Shay watched everything in horror. He knew that if he didn't act, the woman might die. With what little courage he had left, he grabbed the broken javelin still lodged in his leg.
The pain was immediate and brutal. Every time he pulled, it felt like his flesh was being torn apart from the inside. Blood started pouring out quickly, soaking his pants. He clenched his teeth so hard he felt one crack—but he didn't stop.
With one final pull, he yanked the javelin out completely.
"Hey, you disgusting freak!" he shouted with all the voice he had left. Why don't you try someone who can actually hit back?!
The words came out rough and weak, drowned in the blood filling his mouth—but they were enough.The creature stopped.Slowly, all its eyes turned toward him, blinking in unison in a way that was deeply unsettling.
The tongue unwrapped from the woman's neck, and she collapsed to the ground, gasping for air like she was drowning.
The beast turned fully toward Shay, locking all of its eyes on him.
Seeing her chance, the woman began to crawl away from the monster. Her neck was covered in small, round wounds that still burned like embers.
Shay gripped the broken javelin with both hands. He knew he didn't have the strength to fight that thing—not in the state he was in.But fighting wasn't what he had in mind.
His eyes—trained by battle—had caught something the creature hadn't.Up on the ceiling, directly above it, cracks spread like a spiderweb from the spot where the woman had slammed into the wall.
With the last of his strength, Shay hurled the javelin.It flew straight through the air and struck the stone with a sharp crack, embedding itself and trembling from the impact.
A creaking noise echoed.A massive chunk of stone broke free, followed by a cascade of rocks and debris. Everything came crashing down on the creature with brutal force, smashing it against the floor.
A horrific scream filled the chamber as the monster was buried under tons of ancient stone.
The woman looked at Shay. Her expression was hard to read. Her eyes rested on the wounded knight with surprise... and something like respect.He had just saved her life, but she didn't say a word.Instead, a silence fell between them—one that said more than words could.
Shay let out a shaky breath, which quickly turned into a fit of coughing. When he finally managed to speak, his voice was hoarse.
"That... was close" he murmured, letting himself fall backward and resting his head on the cold floor.
The red mist began to fade.The air still reeked, but at least it was breathable now.
Not a single undead remained. Only broken bones and dark stains littered the ground. The silence after the battle felt unreal, broken only by the ragged breathing of those who were still alive.
Shay dragged himself over to where Milo lay.The halfling wasn't moving. His eyes were closed, and his skin had gone very pale.
With trembling hands, Shay touched his shoulder and gently shook him.
"Milo. Milo, wake up" he said in a ragged whisper. Now's not the time for a nap.
Milo's eyelids twitched. He slowly opened his eyes, at first unable to focus, until the face in front of him came into view.
"Broken Bridge...?"" his voice was barely a whisper. "Are we... dead?"
Shay let out a faint laugh, which quickly turned into another coughing fit. A few drops of blood stained his lips.
"Not as dead as those things," he said once he could breathe again.
Milo tried to sit up, but his body gave out. He fell back again, gasping for air.
"My... body..." he panted. "Feels like I got kicked by a horse. Or ten."
"I know exactly how you feel," Shay nodded, also struggling to breathe. "But we're still alive. That's what matters."
The woman limped toward them, her right arm hanging crooked, her neck still bleeding.
"Alive for now," she said, glancing around cautiously. "I wouldn't count on our luck lasting in this place."
The ground began to tremble. Small stones and dust rained down from the cracked ceiling.
"What... what's happening?" Milo asked, fear putting strength back into his voice.
The crushed remains of the monster began to shift. At the same time, the bones and scattered remains of the undead started crawling across the floor—all of it moving toward a crater in a far corner of the chamber.
The woman took a step back without thinking. Shay tried to stand, but his legs refused to respond. Milo could only stare, frozen, clutching the medallion on his chest.
Everything was coming together. Bones, rotting flesh, the black fluid of the dead, the deformed remains of the creature... it all merged into a mass that kept growing. Veins formed, tissues stretched, fragments of organs twisted into shape—as if something new was being born.
A massive creature rose above the crater, so large it nearly touched the ceiling. It had no clear form. It was a shifting mass of flesh, veins, and twisted tissue in hues of red and purple. All of it came together to shape—somehow—a single, enormous eye.
The iris was a strange color, somewhere between amber and ivory. The pupil was a black circle so deep it seemed to swallow all the light around it.
The eye didn't move. It remained completely still, like part of the chamber itself—a statue or a bizarre ornament. It didn't blink, didn't turn. It looked like it was carved from living flesh, yet still as stone.For a moment, they even doubted it was alive.
And then, the eye blinked.