Her breath stuttered as she assessed everything. She looked for her fellow scions among the crowd of terror-stricken adventurers, and then she laughed hysterically as the burning acid that poisoned her body traced its way into her lungs.

  “We can't keep fighting...and if we try to run. We'll all be at its mercy.” Ursa said, stumbling back a bit, her eyes wide open.

  “Yes. We need to find another way… Darrow!!” Damian said. Then he started looking around for his brother.

  “The poison and acid will kill us,” she stuttered, still in shock. And the few goliath guards at hand came around to form a shield wall in front of their scion.

  Not so far north of the battle in the neighbouring city, a large half-giant man slammed his fist into the table. He was not the only one furious. In fact, it was clear to see that the members of the Brassthrone were on edge as they looked into the scrying orb at this new development.

  Darrow wasn't far behind them. In fact, he was staying as close to Damian as he could, even as the monster glared all of them down.

  “We can lead the creature away,” Damian said. He didn't want to risk their lives, but it was either them or the people here.

  “Are we doing that again?” Darrow asked, even though he knew there was little chance of anyone escaping without them doing something. He knew that if the creature decided, it would ignore all these people and head straight for the two of them.

  Why this was a good guess, they didn't know, but if they did what Damian was suggesting, the creature would most definitely chase after them.

  Ursa stared at them. They seemed to know how the creature would act, and if they could lead the creature away, then that was the only chance everyone had to escape.

  “Can you do it, can you help us escape?” she asked.

  Ursa looked from Damian to Darrow. He nodded, and Darrow begrudgingly nodded.

  “You owe us for this,” Darrow said, then he covered his ears as the creature let out a shrilling scritch.

  “If you can do anything to save us, the scions of the BrassThrone will be indebted to you.” She lifted herself up straight with the help of her spear.

  There was still fear in her eyes as her pupils shook. She was calculating, like her father had told her to do if she ever found herself in battle, presumably weighing the lives of those around her. But finally, Damian nodded.

  “Then do it,” she said, and pressed her wand into Darrow’s hand. She knew they needed all the help they could get.

  The wand—Darrow looked down at it, a question on his mind, and his eyebrow arched.

  “If you can distract it… long enough… the wand is yours,” Ursa promised him.

  Darrow held the wand tightly in his hand. He looked up at her and nodded.

  Darrow soon caught up with Damian, and they ran to the right side of the battlefield, heading away from the mass of fighting adventurers and soldiers.

  Damian glanced back for a moment, and it wasn't as bad as it could have been. He watched two figures fighting the beast, and the two figures were fairly matched against the large creature in the distant mists.

  He narrowed his eyes, and he could see chemical blasts detonating on the creature's body, sending it back, while the large tiger man from before roared and his two katanas flashed.

  The half-elf fighting with the lionin tiger man threw veils of different colours on the centipede, and even some on the tiger man, allowing him to fight in the acid and poisonous air.

  The half-elf alchemist simply walked through the acid harmlessly, and the beast's poison rolled off him without effect. His explosion staggered the beast back and away from the adventurers, who were barely able to protect themselves.

  Darrow turned as well, and he squinted at the figure, only for a spark of recognition to bloom as he raised his eyes.

  “That's him.”

  “Who?” Damian asked.

  “It’s stripes… he's here,” Darrow said.

  “English, please, Darrow,” Damian said.

  “It's Artoz… he's fighting it.”

  “And who is the other one?”

  “Some sort of half-elf mage. Can't see clearly from this far with the mists in my sight,” Darrow said, noting the man looked familiar to the one they had seen sleeping by the wagon.

  Artoz was barely holding the line on his own, and with the help of the half-elf, they seemed to have come to a stalemate with the monster. The few silver ranks who tried to force their way into the battle were in over their heads and got caught in the acid, poison, or claws of the beast.

  Once they had gotten far enough, they turned toward the fighting, and Darrow pulled the magic wand out. With the help of Damian, they both channelled their enormous amounts of magical power into the wand as it strained with magic. Darrow pointed it at the large reptilian slitherer.

  The wand strained, then glowed, and lightning erupted from its tip and flew in a massive surge that struck the creature, charring it black.

  The creature let out a scream, then turned to its new opponents. And there they were—its targets, still causing it more pain.

  The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

  Darrow made sure the beast was watching him as he licked its blood off the edge of his daggers, taunting it. Then, to make sure they would make for a thrilling target, he also used [skill imprint: Salute the Foe], one of his brothers skill.

  He gagged, spat the fluids to the side, grimaced at the taste of the creature's eyeball blood, then stepped back as the creature narrowed its one good eye and charged toward them.

  “I think it sees us. It's coming this way,” Darrow said as he looked down.

  “It always was,” Damian said, and he didn't even look up. He was busy tracing a path through the rubble that they would use to escape.

  The creature ignored the adventurers, it ignored the blockade it had set up, and it ran towards them, batting aside the adventurers in its way.

  Damian didn't have to wait long before he heard the creature charging and the ground shaking. They heard stone shattering, and they started running.

  Darrow followed Damian. They ran past rubble, trying to lose the creature before it reached them. When it did, it slowed and clicked its mandibles together—just for a moment—but after that, it was right back on their trail.

  They ran, jumped, and sometimes slipped under stony edifices of the once-great city.

  They moved through cave-ins that the creature tore apart, forcing them to keep moving forward. They tried to lose it in twisting ruins and ducked through gaps, but the creature ignored all that.

  Even worse were the scrying spells giving their location away, the magical eyes following them as well as the creature.

  The creature never slowed, and in their panic, they took a wrong turn and found themselves staring at a large, looming wall blocked off on the sides.

  They turned, and Damian raised his sword while Darrow faced the creature and gave a hollow laugh.

  They could try climbing over the side amid the rubble, but that meant turning their backs and letting the creature attack them.

  If they fought the creature, they knew it would give them no quarter this time. It wouldn't take its time with them. Instead, they knew it would strike them down without hesitation.

  The creature slowed, scratching stones below it as it cornered them in. It readied itself with triumphant sway in its movement and took in the moment. Finally, its mission would be complete after it harvested their souls.

  Darrow pointed his wand again, and lightning scorched its burned and scarred exoskeleton.

  It ignored the pain. The smoke of the burning drifted off harmlessly, and it forced him to take a step back.

  “Are we fighting?” Darrow asked, drawing his daggers and putting the wand away.

  “Yes, we have no choice,” Damian said. He gripped his sword tightly and used mana infusion to push as much magic as he could into the mana-steel sword Rellina had given him.

  Darrow grinned. His daggers flashed in the light of the setting orange sun, and he readied himself.

  The creature coiled back, its muscles tensed, ready to strike them, and Damian let out a war cry, preparing for the inevitable as he raised his sword—but the creature didn't move.

  A skill crashed down onto the reptilian centipede. The air shimmered, and the creature froze.

  Far in the distance, under the presence of her [Authority], they heard her voice.

  “As long as it is within my realm… it cannot move… without my say.” Rellina ordered.

  Damian took the chance, and for the third time, his mana-fueled sword with its vibrating edge bit deep into the frozen centipede. The burnt flesh split, exposing its moving organs.

  He had already known its weakness was fire, but the signs now were damning—the way it had attacked the mages and the weakness of its exoskeleton in the burned parts of its flesh.

  Darrow wasn't far behind as they attacked together, moving around the creature as they cut it deep in the side.

  The creature shrieked loudly, causing them to cover their ears. It broke free and turned on the fleeing twins, but again the skill [Authority] held its movement still.

  This time, the hold was short-lived. Cracks spread through the air, and once free, it charged at Damian and Darrow's backs—but an explosion rattled its face.

  The alchemical concoctions of the half-elf caused a great explosion that sent it back and sent the boulders falling forward.

  The guilders and scions hadn't turned to run back to Emberfall. instead the done the opposite and came back to help them.

  As if they had gotten a second wind under their feet, the adventurer led by the scions and their warrior fighting the beast again, but this time in a somewhat organised formation.

  There were war cries as they charged toward the beast in an area with none of the poisonous gas or acid, but the creature, seeing this, realised its mistake of giving away its carefully crafted terrain.

  It pulled its head back and prepared to spit acid and poison, but this time a white standard shrieked through the air and struck it, causing it to shut its mandibles. More spells came flying and bombarded the creature.

  Damian and Darrow looked up to see who was throwing the spells, but it wasn't the adventurers who had come to their rescue with the scions. No, it was a great flying ship filled with high-ranked adventurers.

  The enchanted ship flew the white-gold colours of the White Dragon Guild, one of the great adventurer guilds, and leading its efforts was a white Drake standing on its foredeck as the flying ship drifted down, cutting through the mists.

  Mathric held the banner of the White Dragon Guild in his hand as the gold ranks rained down spells and skills on the unique dungeon monster. Shockwaves and magic rippled across the entire area, cutting barrows into the earth and moulding the earth anew.

  Damian and Darrow, like the other adventurers, tried to get up, but they stumbled back down from the massive forces that were causing dust clouds and debris to erupt.

  Mathric leapt from the foredeck of his ship, his shadow dropping as he landed right in front of the beast with a spear in hand.

  He was dressed like any adventurer out for a stroll—simple leather pants and a simple linen shirt folded at the elbows, exposing his white scales.

  He threw the spear at the beast, then drew his sword as his laughter rang out while he stepped forward to engage the beast alone.

  The last thing they saw was him—the guild master of the White Dragon Guild—entering battle with the beast in the thick mists of Mistwell.

  Darrow groaned as he was helped to his feet. He looked up and recognised the lionin tiger man.

  “Nice to see you again, stripes,” he said, and Artoz grinned.

  Damian stood as well. He scanned the area around them and picked up his sword from the ground.

  “Who’s your wizard friend?” he asked Artoz, who was busy helping Darrow to his feet.

  “That’s the alchemist of Allm-Alor,” Artoz shrugged.

  Darrow frowned at the mention of Allm-Alor. Then his eyes went wide as he put two and two together.

  No member of the Takers Guild would be willing to fight with anyone of weaker strength. And Damian also doubted that Artoz would let anyone who would slow him down fight by his side, which meant the shabby half-elf who was throwing potions out of a dimensional bag was most certainly the famed alchemist of the city of Allm-Alor.

  The ship lowered to the ground, its bow hissing open, and gold-rank adventurers from Principal City and the White Dragons poured out, forming a defensive line and helping the injured aboard as the guild master occupied the beast on his own.

  Elora leapt down from the ship with the others of the adventurers she had been travelling with and ran toward them.

  “What are you doing here?” Darrow started, surprised to see her.

  “It's okay,” she said, and hugged him.

  “Your father—” Damian also started, but she waved him off, interrupting him.

  “I brought gifts,” she said, presenting them with newly enchanted items and similar tokens to the ones they had used in the sewers.

  She pressed the charms she had made using the knowledge from the scroll they had given her to study into their hands, and they looked down and nodded.

  Just as she slid her satchel to the side, Mathric came crashing back into view. He bounced once on his side, then in one smooth, elegant motion, he stood as he steadied himself upright.

  It looked like holding the beast off alone had taken a lot out of the drake, thanks to the monster. The guild master of the White Dragon Guild looked beaten, bruised, and was bleeding from his nostrils.