The figure floated before Veil, bathed in the flickering glow of violet flames. Draped in a cloak of shifting mist, it seemed alive—its smoky tendrils drifting, vanishing into the icy air that pressed down on the room.

  But what struck Veil the most… was the absence of arms or legs.

  The Wraith hovered, swaying in rhythm with the flames, as if it were bound to them. Beneath its hood, there was nothing—just a void. An endless blackness broken only by two piercing red eyes, glowing like embers, with tendrils of darkness leaking from the emptiness within.

  Veil felt his heart slam against his ribs, but his gaze snapped immediately back to Alynia—still lying on the ground.

  No movement. Not even a twitch.

  He had to get to her. He had to help her.

  But the Wraith gave him no time to act.

  One of its smoky shreds stiffened with a sharp snap, stretching like a whip. A black blade burst forth, lashing toward Veil.

  He leapt back—barely fast enough. The blade grazed his cheek, and a wave of biting cold surged through him. This wasn’t just a cut... it was something else.

  He touched his wounded skin with trembling fingers, his breath short and ragged. Then he gripped his dagger, knuckles white with tension. His eyes darted from the Wraith to Alynia. She was still there. Still unmoving.

  “You… I’m going to end you,” Veil growled, voice low and shaking with fury. “You’ll pay for what you did to her.”

  Then, more softly, almost breaking:

  “Hang in there, Alynia… I’ll be quick.”

  The Wraith let out a harsh scream—a cold vibration that rattled Veil to the bone. A shadowy pool spread beneath it, devouring the floor in inky blackness.

  In the blink of an eye, the Wraith vanished.

  Veil turned on instinct, senses taut. A chill ran down his spine—and he leapt just in time. A hand erupted from the ground where he’d stood a second before.

  A heavy breath echoed through the chamber.

  The Wraith reappeared in front of him, its glowing eyes drilling into his soul. A black hand extended from beneath the robe, snapping forward. Veil tried to retreat—but too late. The shadowy fingers seized him.

  A cold like nothing before surged through him.

  Worse than what he’d felt earlier—deeper, more absolute. His arm went limp, numb under the crushing emptiness. He gritted his teeth and reacted instantly, raising his dagger and stabbing the shadow-hand.

  The blade passed through as before… but this time, the hand recoiled.

  Veil froze. Why… why had it reacted?

  His breath caught. The dagger hadn’t touched anything.

  Yet the creature had flinched—unlike when it held Alynia.

  The Wraith floated back into the darkness, retreating slightly. Then… a strange sound echoed across the chamber.

  A laugh.

  Hoarse. Distorted. Hollow.

  Veil’s blood turned to ice.

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  The Wraith was laughing.

  As if it knew something he didn’t yet understand.

  Then it resumed its assault. Its drifting robes began to spin faster, whipping like sails in a phantom storm. A deep crack rang out through the room, the sound echoing off the columns and arches like a distant war drum.

  Three shadow-blades shot from its body, slicing through the air with terrifying speed as it lunged at Veil.

  Veil stumbled back instinctively, his breath ragged and shallow.

  His body felt unbearably heavy. The fatigue—piled up since the start of this cursed dungeon—was crushing him, inch by inch.

  He wanted to fight. He wanted to kill that thing.

  But his mind, clouded by rage and fear, could no longer see straight.

  His dodges were slowing. His breathing was short.

  The Wraith had the upper hand.

  Suddenly, the shadow ceased its storm of blades.

  With a sharp snap, one of its misty tendrils stiffened into a razor-sharp spike and launched forward with brutal force.

  Veil rolled aside just in time, gasping to catch his breath—but the Wraith vanished once more into a cloud of thick fog.

  “Shit… where is it now…?” Veil hissed through clenched teeth, tense and straining.

  He pushed himself up, scanning the darkness.

  And then—his instincts screamed.

  Too late.

  The Wraith's guttural laugh echoed behind him.

  Before he could react, a shadowy hand burst from the specter’s cloak and slammed into his leg.

  Pain erupted through his body.

  Cold. All-consuming.

  A shiver of agony climbed his spine as he felt something draining out of him—his strength, his energy, his very will.

  Everything slipped away in an instant, and he froze under the crushing weight of the impact.

  A cry tore from his lips—raw, involuntary.

  The Wraith laughed louder, its distorted voice vibrating through the air, feeding on his suffering.

  “He’s… he’s toying with me,” Veil gasped, voice ragged with pain.

  “All it wants… is to break me…”

  His jaw clenched.

  No.

  He wouldn’t die like this.

  With what strength he had left, he raised his dagger and forced his Mana to surge in one desperate burst.

  The air around his arm trembled under the sudden pressure.

  A rush of wind spiraled outward, clashing with the Wraith’s unnatural cold.

  The effect was immediate.

  Where his mana met the creature’s shadow, the temperature dropped violently.

  A blast of frost spread across the blade’s path, striking the Wraith’s hand—freezing it solid in one blinding instant.

  A sharp crack rang out.

  The hand shattered.

  Shards of glimmering shadow fell to the ground, scattering like fragments of broken crystal across the dirt.

  The Wraith recoiled several meters, letting out a piercing, alien shriek.

  A wave of icy air exploded through the chamber, so cold Veil felt his blood hesitate in his veins.

  The broken fragments of the hand lay on the floor—but a piece still clung to the Wraith’s form.

  In a savage twist, the creature tore the remains from its body and hurled them aside.

  The limb burst mid-air, vanishing in a puff of dark frost.

  Veil tightened his grip and forced himself upright, teeth gritted from the pain burning in his leg.

  Every step was torture.

  But he couldn’t fall now.

  Not while Alynia was still lying there.

  He had to reach her.

  He had to save her.

  And he had to survive this goddamn dungeon.

  He had found a weakness.

  That thing—

  It fears the cold.

  But hitting it again…

  That was another story.

  Veil knew it—his Mana wasn’t limitless.

  He couldn’t keep this up forever.

  Still, despite the searing pain in his leg, despite the crushing weight of exhaustion pulling on his shoulders, he forced himself upright and locked eyes with the Wraith’s burning red gaze.

  “I get it now… You won’t take me down that easily again,” he said defiantly, voice ragged.

  It trembled—but he needed to show he wasn’t afraid.

  Even if, deep down, his whole body was screaming in panic.

  The Wraith growled.

  Then, in a sudden surge of rage, it let out a piercing shriek—sharper, louder than any before.

  The very air seemed to tremble with it, making the violet flames hovering above them shudder and dance.

  And then it struck.

  Veil heard the sharp snap of the tendrils coiling.

  Four blades sliced through the air at once, cutting down toward him like fangs of pure shadow.

  He slid aside just in time to dodge—

  —but the darkness spread.

  A mist rose from the ground.

  And the Wraith vanished again.

  Veil barely had a second to react.

  The next instant—it reappeared.

  Right in front of him.

  His body froze.

  Too fast. Too close.

  He heard a second crack.

  A blade pierced his chest.

  Agony exploded through him—a cold so deep it hollowed him out. His breath caught in his throat, and blood slipped from his lips.

  The Wraith laughed.

  A twisted, guttural sound, echoing in the hollow of his chest.

  A third snap.

  Another blade drove through his torso.

  Then a third.

  And a fourth.

  The impact was brutal—so violent he coughed up blood in a shuddering gasp.

  His body trembled, overwhelmed.

  His strength drained from him like water slipping through cracked stone.

  His vision blurred. His mind sank beneath the weight of the pain.

  He wavered.

  His gaze searched for her.

  Alynia…

  “No… not now…” he whispered, staggering.

  His dagger slipped from his fingers.

  And still, he reached—one trembling hand stretching toward her.

  As if he could close the distance.

  As if he could still reach her.

  But the Wraith wouldn’t let him go that easily.

  The blades lodged in his chest began to twist—

  Slowly. Deliberately.

  Tearing through flesh like silent drills, merciless and slow.

  A heat bloomed deep in his core, molten and unbearable.

  He couldn’t think. Couldn’t breathe.

  And then—

  It stopped.

  Abrupt. Sudden.

  As if the monster had tired of its own cruelty.

  The blades tore out all at once.

  A spray of blood.

  Veil collapsed to his knees, tears burning in his eyes.

  His heart pounded in his chest.

  His breath came in shallow bursts.

  He couldn’t fall now.

  He had to help Alynia.

  He had to get back up.

  “Not… yet… I… have to…” he gasped, barely audible.

  But his body wouldn’t obey.

  Every motion felt distant, broken—

  as if his muscles had given up.

  The Wraith hovered before him, red eyes narrowing into slits—

  savoring its victory.

  Veil collapsed.

  The cold stone floor swallowed him in an instant,

  the chill biting against the warm blood pooling beneath his body.

  He reached out,

  hand trembling toward Alynia.

  “I’m… sorry…” he whispered.

  His breathing slowed.

  His eyelids grew heavy.

  Everything blurred.

  Everything faded into black.

  One final thought.

  One last regret.

  And then—

  Nothing.

  In the silent chamber,

  only the Wraith remained.

  And its twisted laugh—

  echoing like a funeral bell through the dark.