Chapter Title: Baptism of Shadows and Flame (Part II)
Serah dropped to her knees, her palms trembling as radiant tendrils of light spilled from her fingertips. The warm glow pulsed outward, weaving through the jagged battlefield like threads of dawn through a battlefield drenched in shadow. Her breaths came in sharp gasps, each inhalation drawing magic from deep within her core.
"Stay still," she whispered, her voice shaking as she pressed her hands against Darius's scorched shoulder. The wound hissed as the flesh knitted itself together, light crackling over torn skin like silk mending cloth.
Darius grunted, his gray eyes flickering. "You're pushing yourself too hard..."
"I have to." Her voice barely broke above the echo of goblin howls resounding from deeper within the tunnel.
Beside them, Ethan was half-crouched with one hand bracing the cave wall, his daggers coated in drying blood. He was pale. A gash across his ribs stained his uniform crimson. His breathing was shallow, pain clawing through every rise of his chest.
Nick leaned against a shattered stone pillar, using a shard of his own blade to cut a makeshift bandage from the hem of his coat. He hissed as he tied it around his arm, where a crude goblin blade had slashed through muscle.
Asher, despite his usual grin, now bore a grave expression. A thick line of blood ran from his temple, trailing down his jaw and dripping off his chin. His blue hair was matted with dust and gore. His arms hung slightly lower from the weight of Emberfang, the once-pristine blade now stained black from battle.
"I swear," he muttered, spitting blood, "if one more goblin throws a rock at me, I'm going to invent a fire spell that incinerates faces only."
Serah reached Ethan next. He looked up, teeth gritted.
"I'm fine—"
"Shut up," she snapped, pressing glowing hands to his ribs. Light rippled across his body. The moment it touched the wound, Ethan clenched his jaw until it creaked. The flesh shifted beneath the healing aura, bones pulling into place. He almost collapsed.
"You're not fine." She exhaled, sweat glistening along her brow. "None of us are."
Aven stepped closer, still standing—barely. One of his arcane constructs flickered behind him, more translucent than ever. His magic reserves were draining fast. He glanced toward the ruined slope ahead—the only path forward.
They had cleared through dozens of goblins. More than they should have faced. More than made sense.
Yet still they came.
From the shadows ahead, more figures emerged—lanky, green-skinned beasts hunched over in drooling anticipation. Their eyes glinted yellow like dying embers. Rusted cleavers, spiked clubs, and jagged knives clanged together in a crude, guttural rhythm.
A war beat.
"Here they come again," Nick said hoarsely, stepping forward despite the bandages.
From above, perched atop a spiraling stone altar further within the cave, the Goblin Shaman watched. His green-gray skin shimmered with earth-hardened veins. A massive jagged crystal pulsed within his staff—its glow deep, amber, and ancient. He hadn't moved. Hadn't flinched. He let his minions charge forward, hiding behind the tide.
Strategic. Sadistic.
They couldn't reach him. Not yet.
Ethan tightened his grip on the Spellmirror Daggers, even as the leather around their hilts cut into his palm. "There's no time to rest. We need to move."
Serah gave a faint nod. "I'll stay back and support. I have enough light left for one more mass heal... but after that—"
"We'll protect you," Aven said quietly. "You just get ready."
Asher's eyes flared. He slammed Emberfang into the rocky floor and cracked his knuckles. His breath was ragged, but the fire within hadn't dulled. "Alright. One last dance."
The goblins screamed and rushed again.
This time, they were faster—more organized.
The first wave came from the front. The boys met them in a crashing clash of metal and magic. Emberfang ignited mid-swing, cleaving through a pair of goblins with a savage upward arc. Ash exploded into the air, burning goblin flesh and scattering the line.
But then came the second wave—from the sides.
Nick spun, twin blades flashing with green light. Zephyrfang sliced through air with such precision that it split the moisture in the cave into tiny whirlwinds. He twisted on the balls of his feet, narrowly dodging a hooked blade and sending a gust of wind to send the attacker flying.
But one got past him. A short goblin, barely the size of a child, leapt—dagger raised.
Aven summoned a hexagonal barrier just in time. The goblin struck it and bounced back with a screech, but Aven staggered, blood trickling from his nose. His construct flickered out.
"I'm running out—" he muttered.
"Then stall them with what you have left," Ethan shouted, ducking a club swing and plunging his dagger into a goblin's armpit. It screamed, spraying foul blood, but even as it fell, two more surged in.
Darius roared, slamming his staff into the floor again. Crystals surged up, but slower now—his magic faltering. They snagged two goblins' legs. He forced another spell. "Crystal Lance!"
Three jagged spears shot forward, impaling goblins mid-charge. They dropped twitching, but another wave pushed over their corpses.
The tide was endless.
Asher bled from his side now, too many parries slowed by fatigue. He staggered, but Nick pulled him back at the last second, sweeping Zephyrfang behind them and creating a gust that gave them a single moment's breathing space.
But not for long.
From above, the Goblin Shaman raised his staff. The amber crystal pulsed again.
The cave shuddered.
Massive boulders along the upper walls glowed faintly. And then—collapse.
A rockslide slammed down just behind the adventurers they were protecting. Dust billowed. Screams echoed.
"No!" Ethan shouted, trying to push back—but a club struck his shoulder from the side, sending him sprawling. He rolled and barely dodged a spear that embedded into the ground where his chest had been.
Aven grabbed him by the arm, dragging him back toward Serah.
"We can't let them break the formation!" Aven snapped.
Serah's hands flashed again—light burst outward, momentarily blinding a dozen goblins. She stood now, between the wounded and the fray.
"I'll hold this ground," she said, silver light trailing her hands like wings. "We're not dying here."
Their bodies screamed for rest.
But none came.
Not yet.
Because forward was the only way to survive.
Another roar. Another charge.
Nick moved like a phantom, sliding through the enemy lines, wind dancing from one blade to the other, carving paths through the chaos. But even he stumbled when one goblin feinted low and another kicked out his legs.
He hit the ground hard.
Asher bellowed, hurling fire toward them before they could finish the job. Nick rolled to his knees, panting, blood smearing his chin. "Thanks," he grunted.
"Don't die, feather-head. I'll have no one to mock."
Ethan stood again. His arms trembled. One dagger shattered mid-parry—its edge worn to the bone.
Still, he fought.
Still, they all fought.
For survival.
For pride.
For the mission.
They didn't know how long it lasted. Minutes? Hours?
Every breath felt like thunder in their ears. Every heartbeat shook like war drums in their chests.
And still they hadn't reached the shaman.
Not even close.
And yet, with each swing, each spell, each scream, they endured.
Blood. Sweat. Light. Fire. Wind. Crystal. Magic.
All of it mingled in the hellish crucible of that cave.
And through it—step by brutal step—they forced their way forward.