The moment Fenrir laid his hand on the ancient tomb, a deep growl erupted behind him.
He spun his head and saw the corrupted imp snarling, its body lurching toward him with desperation.
Its black aura surged as it roared—not in rage, but in panic. It wasn't trying to kill him.
It was trying to stop him.
But it was too late.
The hamsters, performing their chaotic ballet of distraction, continued to harass the boss imp.
One of them clung to its horn. Another dangled from its wing. The third rolled under its feet, tripping it just long enough to delay its sprint.
"Sorry, buddy. But this needs to happen."
Fenrir said, pulling a worn, rune-etched hammer from his inventory.
With a grunt, Fenrir raised the hammer and brought it down on the tomb.
A shockwave of magic exploded from the impact point.
