Jasmine’s blade struck true again—SLASH—carving through a groove in the monster’s side that Sylvie had revealed moments earlier with a burst of glyph-light. But the follow-through… didn’t land right.
The monster’s body twisted—not just in defense, but in response. Its muscle fibers, if they could be called that, bent like molten vines and reformed mid-impact, dampening the strike. What should’ve staggered it didn’t even slow it down.
Sylvie noticed it first.
“That… should’ve hit deeper,” she muttered, blinking hard.
Jasmine didn’t answer at first. She leapt back from another swipe, boots skidding across dust-slick stone, her breathing quick and ragged. “I know. I’m not getting through.”
She rushed again, pivoted around the creature’s flared limb and dove beneath its guard, blade flashing with wind-imbued momentum.
SLASH—KRSSHH!
Another strike, across a thinner joint near the mid-ribs.
It hit—but it slid. Like the monster had anticipated her tempo.
“Something’s off,” Jasmine hissed. “I can’t cut through. Not like this.”
Sylvie was already weaving another round of buffs, lips pressed tight. Her hands moved on instinct—Agility Thread, Kinetic Buffer, another Reinforce Bloom on Jasmine’s weapon. But even as she cast, she felt it.
She was patching holes in the system, not reinforcing a structure.
They weren’t breaking through—they were delaying collapse.
And then, it clicked.
Jasmine wasn’t Irina.
She was quick. Deadly. Sharp.
But she wasn’t built to be the primary pressure point.
Her strength came in rhythm—with others.
With Layla holding a wall in front of her. With Irina burning a lane that Jasmine could exploit. With Astron in the background, marking the enemy’s breathing cycle and whispering “Right leg, behind the plate. Two-second delay before the tail recovers.”
There was none of that now.
Sylvie ducked another claw that smashed into the canyon wall beside her—BOOOOM!—and stared into the monster’s burning gold eyes as it reared back, its body folding in preparation for a lunge.
She knew it wasn’t just Jasmine struggling.
She was struggling, too.
Because Astron wasn’t just the center of the formation.
He was the mind of it.
He didn’t bark commands or shout orders, but when Astron was around, their movements flowed. He’d say “fall back one step,” and a surprise pincer would be neutralized. He’d tell Irina “two seconds to detonation,” and the ground would rupture on cue. He saw things—named them.
And he wasn’t here.
Sylvie’s hands twitched. Her buffs weren’t landing with the same precision. Not because she was failing—but because the structure was gone.
There was no Layla anchoring the rotation.
No Irina setting the tempo.
And no Astron reading the battlefield like a book.
It was just them.
Sylvie’s eyes locked onto Jasmine—still weaving, still moving, her body slick with sweat and her blade not quite cutting deep enough.
She realized then: Jasmine wasn’t losing—but she was wearing down.
“Jasmine!” Sylvie called, voice sharp as steel. “You can’t keep pace like this—!”
“I know!” Jasmine shouted, parrying a spined limb before rolling to the left. “But what choice do we have?!”
The creature lunged.
Jasmine barely blocked in time. Sylvie’s magic caught the impact—but only just. The feedback nearly knocked her off her feet.
They hit the dirt again, tumbling apart.
The monster’s limbs curled, dragging mana from the fractured canyon floor. Shadows twisted. The air compressed.
The intent was clear:
Next strike ends this.
Sylvie gasped, breath catching.
Her heart pounding.
Not from fear—but from clarity.
They were two pieces of a formation that no longer existed.
This wasn’t just a strong enemy.
This was a reminder:
They were still a team.
And a team needed its core.
Sylvie’s lungs burned.
Her hands shook.
Not from fear—but from the realization that this couldn’t continue.
Jasmine couldn’t hold the line alone.
Sylvie couldn’t support a crumbling rhythm forever.
This wasn’t a duel. It wasn’t even survival.
It was failure, dragging itself closer with every breath.
And if something didn’t change—now—this dungeon would become their tomb.
Her eyes locked onto Jasmine—still moving, still fighting, but every strike was slower, every dodge a fraction too close.
Sylvie’s breath trembled as she lowered her stance, hands spreading slightly, fingers glowing with mana. The golden light crackled along her gloves—but this time, she didn’t weave a glyph.
Instead, she whispered, low and steady:
“…Alright, Astron. I can’t think like you. I can’t move like you. But…”
She inhaled.
Then exhaled.
“I’ll speak like you.”
Her voice dropped, calm, clipped.
Like command distilled to essence.
“Jasmine. Back step. Left side soft—tail recoil is slower than the arms.”
Jasmine hesitated—just for a second.
But she moved.
And the monster’s tail struck just behind her as she slipped past it, blade slashing along the inner thigh seam the moment it overextended.
CRRRSSH!
A good hit. Not deep. But real.
Sylvie’s eyes narrowed.
“Keep your blade close. Don’t overextend. It wants you airborne.”
Jasmine blinked. Her gaze flicked back—then sharpened.
Sylvie wasn’t panicked anymore.
She was guiding.
And then—Sylvie did it.
She reached into herself. Into the mana core she rarely dared to tap fully.
And there—nested deep within her chest—it stirred.
[First Lord’s Authority]
Golden mana surged through her veins, coiling up her spine and into her eyes. Her breath caught—and then—
FLASH.
The world slowed.
No—shifted.
Color muted. Sound dimmed. Every motion became deliberate. Every breath felt like it echoed through glass.
And Sylvie screamed inside her mind.
Her vision burned.
Like needles through her sockets. Like light piercing into places it didn’t belong.
But she endured.
Because in the stillness, something appeared.
A trail.
A faint, golden thread etched into the fractured air.
Winding across the battlefield, past rubble and shadow, weaving around the monster’s movements, outlining its shifts before they happened.
A path.
A prediction.
A plan.
Her lips parted.
“I see it…”
The pain pulsed again—but she focused.
And in her mind, the battlefield assembled.
A map.
A tempo.
Astron’s perspective—or something close to it—forming itself in her instincts.
She raised her hand again, pointing with the confidence of someone who knew.
“Jasmine—its next breath draws in from the core. It will pause. That’s your window.”
Jasmine didn’t question it this time.
And true to the word—the monster hesitated.
Its form pulled inward, torso swelling with energy.
“NOW!”
Jasmine dashed forward with everything she had, blade glowing, mana whirling like wind caught in a cyclone.
WHRRRSHHH—KRRRRSH!
She drove her sword deep into the underside of the creature’s torso—exactly where the trail had led.
The monster reeled back—roaring in pained fury.
Sylvie’s knees buckled, blood dripping from the corner of her eye.
Her head screamed for her to stop.
But her voice stayed steady.
“…Good. That’s better.”
And through the blur of gold and agony—she pressed on.
Because this was more than reaction.
This was direction.
And for now—
She would be the one to lead.
The world pulsed around her, each beat of her heart echoing like a war drum in slow motion. Sylvie’s body trembled—eyes burning, mana thrumming, blood slipping quietly from the corner of one eye.
And still, the trail burned before her.
That golden thread.
The path.
The answer.
She raised her hand—not with elegance, but with absolute intent—and gathered her remaining mana.
It responded instantly.
Her golden energy coiled in her palm, condensing into a single point, then extending—stretching outward with silent precision.
A weapon of pure focus and will.
A lance.
It shimmered in the broken light—long, spiraled, etched with faint glyphs along its length that pulsed in time with her breathing. The air around it warped, humming with the same pressure as the Authority that sang through her veins.
And then—
She let go.
The lance didn’t fall.
It floated.
Suspended above her outstretched hand like it was waiting—listening.
Her eyes followed the trail once more, locking onto the exact node where the golden thread tightened, where every movement in the monster’s grotesque form converged.
There.
Right there.
“Go,” Sylvie whispered—voice soft, breaking.
The lance shivered—
—and then launched.
FWWWWWWWWWHHHTTT!
The air split apart with a piercing howl as the golden lance tore across the battlefield like a divine arrow loosed by judgment itself. The monster had no time to react—still reeling from Jasmine’s last strike, its torso twisted, mouth opening again for another screech.
The lance pierced it.
Not wildly.
Not vaguely.
But exactly where the golden thread had pointed—right beneath the second rib of its right flank, where distorted mana coils were exposed just for a moment mid-breath.
THUNK—SHHKRRRCH!
The impact wasn’t explosive.
It was surgical.
The creature froze.
Its mouth still open, but the sound died before it could rise. Its limbs twitched once, then again—spasming—and then fell still.
The glowing sigils in its molten eyes flickered once.
Twice.
Then faded.
And slowly—almost delicately—
The monster collapsed.
Dead.
A heavy silence fell across the battlefield.
Sylvie dropped to one knee, the golden glow around her eyes fading in an instant. The world snapped back into color and noise.
She gasped, sharp and small—like surfacing from deep water.
Jasmine turned, blade still in hand, panting. “Did you…?”
Sylvie didn’t speak.
She didn’t have to.
The crater where the monster had fallen told them everything.
And in that silence, before the exhaustion truly hit her—
Sylvie whispered, so low only she could hear it.
“…I did it.”
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