The battle in junction X2-C escalated as the guild teams, bolstered by reinforcements, pressed their advantage against Valarian's dwindling forces. The fall of Valarian's undead was the first sign of his weakening defense; the guilds' concentrated attacks and superior tactics dismantled the necromantic constructs with efficient brutality. The melee fighters, once formidable under the cover of the undead, found themselves outmatched and outnumbered, their ranks thinned relentlessly by the disciplined guild warriors.
As the engagement unfolded, a dedicated group of adventurers had managed to isolate Valarian's undead dragon, drawing it into a trap laden with enchanted bindings and potent wards. Despite its fearsome appearance and raw power, the dragon, constrained by its undead limitations, lacked the cunning and agility of a living beast. After a grueling confrontation, the guilds triumphed, the dragon collapsing into a heap of bones and dust, its necrotic essence dissipating into the air.
The fall of the dragon marked a turning point in the battle. The morale of Valarian's followers wavered, and one by one, they began to fall—some slain in desperate combat, others captured by the guilds. The tide had turned irrevocably against the intruders.
Amidst the chaos, one of the guild leaders, a seasoned commander known for his strategic acumen, called out to the remaining enemies, offering them a chance to surrender and preserve their lives, "Surrender now and you have a chance to stay alive. If you will continue to resist, we will defeat all of you." His voice carried over the clatter of combat, a clear and authoritative offer amidst the tumult.
However, Valarian's response was chilling in its dismissiveness, "Hahaha... Surrender? I will never surrender! I didn't want to do it, as it will weaken Satan down once he is unsealed, but I guess I didn't have a choice." His laughter echoed ominously through the corridor, a sound devoid of any humor or warmth. Placing one of the stolen artifacts on the ground, he commanded his followers to protect him at all costs. With a wave of his hand, more undead surged forth from the shadows—lesser in quality but overwhelming in quantity.
As his followers rallied to form a defensive barrier around him, Valarian began to trace intricate patterns on the dungeon floor, each line glowing with sinister energy. He then started a deep, resonant chant, the words thrumming with dark power. It was clear he was initiating a ritual of significant consequence, the nature of which was as yet unknown but undoubtedly dire.
The guild leader, recognizing the critical threat posed by Valarian's actions, urgently rallied his forces. "I don't know what he plans to do, but don't let him complete that ritual! It's no mere incantation!" he shouted, signaling the teams to intervene.
Guild mages countered with disruption spells, attempting to break Valarian's concentration, while archers loosed volleys of enchanted arrows designed to penetrate the undead shield. Warriors charged, cutting swathes through the lesser undead, each step bringing them closer to Valarian and his dark ceremony.
Back to where Amukelo and Eliss were, as they were running they heard a horrific groan. The sound that tore through the dungeon was unlike anything Amukelo had ever heard—a bone-chilling, mournful wail that seemed to carry the agony of countless lost souls. It reverberated through the stone walls and echoed down the endless dark corridors, a sound so profoundly disturbing it halted them in their tracks.
Meanwhile, Krazthir and the team back at level twenty-six also froze, the haunting groan reaching them amidst their rapid descent. The seasoned warrior's face turned grave as he sensed the unnatural power behind the noise. "We need to speed up," he commanded, urgency lacing his tone. "This doesn't sound good. We might be able to reach the ambush site in a few hours if we push hard enough." His words spurred the team into action, each member steeling themselves against the dread that the sound had instilled in them.
Where Amukelo and Eliss were, the impact was even more profound. Eliss stopped dead in her tracks, her body beginning to tremble uncontrollably. The terror in her eyes was palpable as she grasped at Amukelo, her voice thin and panicked. "We can't go... We have to retreat, we have to escape..." she stammered, the fear paralyzing her.
Amukelo, bewildered and concerned, tried to understand her sudden despair. "What happened?" he asked gently, trying to steady her.
"This... This is the monster from that incident..." Eliss managed to say between shudders, her mind thrown back to a dark memory—a deep dark skeletal figure shrouded in shadow, its hands drenched in the blood of her friends as they screamed for mercy that never came. "If we go, it will be over... We can't, we can't."
Seeing Eliss so utterly terrified, Amukelo felt a pang of pain sharper than any blade could inflict. He had never seen her so utterly undone. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close to his chest in a protective embrace. "Eliss, I understand your worries, but I can't leave you here," he whispered, his voice firm yet gentle. "Even if we wanted to escape, we would have to go through that place. Going back deeper into the dungeon won't help. Remember Eliss, we are strong, we will get through this. As always."
Eliss attempted to interject, her voice laced with fear, "No, Amukelo. You can't, You don't understand that monster. You don't know..."
Amukelo silenced her fears with a kiss, tender and reassuring. As he pulled away, he gently stroked her hair, his own eyes moist with empathy for her pain. "It's okay. Everything will be fine, Eliss," he soothed, his tone imbued with all the courage and comfort he could muster. "But we have to go anyway. If this monster in some way wants to help Valarian, we'll have to face it at some point anyway. So let's do it now. Okay, Eliss?"
She nodded, her face buried in his shoulder, drawing strength from his resolve. Together, hand in hand, they resumed their journey towards the sounds of battle, their hearts heavy but united in the face of impending darkness. The echoes of their steps mingled with the distant clashing of steel and the eerie, lingering groans that had first halted their advance, as they prepared to confront whatever horrors lay ahead.