"Earth spike!"
Three earthen spikes as thick as a youth's arm flew from the ground vertically at a high speed.
"Wind blast!"
A gust of wind, not lethal enough to cause damage to their target, but strong enough to make the spikes charge horizontally at exaggerated speeds erupted from behind the earthen user.
The three thick spikes rammed into the grotesque humanoid, making it rumble as one spike pierced its hand and shredded it.
The arm was promptly replaced by tentacles that lashed out, but were immediately hindered as two spikes pierced its chest and belly, making the tentacles stiffen and writhe as the figure was blown back.
"Nicely done, both of you!" Rolan's voice resounded as he charged forward with his sword in hand. "Moretz, pillar! Warriors, with me!"
A moment after he called out, a raspy voice shouted.
"Flaming pillar!"
The grotesque figure, which was still trying to orient itself after the barrage of spikes, one or two of which had definitely hit a vital spot, suddenly found itself enveloped by an orange pillar of fire.
It shrieked in pain, causing sound waves to billow from its mouth, but after losing so many fellows to such an attack, how could the attacking warriors not take any precautions?
The pillar disappeared, revealing a figure that was in an even more sorry state than earlier.
Its face was basically non-existent, the tentacles now had an air of weakness that wasn't there before and the body was married beyond recognition.
Rolan took all this in as wind mana coated his sword in a vibrant shade of green, making it sharper.
'It's still moving, albeit far more slower. Those spikes must have his somewhere extremely vital, and judging by the symptoms of possession, it might be very possible that the real body of the parasite was impacted.
'I know what to find, but the question his how do I attack with all these tentacles...
'Right, I'm not alone.'
"Warriors, focus on the tentacles, leave the main body to me!"
He heard shouts of affirmation, but he didn't turn back to look, making it seem as if he trusted them completely, which he didn't.
Noble families were backstabbers, after all.
He was assured that he wouldn't die, so he could let loose without worrying.
His sword slashed down, drawing blood from the figure's collarbone.
There was some hesitation in his actions.
It was understandable actually.
Minutes ago, this figure was one of the fair ladies that had accompanied them to search for the particular group of herbs they were tasked to find.
There was even an amiable relationship between them.
As he dodged a swiped from the figure's hands, now claws, memories of her laughter and reserved smile reared their heads in his mind, making his vision blurry for a moment.
He hacked at the hand he dodged, cutting it off, but instead of the crimson liquid that anyone would have expected, a flood of black, slimy tentacles burst forth, snaking towards him with unconcealed malice.
In response to that, the wind suddenly picked up around his right arm, making his sword wielding hand faster and his sword sharper at the same time.
He sliced through the new batch of tentacles, but he didn't expect to find two large tentacles the size of his torso suddenly bearing down on him from behind.
Their shadows loomed over him, and he knew he wouldn't be able to dodge.
He didn't spare the extra brain power to think if he was abandoned or the warriors were killed.
His eyes turned red as a blue shield, not dissimilar the color of his hair flickered and appeared as he braced himself for impact, but an old voice called out before he could register what was happening.
"Shred."
Rolan suddenly felt the wind in the cave pick up. An amount of wind Rolan could never hope to muster at this point suddenly manifested in the form of a whirlwind.
Except... the moment this whirlwind came into contact with the grotesque figure that was once a familiar person, a violent scene that would remain imprinted in Rolan's mind ensued.
Blades of wind no smaller than the size of a girl's palm manifested out of thin air.
At first, they were small in number, but they rapidly multiplied, going from tens to hundreds to thousands in an instant.
As for their sharpness...
The first tentacle the blades came in contact with was suddenly reduced to nothing but a cloud of black mist.
'That's no mist... it's... blood...'
Rolan's eyes widened as the figure in front of him and the shadow of the tentacles as large as his torso and definitely countless times as strong was suddenly reduced to mince meat.
It was more accurate to say that it was reduced to a mist of black blood.
A stronger gust of wind blew the most away from the youths, but not before two warriors dropped their swords in agony, screaming with hoarse voices that could barely be called human.
The two rapidly had dotted black spots growing on them, but two wind slices and a gust of wind beheaded them and sent their blood and bodies into the corner, effectively saving the youths from another possession tactic.
Rolan plopped to the floor, his palms covered in sweat and his breath ragged.
He had just faced death in the eye and escaped with his life, so he was very shaken.
If not for old man Zindi, he would have died.
'Everyone would have died...'
His eyes snapped in the direction of the old man that was tasked with protecting them, but he found the latter frowning deeply while looking at the state of the cave, and he couldn't help but sigh.
There were 23 youths who had entered the cave, but now, there were just 9.
All the red core mages and warriors had died, becoming more than corpses, and the only survivors were the orange cores.
'At least, we're alive. If it wasn't for the old man, we would be dead too... We owe him that much... I owe him that much.'
Unfortunately, it seemed that he was the only one who shared this line of thought.
"You... why didn't you do that earlier?! My Daphne is dead because of you!"
The sound of a slap resounded in the cave, Rolan looking on in shock as old man Zindi's face turned to the side, his cheek a bit red.