Nerina dashed down the spiraling staircases, her breaths coming in sharp gasps. The dim torchlight flickered as she moved past, casting shadows that elongated and danced along the stone walls. With each step, she drew closer to the battlefield that loomed ahead.
As she descended, Undine's voice echoed in her mind, calm yet uncertain.
"I'm not fully sure if we can trust Bahamut," she admitted. "He tricked me ages ago—into something I'd rather not recall. That's why I feel uneasy about him… and his Champion."
Nerina furrowed her brows but didn't slow her pace. "I looked into his eyes closely, Undine. I don't think he's lying. He had this sad look—like a warrior carrying a burden too heavy to bear."
Undine remained silent, processing her words as Nerina reached the second floor. She clenched her fists. There was no time for doubts—she had a city to reach, and a war to fight.
Jareth exhaled through gritted teeth, his frustration boiling beneath the surface. Once again, the enemy had launched an assault on Elaria just when he was on the verge of conquering the tower. His fists tightened around his sword's hilt. How many times would he have to split his focus? He was tired of being pulled in two directions.
"Damn it! Every time I make progress, they strike again!" Jareth growled, his rage crackling like embers beneath the storm.
Bahamut's voice rumbled through his mind, steady and unwavering. "Calm yourself, Jareth. Focus on the enemy before you. If your mind is divided, you will fall."
Jareth took a deep breath, forcing his anger down. Bahamut was right—there was no room for distraction now. He was already close to full strength, thanks to Nerina's healing. His body no longer ached with fatigue, and his magic reserves were replenished.
With renewed resolve, he stepped onto the sixth floor.
The air shifted the moment he entered. The stone walls warped, twisting unnaturally as if reality itself was bending. A metallic hum filled the space, and the floor beneath him felt smooth and cold—far different from the previous levels.
The sight before him was unlike anything he had encountered in this tower.
Strange, towering machines lined the room, each one standing on thick mechanical legs. Their armored bodies gleamed under the eerie green light emanating from their cores. But what disturbed Jareth the most was the creatures piloting them—small demons, their grotesque faces peering out from the machine's control centers, their clawed hands gripping levers and buttons.
Bahamut's voice darkened. "These demons are disgusting and tricky, Jareth. My son was ambushed by this very unit in his old war campaigns. Their machines are built for speed, endurance, and overwhelming firepower."
Jareth's grip tightened. "How do I cut through them?"
"They are too sturdy for normal steel," Bahamut explained. "You must channel magic into your sword—hone its edge to a razor-sharp state beyond mortal means."
Jareth closed his eyes briefly, feeling Bahamut's energy flow through him. He lifted his sword, allowing the magic to surge into the blade. A faint hum resonated from the weapon, its surface shimmering as the edge took on an unnatural sharpness. He could feel the power thrumming beneath his fingers, eager to be unleashed.
The demons screeched commands to one another, their machines whirring to life. The first unit fired a blinding laser beam straight at Jareth.
He didn't move.
At the last possible second, he shifted his stance, sidestepping just enough to let the beam sail past him. The energy struck another demon-controlled machine behind him, melting through its armor like hot iron through ice.
A grin tugged at Jareth's lips.
"Looks like your weapons are just as deadly to your own kind."
But the demons weren't foolish enough to fall for the same trick twice. They quickly adjusted their tactics, spreading out and angling their weapons to prevent friendly fire. The remaining machines moved with unnerving speed, their joints hissing as they encircled him. More beams erupted from their cannons, forcing Jareth on the defensive.
He darted between them, barely avoiding the relentless barrage. One misstep, and he'd be vaporized.
With a sharp inhale, he infused more magic into his blade. The air around it shimmered as he swung, meeting a machine's clawed arm mid-strike. Sparks exploded as his enchanted edge cleaved through the thick metal, severing the limb entirely.
The demon inside shrieked, frantically trying to maneuver its damaged unit away. But Jareth gave no quarter—he leaped onto its frame, driving his sword through the cockpit. The creature let out a final, gurgling cry before slumping lifelessly over the controls.
Two more machines lunged at him, their spiked arms aiming to crush him between them. He twisted mid-air, barely avoiding their crushing force. His sword slashed outward in a precise arc, carving through one's knee joint. It toppled instantly, its pilot screeching as it crashed to the floor.
Jareth landed hard, rolling just as another laser scorched the space he'd occupied a moment ago. He cursed under his breath. They were adapting too quickly—he couldn't rely on tricking them anymore.
He needed to end this. Now.
Summoning every ounce of magic he could muster, he lifted his blade high. The energy surrounding it condensed, sharpening until the very air hissed in protest. With a single, earth-shattering slash, he released the stored power.
A wave of raw force erupted from his blade, cleaving through the remaining machines like a divine judgment. The air crackled with residual energy as the last demon fell, its body crumpling within the wreckage of its destroyed unit.
Jareth exhaled sharply, his muscles burning from exertion.
There was no time to celebrate.
They needed to reach the top floor—and fast.