The moment Amukelo turned his head back toward the creature, he barely had time to process what was happening. "Pao, it's not time for—"
But the words didn't even leave his mouth fully before it was on him.
Amukelo's instincts kicked in. His blade rose just in time, catching the descending arm of the creature. The impact rattled through his arms like he had struck stone. His feet lost grip. His breath vanished.
The force of the blow didn't cut him, but it hurled him like a ragdoll into the nearest wall. His body slammed against the stone with a hollow thud, and he dropped to his knees, the air driven from his lungs.
He coughed violently, gasping, but still alive.
His mind raced. 'That speed… That strength… What the hell even is this thing?'
It hadn't overwhelmed him because he was too weak—he blocked the strike—but because he never expected something that size to move with such unnatural speed.
"Amukelo!" Bral's voice rang from outside.
He snapped to begin running, ut Idin grabbed his arm mid-charge. "Wait! You can't!" he shouted. "If you go now—!"
And that was when the final boulders crashed down, sealing the exit completely.
Dust erupted from the collapsing stones. Light vanished from the tunnel. And so did their hope of helping them.
Bral staggered to a halt just before the rockfall, staring in horror.
"Damn it!" he cried, dropping to his knees. His fist hit the stone with a solid thud.
"If he didn't stop... If he didn't stop... maybe they could've escaped." His voice cracked—not in frustration, but regret.
He rose again, trembling. "We can't just wait here," he said, already reaching for the rubble. "Let's dig them out—"
"No!" Bao said, cutting him off. "We can't. Not yet. Look—it's still shaking." She bit her lip hard, as if hating her own words.
"If we start now, the new stones will just replace the ones we move. It'll be useless."
"So what then!?" Bral snapped, spinning on her. "We just wait and hope?"
Her eyes dropped. She nodded slowly. "... At least untill the dungeon stops collapsing. That's our only option."
Silence fell outside.
But within the dungeon, it was anything but.
Amukelo pushed himself up slowly, still gasping for breath. One of his hands gripped his ribs; he didn't know if something cracked or just throbbed from the impact, but he ignored it.
He staggered to his feet, wiping the blood from his lip, and turned toward the creature.
It didn't charge again. It was… twitching.
Its head turned in sharp jerks, like something struggling to work properly. Its jaw hung slightly, convulsing open and shut, and a low garbled sound escaped its throat.
Then, as if a broken record had started spinning in reverse, the creature began muttering.
Black mist poured from its spine and shoulders. Its glowing red eyes twitched erratically in their sockets.
Amukelo raised his sword again, stepping forward on shaking feet.
"Pao," he said hoarsely, "stay behind me."
She didn't argue this time.
Without a word, she shifted behind him and summoned two water clones. They flanked her, moving in sync as if they were her shadows.
Amukelo's fingers tightened on his sword hilt. His breathing evened. The thing didn't strike. It didn't even take a step. It just… spoke.
"Ri… right…" it rasped. "You are not… not speaking like us..."
Its head twisted again, violently this time. Like something deep inside it didn't want it to talk.
"Wi… will you... you help us...?"
The voice came clearer now. Still in that grotesque, guttural echo—but intelligible.
Amukelo didn't lower his sword. His heart thudded in his chest, but he didn't let it rule him.
"What do you mean?" he asked, voice steady, gaze locked on the creature. "Help you with what?"
The creature paused. Its arms shook at its sides. "...My... my father... abandoned me..."
Its claws twitched. Its legs shifted, unsure whether to stand tall or fall to the ground.
"...But it was... for a greater cause..."
Its voice fractured mid-sentence, almost breaking like glass. Like something inside it was choking it back.
"...To su... summon our Lord..."
And then silence. Almost like it was holding its breath.
"Will you... help us...?"
It stood there, twitching. Not moving forward yet.
Amukelo's brow furrowed. "Your lord? What do you mean?"
Its head gave another violent twitch, as though something was pulling at it from within.
Then, in a trembling, rasping voice, it answered:
"The... the most beautiful one..." it began, its eye staring past Amukelo into something far away. "The one who was meant to sit on the highest throne... but... was cast down through injustice..."
Its voice deepened. Almost reverent. Hollow. Obsessed.
"Outnumbered by cowards... betrayed... thrown into the dirt by the so-called righteous..."
Its gaze snapped back to Amukelo, and it trembled as it continued:
"He... he will defeat Go... god... when he raises again..."
Its voice caught—like the word itself wounded it.
Amukelo's brow furrowed. He tightened his grip on the hilt of his sword. "What fairytales are you talking about?" he asked, shaking his head. "How can anyone overthrow someone who is all-powerful?"
The creature's face twitched once more—but this time it didn't distort in agony. It went still. Flat.
"I... I see..." it whispered.
Then—without sound, without warning—it lunged.
Amukelo barely saw it move. A blur of darkness surged toward him like a tide crashing against a cliff. He planted his feet hard, brought his blade up just in time, and clashed with its claws. Sparks burst from the impact.
Even braced, he slid back, boots grinding over the stone as his sword groaned under the force. He held it. Barely.
But the creature wasn't done.
Its body melted and surged forward again, a second claw already descending.
Amukelo gritted his teeth—he wouldn't make it in time.
But then—Splash! Splash! Splash!
Three Paos leapt from behind him and hurled blasts of water at the creature's side, their spells bursting against its form.
It recoiled slightly. Enough.
Amukelo turned and met the next strike head-on. This time, he didn't move. He held it.
The creature snarled, drawing its second arm wide for a sideswipe. Amukelo tensed, his eyes widened as he knew he wouldn't make it.
But before it hit a portal shimmered between them.
The creature's claws vanished into the portal, and in a flash, they reappeared behind it.
Its own claw raked across its back, carving a shallow wound. Black blood oozed and sizzled as it hit the ground.
Its body went rigid.
Then it slowly turned its twisted head toward one of the three Paos. "You... you..."
Its voice cracked.
But it wasn't finished.
"Where are you looking!?" Amukelo shouted, charging in.
He swung hard and slashed across its torso—but the blade only cut through the upper layer of flesh. Shallow. Too shallow.
The creature barely flinched. Then it moved.
One hand swept wide—and with it, darkness surged. A slash of pure black mist cleaved through the air like a blade made of shadow and hatred.
It aimed not at Amukelo—but past him. Straight at Pao.
Amukelo's eyes widened in horror. "Pao!"
But before he could even move, the shadow strike hit.
Pao was severed at the waist. Her two halves hit the ground with a sickening splash. Then... dissolved.
Water soaked the stone. Amukelo froze—but only for a second. It was a clone.
The real Pao was somewhere else. His relief turned to fury.
"I'm your enemy!!" Amukelo roared, and this time, he closed the distance like lightning.
He swung again.
The creature danced back, evading just narrowly—but Amukelo didn't give it time to breathe.
Its claw came down again—he blocked, locked its arm, slid beneath it, and slashed along its side.
Black mist burst from the wound. It hissed, shuddering.
Then it roared—its first true sound of pain—and retaliated with a massive, sweeping strike meant to cleave Amukelo in half.
But he had already moved.
He leapt back just as the claw swept through the air where he had stood. He hit the ground with a grunt, stumbling but landing on his feet, breathing hard. His chest rose and fell. His sword was slick with black blood, his arms shaking from the strain of each parried blow.