Azriel's eyes fluttered open, the distant echo of howls still whispering through the edges of his memory. The soft glow of embedded mana crystals lit the cave in hues of icy blue, casting long, wavering shadows across the walls.
Olivia sat beside him, her back against the rough stone, arms folded as she stared into the dimness beyond. Her presence was calm, but the tightness in her posture betrayed her vigilance.
"We should get moving," she said quietly, her voice barely rising above the whisper of wind outside. "The sooner we reach the boss room, the better."
Azriel gave a faint nod and stretched, wincing as stiff joints and bruised muscles reminded him of their last fight. He rolled his shoulders, loosening the tension, and then rose to his feet.
He extended a hand to Olivia. She glanced at him, then took it without hesitation. Her hand was cold but steady. With a small pull, she stood beside him.
Together, they stepped out of the cave's shallow safety and into the waiting cold.
As they ventured deeper into the dungeon, the air grew colder, sharper—each breath a knife against Azriel's lungs. The scent of rot and damp fur clung to the wind, sour and heavy. Crystals of frost lined the stone walls like veins of frozen blood, glowing faintly with mana.
Azriel's ears twitched, picking up something distant—too faint for normal hearing.
"Howls," he muttered. "Wolves. Close."
Olivia didn't reply, but her eyes met his. In that look was shared experience, understanding—and danger.
Without a word, she reached into her shadow. It rippled like oil, swallowing her hand whole before revealing the twisted black blade that pulsed with sickly light. The sword writhed slightly in her grip, like it was alive and eager.
The snow beneath their feet crunched as they moved into a narrow corridor lined with ice-crusted rocks. Mana stones embedded high in the walls cast ghostly blue illumination across the terrain.
Then, they came.
A dozen Snow Wolves burst from the gloom, their white coats near invisible against the backdrop of frost and snow. Their eyes glowed like twin embers, and steam curled from their snarling maws as they surged forward in a tidal wave of hunger.
Olivia's voice was cold steel. "This looks like the main pack."
Azriel didn't answer. He closed his eyes for just a second, reaching inward—calling on the gravity affinity he'd barely begun to understand.
The weight around his body shifted.
He made himself lighter, more fluid. The pull of the earth loosened just enough to let him move like wind skimming snow.
Then the wolves were on them.
Azriel danced between snapping jaws and raking claws, his movements smooth but imperfect. Every shift of gravity felt like pushing through syrup—he was new to this, and it showed. He couldn't yet crush like before, not at this scale, but he could float, slide, and strike.
His claws lashed out, catching one wolf across the flank. Blood sprayed, warm and steaming, staining the snow crimson. But the kill wasn't clean. The wolf snarled and bit at his shoulder. He barely twisted away in time.
Beside him, Olivia became a shadowed blur. Her sword screamed through the air, each slash followed by the gurgle of poisoned blood. Wolves dropped behind her in convulsing heaps, their limbs twitching and eyes glassy.
Azriel struggled. One wolf lunged and clamped its jaws on his arm. He growled and surged mana into the space around him, gravity intensifying like a crashing wave.
The wolf screamed as its spine cracked under the pressure, but the effort nearly drained him. His vision dimmed for a moment, and he stumbled back.
He gritted his teeth. Not yet. Don't fold.
With effort, he directed the gravity outward, a pulse of pressure that staggered two oncoming wolves. He rushed forward, slashing—this time clean, this time fatal.
The fight wore on. Blood, snow, and shadow mingled as the two of them carved a path through the pack. Finally, only one wolf remained.
The alpha.
It stepped forward slowly, its fur pristine and thick as armor, its eyes brighter than the rest—intelligent. Cunning. Watching.
Azriel's chest rose and fell with each labored breath. Beside him, Olivia didn't speak, but her sword hovered near her hip like it was waiting to leap forward.
Then the wolf charged.
The alpha moved like a blur of wind and fang, silent as falling snow until its paws struck the frozen ground with thunderous force.
Azriel barely had time to shift his stance before the beast was on him.
Claws like daggers slashed through the air. He dodged left—too slow. A deep gash opened across his ribs. Blood spilled warm across his cold skin, steam rising from the wound.
"Azriel!" Olivia shouted, already moving.
But Azriel didn't falter. He tightened his grip on gravity again, trying to press the wolf down.
Nothing.
The alpha resisted the pull. It didn't just fight back—it adapted. Its legs braced, its muscles surged, and it pushed through the crushing force as if it were running through water rather than air.
Azriel grit his teeth and poured in more mana. His vision blurred. The pressure around the alpha spiked. Ice cracked beneath it, groaning under the force.
Still, it kept moving.
"I can't hold it much longer!" Azriel shouted, staggering back.
Olivia leapt in, her blade a dark comet slicing toward the wolf's exposed flank. But the alpha twisted unnaturally, its body bending like liquid. The sword barely grazed it.
The wolf retaliated. A massive paw came down like a hammer. Olivia raised her sword just in time to block, the impact throwing her against the cave wall. She coughed, blood staining her lips.
Azriel roared, mana flaring. He focused everything—everything—on a single point, right beneath the alpha's chest.
Crush.
The ground cratered. The wolf snarled in agony as its legs buckled. Its ribs cracked, its body dropping for just a moment.
That was all Olivia needed.
She surged from the shadows, her blade glowing with a deep violet sheen. She plunged it into the alpha's neck, twisting hard.
The wolf let out a strangled howl, blood gushing from the wound as the poison flooded its veins. Its legs collapsed beneath it, its breath coming in shuddering, frantic gasps.
Azriel stumbled forward, grabbing the wolf by the scruff of its blood-matted fur. His claws extended, and with one final heave, he drove them into the alpha's heart.
The beast convulsed once. Twice.
Then it stilled.
Azriel staggered back, his breath misting in the cold air, chest rising and falling in ragged gasps. The alpha's massive body lay crumpled at his feet, its once-burning eyes now dull and lifeless.
Olivia leaned against the cave wall, wiping blood from the corner of her mouth. Her sword dissolved into wisps of shadow, drawn back into the void.
For a moment, neither of them spoke. The only sound was the distant dripping of water, echoing faintly through the cave.
"We did it," Olivia finally said, voice hoarse.
Azriel nodded, clutching his side. Blood still oozed from his wound, but he didn't care. They were alive. They had won.
"That... thing was adapting to everything," he muttered. "Even gravity. If we hesitated for a second longer—"
"We'd be dead," Olivia finished. "Yeah. That was no ordinary beast. That was a dungeon guardian."
Azriel glanced down at the fallen alpha, then to the ice-encrusted arch at the back of the cave. A low hum emanated from it—magic. Ancient and powerful.
"The boss room," he said quietly.
The two of them approached the archway. As they drew closer, intricate runes etched into the stone began to glow, reacting to their presence. A gust of icy wind blew through, and the doors creaked open with an eerie groan.
Beyond lay a vast chamber bathed in pale blue light.
Mana stones embedded in the walls pulsed softly, casting long shadows across the frozen floor. Snow drifted lazily from above, filtering through cracks in the cavern ceiling.
At the center of the room, curled atop a raised dais of glacial stone, slept a creature unlike any they had seen.
A massive wolf, at least three stories tall, its fur like untouched snow. Its body radiated cold so intense it frosted the air itself. Thick chains of carved ice bound its limbs to the platform, glowing faintly with runes.
Ten smaller wolves lay sleeping around it in a protective ring—guardian kin.
Azriel's eyes narrowed. His instincts screamed at him, every part of him tense and alert.
Olivia stepped beside him. "This is it," she whispered. "Sixtieth floor boss. Guardian of the Glacial Tomb."
Azriel stared up at the sleeping titan. "Let's wake it up."