The wolves returned, a relentless tide of fury and illusion.

This time, they didn't come alone.

The growls echoed first, a chilling, harmonic sound. Arios turned his head slowly, the wooden sword steady in his hands, his focus absolute. From the shadows, six dire wolves emerged. Their crimson eyes locked on him, teeth bared, their forms more solid than any previous wave. He had already cut down more than twenty in the past hour, a grueling tally, but these moved differently, shoulders low, their formation tighter, exhibiting a new level of tactical coordination.

Behind them, heavier steps followed, thudding against the damp soil. A second group appeared. Not wolves—these creatures walked upright, their bodies covered in gray, matted fur, but their arms ended in heavy, clawed hands. Their heads were narrow, their jaws long and filled with uneven, razor-sharp teeth. They carried no weapons, relying purely on brute force, but their size alone made them threatening, nearly twice Arios's height, a terrifying fusion of human and beast.

Arios's eyes narrowed, processing the new threat profile instantly. "Hybrids. A new element of heavy close-combat."

The wolves lunged first, rushing together in coordinated speed, a diversionary tactic. Arios shifted sideways, his sword swinging in a precise arc, a pendulum of death. The first wolf dissolved instantly, its misty remains scattering in the air. He pivoted, ducking under the second's leap, then slammed his weapon into its ribs, finishing with a sharp kick that sent its body tumbling before vanishing.

The other wolves pressed harder, snapping and circling. Arios moved with precision, each motion economical, cutting, deflecting, sidestepping. He took three steps back, then advanced again, refusing to be cornered, refusing to cede ground. Each strike he delivered was clean, controlled, breaking the formation one piece at a time. He was dismantling the attack with cold efficiency.

Within moments, the last wolf dissolved, leaving only the sound of heavy breathing—both his and the hybrids'.

The hybrids stepped forward now, their massive forms blotting out the dim light. Their claws scraped the ground, a sound like stone dragging on stone. The largest let out a low, guttural growl that reverberated through the clearing, a challenge and a threat.

Arios steadied his breathing, a constant, controlled rhythm. His sword felt heavier, his arms felt the strain of the previous battles, but he raised it without hesitation.

The first hybrid lunged, its claw swiping across the space where Arios stood. Arios blocked, but the immense strength behind the strike pushed him back a full step. His boots dug into the dirt, fighting for purchase. The second came immediately, forcing him to duck low to avoid a crushing blow. He twisted and struck upward, his blade slamming into its side. The creature hissed, a sound of pain and surprise, and staggered, then dissolved into mist.

The others closed in, surrounding him in a loose circle, their movements less fluid than the wolves, but far more powerful.

Arios exhaled once, focusing his entire being. His eyes tracked each movement, his body shifting subtly to anticipate the heavy, sweeping attacks. When the next hybrid lunged, he sidestepped, using its momentum against it, then delivered a sharp strike across its chest. It collapsed and vanished.

The next claw grazed his sleeve, tearing fabric but not skin, a painful near-miss. Arios countered instantly, twisting his body and striking with the flat of his blade across the creature's jaw. The shockwave of the impact dissolved it on contact.

The last two attacked together, a final, desperate combination. Arios ducked under one, blocked the other's strike, his arms straining, then pivoted sharply. His sword swept across both in one clean motion, a perfect, final arc, leaving them to vanish in a burst of mist.

Silence returned, broken only by his breathing, which was now noticeably deep and labored. He lowered his weapon slightly, scanning the area.

"They're mixing types now. Wolves to wear me down with speed and numbers. Hybrids to push harder with brute force. Step by step, increasing pressure. This is a deliberate, cruel curriculum."

He exhaled slowly, his body relaxing only for a moment before moving again. He could not afford a true pause.

---

The forest thickened the deeper he walked. Branches hung lower, whipping at his face. The ground was uneven, a treacherous mess of roots twisting like traps beneath his boots. The air grew colder, heavy enough to sting with each breath, a constant, dull pressure.

Arios slowed briefly, crouching to study the ground. Tracks were visible in the dirt—pawprints mixed with heavy, deep claw marks.

"More ahead. Packs waiting. He's not going to allow me any rest."

He rose, sword ready, and pressed forward, his stride steady despite the fatigue that gnawed at his muscles.

It didn't take long. The growls returned. This time louder, harsher, more concentrated.

Ten dire wolves emerged together, larger than the previous packs, their forms practically opaque with mana. Their fur bristled, their eyes glowing brighter. Behind them, two more hybrids followed, their looming presence a constant, psychological weight.

Arios tightened his grip, the wood of the sword slick with sweat. His stance lowered.

The wolves charged first, a wave of chaos. Arios stepped forward to meet them, his sword swinging in a wide, sweeping arc. The first three collapsed instantly, dissolving before they could complete their attack. He ducked under the fourth, struck upward, and pivoted. His movements were fluid, deliberate, leaving no wasted motion, but they were slower than before.

The remaining wolves circled, snapping their jaws, looking for a weakness. Arios shifted steadily, keeping them in view, managing the distance. When one lunged, he blocked, struck, and pivoted again. Each fell quickly, leaving only the hybrids.

The first hybrid lunged with surprising speed, a testament to Garron's increasing control over the illusion. Arios blocked its claw with the flat of his sword, the impact shaking his whole frame, then slammed his elbow into its chest. It staggered, giving him room to finish it with a clean strike.

The second was stronger, a veritable tank, pressing him back with repeated swipes, forcing him to cover and deflect. Arios deflected, his arms straining with each impact, but his calm never broke. He waited for the brief opening, the creature's slight recoil, then cut across its torso in one clean motion. Mist consumed it instantly.

He exhaled again, lowering his weapon slightly. His breathing was heavier now, ragged, but his eyes remained sharp, burning with an unyielding will.

"They'll keep coming. Until I find the center, this won't end. This isn't about skill anymore; it's about sheer will."

---

He walked again, his steps steady despite fatigue pressing at his body, a dull, throbbing ache in every muscle.

Minutes passed before the forest opened into a wide clearing. The ground here was different—scarred with deep claw marks, the dirt churned as though many battles had taken place before. This felt like the final arena.

Arios paused at the edge, studying carefully. He could feel the mana of the illusion converging here, thicker, more potent.

The growls began again, not a pack sound, but a staggered, terrifying chorus.

From one side, wolves emerged. At least twelve, their bodies massive, their crimson eyes burning. From the other, three hybrids walked forward, claws gleaming, their steps heavy and menacing.

But this time, there was more. The pattern had been fundamentally broken.

The ground trembled faintly, a sustained vibration. From the shadows at the far end of the clearing, another figure stepped out. Larger than the hybrids, its height dwarfed the trees. Taller, heavier, its body covered in dark, oily fur. Its head resembled theirs, but grotesquely twisted, its jaw stretching wider, its eyes glowing brighter red, radiating concentrated mana.

Arios's stance shifted slightly, adopting a fighting posture born of instinct and desperation. "Greater hybrid. A true illusion-boss. Garron has reached his limit of conventional threats."

The wolves rushed in first, a final wave of cannon fodder. Arios met them head-on, his sword flashing. He moved quickly, cutting, pivoting, countering, pushing his body to its absolute limit. Each wolf fell, but the effort showed—his movements were noticeably slower, his breathing a harsh sound in the quiet clearing. Still, he pushed through.

The hybrids closed in next, a secondary threat to be managed. Arios met them with sharp strikes, blocking and countering in turn. Each fell after a series of exchanges, the effort costing him precious energy, leaving only the greater hybrid.

The massive creature growled, a bass note of pure menace, stepping forward slowly. Its presence filled the clearing, heavier than any before, a manifestation of brute force and magical aggression.

It lunged suddenly, faster than expected for its bulk. Arios braced, raising his sword to block. The impact shook his arms hard enough to sting, the bone protesting the force. He slid back across the dirt, boots digging in deep trenches.

The creature swung again, a sweeping blow that would crush bone. Arios ducked, sidestepped, then struck its ribs. The beast roared, a furious, pained sound, but kept moving, its claws tearing trenches in the ground, relentless.

Arios kept calm, deflecting, countering when possible, but its strength was immense. Each exchange pushed him further, demanding more stamina than he had left.

Finally, as it lunged wide, creating a momentary vacuum, Arios pivoted sharply, stepping inside its reach. His sword slammed across its jaw, then down into its chest in one clean follow-up strike, a desperate, final combination. The beast roared, a sound of defeated illusion, before dissolving into a massive, heavy burst of mist that temporarily obscured the clearing.

The clearing fell silent again, utterly.

Arios stood still, his chest rising and falling heavily, a painful, wheezing sound. His grip on the sword loosened slightly, but he did not lower it completely.

"They're testing limits now. Wolves for numbers. Hybrids for endurance. Greater hybrids for strength. And it isn't finished. There must be a core."

He looked at the empty clearing, then began walking again, deeper into the false forest, his true objective finally in sight.

---

The dungeon didn't let up. More wolves. More hybrids. More combinations. Each wave came after only a short pause, forcing Arios to keep moving, keep striking, keep breathing steadily. Garron was using the last of his mana to keep the pressure on.

His body ached. His arms were heavy, leaden weights. His legs felt slower, sluggish. But his eyes never wavered, a cold, unwavering light of resolve.

"Endurance test. But I'll outlast it. He has to fail eventually."

The forest darkened further. The air grew colder still. And ahead, more growls echoed.

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