Rhys took a step forward, sword drawn, his stance low. [Eye of the Ancients] flared—he could see it, the way mana coiled like muscles beneath the earth, waiting for the next strike.

He drove his sword down, channeling mana through the ground. "Now."

The creature lunged—straight into his trap. The force of his strike burst upward, destabilizing its core. Aria dashed in, her spear a blur of motion as she drove it into the exposed flesh.

A single scream shook the cavern, and the creature crumpled inward, melting into black sludge before dissolving entirely.

Silence followed.

Sophia glanced at her stone again. "Number twelve cleared."

Caria blew out a breath, leaning against a rock. "You weren't kidding. One hit window."

Rhys wiped his blade clean, nodding. "Predictable—once you understand the rhythm."

Aria smirked faintly. "You'd make a good tactician."

Sophia gave a small, approving nod. "The next one will test that."

Caria groaned. "Oh no. Don't say it."

Sophia tilted her head slightly. "Spectral Bloom."

Caria threw her hands up. "Of course it is. The flower that multiplies every time you hit it."

Rhys raised an eyebrow. "Multiplies?"

"Exactly that," Aria said. "It mirrors damage. Each cut creates another body. You have to hit the real one—once."

"How do you tell which one's real?" Rhys asked.

Sophia smiled faintly, tapping her sensor stone. "It hums off-beat. Everything else mimics perfectly, but the true Bloom pulses slower. Hard to spot unless you're listening."

Caria groaned again. "And it shrieks. Don't forget that part."

Aria laughed softly, the calm, practiced tone of someone who'd done this far too many times. "You'll get used to it."

Rhys exhaled quietly, focusing forward. "Then let's end this quickly."

Sophia adjusted her gloves, voice even. "Two left. The Bloom—and then the Guardian of the Basin."

Caria glanced at him, a half-smile tugging at her lips. "If you're still standing after those two, rookie, we'll buy you a drink."

Aria's eyes glimmered faintly with warmth. "And maybe start calling you something other than rookie."

Rhys gave a quiet chuckle. "Then I'll hold you to that."

Moonbounce's light shimmered across the mist as they advanced, the bog around them turning oddly quiet—too quiet. The air itself felt heavy, almost reverent, like the swamp was holding its breath.

Rhys could already sense it—a subtle thrum beneath the surface, faint but persistent, like a heartbeat buried under water.

Sophia slowed her steps, sensor stone dimming to a low violet pulse. "We're close. The Spectral Bloom doesn't guard a lair—it creates one."

Caria grimaced. "Meaning the whole area's about to start screaming."

Aria glanced back at them, her expression calm, but her fingers tightened slightly on her spear. "Focus. Remember—if you hit the wrong one, it multiplies. Stay sharp."

The mist shifted.

Pale lights began to rise from the water, blooming like ghostly petals unfolding in slow motion. The reflections rippled outward, endless—each one birthing another until the entire swamp shimmered with mirrored blossoms.

Caria cursed under her breath. "And there it is. A field of nightmares."

Sophia crouched, eyes half-lidded, tuning her senses to the hum. "They're in sync… all but one."

Rhys's [Eye of the Ancients] flickered open again, tracing the mana currents through the fog. Thousands of overlapping threads pulsed and intertwined—but one strand beat off-rhythm, faintly slower, like a breath out of step with its own echo.

He pointed. "There."

Before Aria could respond, he vanished in a burst of motion.

One clean strike cut through the mist.

The world seemed to shatter. The false blooms burst apart, exploding into spirals of light before collapsing into motes that drifted upward like fading stars.

The true Bloom screamed—a high, piercing note that made the air ripple like water. Its petals unfurled fully now, revealing a dark, glistening core pulsing with corrupted mana.

"Confirmed!" Sophia called. "That's the real one!"

Aria moved, her spear spinning in a blur of precision as she charged. Caria's bolts followed, striking the air around it to disrupt the illusions trying to reform.

The Bloom retaliated—mana lashing out in tendrils of spectral light that cracked the earth. Rhys countered, slicing through one with [Water Blade], deflecting another with [Mana Shield].

Then, with calm precision, Aria struck true—her spear piercing the heart of the Bloom.

A sound like glass fracturing filled the swamp.

The light imploded inward, folding and collapsing until nothing remained but faint motes drifting like fireflies into the air. The silence that followed felt almost sacred.

Caria exhaled heavily, lowering her weapon. "I swear, no matter how many times we kill that thing, it always feels like it's judging me."

Sophia gave a small nod, scanning her stone. "Number thirteen cleared. One left."

Aria looked toward the deeper mists ahead—the part of the swamp none of the others seemed to look at too long. "The Guardian."

Rhys followed her gaze. The air beyond that fog shimmered faintly, like a veil between two worlds. Even from here, he could feel the mana thrumming—ancient, steady, and aware.

Caria slung her crossbow onto her back with a tired grin. "Well, rookie, this is it. The big one. Don't worry—it only kills you if you blink."

Sophia smiled faintly, tone dry. "She's exaggerating. It's just faster than it looks."

Aria turned slightly, her expression calm but focused. "Stay ready. The Guardian tests intent, not strength. If it decides you're unworthy, it won't even let you see it before you fall."

Rhys's hand rested lightly on his sword hilt. "Then let's make sure it decides otherwise."

Moonbounce stepped forward, his silver glow deepening as the mist began to part once more—revealing the faint outline of a massive figure stirring in the fog.

The fog rippled, folding in on itself as something vast began to rise from the depths.

At first, it looked like nothing more than shifting vapor—mist drawn into a shape that refused to settle. Then it solidified.

A colossal mass of black and white slime took form, its surface glistening like wet glass. Trails of vapor bled from its body with every breath, and faces—half-formed, flickering echoes of the creatures they had slain—moved across its shifting hide. The hum that filled the air wasn't sound anymore. It was resonance—every defeated boss's cry woven together into one dissonant note.

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