Lazelos sparked a fire on his torch, the flare of light casting dancing shadows across the jagged interior of the cave. The flame flickered against the rough stone, and for a brief moment, it gave the illusion of safety.
But after only a few steps in, a howling gust tore through the tunnel once more — swift, deliberate, and with a chill that made the flame shudder… then die.
Darkness reclaimed everything.
Lazelos clicked his tongue and lit the torch again, his practiced hands working fast. The fire flared to life — only to be snuffed out again, this time even faster, as if the very air inside the cave rejected light itself.
A heavy silence followed, broken by the subtle scrape of metal.
"This beast," said Nobu in his calm, composed tone, "is not giving us any chances."
"We should retreat," said Saya, her voice low but firm. One hand hovered near the hilt of her blade, the other slightly raised as if to feel for vibrations in the air.
"Hmph, that's why you're an amateur," Zao muttered with a sideways glance. His nine-ring saber gleamed faintly in the dark as he unsheathed it, each ring letting out a delicate chime as it settled. "A good hunter doesn't back down just because the prey growls."
"No need to squabble," Lazelos said, still calm, still leading. "Let's continue. I think the host won't be pleased if the guests leave so early."
Just as his words left his mouth—
RUMBLE.
The ground beneath them shuddered violently, as if the earth itself had drawn breath. The walls of the cave moaned, groaned, then cracked. Pebbles rained down. Dust exploded from above.
The quake was short but deep — like something large and buried had shifted awake.
They stumbled, bracing against the walls or one another. Kazel didn't fall, merely swayed with the motion, his stance fluid like water.
Then—
BOOM.
The sound of shifting stone echoed from behind them.
In a flash, the entrance sealed shut.
A cascade of heavy rocks slid into place with unnerving finality, cutting off the last sliver of daylight. Now there was only darkness, thick and absolute, swallowing all but the thud of their own heartbeats.
"Well," Kazel chuckled, voice echoing. "Guess we overstayed our welcome... or came right on time."
Nobody laughed.
For a few seconds, silence reigned once more.
Then Lazelos's voice came, even, unshaken. "Forward. There's no going back now."
"If someone had any idea about this Epic beast, it's best to tell us now," said Mina, her voice cutting through the oppressive air like a blade. She was alert, her Rare-class spirit beast faintly pulsing around her, the tension clear in her stance.
"I wish," Jiro muttered, adjusting the scarf around his neck with a sigh. "I've only heard whispers. Nothing concrete."
No one else answered. Selphine — Ondira in disguise — kept silent and walked steadily just behind Lazelos, as if the question didn't concern her at all. Her white mask glimmered faintly with the residual glow of soul energy, unreadable and unmoved.
Then, slowly, the dark began to lift — not from torches or spirit arts, but from a soft glow above.
Light touched them. Dim at first, but growing stronger as their path continued downward. It wasn't the light of fire, nor spirit energy — it was the faint, eerie glow of the sky itself leaking in from high, narrow cracks above them.
Kazel raised his eyes. The ceiling stretched far beyond what he expected, cracked in places where beams of distant sunlight slipped through, forming pale veins of gold across the cold stone walls. Their surroundings became clearer: jagged edges, claw marks, and bones scattered far too uniformly to be from anything natural.
Everyone paused, their faces painted with dawning realization — and fear.
The cave wasn't simply a tunnel.
It was a descent.
Then—
"Welcome, human."
The voice was low, deep, and strangely articulate. Not loud — it didn't need to be. It echoed from everywhere and nowhere all at once, like it was spoken from the very bones of the cave.
It was unmistakably male.
And it was not human.
No one spoke.
Even Zao, who'd been all smirks and saber rings, now had his hand frozen on his weapon. Saya reached for her sword. Nobu's hand opened, spirit energy flowing faintly at his palm, but he didn't cast anything.
Kazel glanced upward again, then toward the front of the group.
( So… it speaks, ) he thought, his smile slight, eyes sharp. ( This might get interesting. )
The voice had come not with a roar, but with a greeting.
And that made it all the more terrifying.
The space opened into a cavernous dome, dimly lit by a soft, eerie glow that bled from the jagged stone itself. Faint veins of spirit ore ran through the walls and ceiling, casting a twilight hue that painted everything in shades of blue and violet. It wasn't bright—but it was just enough to see. Enough to feel exposed.
The walls rose like broken fangs, uneven and sharp, and the floor sloped gently downward as if funneling them into the beast's den.
No one spoke.
Every step echoed quietly, dulled by the hanging mist that curled around their ankles. The silence wasn't comforting—it was heavy. Like something was listening.
Then—wush.
A whistle cut the quiet like a blade.
Something zipped through the glowing air, a high-speed blur headed straight for Saya.
She barely caught the motion—there was no time to react.
Clang!
A sudden deflection rang out—Nobu had stepped in, his blade flashing in the dim light as he swatted the object away. Sparks flew briefly, casting flickers across everyone's startled faces.
The object hovered for just a blink of an eye.
It was long and narrow—sharp, living. A vein, glistening like obsidian, with a quivering, pointed end. Then it shot back into the darkness like a snake retreating to its burrow.
"Focus, Saya!" Nobu snapped.
"Y-Yes, Master!" she stammered, breath shallow, hand clutching the hilt of her sword. Her pulse thundered in her ears. That strike had been silent, precise—it could've ended her.
The others tightened their stances.
( A warning shot? ) Kazel thought, scanning the shadows. ( Or a tease. )
Whatever it was, it wanted them to know it was watching. And it wasn't done.
"Oh? A strong one is among you," a deep, resonating voice echoed from the chamber's far end.
The voice was male—arrogant, yet composed. It wasn't shouted, but every syllable reverberated like it was spoken beside their ears. Then, from the darkness, it emerged.
The beast stepped forward, revealing itself in the pale glow.
It stood upright, humanoid in form—two legs, two arms—but the resemblance to humanity ended there. Its body was entirely sheathed in a tough, ridged armor of dark brown, textured like an armadillo's hide. Even its joints were protected by layered segments, thick but not bulky. Despite the armor, it moved with unnerving fluidity.
Four elongated veins extended from its back, pulsating slowly, each made of the same armored flesh—living weapons, twitching with restrained hunger.
Its head was fully that of an armadillo—elongated snout, small black eyes that glimmered with intelligence and cruelty. Its claws flexed lazily as it stepped into the light.
Saya's breath caught in her throat. "What is that…" she whispered.
"Tch." Selphine narrowed her eyes, her lips curling into a rare scowl. Even she didn't like what she was seeing.
Zao, meanwhile, cracked his neck with a smirk and stepped forward. "Good that you showed yourself," he said, voice full of bravado. "Now you can see—eight of us, and one of you. Since you understand us, why don't you just surrender? I'll make it quick."
The creature didn't reply.
Instead—
WUSH.
Another vein blurred through the air, so fast that the group barely had time to blink.
SPLCH.
A wet, sickening sound rang out—flesh pierced.
"Kh—!" Jiro's eyes widened. He looked down and saw it—a vein had impaled him cleanly through the back, jutting out of his chest. His lips parted, a cough of blood escaping as he staggered forward, knees buckling.
His body hit the ground without ceremony.
Silence fell.
The beast tilted its head, eyes scanning the party.
"Now," it said, cold and even, "it's seven to one."
Its voice no longer held mockery. Just a grim certainty.
And just like that, the hunt had turned.