Maldrak''s breath was shallow, his body barely holding together under the strain of his own corrupted Astra. Yet, even with Nyroth''s blade pressed to his throat, a faint smirk crept onto his face. He coughed, his voice hoarse but laced with a bitter amusement.


    "You need me alive, Solvain." His fingers trembled as he reached for the fractured remains of his strength. "Your Guardians… they''re still lost in my dungeon. You know as well as I do that the labyrinth will never let them go… unless I will it."


    Nyroth''s crimson eyes remained impassive, the blade unyielding against Maldrak''s skin. There was no hesitation, no flicker of uncertainty in his stance. And yet, the air between them grew heavier, charged with the weight of the truth Maldrak had spoken.


    Deep within the cursed dungeon, Siris and Dren pressed forward through the winding corridors. The walls around them seemed to breathe, shifting ever so slightly when they weren''t looking. The deeper they went, the heavier the air became, thick with the whispers of the past.


    Then, without warning, Siris came to a dead stop. His breath hitched, and for a moment, everything around him blurred.


    A flash of memory—


    A battlefield drenched in moonlight. Blood on his hands. A figure in the distance, reaching for him—


    And then, nothing.


    Dren grabbed his arm, shaking him back to reality. "Siris! What the hell is wrong with you?"


    Siris exhaled sharply, blinking rapidly. "I… I don''t know." His hand went to his temple, as if trying to steady himself. "This place—Maldrak''s magic is messing with us."


    Dren frowned, glancing around. "We need to move before it gets worse."


    The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    They pressed on, the weight of unseen memories lingering like ghosts at their backs.


    Further ahead, Ilara and Varrian turned a final corner and froze. Before them stood the two Guardians. Relief flooded Ilara''s expression as Siris, already watching her approach, stepped forward with Ilara''s shield in his hands. But before letting go, he pulled her into a brief but firm hug, concern flickering in his eyes. "Figured you''d want this back."


    Ilara caught it with ease, her fingers running over its surface as if greeting an old friend. "I was starting to think you''d grown attached to it."


    Siris smirked. "Not my style."


    Dren stepped forward as well, offering Ilara a nod. "Good to see you still in one piece." His usual sharp tone was softened by relief, though he quickly masked it with a smirk.


    Before another word could be exchanged, Varrian let out a booming laugh and threw his massive arms around both of them, crushing them in an embrace so tight it nearly lifted them off their feet.


    "If you break my ribs, I swear—" Siris grunted.


    "You''ll heal," Varrian interrupted, squeezing them tighter before finally letting go. "It''s damn good to see you two."


    Dren coughed, catching his breath. "You too, you oversized bear."


    They exchanged glances, nodding in silent understanding. Whatever they had endured in the depths of the dungeon, they had made it out together.


    Beyond the castle walls, the battle raged on, but the tide had turned. The once-overwhelming horde of monsters found themselves faltering as the forces of Eldris pressed forward with relentless precision. The air was thick with the clash of steel, the crackling hum of Astra, and the dying roars of the creatures of the night. What had once seemed like an endless wave of darkness was now a scattered, desperate force trying to withstand the might of the Guardians'' elite soldiers. The elite forces of Eldris carved through the remaining monsters, their unity and discipline overwhelming the scattered remnants of Theradrin''s dark army. Each Guardian''s warriors fought with an unmatched fury, their disciplined formations holding strong even in the midst of chaos. The warriors of Ilara and Varrian fought with reckless abandon, fueled by the rage of their missing commanders. Every strike was brutal, every movement sharp with vengeance. Elsewhere, the forces under the command of Siris and Dren''s lieutenants moved like a well-oiled machine, cutting through enemy ranks with precise coordination, their presence a testament to the leadership they followed. Above the fray, Astra-infused arrows rained down from expert marksmen, thinning the monstrous numbers even further.


    And then, the sound came.


    A great, resounding impact echoed from deep within the castle, shaking the very foundation of the battlefield. For a moment, everything stilled. The monsters faltered, their movements hesitant.


    Then, as if sensing their leader''s fate, the creatures hesitated, their ferocity wavering. They turned their heads toward the looming castle as if awaiting a command that would never come. Fear seeped into their ranks, their confidence shattered. Some turned to flee on instinct, while others fought a few desperate moments longer before realizing the battle was lost. The remaining warriors of Eldris advanced one last time, cutting down those who lingered too long in hesitation. A deep, echoing horn sounded across the battlefield, signaling the retreat, its mournful call carrying over the ruins of war.


    The battle was over.