​The underground chamber had transformed into nothing less than a death trap. The air was heavy, stifling, and saturated with the stench of death. Amidst the chaos, Morbis’s black roots hissed, thrashing wildly like famished serpents that had just scented their prey. Dozens of sharp, tapering root-tips blurred through the air, aimed at a single, vulnerable target: Lunethra.

​Lunethra had no time for doubt. Her instincts took over. With a near-reflexive motion, she raised the pistol in her hand, her finger squeezing the trigger in a measured rhythm.

​Bang. Bang. Bang.

​Three sharp cracks echoed, rebounding off the damp stone walls. However, she didn’t aim the bullets at the arrogant figure of Morbis standing in the center of the room. Her targets were the roots about to shred her skin. All three shots found their mark, severing the primary roots closest to her.

​The severing of the roots didn’t look like a branch snapping. Instead of a clean break, the black fibers exploded and scattered, releasing a foul, nauseating odor—exactly like the smell of human hair burning atop a pile of carcasses. Morbis staggered for a moment. He didn’t shriek in pain, but his body seemed to lurch. His connection with the roots had been abruptly disrupted; it likely felt like a limb going numb from a pinched nerve.

​The opening lasted only a heartbeat. But for Dayat, it was more than enough.

​In the dim corner of the room, Dayat still held Dola tightly. He could feel his wife’s body trembling violently. Dola coughed again—a sound so hollow it made Dayat’s heart ache.

​Despite his devastation at Dola’s condition, Dayat’s eyes never strayed from Morbis. He watched the severed roots, Morbis’s recovering movements, and most importantly, the massive heart pulsing in the center of the hall.

​"You... understand now?" Dola whispered. Her voice was nearly gone, drowned out by the constant low hum emanating from the plague heart.

​Dayat looked down momentarily at Dola’s deathly pale face. "Understand what?"

​"That heart." Dola raised a trembling hand with great effort, pointing to the massive black mass pulsing at the center of the room. "As long as that thing lives and pumps... Morbis will never die. You could shoot his body a hundred times, or hack him to pieces, but he will keep coming back. That heart is his true life."

​Dayat shifted his gaze back to the heart. Thump. Thump. Thump. Its rhythm was steady yet horrifying. Every beat sent a subtle vibration that Dayat could feel through the soles of his feet against the stone floor. Along with the pulse, the roots throughout the room seemed to breathe—expanding and contracting in perfect synchronization. It felt as if the entire room was a giant, slumbering organism, and the roots were merely its veins.

​"I need something bigger than a pistol," Dayat muttered.

​With extreme care, Dayat lowered Dola from his embrace. He laid her down with the gentlest of movements, leaning her against the section of the wall least infested by the black roots. Though a few small tendrils still crept there, it was far better than anywhere else.

​Dola didn’t protest. She only stared at Dayat with a pair of blue eyes that were beginning to fade.

​"Don’t die," Dola said softly. It wasn’t a command, nor a forceful plea. It was simply a small hope lingering in the remnants of her consciousness.

​Dayat didn’t answer with words. He stood tall, letting his anger crystallize into a sharp focus. He turned toward Lunethra.

​"Lun!"

​Lunethra glanced back. The Elf looked terrible. Sweat poured down her forehead, matting her silver hair that was usually so pristine. Her hands still gripped the pistol tremulously, its muzzle aimed at the regenerating Morbis. The severed roots were already regrowing with unnatural speed.

​"Throw the gun away!" Dayat commanded.

​Lunethra blinked, confused. "What? But this is the only thing that—"

​"It won’t be enough," Dayat cut her off firmly. He held his palm out in front of him. Immediately, a glow of purple mingled with green began to shimmer there. At first, it was just a tiny spark, but it rapidly transformed into a ball of energy radiating intense heat. "You have to hold him off. Use all your magic, whatever you have left. I need time to build something."

​Lunethra stared at the Glock 19 in her hand. It was a tool she had used for the first time today—a tool that had given her a shred of courage amidst this despair. But she knew Dayat was right. She bit her lip hard and tossed the pistol aside. The metal weapon clattered and spun across the stone floor with a loud screeching sound, stopping right near a hungry, creeping black root.

​"I don’t know how long I can hold on in this state," Lunethra said. Her voice wavered, but her eyes burned with fierce resolve.

​"I only need a moment, Lun. Trust me."

​Lunethra nodded. She raised both hands high. Instantly, golden mana began to glow from her body, far brighter than before. She called upon every remaining element—from the earth beneath the floor, from the damp air, to the remnants of the green roots previously destroyed by the plague.

​New roots erupted from the cracks in the stone. This time they were thicker, more numerous, and far stronger. They coiled toward Morbis like raging golden serpents.

​Morbis offered a thin smile—a gesture that was more of a monstrous leer. "This again?" His voice crawled along the walls like sandpaper. "You truly think this cheap technique will work a second time?"

​Morbis’s black roots moved to counterattack. But Lunethra had learned. This time, she didn’t attack frontally. She manipulated her green roots to form a thick, circular wall. She constructed a living fence around Morbis, restricting every inch of his movement, trapping the monster within a dynamic golden cage.

​"This... won’t hold for long!" Lunethra screamed. The muscles in her neck strained as mana surged out of her body in a torrent.

​"Just a little longer!" Dayat shouted back.

​Dayat closed his eyes. Within the darkness of his mind, he summoned all the knowledge previously transferred by Dola. Thousands of weapon blueprints, millions of physics formulas, and energy algorithms swirled in his head like a rushing river. He was searching for one specific thing: an Anti-Biological Pulse Rifle. A weapon designed specifically to dismantle organic-based entities at a molecular level. A weapon he had never forged before.

​In Dayat’s hands, matter began to solidify and take shape. The long barrel appeared first—not made of ordinary metal, but of a synthetic material capable of channeling pure biological energy. The energy core began to pulse, emitting a frequency intentionally set to oppose the beat of the plague heart. A network of fine fibers began to spread along the body of the weapon, acting as conductors for the anti-life pulse.

​"Just a little more... just a little more..." Dayat gritted his teeth.

​In another corner, Dola, still leaning against the wall, tried to assist. With the last of her strength, she raised a hand and formed a thin, transparent shield. The shield wasn’t meant to stop physical attacks; it acted as a filter. She attempted to strain out a small portion of the plague waves emitted by Morbis’s body so Dayat could focus on building the weapon without mental interference.

​The effect was immediate on Dola. She coughed violently again. This time, the fluid leaving her mouth was pitch black and viscous. Black veins began to crawl from her neck toward her cheeks, marring her pale complexion. Her eyes flickered unstably—bright blue, then dim, then blue again—like a lamp losing its battery power.

​"Hurry, Dayat... I can’t hold this back much longer..." she whispered in her heart.

​Lunethra was also at her limit. Morbis’s black roots pressed against her golden cage from every side—top, bottom, and flanks. The screeching sound of green roots beginning to crack was horrifying. One by one, the green roots snapped with the sound of dry twigs being crushed.

​"Come on... hold on!" Lunethra gritted her teeth until they bled. Sweat stung her eyes, but she refused to blink even once.

​Suddenly, a black root broke through the golden fence. It lunged like lightning, impaling Lunethra’s shoulder. The Elf Princess let out a stifled scream. Fresh red blood immediately soaked her green dress and dripped onto the stone floor. Yet, she did not fall. She remained standing tall, both hands still raised high. Her golden mana still flickered, though its light was now unstable.

​"I... I can still do this!" she cried out, more to herself than to anyone else.

​But the next attack came. A second black root bypassed her defenses and struck Lunethra’s leg, just below the knee. The sound of bone hitting the stone floor was sickeningly loud. Lunethra collapsed onto her knees. Excruciating pain radiated through her body, but she still refused to lower her hands. The green roots held, though they now appeared thin and brittle.

​Morbis watched the scene with hollow black eyes. Somehow, there was a trace of admiration on the monster’s face. "You are truly remarkable, Elf. You have lasted far longer than I anticipated."

​Lunethra had no energy left to answer. She could only focus on maintaining the last of her mana.

​"But all of this only delays the moment of your death," Morbis added coldly.

​Morbis raised his hand. The black roots around him began to gather and twist around one another, forming a massive spear nearly the size of a tree trunk. Its tip was wickedly sharp and glistened with the black fluid dripping from it. A single strike from that spear would surely shatter Lunethra’s defenses entirely, and likely kill her on the spot.

​At that exact moment, Dayat snapped his eyes open.

​"NOW!" he roared.

​Dayat raised his Pulse Rifle. The weapon vibrated violently in his hands, emitting a low hum akin to the growl of a predator. Its light was so blinding that it illuminated every dark corner of the room.

​He aimed meticulously. His target wasn’t Morbis’s body. He aimed directly at the plague heart still pulsing in the center of the hall.

​Dayat took one last deep breath.

​He pulled the trigger.

​There was no deafening explosion of gunfire. Instead, a low hum suddenly erupted into a massive wave of energy. A beam of blue-white light streaked from the barrel, leaving a trail of heat that seemed to scorch the very air. The light struck the plague heart exactly at its center.

​The heart managed to pulse one last time with incredible force—THUMP!—shaking the entire room.

​Then, the heart stopped completely.

​Silence. One second passed. Two.

​Then, a horrific shriek shattered the air.

​It wasn’t just Morbis screaming; every root in the room seemed to cry out in unison. The high-pitched sound was so sharp it felt like it was piercing their eardrums. The room itself seemed like a living creature in its death throes. The once-mighty black roots withered and shriveled rapidly. They crumbled into pieces, turning into black dust that swirled through the air like morbid snow.

​Morbis stared at his own body with an expression of disbelief. Large cracks began to appear on his chest, spreading across his entire form. Unlike before, where he merely vibrated, his body was now truly disintegrating.

​"You... this will not... stop..." Morbis’s voice broke apart before his body finally collapsed into a pile of black dust, carried away by a phantom wind.

​Silence returned to the chamber.

​Only the sound of their breathing remained. Dayat’s ragged gasps, Dola’s faint breaths, and Lunethra’s struggling pants.

​Lunethra finally collapsed entirely onto the floor. Her hands dropped limply, and she lay staring at the ceiling with half-open eyes. Blood from her shoulder and leg began to pool on the cold stone floor, but she was still conscious. Her chest rose and fell rapidly, trying to pull in as much air as possible.

​Dayat dropped his weapon. The Pulse Rifle immediately dissolved into particles of purple light, vanishing before it even touched the floor.

​He immediately turned and rushed to Dola. His wife was still leaning against the wall; the black veins on her cheeks were fading, though they hadn’t entirely disappeared. Her eyes met Dayat’s again with a blue spark that, while dim, was far calmer than before.

​They stared at each other without needing a single word. That look was enough to convey everything: that they had cheated death, at least for now.

​Lunethra tried to push herself up, her trembling hands pressing against the stone floor with great effort. "Is... is he truly dead?" 𝗳𝚛𝗲𝕖𝚠𝚎𝚋𝗻𝗼𝕧𝗲𝐥.𝚌𝚘𝐦

​"Yeah," Dayat said, letting out a long sigh. "He should be gone for good."