Argus knew the moment he made the decision that there would be no turning back.

  His body still trembled from the earlier battle, every muscle aching as if the marrow inside his bones had been scraped raw, yet the distant clash of mana and stone echoed through the valley with a persistence that refused to let him rest. Each impact carried across the mountain slope like a dull thunder, followed by bursts of heat that distorted the air itself, and with every passing second the feeling grew stronger inside his chest that if he remained where he stood, doing nothing, then whatever was happening ahead would end in blood.

  He clenched his jaw and forced his breathing to steady.

  You are not in any condition to fight.

  The thought came again, unbidden, cold and practical, and it was not wrong. His reserves were nearly empty, his channels strained, and even the simple act of gathering mana caused a faint burning sensation to crawl along his veins. He was only a Silver rank, standing in a Mithril zone where even seasoned adventurers moved carefully, and the presence he could feel ahead was far heavier than anything he should have been facing in his current state.

  For a brief moment, he hesitated.

  Not because he did not want to help, but because he could not ignore the possibility that his presence would change nothing. Worse, that he would become another burden for those already fighting for their lives.

  If Dravien takes over, this ends quickly…

  The thought surfaced almost instinctively, and Argus’s expression tightened as he directed his awareness inward.

  Will you help?

  He asked again, despite knowing the answer. Silence lingered for a breath.

  Then the familiar voice answered, calm and distant, carrying neither mockery nor warmth.

  No.

  Argus’s fingers curled slightly.

  I already told you, I would not help, Dravien continued, his tone steady, as if discussing something trivial rather than a life-and-death struggle unfolding nearby. I don't see the reason to help. If you cannot fight on your own, then leaving would be better.

  Argus felt irritation rise in his chest, sharp and immediate, but he swallowed it before it could reach his lips.

  There was no time to argue.

  He exhaled slowly, then reached into the small spatial pocket bound to his belt. His fingers closed around the familiar glass surface of a vial, and when he pulled it free, the faint blue liquid inside shimmered with a dense, unnatural glow.

  Emergency mana recovery potion.

  He stared at it for a brief moment.

  This was not something meant to be used lightly. The mixture forced mana channels open whether they were ready or not, flooding the body with energy that could not be properly stabilized. It restored power quickly, but the price was strain, sometimes enough to leave even experienced mages unable to cast for days afterward.

  Right now, he did not have the luxury of caution.

  He pulled the cork free and drank.

  The liquid burned the moment it touched his tongue, a bitter, metallic taste spreading across his mouth before the sensation plunged down his throat like liquid fire. His chest tightened, and for an instant it felt as if his heart skipped a beat, only to slam back into motion with violent force.

  Mana surged.

  Not smoothly, not naturally, but in a rush that made his vision blur at the edges. Power filled his channels faster than they could adjust, pressing against them until the faintest tremor ran through his arms.

  He steadied himself against a nearby rock, breathing through the pain.

  Not full.

  But enough.

  He lifted his head and looked toward the source of the disturbance.

  The Ashstone Mother towered above the broken ground, its massive body formed from molten rock and blackened debris fused together into a shape that resembled the smaller creatures he had seen earlier, only larger, thicker, and radiating a heat that warped the air around it. Streams of glowing cracks ran across its surface, pulsing with slow, heavy light as if magma itself flowed beneath its shell.

  Argus narrowed his eyes.

  He tried to inspect it, instinctively reaching for the familiar sense that allowed him to gauge the strength of a monster.

  Nothing.

  The presence was too dense, the mana too heavy to read clearly.

  Frustration flickered across his face.

  Too high…

  Before he could think further, the creature raised one massive arm, fragments of burning stone sliding from its surface as the air around its hand twisted with gathering heat.

  The attack came without warning.

  A wave of ash and molten debris burst forward, tearing across the ground toward the adventurers below.

  Argus’s gaze snapped to the group just in time to see the girl step forward, her hands moving in a hurried pattern as she forced mana into shape.

  Water gathered in front of her, swirling upward in a rushing spiral before solidifying into a curved barrier.

  Not the thin, unstable shield he had seen earlier.

  This one held.

  The molten spray struck the surface with a violent hiss, steam exploding outward as the barrier trembled under the impact, but it did not break.

  Argus’s eyes widened slightly.

  She improved, in the midst of battle.

  Even as the thought crossed his mind, the other adventurers continued fighting, their movements precise despite the pressure. The elementalist hurled controlled bursts of flame toward the creature’s joints, the healer stood behind them, weaving barriers and restoration in careful rhythm, and the spellsword moved at the front, blade glowing as he deflected fragments of burning stone before they could reach the others.

  They were struggling now.

  Not panicking, not losing control, but the difference from earlier was obvious.

  The Ashstone Mother’s regeneration sealed cracks almost as quickly as they appeared, and every time one of them struck near the glowing core beneath its chest, the creature shifted its body just enough to keep the vulnerable point protected.

  Argus felt his teeth clench.

  They cannot break through like this…

  Another attack came.

  This time the girl was slower.

  The monster’s arm slammed down, sending a splash of molten debris toward her before she could complete her spell.

  Argus moved without thinking.

  Mana surged through his aching channels as he thrust his hand forward, forcing the water in the air to gather faster than his body wanted to allow. The liquid twisted into shape, forming a dense cocoon that shot across the battlefield and wrapped itself around the girl just as the burning spray struck.

  Steam burst outward.

  The impact pushed her back several steps, but the shield held long enough for the heat to fade.

  For a moment, everyone froze.

  The girl turned, eyes wide.

  The spellsword glanced over his shoulder, surprise flashing across his face before it shifted into something sharper, more focused.

  Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  Argus stepped forward, breathing hard.

  “I am not as strong as you,” he said, his voice strained but steady. “But, I will do everything to help.”

  The elementalist’s gaze locked onto him for a split second, then he nodded once.

  “Got it.”

  No questions.

  No hesitation.

  The elementalist starting shaping mana into a torrent of wind . He looked at Argus and in that moment,Argus didn't know how but he understood the message. They moved as if he had always been part of the formation, Argus's water cocoon combined with the torrent of wind and delivered a devastating effect on the monster.

  Its plates shattered, while lava started leaking out. It let out a guttural roar, rattling the environment . Argus sent a signal to the elementalist and another attack pierced the plates at the joints. They started to regenerate, but the regeneration at those areas was slower. The elementalist nodded to him.

  He forced himself to stay back, watching every motion, every shift in the monster’s body, calling out openings when he saw them, shaping small bursts of water to deflect attacks that would have broken their rhythm. He did not try to lead, did not try to fight like them, but little by little the pressure eased just enough for the group to hold their ground.

  Even so, the Ashstone Mother was not weakening.

  If anything, its movements grew more violent, more desperate, as if the damage they managed to inflict only drove it into a deeper frenzy.

  Argus felt a cold unease settle in his stomach.

  This will not end cleanly.

  The creature’s body swelled with heat, cracks across its surface glowing brighter than before as it drew its arms back.

  Mana gathered in the air.

  Too much.

  Argus’s eyes widened.

  “Move!”

  He did not know how he understood what was coming, but the warning tore from his throat before the thought even finished forming.

  The monster’s mouth split open, and a jet of molten lava erupted forward like a burning river.

  Everyone dodged.

  Everyone except the girl.

  She had started moving a fraction too late.

  Her foot caught on broken stone, her balance faltered, and in that single moment the wave of fire closed the distance between them.

  Argus felt his heart stop.

  The spellsword saw it too.

  He did not hesitate.

  He turned, grabbed the girl by the shoulder, and shoved her behind him as he planted his feet directly in the path of the attack.

  The lava hit.

  For an instant, his silhouette remained visible inside the burning torrent, blade raised, body shaking as he forced mana into a barrier that shattered almost immediately under the heat. His armor resisted too, just for a second as the flames started engulfing him.

  His voice reached them through the roar, rough but steady.

  “Live well… Amy.”

  Then the fire swallowed him completely.

  The torrent of lava crashed against the ground behind them with a deafening roar, spreading across the broken stone in a wave of molten light that forced everyone to retreat several steps just to avoid the heat. The air itself felt as if it had turned to fire, each breath scraping Argus’s throat as though he were inhaling ash.

  For a moment, no one moved.

  Amy’s knees hit the ground first.

  She stared at the place where Roger had stood, her eyes wide and unfocused, as if her mind refused to accept what she had just seen. The glow from the molten rock reflected in her pupils, turning them into trembling shards of orange light.

  “…Roger…”

  Her voice barely came out, the word breaking apart halfway through as her hands clenched against the dirt.

  The healer froze behind her, one hand still raised from the last spell he had cast. The mana gathering at his fingertips flickered and died, his expression tightening as the reality settled in.

  Jasper did not look at the ground.

  His gaze remained fixed on the Ashstone Mother, jaw locked so hard that the muscles along his neck stood out like cords. The flames he controlled burned hotter around his hands, not wild, not uncontrolled, but heavier, as if the weight of his anger had settled directly into the mana itself.

  Argus felt something twist inside his chest.

  The moment replayed again in his mind, the instant when Roger had understood exactly what would happen and moved anyway.

  No hesitation.

  No fear.

  Only the certainty that someone had to stand there.

  Argus swallowed hard and forced his eyes back to the monster.

  The Ashstone Mother lowered its arm slowly, molten fragments sliding from its surface as the glow beneath its shell pulsed brighter than before. The attack had not weakened it. If anything, the creature seemed more agitated now, its body shifting as if searching for the next target.

  The healer moved first.

  He stepped forward, placing himself beside Amy, one hand resting briefly on her shoulder before he began weaving another spell. Soft green light spread from his palm, wrapping around her arms and legs, not because she was wounded badly, but because the tremor running through her body made it clear she would not be able to stand otherwise.

  “You’re alive,” he said quietly, his voice hoarse but steady.

  “That means he did not die for nothing. Get up.”

  Amy’s lips trembled.

  “I… I didn’t… I couldn’t…”

  “You lived,” he repeated, firmer this time.

  “That is enough right now.”

  The mage exhaled slowly, then spoke without turning.

  “We don’t stop.”

  His voice carried across the battlefield, low but sharp enough that everyone heard it.

  “If we stop, we die. If we lose formation, we die. Roger knew that.”

  Argus felt the words settle into him like stones.

  No shouting.

  No dramatic anger.

  Just the simple truth spoken by someone who had been on battlefields too many times to pretend there was another choice.

  "Jasper is right. No point in sobbing, best thing we can do is ensure that he didn't die for nothing." The healer spoke, voice tight and controlled.

  The Ashstone Mother roared again, its massive body shifting forward as cracks of molten light spread across its chest. The glowing core beneath the stone plates flickered into view for a fraction of a second before the creature twisted its torso, hiding it once more.

  Argus forced his mind to focus.

  “It exposes the center when it gathers heat,” he called out, his voice rough from the smoke.

  “Watch the chest. When the glow spreads, it can’t move as fast.”

  Jasper glanced at him briefly, then nodded once.

  “Then make sure we see it.”

  Argus stepped sideways, ignoring the pain that flared through his channels as he pulled more mana than they wanted to give. The potion still burned inside his veins, leaving a faint trembling in his hands, but he forced the water in the air to gather anyway, shaping thin currents that circled the monster’s body.

  Not to attack.

  To feel.

  The moment the heat shifted, the currents trembled, and he raised his voice again.

  “Now!”

  Brad moved instantly.

  A surge of fire burst from his hands, not wild flames but a compressed stream that slammed into the Ashstone Mother’s shoulder, forcing the creature to twist in order to block the impact. The movement exposed the glowing core for an instant, and Amy reacted on instinct, sending a spear of water toward the opening.

  It struck.

  The outer plates cracked.

  But the core remained intact, the fissure sealing itself with a grinding sound as molten rock flowed back into place.

  The healer staggered slightly behind them, one hand pressed against his side as he forced another barrier into existence. Sweat ran down his face, his breathing uneven now, the strain of constant casting beginning to show.

  Argus noticed it immediately.

  He’s running low.

  Another attack came, the Ashstone Mother slamming both arms into the ground and sending shards of burning stone in every direction. Argus threw up a wave of water to deflect the fragments aimed toward Amy, while Brad burned the rest to ash before they could reach the healer.

  They held.

  Barely.

  Minutes passed like this, each exchange draining more strength than the last. Every spell came slower. Every movement carried the faint hesitation of bodies pushed too close to their limits.

  Argus felt the same weakness creeping into his own limbs, the artificial mana from the potion beginning to thin, leaving behind a dull ache that spread through his chest.

  The monster was not slowing.

  It was regenerating faster than they could damage it, its core protected behind layers of stone that refused to break no matter how precisely they struck.

  Jasper stepped back after the next exchange, his breathing heavy now, flames flickering unevenly around his hands.

  “…This isn’t working.”

  The healer did not answer.

  He did not need to.

  Everyone could see it.

  Jasper wiped the back of his arm across his face, then spoke again, quieter this time.

  “We keep this up, we run out first.”

  Amy shook her head immediately.

  “No. We can still—”

  He cut her off without looking at her.

  “I have one last option.”

  The words made the healer stiffen.

  Amy’s eyes widened.

  “…Brad… no.”

  He ignored her, watching the Ashstone Mother as it began gathering heat again, the glow beneath its shell growing brighter with every second.

  “If I release everything at once, I can crack the core wide open. But I won’t have anything left after that.”

  Amy grabbed his arm.

  “You said that spell burns your channels. You said you might not survive it!”

  He pulled free gently, not roughly, but firmly enough that she could not hold him.

  “If I don’t do it, none of us survive.”

  Argus felt his focus waver for a fraction of a second as the words sank in.

  In that moment, the monster moved.

  One of its arms swung toward him, faster than before, molten fragments tearing through the air like burning knives.

  Argus tried to move.

  His body did not respond.

  For an instant, everything inside him went still, as if the connection between his mind and his limbs had been cut cleanly in half.

  A strange, heavy sensation spread through his chest.

  Not fear.

  Not pain.

  Relief.

  A voice echoed in the darkness of his thoughts, deeper than before, carrying a calm that felt completely out of place in the middle of the battlefield.

  It seems I will have to interfere.

  Argus’s vision sharpened.

  His body straightened on its own, the trembling in his arms vanishing as if it had never been there.

  Now watch carefully, Dravien said, his tone quiet, almost indifferent.

  This is true elemental manipulation.

  The Ashstone Mother froze.

  Not completely, not like a statue, but its movements slowed, the molten glow across its body flickering as if the mana in the air itself had shifted.

  Even the heat around Argus faded.

  The burning particles drifting through the air vanished one by one, drawn inward toward him as if the world itself had begun to breathe in reverse.

  Amy turned without meaning to.

  Her eyes met his.

  And she stopped moving entirely.

  Dravien raised his hand slowly, fingers curling as the water in the air gathered without resistance, forming a dense sphere that spun faster and faster until the outer layer froze solid, a shell of ice forming around a core of compressed liquid.

  Pain shot through his chest, sharp enough to make his vision darken at the edges, but Dravien’s voice remained steady.

  Too much resistance… even now…

  The spear formed.

  Long.

  Dense.

  The tip sharpened into clear ice that glowed faintly blue despite the heat of the battlefield.

  For the first time, Argus felt surprise from Dravien himself.

  So this is its limit…

  His arm moved.

  The spear launched.

  It cut through the air without a sound, striking the Ashstone Mother directly in the chest. The outer plates shattered on impact, cracks racing across the creature’s body as the frozen tip drove deep into the glowing core beneath.

  The monster roared, its entire frame shaking as molten light spilled from the wound.

  The core did not break.

  Dravien’s presence faltered for the briefest moment.

  …Stronger than expected.

  Jasper moved.

  He did not hesitate, did not ask what had just happened, did not even look at Argus.

  He simply raised both hands and released everything he had left.

  Flames erupted forward in a single, blinding surge, compressing into a beam of white-hot fire that struck the exposed core with a sound like stone splitting under a mountain’s weight.

  The crack spread.

  For one breathless second, nothing happened.

  Then the core shattered.

  Light burst outward, the Ashstone Mother’s body collapsing in on itself as the molten glow died all at once, the massive form crumbling into lifeless fragments of blackened stone that hit the ground with a thunder that echoed across the entire valley.