The hall opened before them like a cavernous womb—the vaulted ceiling lost in darkness, walls spreading fifty metres to either side. The stone here was different: not grey as in the corridors, but almost black, as though scorched from within. On the surface could be seen strange pale streaks—either water traces or something else, but the moss growing round the perimeter managed the lighting well enough.

  To the right, by the far wall, a stream burbled. Water seeped from a crack in the rock, collected in a small basin, then vanished into a fissure in the floor. The sound echoed off the walls, multiplied, transformed into a continuous whisper.

  To the left loomed remains—not bones, but fragments of wooden carts, rotted fabric, broken utensils. Refugees had tried to make a life even here, in their trap. Pottery shards lay scattered across the entire floor. The smell of mustiness mixed with something sour, acrid.

  In the hall's centre stood it.

  Ayan peered at the silhouette. The creature exceeded an orc's height by half again—massive, hunched, with disproportionately long arms. Its skin resembled wrinkled bark, grey-brown, in places covered with growths like solidified wax. The head sat on a short neck, almost sunk into the shoulders. The mouth stretched to the very ears, revealing rows of small teeth like a fish's.

  But the main thing—the eyes. Red, dull, without pupils. They glowed from within, like coals ready to flare.

  The creature slowly turned, losing interest in them. Arms dragged along the floor, claws scraped stone with quiet screeching. From its chest tore a sound—not a growl, not a howl, but something between a rasp and a moan.

  Weeping.

  The same cursed weeping the larvae had made. Only deeper. More drawn-out. It didn't press on consciousness immediately—rather it enveloped, seeped through ears into thoughts, settled as weight on the shoulders.

  Ayan gripped the sword hilt tighter. When he focused on the creature, he expectedly received no information.

  "Any ideas how to fight this thing?" Ayan exhaled without taking his eyes off the monster.

  "Hold aggro, and we'll start pouring damage into it. We'll work it out as we go." Ainur stepped forward, raising her spear horizontally. During the time spent beside the lad, she'd managed to pick up various words from him which she'd never have thought to use in such a context before.

  "Agreed!" Yernazar shifted right, toying with his axe. Rayan slid off the orc maiden's leg, froze by her foot—jaws open, body tense.

  "You've decided to join in too?" The lad asked his silent pet. "Well, don't rush. The plan's rubbish. We won't manage this."

  "What do you suggest?" The girl asked, returning the spear to vertical.

  "I'll turn it away from you and stand by the water. You meanwhile overturn a couple of carts and create at least some protection. If the boss suddenly aggros on you, I'll manage to intercept it at the barricades. Use bows and spears, don't go into melee, try to keep your distance. Watch in case it summons adds—then shout, I'll try to take them on myself. If I can't, Ainur, they're yours. Nazar, don't get carried away, watch our HP. If you notice anything, shout. I'll call out all effects, you think. That's everything—any suggestions?"

  After consideration, they decided it was worth trying. After all, this was essentially the same plan the girl had suggested, only with them assigned the role of ranged support.

  Having checked their equipment, the trio clapped each other on the shoulders and Ayan ran towards the natural basin. Halfway there he stopped and sent "Verdict" into the boss, then continued his run.

  The creature turned towards its attacker and took a step. Then another. The movements seemed clumsy, slow, but each step covered a frighteningly large distance. Arms swung in time, claws scored furrows in the stone.

  The weeping intensified. Not sharply, gradually—as though someone was turning up the volume. His temples were gripped in the familiar vice, but the pressure was different. Not sharp, like the larvae's, but viscous, sticky.

  The health bar trembled. Minus five points. Another minus five. Damage came slowly but steadily.

  "It's attacking already," Ayan tossed over his shoulder. "Mental damage is constant—five units per second on me!"

  "We're only getting two!" Yernazar shouted back. They'd already reached the refugee camp and were overturning carts, creating some semblance of protection.

  The boss crossed the hall's centre. Its speed increased—the slow gait shifted to striding steps. The body swayed side to side, arms swept like the wings of a flightless bird.

  Ayan gripped the sword tighter, retreated to the basin. Water splashed behind him. The boss stopped three paces away, tilted its head sideways. The mouth opened wider, jaws sagging unnaturally, as though the ligaments had snapped.

  "Want to… play?"

  The voice that escaped was hoarse, thin, childlike. No—not one voice. Several at once, layering over each other: a boy's shriek, a girl's chirp, an infant's squeal. All together, in unison.

  "Daddy… where's Daddy?.. Mummy!.. Scared… It hurts so much…"

  The health bar sagged. Minus ten HP at once. The damage doubled immediately after.

  The creature swept its arm. The air trembled, split. From the monster's chest burst silhouettes—translucent, blurred, but recognisable. Child-sized figures, no taller than the lad's waist. Faces erased, limbs flowing, but forms distinct.

  Phantoms.

  Three spectres darted at Ayan. He stepped left, swung his sword—the blade passed through the first, meeting almost zero resistance. The spectre trembled but didn't dissipate. Tiny hands reached for the lad's chest, touched the leather breastplate.

  Cold seared his ribs. Health dropped twenty points. The second phantom latched onto his thigh, the third climbed for his throat.

  "Remove them! Remove them! You can't! Ha-ha-ha! He can't! No-o-o…"

  Children's voices mixed with the boss's snarling, the weeping became deafening.

  Ainur's bow sang. The first arrow pierced the air, struck the creature's shoulder. The shaft entered shallowly, stuck between growths. Two more entered its back.

  The boss jerked, turned its head towards the orc maiden. The mouth opened even wider, the jaw crunched.

  "Give us… give us your strength…"

  The air between the girl and the creature darkened. A thin thread stretched from Ainur's chest to the monster's maw.

  "It's stolen my skill! I can't shoot for thirty seconds!" The girl cried, retreating behind the cart.

  Yernazar also began loosing arrows one after another, and though they all hit the boss, he couldn't match Ainur's speed.

  "Armour!" The orc bellowed. "It's gained protection on its torso!"

  Simple sword attacks barely damaged the phantoms, but "Strike" worked properly. Using the ability, he slashed at the phantom on his chest—the spectre shrieked with a child's voice, burst into a cloud of smoke. The second received the recharged "Verdict", which destroyed it. "Strike" on the third and it too dissolved.

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  Running up to the creature, the lad used "Burst" with three charges. This clearly displeased it. The boss roared and from its mouth poured new silhouettes—five this time. They didn't attack immediately, spreading across the hall: two towards Ainur, three towards Yernazar.

  "Phantoms resist physical attacks—use abilities!" Ayan shouted, warning his companions. He couldn't be distracted from the boss, and the spectres didn't deal heavy damage—they should manage them.

  Ainur released a glowing arrow and it dispersed one of the phantoms before they'd even reached them.

  Yernazar swept broadly at the spectres with his axe, which seemed to blur in the horizontal plane, dispersing two at once. The third wrapped round his neck, childish weeping piercing straight into his ears.

  "Where's Mummy?.. Why is it dark?.."

  Damage flowed constantly. Health bars melted.

  Rayan darted forward, sank its jaws into the incorporeal being and, to the trio's surprise, began devouring it.

  Ayan activated "Etheric Burst" as soon as he'd gathered three charges. The sword flashed, slashed at the neck. This increased critical strike chance and the lad struck only one spot.

  Suddenly the boss easily swept aside the shield he was holding with one hand, and with the other seized him by the shoulder. The enormous paw squeezed with such force that Ayan's vision darkened. The boiled leather crackled. Health sagged a hundred points.

  "Does it hurt? It hurt us too… HURT!"

  Two arrows simultaneously plunged into the creature's shoulder and it loosened its grip. The lad didn't waste the moment and, striking with the shield's edge, managed to free himself.

  The subsequent blows with its hands became harder to block, and their speed left no opportunity to counter-attack. From the changed rhythm of battle, Ayan intuitively understood—the boss had entered its second phase. This meant they'd reduced its HP by half.

  Blows rained down—left hand, right, left again. Claws scored the air, leaving blurred trails. Ayan blocked with his shield, retreated, parried with his sword. Each contact shook his bones, vibrations running from wrists to elbows.

  The boss gave no respite. Now it would swing wide, strike from the shoulder, aiming for head, neck, torso. Ayan would shift aside, meet the blow with his shield, but the creature's strength dented the defence, pushed him back. Now it would lunge like a spear. Instead of a point, the boss used its gathered claws.

  Water splashed behind him. The boss's roar mixed with the stream's burbling, with the noise of breathing.

  The rhythm was found slowly. Ayan watched the creature's shoulders—they jerked before each strike, first the right, then the left. Two blows in succession, a half-second pause, two blows again.

  He stopped retreating. Block, step right. Block, step left. The shield took the main blow, the sword parried the follow-up. His legs moved on their own, muscles memorising the sequence.

  Pause.

  Ayan lunged forward, slashed upward at the neck with "Strike". The blade entered flesh, stuck between growths. An Etheric copy of the sword flashed in the air, crashed into the same spot. The creature swayed but didn't fall.

  The boss roared, jerked—the sword was torn from his hands. He managed to leap back, caught the weapon mid-air, retreated three paces.

  Ainur and Yernazar's arrows continued plunging into the boss's back. Shafts protruded between shoulder blades, in ribs, in the small of its back. Some snapped off with movement, others stuck deeper. But the creature seemed unbothered, and the trio managed to avoid its attention.

  The boss attacked again. Right hand, left, right lunge. Ayan blocked the first two, dodged the third—leant right, let the claws pass over his shoulder. The stench of rot seared his nostrils.

  Counter-attack. Horizontal "Strike" at the neck. The blade passed deeper than before. Blood—if this could be called blood—sprayed in black droplets, hissed on the stones.

  "Etheric Burst".

  The Etheric strike pierced the air, slammed into the creature's chest. The boss staggered but didn't stop. Arms swept up, descended simultaneously.

  Ayan met it with his shield. The blow buckled the rim, drove the metal inward. The lad dropped to one knee, the ground vanished from beneath his feet, breath fled his lungs.

  Two arrows plunged into the boss's head—one into an eye socket, the second into its temple. The creature recoiled, howled.

  The lad rose, shook himself. The shield was deformed but held. The sword intact.

  The boss slowed for an instant. Its head jerked side to side, arms hung limp.

  An opening.

  Ayan lunged forward, "Strike" to the neck, struck again. Once. Twice. Three times in succession. "Strike". Another swing. Flesh parted, bone cracked. And another "Strike".

  The creature snarled, seized him round the torso with both hands, lifted him above the ground. Claws sank into his ribs, pierced the leather armour. Health plummeted two hundred points.

  Ainur cried out something, but the words drowned in the roar.

  Ayan slammed the sword hilt into the boss's wrist. Once, twice, thrice. The grip didn't slacken.

  "Etheric Burst".

  Three charges. The sword flashed, plunged into the elbow joint. The explosion tore tendons, the boss's arm jerked, unclenched.

  The lad crashed to the ground, rolled, leapt up. His ribs burnt, breathing was painful.

  The boss attacked again. Right hand. Left. Right.

  Block. Parry. Dodge.

  For over a minute, Ayan only dodged and blocked attacks, not daring to counter-attack until the health bar had fully restored. And the moment he was about to attack, something changed.

  The boss leapt back and dropped onto all fours. Arms bent at the elbows, claws braced against stone. Its back arched, vertebrae crunched, protruded through skin in sharp knobs.

  The weeping cut off.

  Silence flooded the hall for an instant—heavy, oppressive. Then the creature howled. Not with a child's voice—bestial, low, guttural.

  Leap.

  Ayan barely managed to spring aside. The boss landed where the lad had stood a second before. Stone beneath its claws shattered, shards flying in a fan. The monster didn't slow—wheeled in place, pushed off again.

  The second attack struck his shield. The blow hurled Ayan to the very basin. His back crashed into the edge of the stone bowl, water drenched his head. Health immediately sagged into the yellow zone.

  "Hold on!" Yernazar hurled a glowing mass—an Etheric axe described an arc, entered the creature's back to the very haft. The boss roared, jerked, but didn't fall. Wheeled towards the orc.

  Ainur loosed three arrows in succession. The first entered its neck, the second its eye, the third ricocheted off a growth on its chest.

  The boss froze again. Its jaws opened so wide that the lower one sagged to its very chest. From the maw gushed a stream—not phantoms, but something else. Grey-green slime sprayed in a fountain, scattered in droplets across the entire hall.

  One drop landed on Ayan's shoulder. Skin hissed, the armour began to smoke.

  "Acid! Get off the line!"

  Ainur dove behind the cart. Yernazar covered himself with his shield. Rayan hissed and, straight from the girl's leg, dove into the stone floor.

  The stream ceased. The boss collapsed onto its front paws, dragged air in with a rasp.

  Ayan rose. His legs buckled, pain stabbed into his side like an arrow. But it didn't matter.

  "Naz, Ai, how are you?"

  "Alive! Don't worry about us!"

  The lad decided to follow the girl's advice and, seizing the moment, sent "Verdict" into the creature.

  The boss howled, jerked and closed the distance to its attacker in one leap. Its arms worked like threshers.

  "It hurts… It hurts so much… You'll hurt too-o-o…"

  Children's voices returned. The weeping sounded again, but now it was chaotic, ragged. Each sob was accompanied by a burst of damage.

  Ayan clenched his teeth. Along with the pain, his HP drained. The health bar couldn't restore fast enough and slowly slid into the red zone. Even though Yernazar had begun continuously healing him.

  The weeping transformed into a howl dealing continuous damage and bringing terrible pain.

  Any thought of attack was out of the question—the lad only defended. Yernazar stopped attacking, concentrating on healing the lad, whilst Ainur would take a long time killing the boss alone. All this flashed quickly through Ayan's throbbing head.

  "Stop healing! Attack! With everything you've got!" Despite the pain, he managed to understand this was their only chance at victory.

  The others didn't let him down. Bursting from cover, Ainur advanced, sending arrow after arrow into the creature with each step. Yernazar, in whose hands now gleamed a two-handed axe, crashed into the boss with "Charge", stunning it for a couple of seconds.

  Ayan didn't falter and, casting aside the hindering shield, also began furiously slashing, stabbing and striking the creature, using abilities as they came off cooldown. He no longer blocked the counter-attacks, trying to deal as much damage as possible.

  How long this continued he didn't know, but he could say precisely when it ended.

  The boss swayed, tried to leap back, but its legs buckled. The neck was hacked almost to the spine, black slime oozing from the wounds. The weeping broke off mid-sob.

  The creature fell to its knees. Its hands dug into stone, claws scoring deep furrows. Its head jerked from side to side.

  "Mummy… Daddy… where are you?.."

  The voice grew quieter. Childish babble mixed with rasping, lost coherence.

  "Dark… so dark… cold…"

  Ayan raised the sword above his head. "Etheric Burst" flared and the blade descended on the neck, passed through the remnants of flesh, struck bone.

  Crunch.

  The boss's head separated from the torso, rolled aside. The body froze, arms slowly unclenched, fell limp.

  The red eyes went dark.

  The hall plunged into silence. Only the stream's burbling, heavy breathing and the beating of hearts.

  The lad lowered his sword, swayed. The weapon slipped from numbed fingers, crashed against stone. His legs buckled, the lad sank to his knees.

  The health bar flashed red. Twenty-three points—all he had left.

  "Nuss!"

  Ainur reached him first. She caught him by the shoulders, didn't let him fall.

  "You're alive..."

  Yernazar collapsed nearby, fell back on the ground. The axe tumbled from his hands.

  "I thought that was it. Thought we wouldn't make it."

  Rayan emerged from the floor by the lad's leg, jaws open, body tense. It surveyed everyone, confirmed there was no threat, relaxed.

  The boss's body began to deform. From its carcass dozens of souls began tearing free. The souls of children…