Dnoeth grinned wildly. That dive was epic! He half wished his interface had some kind of third-party filming option. Something like the mini drones that everyone used back in the real world. Maybe it does, I’ll have to look. He mentally noted. The Demon lurched back into chasing him. Dnoeth shifted back into high gear.

Admittedly, this would be a whole lot less fun if he got caught, but he just couldn’t be concerned. Daedrium high aside, his dodging wasn’t guesswork. Yes, the damn hellish beast could outrun him, as impossible as that seemed, but the threat circle he’d created gave warning. And even without Ramal’s shout, he felt connected. Dnoeth could sense the beast. There was more to it than just a vague sense, he couldn’t pin it down, but there was a link.

Roxanna ran with the fearsome Warhammer in one hand and her saber sheaths banging against their leather noise breakers.

Unlike Ramal she didn’t have a Daedrium clasp to keep it secure to her hip. Fortunately, she was part Goliath. The racial addition had been a surprisingly easy choice that balanced her avatar, and right now she was so very grateful for the boost to her stature and strength.

How am I going to use this thing?

She imagined swing techniques one after the other, but a Warhammer just wasn’t designed for fast attacks. She glanced down. The weapon’s mass would definitely do some damage if she had the time to set her feet and swing. But if she stopped long enough to swing and then recover, that would be a dangerously long time within the Demon’s strike zone.

Roxy held no illusion that she could square off against the Demon, none of them could.

Frustration swelled. “Damn these swords!” She cursed, then continued silently, What kind of Und Varden has weapons that don’t work against corrupted beasts!?

It didn’t make any sense. The purpose of the Varden was to fight the corruption, why would the sabre handles even exist if they didn’t work?

It doesn’t make sense. I must be doing something wrong. That was logical. Equipped as she was, Roxy would be dead weight on any Varden team. She realized the truth of it in an instant. She had Und Varden gear designed specifically for this purpose, she must not understand it.

But how... The question died as she entered the hub cavern and drew in a sharp breath. “Oh my– God.”

It looked like a bomb had been dropped down the elevator. Ramal and Dnoeth were lucky they weren’t crushed or crippled just being in this room. She shook off the shock and turned left. There was a boulder partially blocking the third tunnel.

The gap was wide enough. They’d be able to get by that stone. But the Demon certainly couldn’t, not without moving it. The chunk was the size of a car, it wouldn’t be easy to move.

Maybe we can use that.

She cut down the center tunnel and skidded to a stop, breathing hard. The tunnel reverberated with another collision. The boys were at the second corner, that meant she had enough of a lead to get in position at the third.

An infuriated cry undulated through the tunnels, seemingly coming from all round. In the noise Roxanna detected a new emotion.

We’re frustrating it. She instantly realized. Did that mean Ramal’s arrows were doing significant damage or just that it was getting tired of chasing without catching? No. That’s not it. She realized and shook those options away.

It was feeling those things, but they weren’t enough to frustrate this behemoth. She could feel the truth, it was getting tired of being played.

That meant it was smarter than they’d realized. And, if it was smart enough to grasp their plan, their predictability would become its tactical advantage. Her thoughts jerked to a stop–the fight had just changed. It’s going to adapt.

She pulled a sabre and lifted the hammer; each offered a different strength. How do I hurt it without getting myself killed. Roxy looked back at the cavern, scouring it for inspiration.

Nothing. She looked more closely at the saber hilt. She considered its odd design.

With the grip bent at an angle to the blade guard it was more reminiscent of a shotgun grip than a sword hilt. She held it out straight with wrist cocked forward, so her thumb laid flat and in-line with forearm. Held like this, any normal sword would be point up and forward. This thing, with its beveled angle pointed almost straight out, level.

“You’re not a sword hilt, are you,” she whispered.

Roxy dropped the hammer and flexed her essential power. The stone melted off the spike and a double length baton dropped into her hand. She went to the wall and thrust. The spike pierced the rock wall like it was made of butter. She pushed her power into the wall.

Roxy’s face drew into a devilish smirk. “Now THIS, I can use.”

Ramal’s arrow buried in black flesh and another sliver of health dropped. Three percent. His sensory ability picked up information instantaneously. Three arrows had reduced its total health by three percent. He only had forty eight arrows. That wasn’t hard math, they needed more damage.

It slammed into the far tunnel wall, his timed strike staggering it just enough in the tight tunnel. It pushed back and bellowed in its horrendous warbling way. Then the enraged sound tapered off into a deep rumbling growl.

A knot of concern pulled tight in Ramal’s chest. That wasn’t a mindless sound. No, that growl held real awareness. There was frustration and something else in its dark tremor. “Damn.” His eyes narrowed and body flared with alarm. It was understanding. That horrific noise was rage, frustration and primal understanding. If it figures us out, we’re up shit creek.

The Baltaris looked at him. Ramal was well back from the intersection, at least fifty yards. But as those beady red eyes focused directly on his, the distance seemed to shrink. It was like looking at death. Ramal tensed, but in a heartbeat the Baltaris broke eye contact and took off, chasing Dnoeth.

“Creepy bastard,” Ramal muttered, cutting through his rising concern as he accelerated in pursuit. It was more than intelligence that he recognized in those eyes. Intelligence gave an impression of thoughtfulness, this was sharper, more directed. It was the knowing confidence of a thing bent toward a single goal.

It reminded him of a rabid soldier, one who’s sickness was to never truly leave the fight. So traumatized by living in that mindset that they’d willfully embraced it. In a fight, they killed straight away when possible, if that didn’t work, their every thought measured and weighed their foes, constantly adjusting until they got their kill.

Diversionary tactics and deception were like breathing to men with the sickness. They lied as easily with words as they did with actions. He only knew one way to deal with men like that. Unfortunately the Baltaris wasn’t likely to sleep.

This Baltaris was even worse, it was cunning and processed on an instinctual level.

Now that their harrying tactic had negated its brute strength, they’d become elevated threats worth taking seriously. Even its willingness to look him in the eye was probably part of its adjusting fight strategy.

The massive corrupted beast may have started this fight filled with mindless anger, but Ramal would be a dead fool in short order if he continued thinking that was still the case. Its recognition of them as worthy adversaries was about to bring forth the Demon’s full homicidal prowess.

As Ramal ran, his deadly intent sharpened, bringing the full weight of his significant combat mind right to the razor’s edge. Mentally, he began running variant scenarios. His brain processing the fight with the added variable of the Demon possessing cunning. In moments it became abundantly clear that they had a huge problem. Ramal came up with only one possible solution, pore on the damage.

Well before the next corner, arrows began to hum off of his bow.

Two were in the air and a third on his string before the first hammered home.

The Baltaris howled, and in it he could hear its surprise. Ramal skidded to a stop without letting up. Arrow after arrow flew true and buried in its back. The barrage was too much for the Baltaris to ignore, it turned back and began to advance on him.

The next two arrows were deflected by deceptively fast clawed hands. He aimed low, for a front elbow and released. The Baltaris swatted the arrow straight down into the tunnel floor and kept coming. Ramal squeezed the grip, mentally collapsing his bow and slapped it into the upper arm Daedrium clasp.

Reaching back he pulled out his Klevits. The weapon change elicited a clear reaction from the Baltaris.

The beast actually seemed to give pause. Ramal grinned wickedly as he scrapped them through the tunnel floor. He may not be familiar with these weapons but apparently this Demon was.

The solid rock carved like soft serve ice cream under the Daedrium scoops. The weapons rang in his mind with the chiming interface that he’d grown accustomed to using with his bow. He responded with his desire to excite the essential power contained within the now loaded spheres of rock, and immediately he felt the vibration of the power.

Unwilling to take his eyes off the Baltaris Ramal ceased back-peddling and stepped into flinging one and then the second in rapid succession. Softly glowing balls streaked down the tunnel reminding him of tracer fire.

Before they impacted, Ramal was already rearming the scoops with more stone from the tunnel floor. The Baltaris, unable to dodge, dropped to the ground and ducked its single-horned head, taking the impacts on its broad, arrow-riddled back. The Klevit balls detonated. The force shook the tunnel.

Ramal gapped for just a split second, quietly wondering: would he ever use another weapon again.

“Holy hell. I think I’m in love.” He excited the contained elemental energy of his reload.

Then the Baltaris was up and slamming its one horn into the tunnel wall.

Wham! Wham! Wham!

A dull violet glow began to emanate from the horn and Ramal got a clear feeling that this tunnel was about to become a dead end. He hurriedly launched his two ready rounds, whipping the Klevits with all of his significant strength.

The first exploded against the side of the Demon’s head, rocking its mass backward. The second missed as the Demon pulled back from the wall and began to retreat. Ramal pulled on its status, 89% health remaining. A deep rumble resonated, cracks appeared, the beast and the tunnel beyond disappeared behind falling stone and dust.

Ramal turned and ran, wracking his brain for new tactics, taking the long way back to the cavern. Until then, Dnoeth and Roxy would have to fight alone. This isn’t good. Ramal pushed himself to run faster. He knew his teammates were smart, and talented, but they weren't trained. Silently, he hoped that when he reached the cavern and rejoined the fight, he wouldn’t be fighting alone.

With one foot in the intersection and his instincts screaming at him to run, Dnoeth resisted and watched in mute horror as the Demon smashed its head into the tunnel wall. Within, his Daedrium stocked joy warred with deep concern over the ramifications for their plan. Again, Ramal’s final words echoed and he couldn’t help but think they were somehow prophetic as he muttered to himself. “I’d say this is a pretty clear indication of something going wrong.”

This was the moment he needed to exploit any detected weaknesses. Unfortunately, other than taking off the other horn, which would be pure suicide at this point, he hadn’t seen any other potential weaknesses.

Another tiny meteor exploded–this one on the side of the Demon’s head–interrupting the smashing and knocking it back. Unfortunately, it also knocked the head clear of Ramal’s second glowing ball of explosive death.

With a yelp, Dnoeth spun back and pulled his chin in. The Klevit projectile screamed past so close to his face he felt the heat. Worse, it left him blinking at a trail cut across the upper half of his vision.

“Not good! Oh shit, ohhh shit! Nooot Good!” Dnoeth didn’t need to see the Demon bearing down on him to know he had to run. So, that’s what he did. Partially blind, chin up, attention cast down, using his peripheral vision, Dnoeth ran.