Marcus sat and watched the Billies mime.

“They’re sad?” he asked. “No, trapped? Are they trapped?”

Billy One moved his hand: so and so.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” A vein popped on Marcus’s temple. “Come on, boys, try harder; how difficult can it be?”

The Billies glanced at each other, then started miming again. They stood together, then opened their mouths in surprise and moved away from each other.

The four of them were in continuous contact with Jerry so they knew what was happening. Marcus didn’t, and they couldn’t speak, so they were trying to mime the message across.

“Oh!” Marcus exclaimed. “They split up!”

Billy One gave a thumbs-up.

“Haha, I got it! Good job, boys!”

The Billies giggled, while Marcus smiled in pride. He really liked these zombies, for some reason; maybe because they followed his orders, or because they were well-behaved and willing to learn. They’d absorbed his teachings well, and they could already fly the airship with some degree of skill.

He was proud of them. In time, maybe they will grow to be wonderful sailors… What good boys.

Unknowingly, he smiled. “Okay, and then what?” he asked. “Did they meet each other again?”

The Billies groaned. Did they really have to describe all that?

Inwardly, they hoped that Birb would suddenly cut through the Mists, warning them of an impending attack by Arakataron’s forces. If that happened, the ship would lure the attackers away while the rest of the group traveled to Arakataron on foot and assaulted him directly.

Of course, the plan was that Arakataron’s reinforcements would arrive after they were done with the dungeon. The ship distracting them was only plan B.

Plan C was that, if Arakataron sent too few or no warriors at all, they would have to reconsider their plan.

The Billies hoped for someone to save them, but no enemies appeared. Therefore, they were forced to mime, and as if to spite their efforts, Marcus looked at the Mists with a satisfied gaze. They’re still not here… The plan is going great!

***

A dozen plate-armored, long-armed forms crossed the Mists of Death. Wherever they passed, the tentacle monsters wrinkled in their cracks, and the mutated fauna hurried to run away.

However, these creatures didn’t care about hunting. They only had one goal in mind: the Prism Dungeon.

Their eyes burned crimson as they made haste.

***

The bone monstrosity lunged at Horace with the speed of a horse and the mass of an elephant.

It was a slim, human-shaped giant of bones and furiously swirling bone dust. Sharp claws of jagged bones adorned its hands and a long tail stretched behind it, ending in a razor-like appendage. Moreover, two horns jutted out of its skull, and the bones on its face formed a wide, devilish grin.

It looked apocalyptic—and it was.

Its speed seemed too much for its bulk, and its strength to enough to overpower an overcharged Axehand.

The monstrosity’s only weak spot seemed to be the fake Prism lodged in its chest, but unfortunately, it was well-protected. To reach it, one would have to pierce the monstrosity’s bone armor skin and resist the tornado of sharp bone dust inside it.

This thing was the final guardian of the Prism Dungeon, and it was the most frightening opponent Jerry had ever met.

Since the start of the battle, most of them could only remain on the sidelines and watch. Only Axehand and Horace could try to fight this thing; anyone else would be instantly annihilated.

Now, Axehand was lodged in the wall, his status unknown. Only Horace remained standing before the beast, and as it reached him, growling and screeching like a predatory menace, his eyes narrowed. He clenched his bow and his entire body went taut as the beast’s bone fist shot right at him.

And then he disappeared.

The bone fist met the ground so hard it formed a shallow crater, but Horace was no longer there. The monstrosity screeched as it looked around, fierce crimson flames burning in its eyes.

Horace’s figure flashed behind its head. An arrow was already nocked in his bow and he launched it at the connection between two bones, but the damage was minimal. The bone monstrosity noticed him and slapped behind it, but he was already gone.

Jerry’s jaw had reached the floor. Headless’s too, albeit more literally.

Horace cut through the air so fast he blurred. Arrow tips flashed and the bowstring twanged as he unleashed arrow after arrow, each accurately aimed at a weakness, but the beast was hardy, and there was only so much damage arrows could inflict.

Horace was fast. His entire body seemed made of muscle and his mind of iron, his focus so sharp he seemed like a God of war; Samudil incarnate.

He flitted around the bone monstrosity like a persistent hornet, and the beast howled in impotent fury, swinging wildly but unable to harm even a hair on his head.

Axehand had been able to resist the monstrosity too, but only barely. He was fast, but his dominance mainly lay in strength and resilience. Horace was the opposite.

Unfortunately, no matter how he tried, he simply couldn’t damage the monstrosity. Bones flew left and right on its body, fortifying its defenses as it adjusted on the fly, and any hole he managed to create on its armor was immediately covered up.

Horace grit his teeth. “Axehand!” he yelled. “How long are you going to keep watching!?”

A grunt came from the dented wall as a bulky skeletal figure rose slowly. Cracks spread over his ribs but he seemed whole, and he slowly moved his head left and right as if cracking his neck. The crimson flames in his eyes shone so bright they illuminated his entire skull, and the red steam coming from his body seemed to increase in density as he forcefully drew more energy from Jerry.

The necromancer grit his teeth as he complied; only an idiot would hold back at this point, but…

The hell! How did Axehand become the Master here!?

However, this was unimportant. Axehand crouched as his entire body flashed red, and the wall behind him exploded as he shot out. His eyes drew crimson lines through the air, and his excited grunt was warped by sheer speed.

The monstrosity saw him coming and struck out with a punch. Horace was right between them, and he cursed as he hurriedly moved away.

Axehand and the fist collided with a colossal bang that shook the entire room. Jerry grabbed his ears and grimaced, while Laura’s concentration faltered momentarily. She was still conjuring water and sending it into the monstrosity, but whether it made any difference or not was unclear.

Axehand flew back and was nailed into a wall, sending cracks all over, but the monstrosity wasn’t unharmed either. Its entire fist had exploded, revealing the dust tornado beneath and sending bones flying left in all directions. It howled in pain.

Horace didn’t lose any time. Three arrows quickly found their way to the monstrosity’s broken-off wrist, using it as their entry point into the human-shaped dust tornado. Their trajectory pointed right at the thing’s heart—the fake Prism—but the tornado drew them off course, sending them in random directions and grinding them into pieces.

Horace grit his teeth. The monstrosity’s hand reformed. Axehand jumped out of the wall again, with even more cracks lining his body, and landed beside Horace.

The three forms stared at each other.

“Can you fight?” asked Horace, glancing at Axehand. The skeleton grunted. “Good.” He looked back at the beast. “Let’s hunt this thing.”

Axehand and Horace combined forces, and the monstrosity opened its bone mouth to growl right in their faces. Who was the prey? Who was the predator?

There was only one way to find out.

All three lunged at once, moving at speeds that befuddled the eye. Horace’s form left behind afterimages as it almost disappeared; this time, he wasn’t shooting—the monstrosity had proven its resilience—but instead waiting. When Axehand created a weakness, he would capitalize.

Axehand did not have Horace’s speed. Facing the monstrosity, whose body had already been optimized for speed, he could only meet it head-on. At least, it had sacrificed some strength in the process, so he could endure.

The two struck blow after blow, going toe to toe as they clashed again and again. Bones were cut in half and sent flying, but the monstrosity recovered quickly every time Axehand slashed part of it off. It didn’t seem any worse for wear.

Axehand was pushed slightly back after each exchange but could hold his own—and as the two kept clashing, his fighting spirit only grew, unconsciously releasing a series of loud grunts as his flames burned ever crimson.

Every time Axehand broke the monstrosity, a few arrows would fly in the gap and lodge themselves inside before it reformed, harming the thing’s cohesion and making its fists resemble hedgehogs. It wasn’t much, but it was the best they could do.

Jerry grit his teeth. We’re losing, he realized. The Prism had stopped releasing the Curse and was instead feeding all its energy into the monstrosity.

“You must break the core!” he shouted. “This thing has infinite power. You cannot exhaust it!”

“I know!” growled Horace, spinning to barely avoid a tail whip. “But how!?”

Jerry and Boney looked at each other; how were they supposed to know!? The monstrosity seemed impregnable!

Suddenly, the monstrosity did something different. Taking a few steps back, it opened its clawed hand, and bones from all over its body rushed there, forming three torso-sized, tightly-packed bone balls that spun in mid-air.

Axehand and Horace braced themselves. The monstrosity threw the bone balls…and they headed for Jerry!

“Master!”

Boney jumped on Jerry and barely pushed him out of the way, letting the three balls crash on the wall behind him.

“Boney!” said Jerry from the ground. “You saved me!”

“I would never let anything happen to you, Master!”

Jerry smiled; at the same time, he could feel all his undead boiling with fury. This thing had attacked their Master; it would pay.

“It’s okay guys, just keep your coo—oh no.”

“Oh no?”

Everyone followed Jerry’s gaze. On the wall behind him, the three bone balls were squirming. They expanded, their bones spreading out and assembling themselves into arms, legs, torsos, heads, and even swords. Suddenly, six skeletal warriors stood behind Jerry, staring him down.

“Oh no,” Laura agreed.

Although the bone monstrosity was holding its own, it clearly felt threatened; it could no longer afford to ignore the bystanders. Axehand and Horace still clashed against it, but they couldn’t afford to help with these skeletons. Jerry and co. had to handle them.

“Hello,” said Jerry, dusting himself off and nodding politely at the skeletons. “You must be new, right? I’m Jerry, and we’re going to become the best of friends!”

The sword that came at his head suggested their disagreement.