The Gnawroot Warden moved first.
Not fast.
Inevitable.
Its massive limbs dragged against the chamber floor, roots peeling free with wet, tearing sounds as it advanced. Each step sent vibrations through the ground, the interwoven roots beneath Arav's feet tightening in response.
The dungeon was with it.
Arav shifted sideways, blade held low, testing the ground with careful steps. The roots resisted his movement, tugging faintly at his boots as if trying to pull him back toward the center.
Bad footing.
The warden inhaled again.
The amber fissures across its barked chest flared brighter—and the roots surged.
They erupted upward without warning.
Arav dove aside as thick root-spears punched through the ground where he'd stood, splintering stone and soil. One clipped his calf as he rolled, tearing flesh anew.
Pain flared white-hot.
He bit back a sound and forced himself upright, breath ragged.
Vyomar snarled and leapt, darting toward the warden's flank, teeth flashing. He clamped onto a trailing root, tearing sap free before the warden slammed its limb down.
The cub barely escaped, skidding across the chamber floor.
"Careful!" Arav snapped, then cursed himself.
No distractions.
The warden swung an arm thick as a fallen tree.
Arav ducked under it, heat coating his skin just enough to dull the impact of wind and debris as the limb smashed into the wall behind him. Stone shattered. Roots screamed.
He slashed at the joint.
The ash-steel blade bit deep—but stuck.
The warden roared, a sound that shook the chamber, and wrenched its limb back. The blade tore free, ripping sap and bark, but the force sent Arav flying.
He hit the ground hard.
Something cracked.
Not bone—but close.
The world spun. His chest burned with every breath.
For a moment, instinct screamed at him to release everything.
Burn it.
End it.
Now.
Red fire surged within him, pressing against restraint like a tide against a dam.
Arav forced it down.
Not here.
Not like this.
He rolled aside as roots slammed down where his head had been, splintering the ground. He pushed himself up using the wall, legs trembling, vision narrowing at the edges.
Think.
The warden wasn't hunting him.
It was anchoring him.
The roots always tried to pull him inward.
The center.
That mound.
The core-adjacent structure fed the beast. Destroying it outright was impossible—but disrupting it…
Arav limped sideways, drawing the warden after him. Each step cost him, blood slick against his leg, lungs burning.
Vyomar followed, slower now, but alert.
The warden lunged again, roots erupting in a wide arc meant to trap him.
Arav stopped.
He slammed his boot down hard and drove controlled heat into the ground—not an explosion, not a flare—just enough to dry and crack the loam.
The roots stiffened.
Just for a breath.
Arav moved.
He dashed past the warden's strike zone and plunged the blade deep into the root mass feeding into its lower torso, twisting hard.
The chamber screamed.
Amber light flickered wildly as the root network spasmed, pulling inward instead of outward. The warden staggered, its movements suddenly uneven.
It howled—rage and pain echoing together.
Arav didn't press recklessly.
He backed away, breathing hard, letting the warden thrash as its own anchoring betrayed it.
Vyomar darted in again, snapping at exposed fissures, harrying rather than attacking.
The warden tried to recover.
Too late.
Arav surged forward one last time, ignoring the agony screaming through his body, and drove the blade upward into the largest glowing fissure beneath the creature's crown.
The blade punched through.
The light went out.
The Gnawroot Warden froze.
Then collapsed.
Its massive body slumped forward, roots retracting violently as the chamber trembled. Bark cracked. Sap poured like blood.
The pressure lifted.
Silence fell.
Arav stood there for a long moment, blade buried in the corpse, chest heaving, vision swimming.
Then his legs gave out.
He dropped to one knee, then the other, palms pressed to the ground as he fought to stay conscious.
Vyomar limped to his side and leaned against him, warm and solid.
Arav laughed once, weak and breathless.
"Yeah," he murmured hoarsely. "I know."
The dungeon was still.
For the first time since he'd entered, Ashroot Hollow felt… empty.
But somewhere beneath the chamber floor, something ancient shifted.
And waited.