The Ashroot Sentinel's charge split the cavern.
Arav moved—half a heartbeat too slow.
The beast's shoulder slammed into him like a falling wall. His body lifted off the ground, ribs screaming as he was driven backward and smashed into the cavern slope. Stone fractured beneath his back. His vision blurred white for an instant as the impact rattled through his bones.
He tasted blood.
Before he could recover, the Sentinel followed.
Not rushing.
Advancing.
Each step sent tremors through the ground, pressure stacking heavier with every meter it closed. The molten seams along its armor glowed brighter, heat distorting the air in rippling waves.
Arav forced himself upright, one knee trembling.
Too slow.
Too shallow.
That strike earlier—he had aimed for a joint that didn't matter.
A mistake.
He raised his hands, fire compressing around his forearms again, tighter than before. Not stronger—denser. He stepped forward as the Sentinel reared back, drawing power into its core.
Then he felt it.
A surge beneath his feet.
The dungeon floor shifted.
The Sentinel slammed its forelimbs down.
The ground ruptured.
A shockwave tore outward, hurling Arav off his feet again. He rolled hard, shoulder screaming as he skidded across broken stone and barely avoided being crushed as a slab the size of a carriage crashed down beside him.
He gasped, chest burning.
His left arm refused to respond immediately.
Bad.
Very bad.
The Sentinel loomed closer, shadow swallowing the light. It lowered its massive head, molten seams blazing as it gathered heat into its chest cavity.
Arav felt the pressure spike.
This wasn't a charge.
This was execution.
His instincts screamed.
Not to attack.
To flee.
For a split second, fear punched through his restraint—raw, sharp, human.
And that was when he made his second mistake.
He flared his fire.
Not wide.
But fast.
The sudden surge tore through his control, fire spiking violently along his arms as he tried to force power instead of guiding it. Pain exploded through his chest, heat rebounding inward as his body rejected the sudden output.
He coughed hard, dropping to one knee.
The fire guttered.
The Sentinel's mouth opened.
Molten breath gathered.
Arav's vision tunneled.
So this is it—
No.
He clenched his teeth.
Not power.
Precision.
He shut the fire down completely.
The sudden absence burned worse than flame.
Then—slowly—he rebuilt it.
Layer by layer.
Not as fire.
As heat.
As pressure.
As intent.
The Sentinel unleashed its breath.
A wave of molten force tore across the cavern.
Arav moved—not away, but diagonally, sliding across fractured stone as the blast scorched past him, heat peeling the air itself. His skin burned, his lungs screamed—but he stayed conscious.
Stayed moving.
As the Sentinel's attack ended, its molten seams dimmed briefly.
A window.
Arav surged forward, ignoring the agony in his arm, fire gathering again—but this time compressed so tightly it barely glowed. He struck the Sentinel's chest, driving heat into the glowing seam beneath its armor.
The impact sent a shock through both of them.
The Sentinel staggered.
Just one step.
But it was enough.
Arav stumbled back, breathing hard, vision swimming, blood dripping onto the stone.
He hadn't won.
Not even close.
But the wall had moved.
And the dungeon—silent until now—shifted beneath them, its pulse growing heavier, deeper.
As if acknowledging the clash.
As if deciding whether either of them deserved to remain.
Arav straightened, forcing his shaking legs to obey.
His body screamed at him to stop.
He didn't.
"Again," he said hoarsely.
The Ashroot Sentinel lifted its head, molten seams flaring once more.
And this time—
The dungeon watched closely.