The underground chamber had transformed into nothing less than a death trap. The air was heavy, stifling, and saturated with the stench of death. Amidst the chaos, Morbis's black roots hissed, thrashing wildly like famished serpents that had just scented their prey. Dozens of sharp, tapering root-tips blurred through the air, aimed at a single, vulnerable target: Lunethra.
Lunethra had no time for doubt. Her instincts took over. With a near-reflexive motion, she raised the pistol in her hand, her finger squeezing the trigger in a measured rhythm.
Bang. Bang. Bang.
Three sharp cracks echoed, rebounding off the damp stone walls. However, she didn't aim the bullets at the arrogant figure of Morbis standing in the center of the room. Her targets were the roots about to shred her skin. All three shots found their mark, severing the primary roots closest to her.
