When Mark left his comrades to assist Erik in breaking through the enemy's barrier, the adventurers' battle immediately grew more difficult, lacking one of their strongest members. The pressure from each wave of foes mounted, forcing every fighter to strain themselves to endure. They knew the decisive moment of victory or defeat was drawing near.
Coris: "Sean, support Liv's left flank. Ray, do you have any magic that can help the group right now?"
The two called upon were Mark's teammates. Another of his companions lay gravely wounded behind them, unable to fight.
Sean was a young spearman, swift and skillful, with powerful arms.
Each thrust of his spear sliced the air like a deadly gale, striking at the enemy's weak points.
Ray, meanwhile, was an Earth Mage with potent support spells.
At Coris's words, he immediately responded with magic: "Protection from Earth."
At once, the group felt their stamina renewed and their fatigue lessened. Numb hands from long hours of wielding weapons grew lighter.
Mira: "Kate, cover me for a bit."
Kate: "Got it."
As soon as Mira spoke to her archer companion, she drew two thick vials of liquid she had prepared earlier.
After chanting briefly, she hurled them to the ground near the enemy.
The glass shattered, spilling the liquid, which swelled and expanded.
Before their eyes, the substance reshaped into two watery replicas of Mira, each wielding a massive hammer of the same material.
Once formed, the doubles charged into battle, smashing stone statues aside with every swing.
"Excellent, Mira."
"Just as expected."
"Well done."
Her comrades praised the tools she had painstakingly prepared the day before. Mira's foresight once again proved invaluable.
With the aid of her water doubles, the gap left by Mark's absence was partially filled, stabilizing the fight.
All they could do now was hold the line and pray for Erik and Mark's success.
They did not have to wait long.
The two reached the barrier and unleashed their strike. A shockwave thundered through the cavern, ringing in every ear.
As the dust and light cleared, the barrier came into view.
Mark, exhausted, knelt on one knee, supporting himself with his sword.
Erik continued fending off the black‑robed Mage's water attacks.
The barrier, though damaged, still stood—and its wounds were already beginning to heal.
The Dark Priest had raised his right arm to block Mark's strike. Though the limb was blown away, the barrier endured.
Worse still, the demonic arm was slowly regenerating, like a lizard regrowing its tail.
"No… impossible." A voice of despair rang out.
The priest's mocking laughter followed:
"You deluded fools, did you truly think you could defy the fate my master has decreed for you? Nothing can—"
Before he could finish, a violet flash streaked forth, piercing the weakened barrier and shattering it completely, then driving straight toward him.
Thanks to the barrier's brief resistance, he managed to dodge just enough to save his head—but his right ear was torn away.
Blood streamed down his face, erasing his arrogant sneer, leaving only fear and fury.
From afar, a stranger appeared: a hulking figure with fists like sledgehammers and a grotesque face that inspired dread.
At his feet stood a bizarre spherical construct with four metallic legs, bearing a long, flat object upon its back.
The monstrous man, his ugly face twisted into a wicked smile, raised a fist and extended his middle finger toward the Dark Priest.
* * * * * * * * * *
Not long before, outside the cavern, Tris had been observing events through the eyes of "Feathers."
But once the massive statue awakened, his connection was disrupted.
Controlling the puppet became arduous; he was forced to leave it in a corner, barely maintaining the link to keep watching.
Clearly, his abilities were being hindered in that death‑laden zone.
His plan of staying safe outside while sending the puppet to fight was ruined.
Losing his best strategy, Tris faced a dilemma: should he intervene in the battle, or withdraw and escape safely?
Reality was not a video game—there was only one life, no second chances.
Thus, Tris avoided battles unless victory was certain.
Facing assassins and powerful Mages before had been unavoidable. But this fight against the cultists was different—he could choose not to get involved.
He could leave Dorn, travel to another town or city, and avoid entanglement.
After all, hunting cultists was never his responsibility.
Yet the truth remained: they had once plotted against him. And Tris's nature was always "an eye for an eye."
He could not allow a single enemy to go on enjoying peace. The thought of them continuing their lives after crossing him left a bitter taste.
This battle was a perfect chance to wipe them out. Miss it, and revenge would be far harder.
Moreover, he disliked the idea of watching Coris and the others die.
He valued their personalities and remembered their care and help toward him.
To repay kindness and settle grudges at once—this battle offered both.
His safety mattered, but so did avoiding regrets that would haunt him later.
Thus, Tris sought a balanced solution—one that preserved his safety while exacting vengeance. After careful thought, he leapt into action.