Elmore’s mind raced as the water rippled violently, the massive form beneath stirring with an ominous intensity. They had encountered many beasts before, but an Area Boss was another matter. He knew that they had to work together if they wanted to stand a chance.

  “Alright, listen up!” Elmore barked, his voice cutting through the rising tension. “We’re doing this smart!”

  He turned to the twin sharpshooters clad in all camo Rick and Ron. “You two—get up in the trees! I want you pinning it down from above. We need a high angle on this thing. Move!”

  Without a word, the two brothers nodded and scrambled up the nearby trees with an agility that belied their rough appearance. Their rifles were slung over their shoulders, but within moments, they found their perches, rifles drawn and already scanning the water for any sign of movement.

  “John,” Elmore shouted, turning to the lanky green eyed man who had a permanent scowl etched into his face. “You stay center. Keep an eye on everything around us. Take pot shots when you’ve got a clear view, but don’t overcommit. Keep us informed if anything else wants to join the party”

  John gave a sharp nod, positioning himself where he could see both the shoreline and the woods beyond. His rifle was up, ready for anything that might emerge from the lake.

  Elmore shifted his attention to Tim, who was already clicking his tongue and tapping his foot against the water’s edge. Tim’s [Echolocation] skill would be crucial. “Tim, map out the bottom of this lake. I need to know where we can fight, where it’s shallow, and where we’ll sink.”

  Tim’s head jerked up and down in acknowledgment, his tongue clicking rapidly as he waded into the shallows, tapping his hands against the water and the ground beneath. His eyes narrowed in concentration as he used his echolocation to build a mental image of the lakebed.

  Next, Elmore turned to Frank and Sam, the two thick-bodied men who could easily have been mistaken for father and son. “Frank, Sam—you two are the frontline. Be ready to get hit hard and keep that thing from getting too close to the rest of us.”

  Both men grinned, raising their fists and holding their knives in one hand, revolver in the other. They stepped to the water’s edge, standing almost shoulder to shoulder, prepared to take the brunt of whatever was coming.

  “Wes” Elmore called to the quiet man with the machete held at the ready and 1911 strapped to his side. “You stay behind Frank and Sam. Take shots whenever you can, but don’t get too close. Same goes for you, Hank, not until we know what we are dealing with wait for my signal” he added, looking at the towering brute. Hank simply smiled, his grip on his wood cutting ax tightening.

  Lastly, Elmore turned to Brent and Charlie. Brent had already started to transform, his body shifting into his wolfman form, his senses heightened and his muscles taut with readiness. Charlie, on the other hand, was practically bouncing with excitement, the air around him crackling with energy. “You two,” Elmore said, “I need you running distraction. Keep it occupied, keep it confused, and most of all—keep the others safe.”

  Brent growled in agreement, while Charlie gave a lopsided grin, sparks of electricity dancing between his fingertips, and occasionally from his hair.

  Elmore dropped his pack to the ground, pulling out his shotgun and sliding three slugs into his mouth. His handaxe hung at his side, ready for when the fight got close and brutal. He scanned the horizon, the tension building with each passing moment.

  Tim, who had been wading in the water, suddenly stopped clicking his tongue. His head snapped up, eyes wide. “It’s coming!” he shouted, the echo of his voice barely audible over the sudden roar of the water. “From the deep—it’s breaching!” and making a run for it as those words started to leave his mouth.

  As if on cue, the surface of the lake exploded with movement. Water erupted into the air as a massive shape broke through the surface, the creature surging upward in a cascade of foam and spray. For all intents and purposes, it was an average looking Blue Gill—but it was easily 30 feet long, its scales glistening silvery veined green in the sun, iridescent and unnaturally thick, like armor. Its mouth, a gaping maw large enough to swallow a man whole, snapped open and shut with a sickening crack. An unmistakable ridge of bone spikes making up all its fins.

  “Left!” Tim yelled from the shoreline catching himself on solid ground. “It’s shallow to the left!”

  Without hesitation, Elmore barked another order. “Everyone, Move!” slightly muffled around the slugs.

  The group sprinted toward the shallower side of the lake, Frank and Sam charging ahead with their knives gleaming in the sunlight. Wes and Hank followed close behind, their axe and machete ready, while Brent and Charlie darted in different directions, preparing to distract the beast if it turned toward them.

  Elmore held back, his shotgun in hand as he watched his men move into position. His heart pounded in his chest, adrenaline surging through him as the Titanic Blue Gill thrashed in the water, sending waves crashing against the shore. The thing was a monster, an old, mutated terror that had likely never been truly challenged before. Big fish in a little pond Elmore thought.

  As the beast’s colossal form descended back into the murky water, the first crack of gunfire echoed through the air. Rick and Ron, perched high in the trees, fired off their shots in perfect unison, aiming for the gills of the monstrous bass. Their bullets hit home, but the creature’s thick body absorbed much of the impact. Hank, with his axe too far to be useful just yet, joined in with his Magnum, but the shots barely seemed to slow the beast. The damage was minimal—superficial at best—but every bit counted against an opponent this size.

  Then, in a flash of reckless enthusiasm, Charlie sprinted toward the water’s edge, his eyes wild with excitement. “Let’s see what you think about this!” he shouted, hurling his hands forward and releasing a surge of electricity. The crackling energy arced out from his fingertips, striking the water with a sizzling hiss.

  The result was immediate—and disastrous.

  The fish convulsed obviously, its massive body spasming as the electricity coursed through the lake, but so did everything else in the water. Every fish, large and small, went belly-up in an instant, fried by the sudden jolt. But that wasn’t the worst of it.

  Frank, Sam, Tim, and even Hank, all of whom had been standing in the shallow water or close to the edge, jerked violently as the charge hit them. They collapsed into the mud and water, shaking uncontrollably as the electricity surged through their bodies. The air was filled with curses and pained shouts as they tried to regain control of their limbs.

  “Shit! Charlie, stop!” Elmore roared from his position at the back. He watched in dismay as his men struggled to their feet, soaked and trembling from the aftershocks. Mud clung to their clothes and skin, and the lake’s once-clear water had turned cloudy with silt and debris. The boss, momentarily stunned, twitched beneath the surface, but it was still far from defeated.

  Realizing what he’d done, Charlie immediately cut the charge, the energy fizzling out from his hands as he stood there, wide-eyed and horrified. “I-I didn’t think… I was just trying to…!”

  “Get out of the damn water!” Elmore snapped, his voice cutting through Charlie’s stammering apology. “You’re just going to end up hurting everyone if you keep that up. You need to figure out something else, and fast!”

  Charlie, his face flushed with embarrassment and frustration, nodded quickly. Elmore’s eyes flicked to the trailer they’d dragged through the woods. “There’s a bunch of metal parts from those beasts we killed,” Elmore pointed toward it with his shotgun. “Figure something out. Just make sure you’re not a damn liability.”

  Charlie didn’t need to be told twice. He backed away from the water’s edge, his mind already racing as he sprinted toward the trailer to salvage what he could. His hands still buzzed with residual energy, but he knew he had to find a way to channel it without endangering the rest of the crew.

  Meanwhile, Elmore turned his focus back to the lake, scanning for any signs of movement from the monstrous Blue Gill. His men were pulling themselves up, wiping mud from their faces and shaking the water from their clothes. Frank was the first to recover, muttering a string of curses under his breath as he stomped back toward the shoreline, his fists clenched and ready for a rematch.

  "That kid better be worth something by the end of this!" Frank grumbled, casting a glare in Charlie's direction.

  But as they regrouped, a new threat began to form. At first, it was nothing more than a faint stirring on the water’s surface—barely noticeable in the aftermath of the chaos. But within moments, it grew, spiraling upward into a swirling vortex. It looked like a dust devil, but its center was not made of dust or wind. The water in the lake swirled unnaturally, forming a funnel that connected sky to water, as if nature itself was bending to the will of something far more sinister.

  Elmore narrowed his eyes, gripping his shotgun tightly. “What the hell is that?” he muttered under his breath, though he knew, deep down, that this was no mere fluke of weather. Whatever it was, it had something to do with the area boss they were facing. The environment was reacting to its presence, and they were standing right in the middle of it.

  The swirling funnel began to grow darker, deeper, almost as though it was drawing energy from the lake itself. The air around them felt charged, heavy with a strange, oppressive energy.

  The water devil spun with terrifying speed, a vortex of chaos that hurled blades of water in all directions. The sharp, spinning crescents ripped through the air, cutting through branches as though they were paper, shearing off the tops of smaller trees, and sending showers of splintered wet bark flying. The men on the ground huddled behind rocks as best they could, pressing low to avoid the onslaught. Frank and Sam, the front-liners, were taking the brunt of it, using their bulk to shield the others as the water blades battered them relentlessly. The men's thick skin kept them standing, but even they were starting to show signs of wear—small, hairline cuts criss crossing their arms and torsos.

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  Water and blood splattered across the ground, soaking everything in sight. The dead fish, still floating lifelessly from Charlie’s earlier mishap, were pulled upward into the swirling mass, their bodies flung out from the center of the whirlpool like macabre projectiles. One such fish, a small mouth bass, shot through the air with frightening speed and slapped Elmore square in the face, its slimy, scaly body hitting him like a wet, cold slap.

  "Goddammit!" Elmore cursed, wiping the slimy remnants of the fish from his cheek and spitting out water. He ducked behind a rock just in time to avoid another slicing water blade that whistled past his head. His mind raced—this couldn’t go on much longer, they were sitting ducks here, and the beast in the lake was showing no signs of slowing.

  For almost two minutes, the storm raged on, the water devil shredding their surroundings. Elmore’s patience thinned as he hunkered down with his shotgun. He shouted over the chaos, “Charlie! You figured anything out yet?”

  From behind the trailer, Charlie’s voice came back, strained but determined. “Almost! Almost there!”

  Elmore could barely hear him over the howling winds and the sharp hiss of water slicing through the air. His eyes flicked back toward the lake, where the men were still holding their ground, blood and water mingling on the muddy earth. Frank and Sam were struggling to hold the line, their body now covered in thin, stinging cuts, each one shallow but painful.

  Suddenly, there was a sharp, metallic sound as Charlie yanked something free from the pile of beast parts in the trailer. He sprinted toward the water, a crystal antler held high above his head, its jagged prongs catching the glint of what little sunlight managed to pierce through the swirling maelstrom.

  Sam, without hesitation, threw himself in front of Charlie, shielding him with his own body as he barreled toward the lake’s edge. Ten water blades hit Sam in rapid succession, each one leaving a shallow gash, but he pressed on, gritting his teeth against the pain.

  Charlie reached the water’s edge and pointed the crystal antler directly at the base of the swirling vortex. His eyes narrowed with concentration as sparks of electricity began to crackle along his arms, the air around him buzzing with energy. The antler seemed to absorb the charge, glowing faintly as the electricity surged through it.

  Then, with a sharp crack, beams of light exploded from the antler’s prongs, shooting off in seemingly random directions, cutting through the air like streaks of lightning. Each beam sliced through the water, some disappearing into the depths of the lake, others arcing through the air toward the center of the vortex. Or off into the Rocky cliff face at the far end of the lake exploding rock on contact.

  There was a split second of silence.

  Then the water devil collapsed.

  The once-violent vortex fell lifelessly into the lake with a heavy splash, followed by a torrent of blood and more ripples in the now-still water. The dead fish, the shredded trees, the flying debris—all of it settled, the chaotic storm dissipating in an instant.

  Charlie collapsed to the ground, gasping for breath, his body drained of energy. The antler in his hand still hummed faintly, but the danger was over. Elmore looked around quickly, assessing the situation. His men were battered but alive, save for Charlie, who lay exhausted but triumphant on the ground.

  Without missing a beat, Elmore raised his voice. “Front line, get back in the water! It’s wounded—we finish this now!”

  Sam and Frank, still shaking off the pain from their earlier injuries, immediately rose to their feet, moving toward the lake with grim determination. Hank and Wes followed, their weapons ready. Brent , who had been darting and weaving through the water blades like a leaf caught in a breeze, stayed on his feet, barely winded. Rick and Ron, safely perched in the trees, remained hidden behind the thick trunks, their rifles drawn, waiting for the perfect moment to take the next shot.

  The fight was far from over, but the tide had turned. Whatever that beast was, it was hurt—and Elmore wasn’t about to let it recover. They would finish this.

  As the men braced themselves for what came next, the beast suddenly lunged from the water with terrifying speed, its massive jaws wide as it swallowed Tim whole. For a moment, everything seemed to freeze as the enormous fish, partially beached, thrashed in desperation. The men could barely process what had just happened—Tim, one of their own, disappeared in a single gulp.

  Brent , moving with the feral grace his abilities gave him, let out a guttural snarl and darted forward, his hands shifting into lethal claws as he charged the beached creature. His eyes narrowed in focus as he raked his claws deep into the beast's scaled side, tearing long gashes into its flesh, blood spurting from the wounds.

  Elmore, rushing to the scene, felt the weight of the situation in his chest. Gritting his teeth, he loaded a fresh slug into his shotgun, channeling Aither into the round. His aim was steady as he fired the first Aither-infused shot. The slug tore through the air and punched into the beast’s side, followed quickly by a second shot, the force of both rounds causing the beast to let out a deep, guttural groan. As the black spot on its side exploded with white meat and shards of bone.

  Gunfire erupted as the men followed Elmore's lead. The two sharpshooters, Rick and Ron, let loose with their rifles, sending round after round into the creature’s thrashing body. Wes and Hank charged in next, their weapons swinging in heavy, brutal arcs. And lightning fast slashes at the fins trying to dig into the dirt.The creature’s tail, nearly severed from one of Charlie’s earlier beams, flopped uselessly on the ground, leaving the creature vulnerable and exposed.

  Despite its immense size, The beast’s thrashing grew weaker, its massive body partially beached and struggling against the onslaught. But it wasn’t without cost—the creature’s fins, lined with sharp, jagged spikes of bone, slashed at the men in its wild flailing. Several of the men were struck, the spikes piercing through their legs and stomachs, but no one sustained a mortal wound.

  Sam, bloodied and determined, hacked at one of the fins while Frank stabbed upward with his knife. Elmore, reloading his shotgun, barked orders to keep pressing, knowing they had the beast at a disadvantage. Every man fought with a fervor that bordered on desperation, knowing that the longer this dragged on, the worse their chances became.

  With one final, collective effort, Hank let out a bellow and leapt toward the creature’s head. Grabbing hold of the beast’s lips with one hand, he raised his axe high and swung with all his might. The blade of the axe sank deep into the center of the creature's skull with a sickening crunch, the light in the beast’s eyes dimming as it let out one last shudder before collapsing, lifeless, into the shallow water.

  There was a moment of eerie silence.

  Then, to the shock of everyone, the beast’s mouth opened slightly, and Tim, covered in slime and gasping for air, began crawling his way out, looking utterly bewildered but alive.

  The men, exhausted and bloodied, dropped to the ground, too drained to do more than laugh in disbelief. Even the sharpshooters, Rick and Ron, who had been relatively unscathed, cheered from the trees, celebrating their victory with grins plastered across their faces.

  As they caught their breath, a strange and sudden sensation rippled through their Nexus systems. The air around them seemed to shift, the familiar interface flickering as if struggling to process something new. Their HUDs became distorted, the letters and numbers warping into incomprehensible shapes, forming spider-web-like patterns of shifting squares and lines.

  For a moment, it was as though their Nexus had malfunctioned—letters transforming into strange symbols before, slowly, they began to coalesce into readable words. The screen shimmered for a moment, then cleared entirely.

  The message was clear now:

  Area Boss Defeated. Dungeon access granted to your faction

  Underneath, the screen displayed the name:

  Continental dungeon of the ancients

  The men exchanged bewildered looks, the exhaustion still heavy in their limbs, but the victory clear. They had not only survived—they had claimed something powerful.

  After the message of the dungeon scrolled across their Nexus, there was an almost palpable sense of relief that settled over the group. They weren’t dead—bruised, cut, and bloodied, sure—but alive, victorious. Their hard-fought battle with the beast had granted them the experience they needed. The last two days of constant fighting and hunting had pushed everyone to the next level. Elmore and Brent felt the weight of their Nexus screens flash, a silent signal marking their ascension to Level 4. The rest of the men experienced a similar but weeker shift, their bodies humming with renewed strength.

  Even Ditzy, having made it through the entire ordeal without a scratch, casually licked her fur as if nothing had happened, munching on a fried fish by the water’s edge. The massive dog, always full of energy, seemed completely unfazed, despite having bitten the monstrous fish towards the end of the fight. Elmore couldn’t help but chuckle at the sight, her resilience never failed to amaze him.

  As the group caught their breath, they instinctively began to reload their weapons. The sharp click of magazines and shells being reset filled the air, a routine drilled into them from years of hunting and surviving in these mountains. The sun hung low in the sky, casting long shadows across the lake. They’d pushed themselves to the limit, and even though adrenaline still pulsed through their veins, exhaustion was beginning to creep in.

  After an hour of resting, Elmore gave the order to start preparing the beast for transport. The giant scales, each the size of a human hand, were peeled off the creature's body with some effort. The slick, metallic sheen of the scales caught the fading sunlight, shimmering like polished silver as they loaded them onto the trailer. The meat, thick and abundant, was cut into manageable pieces, some of which they threw onto the fire for a quick meal. The smell of cooking fish filled the air, mingling with the scent of pine and the lingering dampness of the lake.

  As they ate, laughter and conversation bubbled up around the campfire. They were battered and tired, but in true mountain-man fashion, they found plenty of humor in their near-death experience. Charlie took the brunt of the jokes, everyone ribbing him for his earlier blunder of shocking the entire group with his electricity.

  “Hell, sparky, I thought you were on our side,” Wes said with a wide grin, spitting a Gob of snuff spit into the fire. “You fryin’ fish or us next time?”

  Charlie, sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck, laughed it off. “Hey, y’all lived didn’t ya? Besides, I worked it out in the end!”

  "Worked it out, sure, after you nearly boiled us alive!" Hank chimed in, his deep laugh echoing through the trees.

  Even Brent joined in, baring his sharp teeth in a wolfish grin. “Next time, we just tie Charlie to the beast. Maybe he’ll shock it dead before he gets us.”

  Charlie threw up his hands in mock surrender, but couldn’t help but laugh along with the others. The camaraderie and playful insults kept the mood light, despite the toll the day had taken on them.

  With their bellies full, and the giant fish fully loaded onto the trailer, the men began discussing their next move. Though the dungeon access was a tempting prize, the looming threat of war weighed heavily on their minds. After some debate, they agreed to leave the dungeon for after the conflict. There were bigger issues to deal with now, and exploring some unknown in the mountains wasn’t a priority. Especially with the name as foreboding as it has.

  “We’ll come back,” Elmore said, standing up and stretching his sore muscles. “After the war. We’ll deal with whatever’s in that cave when we don’t have a damn timer hangin’ over our heads.”

  The group grunted in agreement, already feeling the pull of fatigue. They gathered what little energy they had left and began trekking back into the woods, the heavy trailer laden with their kills creaking behind them. With the trees on the way back already cut they were able to make quite a lot more progress even tired as they were.

  They only managed a few hours of walking before dusk set in, forcing them to make camp once more. The trees pressed in close around them, the comforting weight of the mountains shielding them from the world outside. The men set up their makeshift tents and prepped their fire for the night. Watches were assigned in their place in rotation: Hank first, then Rick and Ron, followed by Elmore and Brent if needed.

  As the night settled in, they once again fell into easy conversation, taking turns poking fun at each other. Even Tim, who had been swallowed whole and miraculously spat back out, took his fair share of jabs.

  “Hey Tim,” Frank called from across the fire, “Next time a fish takes you, at least give it somethin’ to choke on. You came out too damn easy.”

  The men roared with laughter as Tim flipped them the bird, still a bit woozy from the whole ordeal. Before wandering off to piss on a bush stoping thinking about himself like a man and an old story from the Bible.

  Throughout the night, they bickered and joked like only mountain men could—rough, teasing banter masking the genuine respect they held for one another. They may have been hardened hunters and fighters, but their bond was strong, built over years of shared hardship and survival.

  As they settled into their shifts, the fire crackling low, the only sounds were the occasional snore or the rustling of trees in the breeze. The fog rolled in thick over the mountains, blanketing the forest in a heavy, damp mist.

  Elmore, keeping watch, sipped from his campfire coffee maker, the strong brew helping him stay alert as the thick fog began to burn away with the rising sun. By the time morning came, the men were ready to push forward once more, recharged and ready to face whatever the mountains threw at them next. But they were happy to find the return trip was far more uneventful.