The monsters did not change.
They were the same kinds they had already fought, the same claws, fangs, and the same Magic signatures burned into their memory. But their numbers did not stop.
They kept coming.
Each corridor they cleared only fed into another surge and then another, until the floor shook constantly beneath countless advancing steps.
The air grew thick with colorful residual Magic and the stench of blood from both theirs and the monsters's.
Arty's breaths grew heavier between attacks. Sweat traced down her temple as she forced another surge of power outward, blasting apart a cluster that tried to overwhelm the flank.
Her Magic still struck hard but it no longer came effortlessly.
Aurdis felt it too. Her movements remained precise, but the margin for error narrowed with every passing minute.
The battlefield demanded more focus and more energy, which meant more strain from her Magic than before.
