Against all logic, we were actually succeeding in buying time against the Eldritch horror we were facing.
Five minutes passed.
Then ten.
It felt like we could keep this up forever.
But by the twelve-minute mark, cracks started to appear in our formation.
Lars was slowing down.
His lightning flickered, and his breathing turned rough.
'His stamina is almost at rock bottom,' I realised.
"Alan…" Calliope muttered, her voice tight with worry.
If Lars collapsed, it would be over.
He was the only one who could see the Cursed Spirit in a form that could actually be fought.
Calliope and I only saw an impossible shape, something that couldn't be touched or hurt.
I could defend, but I couldn't attack.
Lars was the only one holding this thing back.
And now he was about to fall.
'He is going to fall within thirty seconds.'
I clenched my jaw.
'Should I do it?'
The Cursed Spirit in front of us was part of [Area 51], a Rank 3 Immortal Class Cursed Spirit.
