The three-meter-tall Brute hovered in the air, its dark armor reflecting the faint glow of the fireflies. The creature raised an arm, and from its body burst a devastating wave of magic, pulsing with a gray, unfamiliar force that tore through the air toward the group.
Ryan, the Shield Warrior, was the only one to react. With unshakable resolve, he drove his heavy shield into the ground, shouting as the enchantments on his armor flared to life. The shield expanded, forming a colorless barrier sustained by nothing but his will and the last remnants of his mana.
The wave of destruction slammed into the barrier. It resisted—but cracks began to spread across its surface. Ryan roared, his voice tearing at his throat, pouring every ounce of strength he had left into holding the wall.
The barrier was seconds from shattering.
Then, suddenly, the Brute's attack stopped. The giant lowered its arm, assessing the damage with cold indifference.
Ryan collapsed to his knees, blood dripping from his nose, his strength spent. The others rushed to his side—Mari, the Mage, desperately trying to heal his wounds. The monster hovered closer, unhurried, inevitable.
Hidden among the rubble, Lilith watched the scene unfold through her crimson eyes. She saw Ryan's resolve… and how hopelessly outmatched they were.
"They won't survive another strike," she thought.
She stepped out from her cover, her movements silent, deliberate. Her cloak—soaked and heavy—covered her from head to toe, hiding her face and the glow in her eyes.
With one fluid motion, she drew her sword. It was no blade of steel, but a ceremonial weapon of battle—its edge pale and cold. The moment she raised it, the sword ignited with Ether magic. The weapon shimmered with pure white light, the raw manifestation of Luminar power.
Lilith didn't run. She unleashed a wave of magic—pure, absolute destruction—straight at the giant. The freezing light of her Ether blade cut through the darkness.
The Brute reacted instinctively, channeling its own power. From its hands erupted a blinding yellow beam—the full might of its Legendary Dungeon core, a desperate counterattack against the unknown threat.
The yellow beam was devoured. Lilith's Ether wave consumed it entirely; the pure, frozen light was the antithesis of chaotic energy. The Brute's spell vanished as if it had never existed.
Then the wave struck.
The impact was overwhelming. The Brute's arm—the one it used to cast—was obliterated. The armor shattered, and the severed limb hit the stone floor with a metallic, wet thud. The monster howled, a guttural cry of agony.
The creature fell to one knee, dark, viscous blood spilling from the wound. It was immobilized—broken.
Lilith stood tall, untouched, her sword still blazing, her back to the stunned adventurers.
She did not hesitate.She did not turn to check on the wounded or bask in her victory.
Lilith advanced slowly toward the wounded monster. Her steps were calm, deliberate, regal. There was no mercy in her eyes—this was not heroism. It was execution.
When she reached the Brute, she lifted her sword high above its head. The creature raised its remaining arm, as if begging for mercy or defense.
With a swift, final motion, Lilith drove the blade into its chest.
There was no resistance. The pure Ether blade cut through dark metal like paper, piercing straight into the creature's mana core. The Brute let out a hollow, collapsing scream—then imploded.
Its body disintegrated—not into ash, but into crystalline fragments of gold and violet that rained across the cavern. The armor clattered to the ground, empty.
Lilith stood amid the ruins, her sword fading back to dull steel. The Luminar light had been spent.
The only sounds were Ryan's ragged breathing and the crackle of dying magic.
The adventurers—Mari, Lúcio, and Rand—stared in open shock and terror. They had just witnessed a Legendary-ranked Dungeon Boss, the kind that demanded an elite squad, annihilated by a single woman—in two blows.
The figure in the tattered cloak stood with her back still turned. The power that had saved them was more terrifying than death itself.